Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 645

Chapter 645: Heavens Tribulation [Sin Of Gluttony]
Chiron’s eyes burned with fury as he lunged forward, ignoring the pain in his chest. Devil’s Touch lashed out with lightning speed, its edges morphing into jagged blades that slashed through the air like a storm of death. “Let’s see you laugh after this!” he roared, the ground cracking beneath his feet from the force of his swing.

But the Uncrowned Clown wasn’t there.

Chiron’s blade met only empty space as the clown twisted and twirled, his movements impossibly fluid, as though he were a dancer in a macabre performance.

With each dodge, the Clown laughed—a high-pitched, taunting sound that grated on Chiron’s nerves.

“Oh, Chiron, is that really your best?” the Clown teased, pirouetting gracefully out of the way of another swing. “I thought you’d be more… sharp.”

Chiron snarled and unleashed a blast of blood and fire from his hands, the combined attack ripping through the air with devastating force. The heat of the flames scorched the ground, leaving a trail of charred earth and smoking embers in its wake.

But again, the Clown was gone.

Before Chiron could track him, a voice whispered mockingly in his ear. “Missed me, my dear tyrant.”

Chiron spun, Devil’s Touch whipping behind him, but the Clown was already a step ahead, perched casually on Chiron’s shoulder like a bird of prey. His jagged smile was inches from Chiron’s face. “You really should learn to relax. All this anger—it’s not good for the blood pressure.”

With a flick of his massive broadsword, the Clown slashed across Chiron’s back. The blade dug deep, carving through flesh like an artist etching into canvas. Chiron gritted his teeth against the pain as blood spilled down his sides. The Clown chuckled, leaping away with a flourish, his every move theatrical.

Chiron roared, spinning around and unleashing another wave of attacks. His sword splintered into dozens of sharp tendrils, each one streaking toward the Clown like a barrage of arrows. But the Clown moved like water, bending and twisting his body to avoid every strike. At times, it seemed as though the attacks passed straight through him, leaving Chiron increasingly frustrated.

And the torment didn’t stop.

The Clown would reappear at Chiron’s side, crouching low like a conspirator sharing a secret. “Do you feel that? The sting of desperation? Delicious, isn’t it?” Another slice of the broadsword followed, this time across Chiron’s shoulder. The pain was sharp and precise, the cut shallow enough to avoid critical damage but deep enough to sting.

“You’re holding up well,” the Clown said, hopping back with a theatrical bow. “I’m carving you like a feast—slowly, carefully. After all, the best meals take time.”

Chiron staggered, his breathing heavy. Blood dripped from the fresh wounds decorating his body, each cut placed with deliberate cruelty. The worst part wasn’t the pain—it was the realization that the Clown was toying with him. Every attack, every dodge, was designed to stretch out the fight, to keep Chiron alive just long enough to savor his suffering.

From afar, the Seer watched with a sneer curling on her lips. She crossed her arms, her golden eyes glowing faintly as she studied the battle. “Pathetic,” she murmured to herself.

Her gaze flicked to Chiron’s battered form, and she couldn’t help but scoff. “He’s nothing more than a thief,” she said aloud, loud enough for the others around her to hear. “The power he holds doesn’t belong to him. If it were Manu Madayaki, the Clown would be dead by now. But this Chiron? He’s just a desperate pretender.”

The Clown seemed to hear her words because he laughed louder than ever, spinning his broadsword playfully as he danced toward Chiron again. “Hear that, Chiron?” he taunted. “Even the Seer knows you’re a fraud. I guess this is the end of the line for your little power trip.”

Chiron clenched his fists, his eyes blazing with anger and defiance. But the weight of the battle and the growing cuts on his body told a grim story. The Clown continued to dance, a predator circling its prey, and the Seer’s sneer deepened.

To her, it was clear: Chiron lacked the finesse, the experience, the sheer skill to wield the power he had stolen. And now, it seemed he would pay the price for his ambition.

Chiron’s bloodied lips curled into a grin, his dark eyes flashing with defiance despite his battered body. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the deep wounds carved into his flesh by the Clown’s cruel blade. His voice rang out, raw and ragged, but filled with unyielding arrogance.

“Oh, I know this power isn’t mine,” he sneered, raising his head to meet the gaze of his tormentors. “But then again, it’s by my will!

With that declaration, Chiron tilted his head back, raising his arms to the storm-filled skies above. His voice boomed, a challenge that shook the very air around him. “Hear me, heavens! My Tribulation is not over! I will take on the next sin. Come forth! Test my resolve!”

The heavens responded immediately.

A deafening rumble shook the battlefield, the ground trembling underfoot. The remnants of the Wrath Tribulation dissipated, as chiron had conquered it, marking his body.

A new force began to take form. The air grew heavy, suffocating, as if the world itself were caving inward.

Above, the storm clouds churned violently, their color shifting from deep gray to a sickly, bloated green.

The shape of the Sin of Gluttony began to emerge from the roiling clouds, its form both grotesque and unnervingly captivating. At first, it appeared as a massive mouth, stretching impossibly wide, its jagged teeth glistening like shards of obsidian. The mouth hung suspended in the sky, dripping with dark, viscous saliva that fell to the ground, hissing as it dissolved the earth into nothingness.

Then came the body.

It was an amorphous mass of grotesque, fleshy rolls, endlessly shifting and pulsing as though alive. Limbs of varying sizes protruded and retracted from its bulk, some thin and skeletal, others swollen and bloated to monstrous proportions. Each limb clawed at the ground, dragging the grotesque entity forward as if it were constantly hungering for more. Its stomach was a cavernous void, swirling with an abyss that seemed to suck in light itself.

Eyes—dozens of them—popped open across its form, rolling and twitching in every direction. Each one glowed with a sickly green light, radiating an insatiable hunger that could devour souls.

The air itself grew thick with the Sin’s aura, oppressive and consuming. It was as though the battlefield had been turned into a feast, and everyone present was the next course.

From her vantage point, the Seer raised a brow, her usual sneer replaced with a flicker of concern. “So, he’s daring enough to summon Gluttony,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing. “Either he’s a fool… or far more dangerous than I thought.”

Chiron, standing amidst the chaos, raised his bloodied arms again, a manic grin plastered across his face. “Let’s see how much you can consume before I consume you!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the storm like a blade.

The Sin of Gluttony roared, its mouth stretching even wider, a sound that wasn’t just heard—it was felt.

A deafening, guttural wail that resonated deep within the bones, threatening to pull everyone into its endless hunger. It began to descend toward the battlefield, its grotesque form blotting out the sky…