Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 664

Chapter 664: Give The Talent Stealer
Barak leaned back slightly in his seat, the ever-present smile on his face widening just enough to reveal his tusks. His voice, calm and deep, carried easily across the tense silence between the two sides.

“…Which brings me to another matter. One I am sure you know about,” he began, his words deliberate, his tone smooth. “After all, it is the reason for all this bloodshed… I want the Talent Stealer.”

The moment the words left his lips, Thalus snapped upright, his glasses flashing in the light as he adjusted them sharply. “Not possible!” he said firmly, cutting Barak off before he could continue.

Barak chuckled, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“You don’t need to,” Thalus replied curtly, his sharp tone carrying an edge of disdain. His gaze settled on Barak, lingering pointedly. “For someone so… unique in appearance, you’ve certainly cultivated a lot of nerve to come here and make such demands.”

The insult was barely veiled, and it hit its mark. Lorath’s hand instinctively flew to the hilt of his sword, his energy flaring in response to the slight. “You dare—”

“Lorath,” Barak said, raising a hand without looking at him. His smile remained fixed, even as his pig-like eyes glimmered with amusement. “Stand down.”

Lorath hesitated, his hand still gripping his sword, but ultimately stepped back, his energy receding. The tension in his jaw and the fire in his eyes, however, made it clear he was far from calm.

Barak shifted his focus back to Thalus, his smile as serene as ever. “I’ll repeat myself. I want the one who stole Nora’s talent.”

“And I’ll repeat myself,” Thalus said coldly, his fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to adjust his glasses again. “Not possible.”

Barak chuckled again, this time leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Ah, but I’m not just going to ask for it. No, I’m willing to give something in return.” He turned his gaze to the Seer, his tone softening as he added, “I think you’ll find my offer… compelling.”

The Seer, who had remained silent, her expression calm and unreadable, raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Her veiled eyes glimmered with a faint interest. “What are you offering?” she asked, her voice as soft as a whisper yet cutting through the air like a blade.

Barak straightened, his hands clasped together in front of him. “I am willing to give you the Monkey, Horse, and Boar families. Entire Zodiac families, under your Holy Church’s dominion.”

A collective gasp rippled through the air, the shock unmistakable. Even Thalus stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at Barak, then at the Seer, whose slight smile remained unchanged. Behind Barak, the retainers and soldiers of the Boar Zodiac exchanged uneasy glances, their faces betraying disbelief and discomfort.

“These are not just defeated families,” Barak continued smoothly, his voice unwavering. “They are Zodiac families—holders of immense power. Even now, their cultivators include Gold Rankers, and perhaps one or two who have reached Demi-Godhood. A boon of power and territory unparalleled. All I ask in return is the Talent Stealer.”

Thalus exhaled slowly, breaking the silence that followed. He adjusted his glasses once more, the light glinting off their surface. “It’s not a bad offer,” he said at last, his voice thoughtful. “One worth considering. Beyond the veil would practically belong to the Holy Church, its strength bolstered to an unprecedented level. Power. Territory. Resources… And all we have to give for it is a broken cripple.” He gestured lightly, emphasizing the weight of the opportunity.

Barak’s smile remained, but his eyes stayed locked on the Seer, waiting for her response.

The Seer reached out, her movements as fluid as water, and picked up a piece of bread from the table. She tore off a small piece, ate it delicately, and followed it with a sip of her tea. The silence stretched, her actions deliberate and unhurried, as though the weight of the offer before her was of little consequence.

Then, slowly, she rose to her feet. Her veil fluttered slightly in the breeze, her poise regal and unyielding. When she spoke, her voice was no louder than before, yet it echoed like thunder across the wasteland.

“Return Nora,” she said simply, her gaze sharp and unwavering. “And then we shall consider taking the other families you so graciously wish to gift us with. Otherwise…” Her tone dropped, colder than ice. “Just DIE.”

The moment the Seer uttered those final, commanding words, the air itself seemed to shift. Golden threads of fate materialized, shimmering with an ethereal light, crisscrossing in the atmosphere like divine stitching. Their sudden appearance brought with them a violent force, slamming into the ground where the table once stood.

The resulting explosion was catastrophic. A deafening roar echoed across the battlefield as a shockwave rippled outward, obliterating the ornate lunch setup and consuming the area in a blinding light. The golden threads exploded into waves of energy, tearing through the earth and leaving a massive crater in their wake. The ground cracked and split as debris and flames erupted skyward.

On the Zodiac Boar side, soldiers screamed as they were caught in the blast. Some were flung through the air like ragdolls, their armor splintering from the force. Others were not as fortunate, their bodies instantly charred into unrecognizable husks. The explosion’s sheer ferocity sent shockwaves across both armies, silencing even the most hardened warriors as they shielded themselves from the blinding light and scorching heat.

When the dust and smoke finally began to settle, the devastation became clear. The lunch table, the decorations, and the flowers were utterly gone, reduced to ash and rubble. But amidst the chaos, two figures stood unscathed at a safe distance from the destruction—Barak and Lorath.

Barak’s smile had vanished, replaced with a contemplative expression. His robes fluttered lightly as the residual energy swirled around him. Lorath, however, was far from calm. His grip on his sword was firm, his spiritual energy flaring violently.

This time, Lorath didn’t wait for orders or signals. With a sharp motion, he waved his sword, its sleek, almost imperceptible edge cutting through the thick, tension-laden air. The sound that followed was strange—subtle yet powerful, like the rush of thread slipping through a needle’s eye, carrying with it the promise of destruction…