Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 667

Chapter 667: A Visit To The Nether
The Uncrowned Clown hummed a tune as he methodically sterilized his tools, whistling a discordant melody that contrasted horrifyingly with the macabre scene around him.

His hands, precise and steady, dipped instruments into a bubbling liquid that hissed and steamed. “If you heal correctly,” he continued, glancing at the man tied before him with a grin that dripped with mockery, “you should be up and barking in about… oh, a year, give or take.”

He gestured to the side of the room where a gleaming steel cage stood, complete with a thick leather collar and a bone-shaped tag engraved with a name. “See that? I’ve already got everything prepared. The collar, the cage, even a cute little leash for walkies!” He chuckled, tapping the collar with an exaggerated flourish. “But my therapist—God bless her—she keeps telling me, ‘Clown, you’ve got to transform your anger into happiness, your pain into joy.'”

His grin faltered for a split second, and his eyes darkened. Then, in an instant, his face twisted into a sneering snarl as he leaned close to the man. “But *you*! You caused me pain when you killed that puppy. So now…” His voice rose, manic and wild, as he twirled a surgical drill in his hand. “Now, I’m going to make sure I bring joy to the orphans. And no pun intended, but—” he winked theatrically, “—the editing!”

The Clown gestured to the edges of the room where strange, grotesque insects with glowing carapaces clung to the walls, their multifaceted eyes glinting ominously. “Oh, those? Cameras, my dear sinner. Core beast cameras. They record everything! You see, I’m making this into a really cool compilation video.” He let out a delighted giggle, twirling around like a performer on stage. “I figure it’ll make great white noise for me when I sleep at night. Nothing soothes the soul like a little creativity, right?”

With a sharp snap of his fingers, he turned back to the trembling man. The drill whirred to life in his hand, its shrill, high-pitched whine filling the air. He tilted his head, studying the man’s tear-streaked face with eerie fascination. “Now, hold still. This’ll only hurt… a lot.”

The drill bit sank into the man’s cheekbone with a sickening crunch. His muffled screams echoed through the room, accompanied by the Clown’s gleeful humming. The room seemed to pulse with the twisted energy of his work until—

A small bird, made entirely of flame, appeared midair, its light cutting through the gloom like a beacon. The Clown paused, the glow of the fiery bird reflected in his wide eyes. He tilted his head, his lips curling into a sly smile. “Well, well, well,” he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less unsettling. “What do we have here?”

Gently, he patted the man’s bloodied head, like a benevolent parent soothing a child. “Looks like you’re going to get a break, buddy. I’m needed elsewhere. Don’t worry—I’ll be back. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find more *candidates* to join the pack.”

The Clown stood, his tools vanishing into thin air as he straightened his coat. With one last wink at the trembling man, he turned toward the fiery bird, its flames flickering like a silent command. The Clown’s grin widened as he followed it out of the room, leaving behind the chaos and corpses to answer the call of the SEER.

…

The Seer’s chariot slowed as it reached the edge of a blighted expanse. The air here was thick and oppressive, heavy with the stench of death and decay. Above, the sky was veiled in roiling dark clouds that churned as though alive, casting an unearthly gloom over the land. Ahead loomed the portal—an enormous, jagged gateway stretching upward like the trunks of nine giant trees. It radiated an aura of corruption, and the ground around it was cracked and dry, with tendrils of dark Devil energy snaking outward like roots poisoning the earth.

The Seer’s gaze hardened as she stared at the portal, her frown deepening. It was a wound upon the world, one she would have closed long ago if it were within her power. But even she, with all her might, could not seal this cursed gateway. This portal was the passage to the Nether Region, and its malignant presence had been the source of the land’s decay for centuries.

Without hesitation, the golden chariot surged forward, passing through the portal. The instant they crossed, the world shifted. On the other side, the atmosphere was entirely different yet equally oppressive. The sky was a sea of swirling, blood-red clouds, streaked with violent bolts of crimson lightning that cracked and boomed without warning. The land below mirrored the sky’s hostility: a landscape of barren death soaked in red devil energy. The ground seemed alive with malice, and scattered everywhere were the broken remnants of life—skulls and bones littering the terrain like a grim testament to endless suffering.

Devil beasts prowled the skies, hideous creatures of twisted form and insatiable hunger. Some fought savagely among themselves, tearing flesh and bone in their brutal contests for survival. But as the golden chariot emerged, blazing with an otherworldly light that pierced the oppressive gloom, the devil beasts scattered like flies, retreating into the shadows.

The trees here were grotesque, towering constructs of bone and sinew. Their skeletal forms twisted unnaturally, their red-and-white surfaces reflecting the ambient devil energy that suffused the realm. Beneath their macabre canopy, shadowy figures moved with unnatural speed—demons, lurking and prowling, their glowing eyes flickering like embers in the dark.

Suddenly, the oppressive silence was broken by a deafening sound: a trumpet, loud and echoing, its sinister call reverberating across the Nether Region. It was a signal—a warning that something, or someone, had intruded upon their domain.

In response, the skies darkened further as hundreds of thousands of demons took flight, rising from their hiding places and forming a massive, writhing swarm in the air. They hovered in the crimson sky, their grotesque forms illuminated by the occasional bursts of red lightning. With their collective presence, the atmosphere became almost suffocating, as though the very air rebelled against the golden chariot’s intrusion.

Standing unflinching amidst this sea of chaos, Thalus adjusted his glasses, the faint light of the chariot reflecting in the lenses. His lip curled in disdain as he surveyed the demons. “Disgusting,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp, the single word cutting through the cacophony of wings and guttural growls…