Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel-Chapter 672: The Seed moves On All sides

However, as the magistrate looked at this his friend that he had known for many years, he could not but shake his head, advising him to perish the insane thought sin his head.

Pangubox gave him an understanding nod and when he looked at Brother Shadow once more, he gave a cheerful smile. "As you wish my lord."

Brother shadow chuckled as he placed a hand on Pangubox’s head. "You have done good. When I ascend to godhood, I shall remember you, and make you my priest here in the mortal world. Your lifespan shall flow from me directly." He chuckled a bit.

And Pangubox went even lower to his knees as he thanked Brother shadow for his gift and mercy.

All of a sudden, brother shadow’s mouth opened abnormally and he threw the still beating heart into his throat. "I shall use that when the time is right. For now, we feast. Have your..." he looked at the magicians behind Pangubox in slight disgust, "...THINGS move. A place has been prepared for them away from those that are unstained."

just then Pangubox stepped forward to ask, "My lord, if I may ask, what of those..."

"You mean those of my kind that disagreed with how I managed things? Don’t worry, It has all been taken care of." he turned and walked away. And Pangubox could not help but feel a slight loss just as deep as the other two in his chest. Your next chapter awaits on novelbuddy

Still, he said nothing and only do as he was told to.

Soon, a contingent of winged humans arrived, their bearing regal but aloof, to escort the magicians to their quarters.

These accommodations, while separated from the rest of Sky City by an immense wall of glowing white stone etched with golden runes, were nothing short of spectacular. The wall itself towered so high that it seemed to touch the swirling clouds above, ensuring that the magicians would have no view of the grand cityscape beyond.

Inside, the quarters were a marvel of rune-based engineering, blending beauty with unmatched functionality. The floors were polished crystal, warm to the touch and glowing faintly with soft light that adjusted automatically to the time of day.

The walls were lined with shifting runes that responded to the body temperatures of those within. If one side of the room was occupied by someone who desired cool air while another craved warmth, the environment would adjust accordingly, creating pockets of differing temperatures without any visible barriers.

Such was the level of Rune crafting of the sky people.

The ceilings shimmered with what appeared to be an in door artificial sky, complete with a gentle sun that rose and set according to the preferences of the inhabitants.

Furniture floated gracefully above the floor, held in place by invisible currents of energy. Tables and chairs could be moved with a mere thought, their surfaces morphing to match the height or posture of the user.

Food was a click away—literally. Any wall could summon delicacies with the press of a rune symbol. When tapped, a glowing panel would materialize, offering an array of dishes and drinks. Once selected, the food would appear on a floating tray, steaming hot or refreshingly cold, as desired.

In the corners of the room, fountains of liquid silver bubbled quietly, their water-like streams forming intricate patterns before vanishing into the air, purifying it as they went. Shelves adorned with glowing crystals lined one wall, each crystal capable of projecting images, playing music, or creating soothing ambient sounds at the wave of a hand. The bedchambers were no less extravagant, their beds capable of molding to the exact preferences of each occupant, while soft luminescent fabric billowed from the walls, serving as curtains or partitions.

Despite the wonder of these quarters, Pangubox sat at a plain wooden table near the center of the room, his mood starkly contrasting the brilliance surrounding him. In fact, it disgusted him to no length.

He felt entirely empty of joy, of life, and most of all, of his existence.

His old frame seemed even more weary as he leaned on one hand, a cup of wine held loosely in the other. The rich aroma of the drink wafted around him, but he took no pleasure in its taste.

Across from him sat the Magistrate. The Magistrate regarded his old friend with an unreadable expression, the stillness of his presence somehow amplifying the weight of Pangubox’s sorrow.

The caretaker of the Mistress of the Night sighed heavily, his long beard trembling slightly as he set the cup down. His beads of shifting eyes caught the faint light, their movements restless as though reflecting the storm of emotions within their master. He looked at the Magistrate, his voice low and filled with regret.

"Even in a place as divine as this," Pangubox muttered, "I feel the weight of loss more keenly than ever. The splendor here… it mocks the emptiness inside."

"Yes, it does. But it is still the promised reward. One that no doubt, we do deserve."

Pangubox wanted to talk, but he raised a arm to stop him. And then the Magistrate’s eyes suddenly took on a sharp blue glow, a kind of energy spread out from him.

"Now, we are truly isolated from every rune in the room. As you know, I am sure he is still watching."

Pangubox nodded. "will it hold!"

The magistrate nodded, "My curse is a simple one. The more one forces it, the stronger it becomes. It will hold." he spoke in a casul tone. "I have even hidden us from any imagery runes."

On saying this, Pangubox suddenly bowed his head and then fell the tears like a river, washing down his beard and filling the table. Surely, it was obvious that he had been holding it in for far too long.

Pangubox gave a mocking laughter, "Hundreds of thousands of death. At such a price, no luxury offered is sufficient. I doubt I will be able to sleep for a long time."

The magistrate nodded. And then he sighed. he too had tears in his eyes, but for some reason, he was able to hold them in.

"What do we do?" The magistrate asked.

Pangubox wiped his eyes as he looked at his friend, "We do what we should. After all, a good chess piece is one that stays on the body and proves himself useful or else he be sacrificed early in the game. We be good chess piece my friend, and when time is ripe, we step down the board and be good chess players."

......

In another part of the world, beyond the veil, the Seer’s chariot glided toward the Holy City, its golden light reflecting brilliantly off the towers and spires of the famed Glass Citadel. The very structure of the citadel seemed alive, its translucent surfaces rippling and shifting like liquid crystal. Each pane refracted the light in a unique pattern, creating a dazzling dance of rainbows that followed the Seer’s arrival as if the citadel itself bowed in reverence to her presence. The immense gates of glass opened soundlessly, their surfaces morphing into intricate depictions of holy runes, welcoming the return of the Seer.

The chariot hovered just within the grand hall, its light dimming slightly as the Seer stepped forth. The air was thick with the fragrance of sacred incense, and the walls of the citadel shimmered faintly, their translucent depths revealing fleeting glimpses of celestial scenes. It was a place of awe and reverence, a testament to the might and majesty of the Holy Church.

As the Seer began to ascend the central staircase, Thalus paused at the threshold, still holding the restrained form of the demon mother’s daughter. Her cold, unreadable eyes flicked toward him as he bowed slightly.

"What should be done with her?" he asked, his tone betraying neither concern nor disdain.

Before the Seer could reply, a burst of unsettling laughter echoed through the chamber. The Uncrowned Clown appeared, bounding into view with his usual chaotic energy, his eyes gleaming with manic glee. He spun around once, spreading his arms wide as he approached.

"Let me take her!" he exclaimed, his voice teetering between amusement and menace. "I promise I won’t break her. Not yet, at least. Let me play, Seer. Please? Just a little... I’ll make her into a cute dog."

The Seer’s gaze turned cold, silencing him instantly. "She is not for you to toy with," she said sharply. "Throw her into the Tower. Let no one who can see, hear, or speak tend to her. Only then will her charms be rendered useless."

Thalus nodded curtly, ignoring the Clown’s exaggerated pout. He carried the demon’s daughter down into the bowels of the citadel by himself, where the dungeons lay hidden beneath layers of enchanted stone and runic barriers.

---

Although it was called the tower, it was in trutrh, a dungeon. A place the holy church used to hold down criminals and the same place that Knight Sheyi had once been held. Of course, The Demon daughter was given special treatment, being taken to very special section.

Then again, it mattered little as this place was in such a manner that glory above was refelcted in the suffering below. In short, the suffering of those here, was the power plant for the beautiful citadel above.

This dungeon walls were hewn from black stone, veined with glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat, sealing away all traces of magic or power. The corridors were narrow and dimly lit, illuminated only by the eerie green glow of the runes.

Each cell was fortified with heavy iron bars inscribed with ancient inscriptions, and the air was damp and cold, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood.

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Thalus reached an empty cell at the farthest end, one even more fortified than the rest. Its walls shimmered faintly, evidence of layers upon layers of enchantments. He threw the demon girl into the cell without ceremony, her body hitting the ground with a dull thud. Her expression betrayed no fear or pain as she looked up at him with a faint, knowing smile.

As he locked the cell, he glanced at her one last time. Her smile remained, unnerving in its quiet confidence. Without a word, he turned and left, the sound of his boots echoing down the corridor as he ascended back to the light of the citadel.

---

Once alone, the girl’s expression shifted slightly, her smile growing wider. She sat up slowly, her body relaxed and unbothered by her confinement. The runes, the iron bars, the layers of protection—they were impressive, certainly, but not infallible.

A low chuckle escaped her lips as her body tensed momentarily. Then, with a sudden gasp, her mouth opened wide, and from within, a thick, swirling black smoke began to pour out. The tendrils of smoke writhed and expanded, filling the cell with an oppressive presence. As the smoke continued to flow, her form began to change.

The girl’s features softened, her pale skin darkening slightly, her silver hair fading to a glossy black, and her striking red eyes shifting into deep, fathomless black. The transformation was complete within moments, leaving behind the body of an ordinary human girl, unconscious on the cold stone floor.

The smoke dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving no trace of its presence. A smirk played on the lips of the figure within the smoke before vanishing entirely, its essence slipping into the shadows of the cell.

Yes, the body left behind was not the true form of the demon mother’s daughter. Hidden within the runes and enchantments of the dungeon, the real threat remained, biding its time.