Novel Full Chapter 1364 Eating Rin's Soul
Chapter 1364 Eating Rin’s Soul
“Why, Rin?” Michael growled, his gaze fixed on Tiberius’s blood-soaked form. “Why the hell are you doing this?”
Rin’s laughter died in her throat. She turned, her crimson eyes, glowing with an unnatural intensity within Tiberius’s ravaged face, fixing on Lailah, who stood frozen, a silent observer to the macabre scene unfolding before her.
“And how is dear Lailah Alden doing?” Rin purred, her voice dripping with a mocking sweetness. “Managing that… unstable grace, is she?”
Lailah shuddered, feeling a wave of cold dread wash over her. Tiberius’s gaze, or rather, Rin’s gaze, felt like a physical touch, a violation that sent shivers down her spine. She wanted to run, to hide, but her legs felt like lead, her body rooted to the spot.
“Leave her out of this, Rin,” Michael said, his voice tight with warning. “This is between you and me. Don’t drag mortals into our… disagreements.”
Rin’s laughter echoed through the night, a chilling counterpoint to the mournful howl of the wind.
“Oh, Ghost,” she purred, her voice laced with a cruel amusement. “You know me better than that. I love to play with my toys. And I always make it… personal.”
She paused, her gaze lingering on Lailah’s terrified face.
“That grace, my dear… it’s going to reject her. Eat her from the inside out. Slowly. Painfully.” She grinned, a grotesque stretching of Tiberius’s bloodstained lips. “She’ll die… little by little. And you… you’ll get to watch.”
After hearing her, Michael simply chuckled, shaking his head. Rin, in her arrogance, in her eagerness to play her twisted little games, had made a fatal miscalculation. She had no idea what he was truly capable of.
He had hundreds of millions of badass points at his disposal. He could reshape continents, rewrite the laws of reality, probably even make himself a goddamn cup of coffee that never got cold.
And this bitch… she thought she could threaten him? Harm his… family?
It was almost… laughable.
Until now, he’d tried to avoid Rin. She was a loose cannon, a wild card, a force of chaos he’d rather not deal with. But she’d crossed a line. She’d brought the fight to his doorstep, had threatened those he… cared about. And now… well, now she’d earned his full, undivided attention.
He’d hunt her down. He’d find her. He’d make her regret the day she was born. No matter the cost.
The amusement faded from Rin’s face, replaced by a flicker of… uncertainty.
“What’s so funny, Ghost?” she snarled, her voice taking on a sharper edge. She was used to seeing fear in her victims’ eyes, a delicious cocktail of terror and desperation that fueled her sadistic impulses. But Michael… Michael was just… smiling.
“Don’t get cocky because you are in the mortal realm, Ghost,” she hissed and continued.
“You’re just an old lion Ghost, trapped in his little forest. No teeth. No claws.”
Michael laughed, a low, dangerous rumble that echoed the storm brewing within him.
“A lion is always a lion, Rin,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “The forest might change… but the lion’s nature… its instinct to hunt… never will.”
For a while, only the sound of the wind, whistling through the skeletal trees surrounding Mazeroth, filled the air. Michael’s smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating fury that made the air around him crackle with dark energy.
“I’m coming for you, Rin,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “But I’m not going to kill you. Not yet.”
He took a step towards Tiberius, his gaze fixed on Rin’s crimson eyes, gleaming with a mixture of anger and… fear?
“First… I’m going to pay your daddy a little visit.” He chuckled, a cruel edge to his voice. “Xyloth. You know, the real God of Murder. The one you’re so desperate to impress.”
He leaned closer, his gaze boring into hers.
“You think he gives a damn about you, Rin? You’re a toy to him. A plaything. And the moment you fuck up… he’ll discard you like a broken doll.”
He straightened up, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
“You called me an old lion, Rin. But you… you’re just a dog. A dog with a really bad case of… daddy issues.”
The moment those words escaped Michael’s mouth, Rin exploded.
A wave of raw, primal fury, like a supernova igniting, erupted from Tiberius’s mangled form. Rin roared, a sound that was both human and beast, a guttural scream of rage that rattled the very foundations of Mazeroth. Her killing intent, sharp and cold as a glacier, spiked, radiating outwards like a shockwave.
No one… no one… spoke to the Princess of Murder, the daughter of Xyloth, like that.
She was used to fear. To trembling obedience. To the groveling pleas of those who begged for a swift, merciful death. Even the Gods, those arrogant, self-proclaimed rulers of the realm, treated her with a wary respect, a grudging acknowledgment of the power she wielded.
But this… this… God of Darkness…
He’d not only defied her, mocked her, but he’d dared to speak of… daddy issues?
Unforgivable.
Michael, however, simply grinned, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He’d struck a nerve, he could tell. And he wasn’t about to let up now.
“Oh, what’s wrong, Rin?” he mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Daddy not giving you enough attention? Is that why you’re acting out? Throwing a little temper tantrum?”
He took another step towards her in the sky, his shadow stretching out to engulf Tiberius’s trembling form.
“Maybe if you were a good little girl, did what you were told, stopped playing with your… toys… he’d finally give you the approval you so desperately crave.”
He leaned closer, his voice a low whisper in her ear.
“But let’s face it, Rin. You’ll always be… daddy’s little disappointment.”
“You’ll regret this, Ghost!” she shrieked, her voice a guttural rasp. “I’ll tear that bitch Lailah and her precious son limb from limb! And then I’ll turn this pathetic little academy into a graveyard!”
She launched herself towards Mazeroth, her rage propelling her forward like a missile.
Down below, Harry and his friends watched in horror as the red glow, the figure wreathed in blood-red smoke, descended upon them.
“What… what is that?” one of Harry’s friends whispered, his voice trembling.
“It looks… it looks like a man,” another said, her eyes wide with fear. “But… something’s wrong with him.”
Clara, ever the observant one, squinted, her sharp eyes peering through the darkness.
“It’s… Tiberius,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “One of the Dark Lord’s subordinates. The… King of War, they call him.”
“But… he looks…”
“Possessed,” Harry finished for her, his heart sinking. They watched, their bodies frozen in a mix of fear and morbid fascination, as the figure, Tiberius’s body but clearly not Tiberius himself, streaked towards them, his crimson eyes blazing with a murderous intent.
Then, just as they braced themselves for the impact, a black blur shot out from the academy grounds, intercepting the possessed King of War in mid-air.
It was Michael.
He moved with a speed that defied comprehension, grabbing Tiberius’s arm in a vice-like grip and slamming his foot into the possessed man’s chest.
The impact sent Rin, still controlling Tiberius’s broken body, flying backwards, tumbling through the air like a kite with a broken string. Rin might have been the Princess of Murder, a force to be reckoned with in the realm of the Gods. But here, in Michael’s domain, her power was a mere shadow of its true potential. She was possessing Tiberius, using a fraction of her strength, and against Michael, fueled by the eternal darkness that blanketed the mortal realm, she was outmatched.
But her target wasn’t him. It was Lailah. And Harry.
With a snarl, she twisted in mid-air, regaining her balance with a grace that belied Tiberius’s mangled state. Her crimson eyes, blazing with murderous intent, fixed on Lailah, who stood frozen on the ground, watching the aerial battle unfold with a mixture of fear and awe.
Rin shot towards her, a crimson blur against the black canvas of the sky.
But Michael was faster.
He flicked his wrist, and the spiked shield detached, its jagged blades spinning with a whirring sound that cut through the air like a chainsaw through bone. He launched it towards Rin, the shield a blur of black metal and crimson light, intercepting her just as she was about to reach Lailah.
Rin, caught off guard, raised her hand, instinctively trying to deflect the oncoming projectile. Her fingers closed around the shield’s edge, halting its spin for a moment.
And then she screamed.
The blades, razor-sharp and infused with Don’s power, sliced through her hand, shearing off her fingers, sending a spray of blood across the sky.
“You’re just cutting off your little pet’s hand, Ghost!” Rin shrieked, her voice laced with pain and fury. She laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed her own agony.
But Michael’s expression remained cold, unmoved.
“He’s already gone, Rin,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. “And you… you’re next. I’m going to rip you out of that broken body, and then… I’m going to eat your fractured soul. Slowly.”
“You talk a big game, Ghost,” Rin sneered, yanking her mangled hand back, the severed fingers already regenerating, the bones knitting back together in a grotesque display of accelerated healing. “But can you back it up?”
She lunged at Michael, her movements blurring with unnatural speed. But Michael was ready for her. He sidestepped her attack, his body a fluid shadow, and countered with a lightning-fast jab aimed at her throat. Rin ducked under his fist, her laughter echoing through the night as she spun, her leg whipping out in a vicious roundhouse kick.
Michael blocked the kick with his forearm, the impact sending a jolt of pain up his arm. He retaliated with a powerful uppercut, aiming for her jaw, but Rin, anticipating his move, twisted away, her body contorting in a way that would have snapped a normal human’s spine.
They traded blows, their movements a blur of motion, a deadly dance of fists and feet, shadow and blood. Rin, despite her weakened state, was a skilled fighter, her movements fluid, her attacks unpredictable. But she was no match for Michael. His combat style, honed over years of training and countless battles, was a blend of brutal efficiency and raw power.
And he was pissed.
He landed a solid punch to her gut, the impact sending a grunt of pain escaping from Tiberius’s lips. A spray of blood, a crimson mist, erupted from the wound, instantly vaporizing in the air.
“Still think you can take me, Rin?” Michael growled, pressing his attack. “Or are you too busy crying to Daddy?”
He shattered one of her ribs with a vicious elbow strike, ducked under a wild swing of her sword, and slammed his fist into her face, the impact sending a tooth flying.
Rin staggered back, blood dripping from her nose, her crimson eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and… fear. She summoned a blade, its edge shimmering with a crimson light, but Michael, with a speed that surprised even her, caught the blade in his bare hand. He squeezed, and the metal shrieked in protest, twisting and buckling under his grip.
“What was that about no teeth and claws, Rin?” Michael chuckled, snapping the blade in half as if it were a twig.
Then, he unleashed a wave of Frostbite.
The air around them turned glacial, the temperature plummeting as a wave of absolute zero encased Rin in a tomb of ice. She froze mid-air, her body contorted in a grotesque parody of motion, her face locked in a mask of horrified disbelief.
Michael hovered before her, his gaze cold, unforgiving. He cupped Tiberius’s frozen face in his hand, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that had frozen on the man’s cheek.
“This… is for Tiberius,” he whispered, his voice a low growl.
He leaned closer, his face inches from hers.
“And this…”
He opened his mouth, his fangs glinting in the dim light, and unleashed the full power of Soul Eater.
A black vortex, a swirling maelstrom of dark energy, erupted from his maw, enveloping Rin’s frozen form. She screamed, a sound of pure, unadulterated terror, as her soul, the fragment that had possessed Tiberius, was ripped from its borrowed vessel, drawn towards Michael’s gaping maw.
[Ding! Host has consumed a fractured of Rin. Reward: 250,000 Experience Points. 1,000,000 Badass Points.]
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