Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel

Chapter 666: The Clown Wants A Puppy

On the battlefield left behind by Barak and the Seer, chaos reigned supreme. The soldiers of the Zodiac families and the Holy Church clashed violently, resuming their war like lunch never happened.

Their war cries echoing across the blood-soaked wasteland. Steel met flesh, and spiritual energies erupted, leaving craters and charred remains in their wake.

Neither side knew—or perhaps cared—that their masters had departed the scene, their attention drawn elsewhere. To the men and women dying by the thousands, this was a battle for survival.

But to their leaders, they were merely pawns on a much larger chessboard. In two words, ’Cannon Fodder’.

The Seer, seated regally in her golden chariot, turned to Thalus as they soared above the fray. "Take me to the gates of the Nether Realm," she ordered, her voice calm but carrying an edge of authority. "It’s time I disciplined my sister for her... transgressions."

Thalus’s brows furrowed at her words, but he gave a curt nod. "As you wish."

"And," she added, her gaze steady, "send word to the Uncrowned Clown. I require his... assistance."

The moment the name left her lips, Thalus’s expression twisted in distaste. He spat off to the side, his composure breaking briefly. "That lunatic," he muttered under his breath. Nevertheless, he obeyed, signaling the messengers with a wave of his hand and flaming birds rushed out to carry his message.

***

Far beneath the Holy Church, in a dark and dank chamber that reeked of blood and decay, the Uncrowned Clown danced.

His movements were graceful, almost hypnotic, as he pirouetted across a floor littered with corpses.

These bodies—mangled, mutilated, and broken beyond recognition—belonged to humans and beastmen alike.

And with that, his laughter rang out again, echoing through the chamber of horrors. He reached for the gag and removed it, and then brought his ear close to the man’s mouth, "Yes... something to say? HUH! HUH!! i can’t hear you."

The Man’s tongue had already been cut and therefore could not speak a word. Then again, his words would still not have helped him in this case. After all, the uncrowned clown was any thing but normal.

The Clown’s grin widened as he took a step closer to the trembling man, his shadow looming like a grotesque specter. He tilted his head, his eyes brimming with twisted glee.

"And how are you going to repent?" he asked, his voice soft but dripping with malice. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ll tell you."

The mocking smile on his painted face deepened. "I am going to be taking things out of you," he cooed, a cruel glint in his eyes. "And I am going to be putting things into you. And then I’ll keep repeating the process... until it stops arousing me so much."

The man squirmed, his muffled cries growing more desperate, but the Clown wasn’t done. He suddenly smacked his own face, as though scolding himself, and shook his head dramatically. "And—oh, how could I forget—those poor kids at the orphanage! They’ve been asking for a puppy for so long." He paused, his tone dropping to a mockingly thoughtful whisper. "Well, that’s my fault. I just... I can’t seem to get the dentistry right."

The man’s eyes widened in horror, his sobs filling the room as the Clown continued, his voice bright and cheerful as though discussing a delightful hobby.

"I’ve got the surgery down—oh yes, I can make people walk on all fours, no problem at all." He mimed the motion of crawling, his movements eerily fluid. "But the snout! Oh, the snout!" He pointed to his own nose, tapping it as if revealing a grand secret. "That’s where I keep messing up. You see, I’ve been trying to make people look like golden retrievers—majestic, noble creatures—but then it hit me! I’ve been focusing on the wrong breed all along."

He spun on his heel, laughing maniacally, his voice echoing in the chamber. "The answer was right in front of me the whole time! I don’t need golden retrievers. No, no, no. I need pugs! Short snouts, wrinkled faces—so much easier to replicate!"

With a theatrical flourish, he waved his hand, and a set of gleaming surgical tools appeared on a bloodstained tray. The instruments reflected the dim light of the room, each one more terrifying than the last: serrated blades, clamps, and oddly enough, a bone saw.

"Now," he said, twirling a scalpel between his fingers like a baton. "Let’s get started, shall we? We’ll see just how well you can... fetch."

The man’s screams, reverberated in the room as the Clown began humming a jaunty tune, his every movement infused with a horrific glee. For the Uncrowned Clown, this was not punishment. This was art.

(Author’s note: I really worked hard on writing this Character... I really like him. I hope you guys like him too. imagine a clash between his crazy and Our MC)@@@@