Descendant of Sloth
Chapter 88: The Blood Bath ll

Chapter 88: The Blood Bath ll

The auditorium was a mess of shadows and screams as the severed hand landed with a wet *plop* on a guest’s plate, right in the middle of their half-eaten meal.

The woman at the table panicked, shoving her chair back so hard it toppled over, while the guy next to her jumped up, yelling, "What the hell?!"

The whole room erupted—people scrambling, tripping over each other, their phone flashlights swinging wildly in the dark. Plates crashed to the floor, glass shattered, and the air filled with panicked cries, sharp and raw.

Up on the first floor, the second knight stumbled back against the railing, his eyes locked on my silhouette in the flickering light of his buddy’s dropped flashlight.

His hand shook as he yanked his sword free, the blade glinting faintly. "Who are you?!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear and fury.

Beside him, the other knight was on the ground, clutching the stump where his hand used to be, blood pooling under him as he groaned through gritted teeth.

I didn’t answer. I moved—fast, a blur in the dark, a quick *zoop* of motion—and they were done.

My dagger sliced through the air, and blood sprayed across the wall behind them, dark streaks splattering the concrete.

The standing knight lay down lifelessly, his sword clanging uselessly to the floor.

I hopped up onto the railing, perching there with the dagger still in my hand, its blade dripping red. Down below, the crowd caught my shadowy outline against the faint glow of phone lights—tall, masked, silent—and the panic kicked up another notch.

"We have an intruder!" one of the knights near the stage bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. The words snapped the others into action. Metal scraped as every knight and guard in the room drew their weapons—swords, axes, glowing blades that hummed with some kind of energy.

They spread out, their armor clanking, their flashlight beams slicing through the blackness, searching for me.

Two of them—big guys with glowing aura swords—charged up the stairs, their steps heavy and fast.

"You motherfucker!" one roared, his voice thick with rage. "Who are you?!" The other gripped his blade tighter, the blue glow lighting up his angered face as they closed in.

I didn’t say a word. I slid off the railing and started walking down the steps—*step, step*—slow and steady, my boots echoing in the dark. They swung their swords, the air humming with power, but I was already gone.

*Zwoop*—I moved so fast they didn’t even see it coming. One second they were yelling, the next they were choking on their own blood, their bodies hitting the stairs with dull thuds.

The glowing swords clattered down after them, the light fading as they rolled to a stop.

Down below, the crowd lost it.

"Ahhh... what’s happening?!" a woman screamed, her voice shrill as she clutched at a table, her phone light shaking in her hand. Blood was everywhere now—on the walls, the floor, smeared across overturned chairs—and no one knew where it was coming from.

"Why aren’t the knights doing anything?" a guy shouted, shoving past people to get to the exit, his voice cracking. "Are they just gonna let us die here?"

"Do they want us to get killed?!" another yelled, tripping over a spilled tray as he ran.

The slaves shrank back against the walls, their faces pale and frozen, while the party guests stumbled over each other, their flashlights catching glimpses of bodies, blood, and me—moving through the dark like a shadow they couldn’t pin down.

The panic swallowed the room whole, and I kept going, silent and steady, the dagger warm in my grip.

The auditorium was a mess of people and screams, the air thick with panic and the sharp tang of blood. Up on the stage, the announcer stood frozen, his wine glass trembling in his hand as he stared out at the chaos.

His chest heaved, breaths coming fast and ragged. "What the fuck is happening?" he muttered, his voice shaking. "Who is it? Doesn’t matter—I just want to live!" He shoved the bunny girls clinging to his arms away, their scared voices cutting through the dark as they stumbled.

He didn’t look back—just dove behind the heavy velvet curtains, disappearing into the folds like a rat running for cover.

I kept moving, my boots silent against the sticky floor, the blood-soaked dagger warm in my grip. A handful of knights rushed me from the side, their armor clanking as they raised their swords. "Kill him!" one barked, his voice rough with adrenaline.

They charged, blades swinging, but I was ready. *Clang*—I blocked the first strike, metal screeching against metal, then spun fast, my dagger flashing in the dark.

One by one, they dropped—slashed throats, pierced chests—hitting the ground with dull thuds, lifeless and still. Blood pooled around them, dark and glistening under the faint glow of scattered phone lights.

A woman—Sara, the first trade—pressed herself against the wall nearby, her sheer filled with blood. Her face was pale, streaked with blood that wasn’t hers, her eyes wide and terrified as she stared at me.

"Please... don’t kill me..." she begged, her voice barely a whisper, her hands trembling as she clutched at the wall for support. I flicked my eyes toward her, just a glance—cold, blank—then kept walking, leaving her there unharmed.

I passed more slaves as I moved, their shapes blurry in the dark. Some tried to run, darting toward the edges of the room, while others just stood frozen, watching the nightmare unfold.

The demi-humans, devils, and a few animal-like figures among them could see me clear as day, even without light.

Their sharp eyes caught mine, and something clicked—they knew I wasn’t here for them. A horned guy with glowing red pupils nodded slightly, stepping back, while a small fox-eared girl clutched her tail and stayed put. They didn’t run from me.

I reached the center of the hall, the crowd a frantic mess ahead of me. People shoved and clawed at the elevator doors, pounding on the metal, but it wasn’t moving—no power, no escape.

A few turned, catching my shadow in the middle of the room, my silhouette tall and still against the chaos. "Who’s that?!" a guy yelled, his voice cracking. "Oh God, he’s right there!" a woman screamed, shoving someone aside to get farther from me. Their phone lights shook, casting jittery beams that couldn’t quite reach me.

*Bang*—a gunshot ripped through the noise, the sound sharp and sudden. I felt it coming before it hit, my senses buzzing, and flicked my dagger up fast.

The bullet deflected off the blade with a spark, pinging into the dark.

"Hmm?" I tilted my head, glancing up at the railing on the floor above.

There he was—the big guy from earlier, the one with the muscles and the hard face. He stood in the center, arms crossed, his yellow eyes glowing like lanterns in the blackness.

Two knights flanked him, their guns still aimed my way, barrels smoking faintly. His mouth stretched into a wide, wild grin, teeth flashing. "Finally... some fun," he said, his voice low and rough, dripping with excitement.

A flare of aura burst around him, a crackling red glow that lit up his frame, making the air hum. He uncrossed his arms, flexing his hands like he couldn’t wait to jump in.