SSS Ranked Summoning: I'm An Extra With The Strongest Harem System
Chapter 66: The Pond(5)[Violence][Gore][Bonus]

Chapter 66: The Pond(5)[Violence][Gore][Bonus]

Drip

Drip

Drip

The resonating sounds of blood echoed about the pond along with the heartful screams of Son.

Mikey’s teeth sank in—not into bone, not into something rigid or unyielding, but into skin. Soft. Supple. Sickeningly human. His jaws clenched on instinct alone, a primal reflex uncoiling from somewhere deep in his core.

And then came the taste—coppery, warm, unmistakable. Blood. It coated his tongue like a bitter syrup, metallic and thick, flooding his mouth as if the body beneath his bite had burst like fruit.

Then came the sound.

"AHHHHHHH!!!"

A scream—high and sharp, raw enough to cut. It split the air like a knife dragged over glass, echoing through the field in jagged waves. Not just pain.

Horror. Disbelief. The kind of scream that didn’t sound rehearsed or expected, but torn out of someone’s throat like it didn’t belong there in the first place.

Son jerked, body arching as the agony pulsed from his forehead, but he could not pull away. Mikey’s teeth were in him, on him—his mouth locked like a predator’s maw, refusing to release.

The scream turned guttural, rising so swiftly that at that moment, Mikey pulled back.

Not with mercy.

Not with reluctance. But with a rip.

The skin tore, flesh peeled and Son’s forehead exploded in blood, a thick ribbon gushing down his face like a waterfall turned red.

His body convulsed as he reeled backward, feet tripping over themselves until he collapsed, slamming into the ground.

A violent jolt ran through his frame. Painful groans burst out of him, writhing as he clutched his face, his legs flailing against the ground.

"AH! AH! What the FUCK! You crazy bastard! Ah, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking KILL YOU!"

But Mikey wasn’t finished.

His body screamed in protest. Muscles, tender and torn, ached with every movement, each motion sending a spike of agony through his frame. But still, he rose.

Slow.

Measured.

He groaned softly as his hands pushed against the ground, his torn skin scraping against the dirt, the sting of shredded muscle and fractured nerves jolting up his spine.

His legs trembled beneath him, threatening to buckle, but he steadied himself. With effort, he planted his feet firmly against the earth, feeling the cool ground beneath him anchor his weight.

He stood.

And as he did, it felt as though he grew taller, his spine straightening, his chest lifting with something almost... victorious. Taller than before.

Not just in stature, but in presence. The man before him, the one who had tried to break him, was still writhing on the ground, clutching his face with blood-soaked hands. Son.

His scream still hung in the air, raw and frenzied.

Mikey’s eyes locked onto him.

Blood clung to his lips like the remnants of a battle fought and won—war paint. His fingers curled into a trembling fist, and he flexed, feeling the strength, along with the tension, rising in his hand.

His head tilted slightly, first to the left, then to the right, as if considering something. Calculating.

His breath came slow, steady.

A deep inhale, and then a steady exhale that seemed to expel the last of his doubt. And in that moment, a silent thought burned into his mind-

’You might be new to this place, but you’re not untouchable. Not to me.

You think you’re unreadable? You’re wrong. I see you. You’re an open book. I just had to read the pages.

His fingers twitched around the fist.

See, in this fight, I might’ve been the weakest—hell, weaker than the damned spectators—but I had one thing none of you did. Patience. Strategy. Will.’

’I didn’t need to be the strongest. I just had to act. Act like I was weak. Like I was helpless, pathetic, someone to be disregarded. You all thought I was an easy target. And you bought it. You bought every fucking second of it.

I let you think I was beneath you. I let you hit me. Let you mock me. But while you were laughing, I was planning. Thinking. Watching.

I knew punching you wouldn’t work. You’re faster than me. A trained kickboxer. I knew that. But what you didn’t expect was...’

’...An attack that didn’t move.

An attack that hid in plain sight behind my stillness. I made you lower your guard. And when you did, I went for what you never saw coming.’

His gaze hardened as he watched son, still trying to rise from the dirt, his body trembling with the effort. His hands were soaked in blood. He was clutching his face as though trying to hold himself together, but Mikey could see it. The rage beneath the pain.

And then, without another thought, Mikey moved.

One step.

Then another. Each one heavier, more thunderous than the last, like the earth beneath his feet trembled with his fury. His footsteps reverberated through the air, shaking the ground itself.

Son blinked, his good eye narrowing as he turned toward Mikey, the blood still streaming down his face. The pain was evident, but beneath it, something else stirred—a seething, volcanic rage. And then Mikey exploded forward with a shout.

"Got ya!!!"

BAM!

The punch landed like an earthquake. Mikey’s fist collided with son’s jaw with a sickening crunch that reverberated through the air. son’s head snapped to the side, his chin jerking violently as his body left the ground, his feet kicking uselessly in the air.

Mikey didn’t just throw a punch. He threw everything he had left into it—the full weight of his body, every last drop of energy he’d been saving, all the hidden strength from playing the role of the weak.

Son flew.

His body crashed into the dirt, rolling, skidding, tumbling across the battlefield. The impact left him sprawled out at the feet of his Iron Vipers, his face a mask of blood and disbelief.

Mikey stood still, his chest heaving, the adrenaline still coursing through him. Blood stained his lips, his knuckles raw and bruised, swollen from the impact. He looked down at his hand, trembling with the aftershocks of the hit. It was swollen, battered, a bloody mess. His blood, mingled with son’s.

And then...

A sniffle.

A single drop of water fell from his eye. His one good eye, the one that hadn’t swollen shut. Another followed. And another.

’I did it.’

The thought was whispered, barely audible in the chaos of his mind.

’ I really did it.’

His lips parted, trembling slightly as the words formed in his mind.

’I... I landed the hit. Did you see? I... changed my future. I created a new order. That’s right. I won. I don’t have to die. Not anymore. I won’t be a prisoner in that hell of a future. I completed my mission. And I... I skipped the hurdle!’

His gaze flickered toward Aurora, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

She stood in the crowd, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her mouth parted slightly, as if the sight before her was almost too much to take in. But more than that, she was amazed. She was stunned.

And then... she smiled.

A smile that cracked through the weight of the moment like a ray of light breaking through a storm.

"Mikey! You did it!"

Her voice rang out across the battlefield, filled with warmth and pride. Mikey felt his chest swell, his heart hammering as he lifted a trembling hand toward her.

The emotions—pride, joy, disbelief, pain—came crashing together, threatening to overwhelm him.

But then...

A blur.

A sickening flash of blue.

Mikey didn’t even see it coming suddenly collided with Mikey with a sickening impact.

BANG!

The world exploded around him as a brutal strike landed on his chin. His brain rattled inside his skull. His legs flew out from under him. The impact was so sudden, so vicious, that everything—his thoughts, his breath, his senses—became a chaotic blur of sound and color.

His body crashed into a tree, the bark cracking loudly as he slammed against it, the force of the blow taking the breath right out of him.

He gasped, not for air, but for sanity. His mind was reeling, the pain so sharp it was almost impossible to process. His spine felt as if it had snapped in two, his skull ringing with the aftershocks.

And there, standing in front of him, was Son.

Bloodied. Broken. One eye swollen shut. His face twisted in pure, feral rage. His teeth were bared like an animal, and his body trembled with fury.

"You... You bastard."

Son’s voice was low, dangerous. His gaze flicked to his men, his command cutting through the air.

"Bring me my bat."

The words rang with malice.

A chilling silence fell over the battlefield.

Mikey slumped against the tree, barely able to move, his chest rising and falling in short, painful breaths.

Son stalked forward, like a wounded animal, dangerous not despite his injuries, but because of them. And as he approached, the Iron Vipers hesitated, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.

Aurora’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and clear.

"Enough, son! He won! Everyone saw it! He won!"

But Son didn’t listen.

His rage had long since eclipsed any sense of reason.

"BRING. ME. MY. BAT."

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