Chapter 770: Summoning The Sin of Gluttony (1)
"I don’t really feel like going through the entire hierarchy of demons within this layer of hell before reaching your almighty ruler, so I’ll give you a chance to stand down and call out the Sin of Gluttony."
"HAH! AND YOU REALLY THINK I’D DO THAT?!"
KSH... and just like that, Voracity, the terror that reigned over this region disappeared into nothing but a pile of disconnected bones. Even his soul wasn’t safe as the Lich quickly caught it and consumed it like it was the sweetest treat in the entire universe.
"Acquired his memories?" Orion asked.
"Yeah... He’s asleep, but I know the ritual to wake him."
As the final echoes of Voracity’s voice faded into the air, his once-terrifying form crumbled into nothing but a pile of disconnected bones, the remnants of his monstrous presence scattered across the blood-soaked ground. The Lich, with an eerie calmness, swiftly captured Voracity’s fleeing soul, consuming it with an almost delicate grace, as if savoring the essence of the fallen terror.
Orion watched as the Lich hovered momentarily in the air, its skeletal form pulsating with newfound energy. Then, with a silent command, the Lich descended gracefully to the ground, its feet landing softly upon the blood-streaked earth. The moment its feet touched the ground, the atmosphere around it shifted dramatically.
A dark, ethereal mist began to rise from the ground, swirling around the Lich as its small, chibi form began to morph and expand. The mist thickened, enveloping the Lich completely as its shape grew taller, broader, more imposing. The aura of mature intellect and composed power that had always radiated from the Lich now transformed into something far more menacing, a palpable force of dread that weighed heavily on the air.
As the mist dissipated, the Lich’s new form emerged—a towering, spectral figure that bore little resemblance to its previous chibi incarnation. Standing nearly as tall as the twisted peaks of the Citadel, the Lich now appeared in its original, pre-undead form, a manifestation of the dark, arcane power it wielded in life. Its skeletal visage had been replaced by a face both terrifying and regal, with hollow eyes that glowed with an intense, otherworldly light, burning like two dark suns within its skull. The face, though partially decayed, retained a ghostly elegance, with sharp, defined features that hinted at the Lich’s former nobility and strength.
Its body, now cloaked in flowing robes of shadow and blood, exuded an aura of sheer dominance. The robes, adorned with arcane symbols and ancient runes, seemed to shift and shimmer with an inner light, as if woven from the very fabric of dark magic. The Lich’s hands, once small and skeletal, were now long and clawed, brimming with the same ethereal energy that crackled in the air around it. Each movement of the Lich’s fingers sent ripples through the air, as if the very reality around them bent to its will.
The aura that radiated from the Lich was no longer just that of an ancient and wise being; it was now a force of nature, raw and unyielding. The once-mature demeanor had given way to an overwhelming sense of menace, a presence that demanded submission from all who stood before it. The blood-soaked ground beneath the Lich seemed to react to its presence, the crimson liquid bubbling and churning as if agitated by the sheer power exuding from the Lich’s form.
As the transformation completed, the Lich stood in its full, terrifying glory—a figure of ethereal might, its power magnified by the devouring of Voracity’s soul. The Citadel of War itself seemed to recognize the Lich’s new form, the very landscape shifting subtly to accommodate the presence of this powerful being. The air grew colder, the light dimmer, as the Lich’s menacing aura spread throughout the Citadel, a silent warning to any who might dare challenge its dominion.
Orion could feel the shift in power as the Lich’s transformation settled. This was no longer just a summon, but a force to be reckoned with—a being whose presence could command entire legions, whose power could reshape worlds. The Lich, now in its true, ethereal form, turned its hollow gaze toward Orion, the intensity of its aura making it clear that the next phase of their journey would be one of unrivaled might and domination.
As the Lich’s transformation into its towering, ethereal form completed, the blood-soaked ground beneath them began to pulse with a deep, resonant energy. The earth trembled, and from the center of the Citadel of War, a massive magic circle started to etch itself into the very fabric of the ground, forming with an almost sentient precision.
The circle expanded rapidly, its intricate lines and symbols glowing with an ominous crimson light that mirrored the rivers of blood flowing through the Citadel. The edges of the circle were sharp and jagged, resembling the teeth of some monstrous, unseen beast, while the interior was a labyrinth of interwoven glyphs and runes, each one pulsating with a dark, arcane energy. These symbols were ancient, their meanings lost to all but the most knowledgeable in the black arts, yet their power was undeniable, vibrating through the air with a low hum that sent shivers down the spine.
The magic circle was surrounded by multiple concentric rings, each one filled with even more complex symbols and arcane patterns. These rings rotated slowly, in opposite directions, creating a dizzying effect as they moved. Between the rings, lines of energy crackled and sparked, leaping from one glyph to another, forming a web of crimson lightning that danced across the surface of the circle.
At the very center of the circle, a single, massive rune stood out, glowing brighter than the rest. It was a symbol of power, a focal point for the magic being drawn from the surrounding world. The air above this central rune shimmered with a dark, almost oily sheen, as if the circle was drawing in the very essence of the Citadel itself, channeling it into whatever dark purpose the Lich intended.
The ground within the circle seemed to warp and twist as if struggling against the immense power being unleashed. The blood that stained the earth was drawn into the circle, spiraling inward along the grooves of the symbols, fueling the magic with its own vitality. The very stone beneath the Citadel cracked and buckled under the strain, the earth groaning as if it could barely contain the force that was building within the circle.
As the magic circle reached its full form, its glow intensified, casting long, twisted shadows across the landscape. The crimson light flickered like the flames of a great inferno, illuminating the surrounding area with a malevolent radiance. The air was thick with the scent of iron and brimstone, the unmistakable scent of powerful, dark magic at work.
As the massive magic circle pulsed with dark energy, the Lich began to chant in a deep, resonant voice, its tone carrying the weight of ancient knowledge and forbidden power. The words were in a language long forgotten by most, a tongue of eldritch origins that echoed through the blood-soaked Citadel of War like a dirge from another world. Each syllable rolled off the Lich’s spectral tongue with a chilling precision, the very sound of it causing the air to tremble and the ground to shudder in response.
The magic circle responded to the chant, its crimson glow intensifying, casting eerie, pulsating light across the battlefield. The symbols within the circle seemed to shift and writhe as if alive, reacting to the ancient incantation with a fervent energy. Tendrils of dark magic rose from the circle, swirling around the Lich, coiling around its spectral form like serpents of shadow and blood.
With each verse of the chant, the air grew heavier, thick with the oppressive power of the dark arts. The ground beneath the Lich began to fracture and crack, blackened fissures spreading outward from the circle, as though reality itself was straining under the weight of the summoning. The temperature dropped, and a suffocating sense of dread filled the air, as if the very essence of the Citadel was recoiling in fear of what was about to be unleashed.
As the chant reached its climax, the Lich raised its clawed hands high above its head, and with a final, thunderous command, it called forth the portal. The center of the magic circle erupted in a blinding flash of crimson light, and a massive portal began to tear open in the fabric of reality. The portal was a swirling vortex of darkness and blood-red energy, its edges crackling with arcs of black lightning. It spiraled outward, expanding slowly, as if struggling to contain the monstrous force on the other side.
Within the depths of the portal, a grotesque form began to emerge, shrouded in shadows and writhing with unnatural life. The Sin of Gluttony was revealed—a nightmarish mass of rotting flesh, pulsating and squirming as if it was a living, breathing wound in the fabric of reality. The flesh was a sickening, decayed hue, mottled with patches of necrotic tissue and oozing sores. The surface of this grotesque entity was slick with a foul, viscous fluid that dripped onto the ground below, sizzling as it made contact with the blood-soaked earth.
