Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 298: Child Of The Grim Reaper

In a sudden burst of motion, Finch pounced forward, his figure blurring like a streak of black lightning. Fourteen enemies still remained, and in his mind, they were already corpses waiting to fall. He wouldn’t be sparing anyone, no matter who they were or what pleas they might make. Mercy had no place in battle.

Almost immediately, a volley of arrows tore through the air from multiple directions, some from the flanks, others descending from above. Finch’s senses sharpened instinctively, every fiber of his being screaming danger. His head snapped upward just in time to witness the arrows closing in, there were dozens of them, each radiating elemental energy.

Some burned with raging flames, while others shimmered with compressed winds sharp enough to carve through boulders. These weren’t ordinary arrows; they were infused with elemental energies.

Finch reacted instantly. His right hand glowed faintly as he channeled Astra into his teleportation ring, aiming to teleport out of harm’s way. But the familiar sensation never came. The ring flickered once and fell silent, refusing to respond. The usual ripple of spatial distortion that always accompanied his teleportation didn’t appear.

’The teleportation ring doesn’t function outside the Separate Dimension,’ Finch realized immediately, his sharp mind assessing the situation with mechanical precision. There was no panic, only quick calculation.

In the next heartbeat, his black chain came alive. It slithered around him like a sentient serpent, responding to his will. Under his control, it expanded outward with frightening speed, twisting and shifting until it formed a massive black dome of interlocking chains around him.

The moment the dome sealed, the arrows struck.

The explosions that followed were deafening. The air itself trembled as elemental force collided against the dome with furious intensity. Flames flared, wind screamed, and shockwaves rippled through the battlefield. The temperature outside the dome spiked instantly, the heat trying to melt the metal links, while the cutting winds shredded violently against them like invisible blades. But both efforts were utterly futile.

Finch stood calmly within his dome, unmoved, his expression stone-like and indifferent. The roaring inferno and howling gales outside were nothing but background noise. His chain was literally indestructible, in every sense of the word. These bandits had a better chance of ascending to godhood than breaking through his chain with mere force.

Then, a strange sensation spread beneath his boots. The solid ground had become soft and damp, the earth slowly giving way. Finch’s eyes flicked downward, his instincts screaming danger once again.

’A quagmire,’ he thought immediately as his legs began to sink into the muddy trap. But still, he did not panic.

With a thought, the chain dome around him unraveled, its links withdrawing and shortening with fluid motion. In the same instant, Finch shot the chain upward, the end launching into the air like a wingless dragon ascending to the heavens. He caught one of the links firmly, and in a powerful motion, the chain pulled him upward and out of the forming mire that sought to swallow him whole.

Appearing midair, Finch barely had a moment before the bandits with ranged abilities attacked again. Their hands glowed with Astra as another round of arrows and elemental blasts surged toward him. But Finch was already gone. His figure blurred, twisting through the air as he dodged effortlessly, each movement sharp and calm.

He appeared before one of the archers almost instantly. The man, or rather, a woman with a bow glowing faintly, barely had time to react. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Finch’s body straightened mid-motion, and before she could even take a step, his foot crashed into her chest.

The collision sent a shockwave tearing through the forest floor. The archer’s body shot backward like a broken doll, smashing through several trees before finally slamming into the ground. She didn’t move again. Finch didn’t bother to look twice, he knew she was dead.

”Seven,” he murmured quietly, his tone calm as always, as if he were simply counting steps. His eyes darted toward where the second archer had been moments ago, only to see the figure fleeing through the trees, changing positions in desperation to avoid being caught.

Before Finch could pursue, several more bandits charged toward him with a roar of fury. Their blades gleamed under the sunlight, their battle cries filled with rage. But Finch couldn’t care less about their anger.

His arm blurred.

The black chain cracked through the air with a thunderous snap, striking like a living whip. The impact was brutal, when it collided, it didn’t merely cut; it pulverized. The first bandit hit by it exploded into a mist of blood and broken bones, his body torn apart by sheer force. The rest fared no better. The chain swept again, shattering breastplates and crushing ribcages as easily as one would crush fruit.

Each hit sounded like thunder, each victim another corpse on the blood-soaked earth. Crimson splattered across the silver gleam of their armor, staining it dark.

”Eleven,” Finch whispered, his voice barely audible over the echoing carnage. His black eyes glowed faintly as they cut through the drifting dust and smoke caused by his last strike.

Without a word, the remaining nine bandits turned and fled in all directions. Panic filled their eyes. To them, this weirdly fat boy wasn’t human, he was a monster, an Emovira disguised in mortal flesh. They were bandits, not knights bound by honor. Loyalty meant nothing to them; survival meant everything.

Finch frowned slightly as he watched them scatter. He was fast, but chasing nine people at once was impossible. Then, a thought flickered through his mind, an idea that curved his lips into a faint smile.

’Let’s see just how far my chain can truly expand,’ he thought to himself.

Without missing a beat, he swung his arm upward, sending his chain flying into the sky once more. His will surged through it, commanding it to obey. Instantly, the links began to multiply, lengthening and expanding at an astonishing rate. Within seconds, the once-normal chain had become a colossal black structure, stretching across the sky like a metallic serpent.

Each link locked into place with a heavy clang, forming a massive dome that covered nearly a hundred-meter radius. The fleeing bandits froze as the dome completed, sealing off every path of escape.

”FUCK!” ”SHIT!” ”DAMN IT!”

Their curses echoed through the forest as the dome’s shadow swallowed them whole. The sunlight filtered weakly through the small openings in each chain link, scattering rays of light that illuminated the ground beneath in fragmented patches.

Finch’s knees bent slightly, his muscles coiling like springs ready to explode.

Then; he vanished.

He moved so fast it was as if lightning itself had taken human form. The ground beneath him cracked from the force of his takeoff. In a single blink, he appeared before one of the nearest bandits, his expression calm, eyes emotionless.

Without hesitation, he thrust his fingers forward as though they were a spear. His fingers pierced clean through the man’s neck, slicing flesh and bone alike. Blood spurted violently as the bandit’s eyes widened in terror. Finch didn’t even stop moving. He pulled his hand free and disappeared again before the body hit the ground.

The other bandits screamed, spinning in all directions, trying desperately to track him. But it was futile. Finch’s figure flickered from one side of the forest to another, his movements so fast they left afterimages, ghostly illusions dancing between trees and corpses.

In mere seconds, the screams began to fade one after another. Each ended abruptly, followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the ground.

Then; silence.

The forest was quiet again, save for the whisper of wind moving through the trees. Blood pooled across the earth, the once-green grass now painted crimson.

Finch stood still amidst the carnage, his breathing steady, his expression unreadable.

”Twenty,” he said finally, his voice low and composed, the word hanging in the air like a death sentence.

He looked every bit like the child of the Grim Reaper, a silent, merciless executioner born of shadow and steel.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: One last super gift before the month ends? Don’t forget the golden tickets. Thanks for reading.