Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 654

Chapter 654: Bare– 2000 STATS UNLEASHED

The hall ignited into a cacophony of man-made thunder, the guards’ fingers finally committing to the squeeze—triggers depressing in pathetic slow-motion crawls, hammers falling like drunk sloths, chambers rotating with lazy, audible clicks that echoed like bad punchlines.

Muzzles belched white-orange hellfire in strobing bursts, the air instantly thick with the acrid choke of cordite, scorched powder, and the underlying rot of fear-piss soaking their pants.

Brass casings arced golden and tinkling, pinging off marble like cheap wind chimes in a hurricane, bullets shrieking forth in supersonic fury, their trails ripping sonic booms that would deafen mortals.

But me? I was the punchline they never saw coming. Time bent to my will—syrupy, hilarious sludge where their elite training looked like toddlers finger-painting with crayons.

"Aw, boys," I boomed, voice rumbling like a subwoofer in their chests, grinning wide as the first volley slammed home. "You call that shooting? My grandma used to knits faster—and she’s been dead for so long now!"

Rounds hammered my torso—dozens of kinetic sledgehammers thudding dull against the nano-weave suit, fabric compressing with meaty whumps that vibrated ribs like a badass massage.

Bullets mushroomed flat against the impenetrable layers, peeling away in smoking lead smears that scorched black streaks across the chest, heat blooming deep bruises that tingled like foreplay.

One lucky shit grazed my bicep, parting suit fibers in a hiss of vaporized threads—skin beneath nicked shallow, blood welling hot and sticky, trickling down arm in crimson rivulets that I flicked away with a chuckle.

"Tickles! You kiss your mothers with those aim skills?"

I blurred forward—boot cratering marble into explosive dust clouds, fragments pelting faces like buckshot confetti, slicing cheeks open in blooming red smiles. Shockwave bowled the front line, knees buckling with wet ligament pops, rifles jerking skyward in wild sprays that stitched the ceiling with harmless spark showers.

First gorilla—scarred mug twisting in bug-eyed horror, sweat pouring salty rivers—I ghosted in front, snatching his rifle mid-burst.

"Borrow this?" Barrel crumpled like tinfoil in my grip, screeching metal tear as the chamber backfired in a glorious orange bloom, vaporizing his hands into charred meat stumps—fingers flying like bloody popcorn, bone shards embedding walls with wet thunks.

He screamed guttural, throat raw and vibrating.

"Shh," I taunted, driving knuckles through his gut—piercing Kevlar and abs with squelching resistance, hand erupting out back clutching spine loops and steaming intestines.

Yanked free in a stringy rip, guts slopping floor in glossy piles, blood scalding my forearm like fresh coffee. "Oops! Pulled your plug, buddy. How’s that for a gut feeling?"

He folded, dragging entrails like wet ropes, pink lung-froth bubbling lips. "Crawl for it, champ—maybe you’ll win a participation trophy!"

I pivoted into the storm—bullets whiffing hair partings, one slamming thigh with a thunk that bloomed purple heat under suit, another cracking forearm guard with a spark shower. Weaved micro-sways, rounds exploding walls behind in marble dust geysers.

I leapt balcony—air howling displacement boom, bowling three goons mid-fall, bodies pinwheeling slow, rifles spinning comets.

Landed perch-crash, planks splintering into stakes that impaled one’s thigh—bone crunching through meat, blood pooling thick syrup.

"Pinned ya!" I laughed as he wailed falsetto.

Five rushed—knives silver blurs, shotguns orange belches. "Party time!" Dodged pellets in hair-breadth weaves, stray shot peppering shoulder—suit shredding in smoky puffs, skin prickling unmarred beneath.

I snatched shotgun, wrenching with shoulder pop—his arm flopping useless meat sock. Rammed barrel down another’s throat: "Open wide!"

Muzzle flash—head erupting in backward geyser, brain sludge splattering mates in wet gray globs, eyeballs popping in juicy bursts, dangling by optic strings.

"Brains over brawn? Nah—brains on the wall!"

I moved so fast, face-grabbed another—knives squishing his one socket, thumb bursting the other orb in grape-pops, viscous goo squirting warm.

"Eye for an eye? How about two!" My knee rose—skull caving with mush crunch, frontal lobe imploding, brain extruding from nostrils in thick paste. He seized, shitting himself, pants bulging pungent. "Smells like victory—and your lunch!"

SMG hoser—bullets stitching phantom where I’d stood. Blurred behind: "Tag, you’re it!" My impossibly fast and strong hand plunged through his back—ribs parting like wet cardboard, fingers wrapping around his heart in a vice grip.

"Got your ticker!" Squeezed until it ruptured with a squish, yanked the pulped jelly free in an arterial spray that painted the balcony in crimson abstract.

Jaw-ripped another—mandibles prying apart in velcro flesh-tear, tongue flopping exposed. "Say ahh—permanently!"

"Monster? Nah—I’m the punchline!" I called after him, bullets still pinging my chest in harmless pancakes. The side door splintered under his desperate shoulder-slam, bloody handprints smearing the frame as he disappeared into the deeper vaults.

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