FFF Class Auto Hero: The Weakest Class Turned Out To Be The Strongest?-Chapter 33: First Meal [GT Bonus Chapter]

"He hasn’t been heard of for hundreds of years," Veyrn muttered, clenching his jaw, sweat mixing with the dirt on his face.

"If that’s truly the moon god, then the only explanation is that his worshipers somehow resurrected him recently..."

His eyes flicked to the divine circle blazing in the sky, then back to the thousands of moonlight spears that continued to rain down, carving the earth into a landscape of craters and silvery fire.

"Which means," he continued, his voice steadier now, "he’d be severely weakened. Resurrection, even for a god, comes at a price. His vessel must still be adjusting—his Authority shouldn’t be this stable. He can’t possibly keep this up for long."

"Are you gambling on that?" Harrow growled, hurling another shard of obsidian-black energy into the air, which expanded into a temporary shield dome around them.

It cracked instantly beneath the assault but slowed the next wave of spears just enough for them to catch their breath.

"I’m saying we have a chance," Veyrn hissed. "No being can channel that much divine power endlessly. Not even a god. He’s bluffing—this whole spectacle is to intimidate, to give the illusion of invincibility."

"You’re wrong." Harrow’s gaze was distant, haunted. "You’re thinking in mortal terms. But Lunareio isn’t bound by the same rules authorities are usually sustained with—divine power, belief, or offerings—and I doubt his followers haven’t given him a ton already."

"Even if that is the case, we can’t just roll over and die here, Harrow. The council expects great things from us... I won’t let some ancient god who’s just been resurrected stop me."

Veyrn stood slowly, brushing the blood from a fresh cut on his brow. The rain of spears had slowed just enough to make a move. He raised his arms, and a complex series of purple spell circles erupted around him, rotating in perfect harmony.

Arcane glyphs spiraled around his body, forming a lattice of shimmering defense.

"If I can disrupt the outer rings of that Authority sigil," he said, "I might be able to break the connection he’s using to feed power into it. If I can’t cancel it entirely, I can at least fracture its form. Then, you, with your speed, can attack him from behind."

Harrow’s eyes narrowed. "You won’t get a second chance."

"I won’t need one."

With a roar, Veyrn vanished in a flash of teleportation magic, reappearing high in the sky above the battlefield—directly beneath the massive sigil. His hands moved like lightning, weaving spell after spell as threads of magic twisted into a matrix.

Lunareio turned his head slowly, the expression behind his demon mask unreadable. His voice came softly, yet carried across the world like a whisper from the moon itself.

"Ah... a defiant one."

He raised his hand, palm open to the stars.

"Luminous Decree: Dreambound Silence."

The world shuddered.

Veyrn’s spell matrix faltered mid-cast.

His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

His eyes widened in horror as he realized—his thoughts were slowing.

The very concept of action was being unraveled, as if time had become thick, like honey.

"I... I can’t... move," he gasped, trapped in a stasis of sleep.

Back on the ground, Harrow gritted his teeth, feeling the echo of Lunareio’s Authority ripple through the field.

Lunareio’s fingers, firm and cold, stretched toward Veyrn’s neck with unsettling calmness.

He hovered just inches away from his target, and the air grew thicker, suffocating.

The moonlit spears still rained down in the background, but they seemed insignificant compared to the palpable aura of dread radiating from Lunareio’s presence.

He spoke softly, but each word was weighted like a command to the very fabric of reality.

"You know, I haven’t had anything to eat since I got here."

Veyrn’s eyes widened in shock, and his body stiffened under the god’s hold. Lunareio’s left eye glowed an unsettling purple, while the right was an equally unsettling blue.

Those eyes were not human—they seemed to hold entire realms of unfathomable depth, as though they contained galaxies and black holes within them.

Veyrn could not look away, frozen in fear.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Lunareio’s fingers closed around Veyrn’s throat, gently squeezing, as though he were holding something delicate and precious.

Veyrn gasped for breath, feeling the overwhelming pressure in his windpipe. His pulse quickened, but Lunareio paid it no mind.

"So unfortunately, I can’t control myself." He leaned closer, his breath cool against Veyrn’s skin. "Although, you’ll find out... it’s actually a very blissful experience. So let us enjoy... ourselves."

Veyrn’s body went rigid. A cold sweat drenched his back as he tried to break free, but it was futile.

Every attempt to struggle felt like an act of desperation. He was powerless, trapped by the grip of a being far beyond his comprehension.

Then Lunareio did something unexpected.

With a slow motion, he reached up with his other hand and gently removed the demon mask that had concealed his face.

The mask pulled away with a soft hiss, revealing a visage of otherworldly beauty.

For a moment, Veyrn was struck dumb. The god before him was impossibly handsome, his face sculpted to perfection—his chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbones, and full lips all impossibly alluring.

His skin, pale as moonlight, seemed to glow faintly under the shimmering starlight, and his expression was both regal and terrifying.

His beauty was so intense it almost hurt to look at.

It was the kind of beauty that could ensnare both men and women, irresistible and cold.

But just as Veyrn felt a brief, bewildering sensation of awe, Lunareio’s lips parted, revealing teeth as sharp as daggers and a sinuous, cosmic blue slit tongue that flicked out like a serpent’s.

Veyrn’s heart skipped a beat as terror washed over him. His body reacted involuntarily, his muscles seizing, trying to break free from the god’s unyielding grip.

But it was too late. Lunareio’s fangs gleamed as he lowered his head, his eyes gleaming with something predatory.

Before Veyrn could scream or even think, Lunareio’s mouth opened wider, and Veyrn could feel something being drawn from deep within him.

A sickening pull, like a great vacuum, began to tear at the very core of his being.

White energy—no, his soulflare—began to leak out of him.

It poured from his mouth, his eyes, his nose, as though his soul itself were being siphoned away.

The energy was bright and pure, spilling in torrents like molten light, leaving Veyrn empty, hollow. His body convulsed with the sensation, but he couldn’t stop it. He was powerless to prevent it.

The energy surged toward Lunareio, entering his mouth like a river flooding into a reservoir.

The god’s throat moved rhythmically, swallowing greedily. His eyes fluttered in what could only be described as pleasure.

Veyrn’s vision began to blur, his body weakening rapidly.

The pull intensified, and his breath became shallow and erratic. He was being consumed, drained from the inside out, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"You taste... exquisite... So you dream of the power to one day stand above the gods, as you command beings beyond our world to trample all beneath your feet," Lunareio murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as the last remnants of Veyrn’s energy vanished into him.

"How wonderful... Although it lacked the taste of realism."

The god’s lips curled into a smile, and for the first time, Veyrn understood what it meant to be devoured—not just in body, but in spirit.

The last thing Veyrn saw before his vision blacked out was the cold, predatory gleam in Lunareio’s eyes, and then... nothing.