Novel & Cerita Berserk Of Gluttony

It wasn't pain; it was theft. My knees buckled. The golden aura of my gravity field flickered and died, vacuumed into the black hole of his presence. I felt my strength—the years of training, the Highblood vitality, the very will to maintain my posture—flowing out of my pores like cold sweat. My muscles felt like dry leaves, brittle and hollow. "Barzil!" Viggo choked out. I looked at the Berserker. He was shrinking. His massive muscles were deflating in real-time. His red eyes were dimming to a dull, muddy brown. He fell to his hands and knees. He retched—a wet, agonizing sound of bile hitting stone.