Novel & Cerita Gluttony Fullmetal Alchemist

He held a Scythe of Obsidian-Flint and Human Teeth, its blade etched with the calorie-counts of every failed pack in the Eastern territories. "You have feasted in the South, Darlene," the Grain-Lord spoke, his voice sounding like the rubbing of dry husks. "You have broken the brine and the glass. But here, in the One-Hundred-and-Fourth Layer, your fire is just a Spark in a Drought. The East does not forgive. The East Consumes". He raised his scythe, and the wind didn't blow—it Sucked the moisture from the air. The heat was not physical; it was the Cumulative Hunger of the Abandoned. I felt the "Too Much" energy in my marrow begin to shrivel, the strength in my limbs being replaced by the "Ho

His dark green eyes glittered in amusement as he tilted his head, his smirk sharp and knowing. > "Tired already?" I gritted my teeth. "Go to hell." > "I've been there, darling. It's overrated." A deep, hungry growl rumbled behind us. Glutton. He stepped into view, his hulking frame blocking the moonlight, his mouth curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. > "I wonder what you taste like," he rumbled, his voice thick, guttural, hungry. I shuddered.

Alban asked with a raised eyebrow and a fork in hand, his comment seeming to worry me a little as I sat with my hands together. “Back at The Full Moon Pack, I was under strict dietary restrictions and guidelines to maintain my abilities as a warrior, this food was strictly off limits for me. Even mentioning this meal would result in punishment.” I explain staring down at the food as though it held some kind of poison, but my comment seemed to piss Alban off.

“We were young by our kind’s measure. Foolish. Hungry. Untouchable. We fought together. Traveled together." He swallowed hard. “He taught me everything about what we are. Everything except compassion. That I learned on my own. And not soon enough.” Avel’s jaw tightened. He looked past me, as though seeing something buried deep in memory. “Caelan fed without restraint—again and again—before his hunger ever learned its limits.” His voice lowered. “Blood changed him. Too much of it. Too fast. It sharpened everything—his senses, his desire, his cruelty. Hunger stopped being something to survive and became something to worship.”

My stomach was growling with a ferocity that bordered on violent. Being a Half-Angel with a Phoenix-blessed core was a double-edged sword; my magic was potent, but my metabolism burned through fuel at an alarming rate. After the high-octane drama of the morning and the mental strain of the orientation tour, I felt like I could eat a whole roasted boar and ask for seconds. But as I rounded the final corner and the scent of spiced meats and fresh bread hit me, the hunger was momentarily eclipsed by a searing, holy irritation.

Instantly, the situation was reversed. "Why? Those shiny things appear to be very delicious." Evil Moon was having a good time. When he bowed his head, he saw the inscription formation that was transmitting several men in black. He swatted the formation with his claws and the formation was directly destroyed. "Crunch! Crunch!" As a super foodie, the fat cat habitually picked up several metal base-plates curved with inscriptions and shoved them into its mouth, then it chewed them like beans. It commented while eating, "No taste! Just so so... en, a little bit hard!"

was now perfectly positioned to catch every whisper, every sigh, and every lie. "Try ze baguette, Monsieur Prince!" I said, shoving the basket toward Alaric. "She is tough on ze outside, but soft on ze inside. Like... how do you say... a marshmallow in armor!" Alaric looked at the bread with genuine disgust. "I don't eat gluten before noon. It bloats the silhouette." "More for me, then," the silver-haired man at the end of the table said. His voice was a deep, raspy baritone. He reached out and grabbed the very loaf that contained my multi-thousand-dollar transmitter.

“Do you want me to spoon feed you like an injured pup in front of the Beta?” Kade’s mouth twitched. Draven’s eyes went flat. “I will throw you out a window.” “Uh-huh,” Greta said. “Open.” Draven snarled but he opened his mouth anyway. Greta shoved the spoon in. He glared at her while he swallowed. It wasn’t hunger, not really, not the way his body used to eat after a hunt, tearing into meat like a beast. It was mechanical. Bitter. Ugly. Dry. Swallow. Again. Again.

I took heaps of the roasted meat, several thick wedges of bread, and a mountain of fruit until the porcelain nearly groaned under the weight. If I was to be a servant, I would be a well-fed one. I pulled out the chair and sat, the floral fabric of my shirt rustling as I prepared to eat, ignoring the lowly mortal gaze that watched my every move. A soft, melodic chuckle escaped his throat, immediately. "A god with a mortal appetite," he mused, tapping a long finger against the table. "And a petty streak to match." He gestured to the tiny scrap of bread on his plate with a mock sigh. "Tell me, Khyronis. Do you plan to starve your master, or is this your way of telling me you don't know how to s

My stomach growled in anticipation, and I dug in with reckless abandon, savoring the flavors and textures of the dishes. I ate with a ferocity that surprised even myself, my hunger and exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the face of this culinary delight. Lyrien's voice interrupted my gluttony, ''Eat slowly, you might hurt your stomach.'' I nodded, mesmerized by the vibrant colors and warmth of the world around me. It was a beauty I had never beheld before, a stark contrast to the darkness I had known. Memories flooded my mind, transporting me back to that fateful night two years ago, when I was 18 and first discovered my inner demon.