The tragic death of his companion, the desperate situation; Jessey chose to embrace death, turning into a cold corpse in a pool of blood.
Bologue guessed that until the mont of his death, Jessey was still cursing him.
The ground trembled, waves of Ether reactions continuously rose in the distance, the flas of war gradually spreading to the Fog Abyss Fortress, even reaching the wanderer’s crossroads and engulfing most of the Great Rift.
This was a battle of purification; under the strict seal of the Order Bureau, citizens would only see strange lights rolling in the Sea of Mist. To them, the spectacular lights had long been taken for granted. Except for newcors who might pause briefly, no one paid attention to the scene within the Sea of Mist, nor did anyone realize how thinly they were separated from the Extraordinary war.
Blood dripped from Bologue’s fingertips as he walked, asking.
"Do you think I’m a pervert, Palr?"
"Sotis," Palr confird, "Luckily you’re an Order Bureau staff mber; if you were outside, you might beco a homicidal maniac."
"Do you think my violence is a hobby?"
"Isn’t it?"
Bologue was silent for a mont; he couldn’t deny it. He indeed enjoyed inflicting brutal behavior upon enemies.
Bologue had a savior spirit, but unlike the noble savior under universal values, Bologue leaned more towards the punitive side.
He couldn’t help but argue, "I’m just very serious about my work."
"Then you’re a bit too serious."
Palr didn’t sympathize with the enemies; that was a child’s idea. He only felt a little disgusted and questioned Bologue’s ntal state.
With Bologue’s help, Palr often watched so heavy-taste low-budget movies, feeling nothing inside. Compared to these artistic films, Palr had seen real knives and guns at work.
"Well... speaking of which, you might not believe it, Palr."
"Not believe what?"
Palr and Bologue answered each other; this was often their style of action, seemingly chatting in terrible situations to pass ti and alleviate stress.
It could be said that the more idle talk between them, the greater the stress. Under normal circumstances, Bologue would efficiently complete tasks and head ho.
"Actually, I’m a pacifist."
Bologue stopped, turned to Palr, and said seriously.
Palr was expressionless, "That joke is really cold."
"No, I’m serious, Palr. I’ve read many books lately, and I’ve discovered I’m quite like pacifists described in them." Bologue continued walking.
"If you’re a pacifist, then what’s the Devil? An Angel?" Palr shook his head, "That’s too ironic."
"No... I just think there’re many ways to achieve peace, and violence is undoubtedly one of them."
Bologue repeated his answer, "Violence breeds peace."
Palr didn’t know what to say, while Bologue continued his twisted reasoning.
"As long as all other violence is completely destroyed, becoming the sole, most formidable violence, then absolute violence also represents absolute peace, doesn’t it?"
Bologue beca sowhat excited, muttering to himself, "Everyone daring to disrupt order shall face severe punishnt of violence."
Palr comnted, "Sounds like a terrifying dictator."
"I think so too," Bologue replied with a smile, "I also know this sort of thing is too idealistic."
"Nothing can be absolute, like justice and evil," Palr quickly added, "The Devil is certainly evil."
"The Devil?" Bologue thought for a mont, "They’re more like a mass of chaotic forms."
The dark umbilical cord at his abdon gradually solidified; Bologue knew he was growing closer to the Shadow King, feeling a certain excitent.
Palr asked, "Do you think you’ll beco a terrifying dictator?"
"I don’t know," Bologue shook his head, "I don’t even know what kind of person I truly am."
Bologue halted, raised his hand to stop Palr; the ti for idle chatter was over. The roaring of engines approached from afar, the two exchanged a glance, and the next second, the stones beneath their feet collapsed and shattered.
After the billowing smoke, Bologue and Palr fell into an interior courtyard; the space was large, but everywhere lay collapsed rubble. Several huge rifts traversed the building, seemingly resulting from Bologue’s full-force strike last ti.
Like toppling dominoes, Bologue only needed to destroy the crucial parts of the building, and then it would collapse under its gravity.
The surrounding noise beca clear.
Bologue gripped the Sword Axe tightly, vigilant, and after the dust settled, a nightmare-like monster appeared before him.
It was a grotesque creature pieced together from various chanical parts and ghastly limbs, its surface tangled with a cable network that appeared twisted yet filled with an industrial sense. The cables’ surfaces were covered with hideous gears and bayonets, resembling a bloody, juicy circuit diagram.
Bologue guessed these cables were the monster’s nerve center, transmitting energy through massive machinery. Within the monster’s bones and muscles grew nurous chanical attachnts and parts, seemingly made of rare tals, shimring with strange light, transforming the entire monster into a colossal fusion of flesh and machinery.
What truly made Bologue uneasy and excited was the slight sting he felt in the air, as if corrosive gas perated the area.
Behind the flesh monster, countless personnel in Protective Clothing bustled; they seed to be calibrating sothing. On the outer periter stood fully ard Shield Guards, among whom Bologue saw the hateful face.
"Morrison!"
Palr’s roar rang out first; the previously relaxed chatting Palr suddenly raged, squeezing the trigger, shooting at Morrison.
The Alchemy Warhead drew a fatal trajectory, but with Morrison’s tily dodge, it left only pits on the tal plates.
As Morrison was surprised at the deep invasion of enemies, Bologue also felt quite astonished.
Bologue hadn’t found the Shadow King, but he guessed he found what the King’s Shield Guard had been scheming.
The massive flesh construct exuded a deep, thick sense of doom.
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