The Vengeful Saw Axe, delivered to him by the Order Bureau as an ominous Contract Object, is said to have never brought a good end to its owners.
Initially, Bologue didn’t pay much attention to the warnings from the Order Bureau, until this Hand Axe accompanied him through battle after battle, slaughtering countless enemies. Under the sacrifice of blood and death, Bologue could clearly feel the Hand Axe awakening bit by bit, regaining its Life Force.
This was not so taphorical concept but a real occurrence.
Bologue still rembers the appearance of the Hand Axe when he first received it; it looked as if it had been silent in a warehouse for many years, heavily oxidized, with rust and scars covering its edge, and the leather wrapped around the handle had beco dry and brittle.
But as it was continuously drenched in blood, the Hand Axe underwent visible changes, all the rust faded away, the scratches and nicks were supernaturally corrected and repaired, and the dry leather was moistened, feeling as warm as touching a piece of heated skin.
"Vengeful Saw Axe?"
Wei’Er recalled the term, thinking that with the long-lived mory of an Undead, she would rember sothing useful, but in reality, she couldn’t rember anything.
Bologue looked at Bode, who also shook his head, indicating that he knew nothing about this Contract Object.
"It’s normal for you not to know, after all, you’ve been tucked away enjoying retirent, how could you be familiar with every occurrence in the outside world?" Bologue said.
"Do you have the axe with you?" Bode asked.
"No, this Contract Object can affect a person’s mind; even getting close to it or looking at it can subject you to a naless fury. Those with weak minds would be conquered imdiately, and then they would pick it up and indiscriminately hack at others."
Bologue continued, "Aimou made a custom safety box, crafted from an isolating tal, which can significantly diminish its power. And other than during work, I keep it in the Cultivation Room, where it’s safer."
"An exceptionally reactive Contract Object, and it seems it can continue to grow," Wei’Er noticed its peculiarity and worriedly asked, "Can you handle it?"
Bologue said with great clarity, "It’s just a tool."
Hearing Bologue’s response, Wei’Er felt reassured. Among them, Bologue was always the most reliable, possessing many excellent qualities: cautious, persistent, unyielding, and faithful.
Whatever Bologue promised, he would surely achieve it, as strongly as a Devil’s Blood Contract.
"By the way, why does this power feel familiar to you?" Bologue asked curiously, "Have you ever interacted with this thing... or the Devil behind it in any way?"
Bologue continued, "Maybe you are a Debtor of that Devil."
"I don’t know, it feels like sothing vague and indescribable," Wei’Er’s voice turned serious, "Also, don’t discuss our past."
"Alright, alright, I get it."
Those living in the Undying Club, all of whom chose peace and retirent, reject any external disturbances to ensure their tranquil ti, much like Serey.
Bologue gradually realized he couldn’t obtain any useful information from them, and excessively probing might affect their rare friendship... these indifferent Undead don’t care, but Bologue does.
"What are you going to do?"
Seeing Bologue get up and head toward the stairwell, Wei’Er asked.
"I think I should apologize to Serey," Bologue added, "his room shouldn’t be hard to find, right?"
Long before the Decline Plague incident, in conversation with Serey, they speculated about the origins of the Undying Club, eventually agreeing that it was in the Devil’s land.
Thinking back, Bologue felt a chilling emotion; never did he think he was drinking and having fun in the Devil’s land every day, and what puzzled him more was that the ruling Devil here seed to have never shown up, making Bologue curious about who exactly this Devil is, and what kind of being he might be.
As a part of the Devil’s land, the Undying Club naturally also has many rules, such as every retired Undead being protected, cutting off all worldly grievances to enjoy peace.
At first, Bologue didn’t quite understand, but as he got to know them better, he realized they were all sinful beings, and without the protection of the Undying Club, their enemies might co knocking that very night.
Another rule is that those who are protected must offer value to the Undying Club, which is straightforward—just to help maintain the Undying Club’s existence; compared to what the Club grants them, this cost is rely a rcy. For this reason, at so point, Serey unknowingly beca a bartender.
Entering the stairwell, Bologue took a few steps forward, and as he proceeded, the corridor silently extended, like a mirage, and Bologue seed never to reach the end of the corridor, which is also one of the rules.
The Undying Club has many rules that people don’t understand, like this one, but it doesn’t really affect daily life, so these carefree Undead don’t mind them at all.
Serey isn’t completely asleep yet. When he chooses to fall into a long sleep and arrive in the future, it’s just like a regular hotel; he hangs a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, causing his room to hide in the endless stairwells, unreachable by anyone.
Most of the Undead living in the Undying Club are in such a "Do Not Disturb" status, sleeping for decades, even centuries, at a ti.
In contrast, Bologue has been at the Undying Club for only a few years, which seems fleeting compared to those colossal numbers.
At first, Bologue was puzzled as to why only Wei’Er and a few others among the awakened Undead were awake. When he thought about it, if one could summarize this long ti into a day, Wei’Er and others were enjoying afternoon tea, other Undead were napping, and Bologue had just knocked on the door and ordered a glass of orange juice.
Following the heavy scent of alcohol, Bologue searched, and around the next corner, an unexpected figure appeared before him.
"Sai Zong?"
...
"What exactly is it?"
After Bologue left, Wei’Er remained troubled, trying hard to reminisce. The Undead have endless ti, so they easily get stuck in certain dilemmas.
Bologue had heard Wei’Er tell of an Undead who, to pass the ti, created a puzzle occupying dozens of square ters, never finishing it. So Undead enjoy carving chess pieces, akin to Bologue’s war sand table, re-enacting every great historical battle.
"Are you still thinking about the Vengeful Saw Axe?" Bode asked.
"Yes, idle is idle anyway."
Wei’Er rolled over, tumbling to the edge of the bar and directly falling off, but just before hitting the ground, it agilely twisted, landing on all fours.
"Hmm? Then take your ti thinking."
Bode muttered, continuing to clean the bar, even though it was spotless, he stubbornly picked up a cloth and wiped it again and again.
The world known by human technology is finite, but this finite world will eventually be consud under the Undead’s lengthy lifespans. This depletion is not resource-based but ntal, like a book of tens of thousands of words read countless tis.
As a highly experienced Undead, Bode was in such a predicant, needing to do sothing to feel the aning of existence, hence he was ticulous in whatever he did.
Bode even created a checklist for himself, using ten-year incrents to exemplify various interests and hobbies to learn and master in this rigorous manner, slowing the consumption of his spiritual realm.
In contrast, Wei’Er was rather unfortunate, limited by its body, making what it could enjoy extrely restricted. Fortunately, it still had the freedom to move, unlike the "old Undead" who were often tornted by eternity.
"What is it?"
Within these constraints, Wei’Er liked thinking, but not deep philosophical contemplation—just thinking about things to keep its mind operational.
As it imagined, it walked toward the outside of the Undying Club. In dull days, Wei’Er liked wandering in the city in its black cat form.
It slipped out of the Undying Club, stepping onto the street.
Slowly, as if the shackles of thought were lifted, so nearly forgotten mories slowly surfaced. Wei’Er stopped, recalling many things, shocked by these mories, also wondering why it couldn’t recall these while in the Undying Club just monts ago.
"Damn... Bologue!"
Wei’Er realized the situation wasn’t right. It turned and sprinted back to the Undying Club, intending to warn Bologue, but upon crashing back inside, its gaze dulled.
"What’s wrong, Wei’Er, finished your stroll?" Bode asked without looking up.
Wei’Er was stunned for a while, the dull gaze slowly brightened, and it questioned itself.
"Huh? What was I just thinking?"
The black cat circled a few tis, unable to recall what it had just forgotten.
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