Back ho, everything was as usual, argunts ca from next door, and the television noise from the other side. Just like being used to Palr’s misfortune, Bologue was also accustod to this noisy life. If one day he returned ho and everything around him was silent, he would feel a bit uncomfortable.
He put the old vinyl records he had found to one side, took off his coat, hung it on the coat rack, tidied himself briefly, and then sat back on the sofa.
The stormy night seed to change sothing, yet it felt like nothing had changed. Bologue’s life went on as usual, after work he listened to music, then fiddled with the war sandbox.
The sandbox replicated the battle that changed Bologue’s life, the battle known as the Fall of the Holy City.
It was during this battle that Bologue lost his soul and gained resurrection, and it was after this that his destiny was completely rewritten, setting him on an irrevocable path.
Since being released from prison, Bologue had been contemplating these matters. He suspected the deal he made with the devil back then might be related to the Fall of the Holy City, a battle shrouded in mystery that ended the Fury of Scorched Earth.
"A light."
Bologue murmured softly.
Sulfur and fire streaked across the sky, and under that intense light, everyone was turned into pillars of salt.
On the crimson battlefield, only Bologue remained alive, and this was the scene Bologue saw in the Face of Horror, his deepest, most terrifying nightmare.
In fact, Bologue didn’t really know what happened during the Fall of the Holy City. The "a light" people spoke of was just a rumor he gathered from consulting various sources.
When Bologue awoke on the battlefield, everything had ended. He rembered feeling infinite pain, as if his body was being scorched by fire.
He didn’t maintain his sanity for long, then fainted into a painful nightmare and repeated cycles of life and death. When Bologue awoke again, possessing awareness, it was already ten years later, and by then he had left the battlefield and was in a place called the Black Prison.
Sotis Bologue pondered why he was afraid of such a nightmare. Over the long years in the Black Prison, he gradually realized that perhaps he was the cause of it all. He couldn’t say why, but he had a vague feeling of this, and he attributed all the cris to himself.
After being released from prison and learning about extraordinary knowledge, Bologue found no relief; instead, he was engulfed by deeper troubles.
The deal with the devil was an absolute exchange of value for value.
What did he do to deserve such an undying body? What exactly did he pay in the deal? Was the Fall of the Holy City related to him, and if so, what role did he play in it?
Bologue couldn’t understand, not one bit.
He still rembered, decades ago, his conversations with the Prison Warden while incarcerated. That mysterious fellow would only greet him once every few years. Many tis, Bologue thought the Warden was dead, but this guy, seemingly an undead too, accompanied him until he was released.
"It actually has nothing to do with you."
This was what the Warden often said. Bologue could tell he wasn’t trying to absolve himself of anything, but rather speaking from the heart. After all, soone like him wouldn’t need to lie to Bologue.
But... is it really so?
Bologue felt a headache as he looked at the layout on the sandbox, slowly leaned back, and collapsed into the sofa.
His lingering attachnt to the city also hid another purpose. Bologue always felt that things weren’t that simple. Perhaps in this Oubos of the Oath City, he might find the answers he needed, just as the Tyrant had said.
"Pay attention to the ground beneath your feet."
What was there to pay attention to? All Bologue could think of was the Great Rift.
Bologue didn’t continue thinking. He glanced at the new old records he had bought, placed them on the record player, and as the song began to play, it carried a hint of hoarseness, as if an old person was singing with deep emotion.
Returning to the bedroom, Bologue picked up his diary, opened a page, and wrote down today’s date.
Bologue didn’t write in his diary every day. Sotis life was quite boring, and he didn’t like recording such ssy trivialities. Only when there were noteworthy things, or when he developed so thoughts, would Bologue put pen to paper.
"I went to Charlie’s house today and chatted with Charlie for a while. It seems that every profession cos with its thoughts. Today, Charlie shared so rather interesting ideas.
When people leave, so choose to leave behind sothing as a keepsake, to commorate the traces of their existence. Others throw everything away, as if they never existed, to numb themselves. There are also those who stubbornly keep all their belongings, trying to disguise everything as if they still exist.
I think each choice represents a different mindset. I think my feelings for Adelle fall into the first category."
Bologue calmly wrote down his thoughts.
"I will not fall into eternal grief, nor will I force myself to forget these things, pretending nothing happened. I believe I will accept it calmly and live on with her blessings. This should also be what she wants, and what I should do."
After finishing writing, Bologue flipped a few pages forward in the diary.
From the words in the diary, it was clear that Bologue had indeed moved on from grief. In the very first entries, when he ntioned her, he didn’t use her na but referred to her as "you".
As if it wasn’t a diary, but a letter to Adelle, one that would never receive a reply.
Closing the diary, Bologue opened the drawer, which was filled with paper money and coins.
After the stormy night, Bologue made a significant achievent, and the Field Operations Departnt awarded him a substantial bonus. Besides that, Bologue also acquired two trophies.
A Bright Light Blade confiscated from Kedening. This short sword could transform into a lethal Ethereal Sword when infused with a large amount of Ether, which was quite a valuable alchemy armant for Bologue, who lacked a sure-kill thod.
The Misty Secret Sword confiscated from Sandbox was not kept by Bologue, but instead, he handed it over to the Field Operations Departnt.
Within the Order Bureau, due to the special nature of the Secret Swords, each one carried significant aning. Every confiscated Secret Sword was considered an insult to the King’s Secret Sword, and the Field Operations Departnt offered a substantial price for them.
Bologue didn’t refuse. After careful consideration, he felt that his abilities didn’t pair well with the Misty Secret Sword, and the Ether consumption of this Secret Sword was also enormous.
Geoffrey ntioned he didn’t apply for a bonus with the Secret Sword since Bologue already had enough money to last him a while. Instead, he applied for so alchemy armants for himself. He said mysteriously that Bologue would definitely like this new thing. It seed that he’d be able to get it tomorrow when he t with Belli.
Bologue’s expression turned a bit somber. Despite his hundred unwillingness, there was no other way. He planned to apply to Lebius soti later to recruit new team mbers. Preferably recruiting soone to link with the Sublimation Furnace Core, so he wouldn’t have to trouble himself.
"Debtors, huh? Reliable debtors are hard to co by these days."
With that thought, Bologue murmured to himself.
According to Nesanel’s plan, the actual purpose of the Special Operations Group was to uncover the Devil’s secrets. For this, debtors were needed as team mbers, making the recruitnt plan extrely rigorous, and it was uncertain when new mbers would be recruited.
Bologue stopped thinking about these matters. The work day was over, so there was no need to worry about work-related things anymore. He had a long life ahead, plenty of ti to toil.
Now, Bologue lay comfortably in bed, enjoying this brief tranquility, letting every muscle relax, waiting for the arrival of the next day amidst the gradually rising music.
...
Order Bureau, Pillar Courtyard.
Bologue appeared with a somber expression amidst the hasty crowd, perhaps because he thought of visiting that woman today. His sleep last night wasn’t great; although there were no nightmares, he still felt tired upon waking, with no energy in his body.
Looking up, outside the towering structure supporting the do, elevators moved up and down. Bologue moved past the crowd and entered an elevator, pressing the button to the Sublimation Furnace Core.
Bologue was the only one in the elevator. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand reached in through the gap, causing the closing doors to reopen, and then she squeezed in.
"Almost missed it."
Leaning against the side, she was panting heavily. Once she caught her breath, she was about to press a button but noticed that the button for the Sublimation Furnace Core was already lit.
"You’re going to the Sublimation Furnace Core too?"
Belli turned to look at the other person in the elevator, only to see him standing in the corner with a somber face, eyes filled with worry and annoyance, arms crossed defensively in front of him.
Of course, Belli never cared about such matters.
"Yo! What a coincidence, Bologue!"
Belli extended a hand and draped it around Bologue’s shoulders. She was tall, almost as tall as Bologue, and with a yank, Bologue nearly lost his balance. She then placed her hand on the back of Bologue’s neck, pushing his head down.
They looked like a pair of miscreant friends on the street, conspiring which unlucky house to burglarize that evening, one picking locks, the other prying doors, with clear division of labor and great efficiency.
Fresh fragrance wafted around. Having stayed in a place like the Great Rift, akin to a stinky gutter, this kind of fresh scent was truly enchanting. With such a beautiful figure beside him, any normal man in this environnt would inevitably have so pleasant fantasies...
Bologue considered himself a normal man, just that the woman beside him wasn’t quite normal.
He didn’t entertain any pleasant thoughts because this beautiful figure wore a sly smile, speaking like a greasy old man.
"Cutie, I told you you’d be back, didn’t I?"
Watching the flamboyant Belli, Bologue’s face turned ashen, remaining silent.
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