"I... I don’t know."
Canary shook her head. She was unclear about Belphegor’s plan; from beginning to end, her orders had only been to hunt Bai Ou.
Bologue paused for a mont. Just as he was about to press further, the card in his hand seed to catch fire, burning his palm. Before he could see what he had drawn, the card turned into black smoke and dispersed.
At the sa ti, heavy footsteps echoed from the carriages behind.
Bologue stared intently at the train doors opening one by one, a thicker stench of blood wafting in the breeze. Asmodeus also turned around, looking curiously in the direction the sound was coming from.
"My cute pet."
Accompanied by Asmodeus’s light laughter, a bloated and horrifying figure struggled to squeeze through the narrow carriage. Its thick blood-stained arms flailed chaotically, its eyes so densely packed like insect eggs, peering at everyone within the chessboard carriage.
One of Asmodeus’s collections, the Limbless which Bologue once saw, appeared on the train. This creature wasn’t part of the original "Journey of Absolute Night," but rather a monster twisted and fantastically bizarre under Asmodeus’s influence.
Palr swallowed hard. Up until now, the scariest creature they had encountered was only the Fear-Devouring Demon, but now, whether in appearance or actual strength, the Limbless would surely far exceed the Fear-Devouring Demon.
Sharp and high-pitched screams deafeningly shook the air; the Limbless seed to sll living beings, waving countless arms like a gigantic spider made of dismbered flesh, madly rushing towards the chessboard carriage.
The door couldn’t stop it. It shattered under its impact, even the carriage started to twist. Canary instantly fired a series of crossbow arrows, but the arrows rely clanged dully on the Limbless, unable to harm it in the slightest.
Bologue decisively drew his sword to face the enemy. He needed to block the Limbless in the next carriage; once it charged into the chessboard carriage, they would have no room to maneuver.
"Have you heard the story of the North Wind and the Sun?"
As they fought desperately for their lives, Asmodeus seed to be having afternoon tea, leisurely chatting with Ewen.
"Are you saying you’re the North Wind?"
Excruciating pain repeatedly tortured Ewen; he had stepped into the grinder for only a few minutes, but it felt like years. Every second he persisted was a trendous test for Ewen.
"You use these sufferings to tornt us, trying to make us kneel before you?"
Ewen’s voice was intermittent, enduring pain while maintaining rational conversation, which wasn’t easy for him.
"Why not?" Asmodeus maintained that arrogant, playful stance, "as long as you submit to , all this will be over, Ewen."
"What is it you want then?"
Asmodeus pondered, "That hidden affection in your heart? Or the end of this prolonged suffering? Oh, right, don’t you seek immortality?
As long as you submit, none of this will be a problem. The only thing you need to give up is your soul, which is fleeting and ethereal."
Asmodeus laughed as she spoke, her laughter as elegantly morable as before. As Asdemor approached, the blades’ churn slowed down, seemingly giving Ewen ti to think.
Asmodeus revealed a puzzled expression, "Think about it, Ewen, what does the soul an to you people? It can’t be seen, nor touched."
"Or... are you still going to refuse ?"
Asmodeus was silent for a mont; her figure beca surreal as she stepped into the grinder to observe Ewen’s concealed expressions.
Confusion, pain, silence, sadness ... an incredibly complex array of emotions flashed in Ewen’s eyes. Just sensing this complexity brought imnse satisfaction to Asmodeus; she increasingly favored Ewen as an interesting toy.
"Then let put it another way, Ewen. If you refuse , you will forever remain in this prolonged suffering. Everything you cherish will be destroyed; you won’t be able to save anyone. Your so-called nobility will be crushed bit by bit by ."
Asmodeus had seen many people, many who believed themselves to be noble and unwilling to yield to the Devil. There were too many such examples; everyone thought they could overco desire, but they would eventually beco part of her collection.
Ewen coughed up a large amount of bloody foam, as the blades had severed his throat. He needed to wait a few seconds for his throat to heal. His voice beca hoarse.
"Want to make a wager, Asmodeus?"
Ewen made an effort to lift his head, looking at her with disdain.
A thunderous crashing sound ca from the next carriage. Bologue was slamd against the wall by the Limbless, sending bursts of dull pain through his chest, making him feel like several ribs had been broken.
The blade in his hand was covered in notches and cracks; even if Bologue could skillfully evade the Limbless’s attacks, his blade still couldn’t harm it. No matter how hard Bologue tried to strike, it was just like scratching an itch for it.
Shallow wounds appeared on the Limbless’s body; even when Bologue completely stabbed the blade into its body, the sword’s length and impact area couldn’t affect the monster.
Conversely, any casual hit from the Limbless that struck Bologue was enough to break his bones and nearly take his life.
Bologue coughed painfully, blood stained the corners of his mouth, the dark shadow lood over him again. Bologue tried to get up and move, but as soon as he was halfway upright, the intense pain in his leg forced him involuntarily to sit back down.
The deadly shadow covered his head, the Limbless excitedly swung down a heavy blow, eager to dismber Bologue’s body. All Bologue could do at this mont was wearily raise his longsword.
Another towering shadow enveloped Bologue. A heavy shield and sharp claws clashed together, creating dense sparks; he was knocked towards the other side of the carriage, accidentally swinging open the door, almost falling out.
"Are you guys dancing on ?"
Hart complained while vomiting a large amount of seawater, clutching his chest. At this crucial mont, Hart finally broke free from his nightmare.
Such a dramatic scene left Bologue speechless in shock. He always imagined the worst possible outco for events. In Bologue’s mind, Hart was no different from a dead man, yet he stood up again.
"What are you staring at?"
Hart got up clumsily, once more shouldering the heavy shield. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening; before he passed out, it was just an ordinary train journey, and now he was crossing a storm and the sea.
"Guess what I drew!"
A voice filled with extre excitent ca from the chessboard carriage. Palr ecstatically waved the card in his hand, then threw it forcefully towards Bologue.
The card fluttered in the air, and midway, its surface twisted and began to burn. Amid the brilliant blaze, a slender longsword erged from the fire.
It was a sword with a strange shape; the blade was narrow and thin, seemingly forged from a single piece of tal, extending straight to the hilt without any handguard in between.
The sharp blade was entirely pitch-black, like a dark silhouette. If not for sensing a tangible presence, at first glance, one might feel it was a sword made of shadow.
Bologue recognized the sword shaped like a dark spike; he had read about it in the "Night Hunter" book. It was the protagonist’s sword in the story, and the sharpest and most deadly weapon in the tale. Palr had drawn the strongest equipnt card in "Journey of Absolute Night."
Bologue rembered its na, Grudge Bite.
He lunged to grab the spike-like sword blade, turned, and roared to attack. The pitch-black sword clashed with the countless claws of the Limbless, like slicing through cotton, as Grudge Bite’s blade effortlessly severed its arms.
Bones and flesh shattered and flew apart; the terrifying and hideous countless arms disintegrated like undergoing ticulous dissection by a doctor. Amid the tragic odyssey, they transford into a sky full of blood flowers, swirling elegantly.
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