Gripping the resentful bite in his hand, the long, dark blade effortlessly severed everything it touched. Whether steel or flesh, under Bologue’s swing, all was shattered, with warm blood spatter and debris swirling wildly, like paint, wantonly splashing and staining the tal.
Bologue sensed the lethal nature of the blade in his hand, reminiscent of the Iron-Cutting Sword he had faced before. Cold tal with absolute severing capability, anything it touched was completely torn apart.
In such a situation, acquiring such a weapon brought unimaginable enhancent to Bologue. From this mont, though he remained a mortal, he possessed the power to slay formidable foes.
The horrifying and fearso Limbless was no longer an unsolvable existence. As long as Bologue managed to send the resentful bite into its heart, he would thoroughly kill this twisted monster.
"Hart!"
Bologue called for Hart’s support. The tall figure rose clumsily and rushed toward Bologue, having completely abandoned all forms of attack, solely using his shield to block wave after wave of fatal blows for Bologue.
Sharp claws slashed at the shield, leaving dents in the solid tal. Hart was once again knocked back, his body slamming heavily against the wall, his blood surging.
Hart’s condition was dire. He had just endured a long nightmare, his entire spirit on the brink of collapse. Yet, without a respite, he faced this terrifying battle once more.
Using the gap Hart fought for him, Bologue gripped the black shadow and leapt. With interwoven arms blocking in front, the Limbless attempted to use its sturdy bones to shield against Bologue’s slashes. But just as described in Night Hunter, the resentful bite was crafted from special tal and blessed by Alchemists; it was a blade straight out of the story, a blade of severance.
"Move!"
Bologue roared fiercely. The resentful bite, like a hot knife through butter, calmly sliced through the interwoven arms. Bologue didn’t even feel the resistance from the hilt, or perhaps it was extre anger that made him neglect such sensory existence.
The Limbless wailed in pain. Under successive heavy wounds, it rarely experienced fear, a warning from instinct led the Limbless to actively avoid Bologue’s blade. It burst through a car door, howling wind inundating indoors, weighing down on Bologue so heavily he couldn’t lift his head.
Clear severed limb surfaces revealed, copious blood oozing, followed by more arms extending from the Limbless’s plump body, scrambling for tal chaotically, accompanied by a series of clashing sounds, it climbed out of the carriage like a giant spider.
Bologue could hear the dense clatter from outside the carriage. The Limbless hadn’t left; instead, it hung on the outer wall of the carriage, seeking the mont to descend and attack again.
He temporarily repelled the Limbless; this was good news. But the bad news was that this ga had grown ever more chaotic.
"Damn it! Ewen, what’s going on!"
After Palr handed the weapon to Bologue, he raised the dagger to confront Asmodeus. Even if Palr were slow to react, he could perceive the complex relationship between Ewen and Asmodeus.
Ewen had no ti for Palr; all his energy was dedicated to combating pain. Countless blades sliced him into pieces one by one. Such true pain and suffering almost drove Ewen insane, yet he endured without succumbing to Asmodeus’s temptation.
Just by bowing to her, the Protection from the Devil would turn the pain into pleasure. But Ewen was stubborn; he didn’t want to yield to the Devil.
Asmodeus turned her head, smiling as she explained to Palr, "You haven’t realized? He actually ca from afar for ."
"Weren’t you after so damn immortality?"
Palr yelled; his words barely finished when he realized his mistake. Perhaps immortality was rely one of Ewen’s lies. Recalling the stories he read in the draft, fragnted information pieced together, a terrifying truth lay before Palr.
"Damn... you actually fell in love with a Devil."
Palr belatedly realized, his hand holding the dagger slightly slackened, but the next mont, he tightened his grip again as if facing a formidable enemy.
For a mont, Palr didn’t know what to do. Ewen, for the sake of others, bore unimaginable pain. Yet under the scourge of this pain, how long could Ewen endure?
If all stories in the draft were true, then Ewen had known Asmodeus since thirty-three years ago. Thinking back to Ewen’s words, he felt he lost sothing on that train, and to reclaim it, thirty-three years later, he boarded the Joyful Garden again... and brought them along!
Palr wasn’t sure if he could trust Ewen completely, believe he could withstand all this? Or would he bow to Asmodeus when the pain reached a certain limit?
All decisions lay in Ewen’s hands. Once he fell, the others would beco Asmodeus’s toys. Palr hated this feeling, especially leaving fate in the hands of others, and what made him even more disgusted was the suspicion.
Damned thoughts wildly grew in his mind. Palr didn’t want to doubt Ewen’s noble intentions, but recalling the previous seen collections, Palr uncontrollably harbored suspicions.
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