Belphegor whispered, this information is hardly a secret, he had already learned it during his days of conflict with Asmodeus.
When all emotions were dissected, what remained for Asmodeus as a Devil was only those evil aspects, no wonder she was so madly detestable.
"Belphegor, why do you love humans?"
Asmodeus suddenly asked again, then flashed a playful smile, "Is it a nostalgic attachnt to the past?"
Belphegor did not answer, while Asmodeus burst into wild laughter, mocking him rcilessly, "You are indeed the weakest among us."
Asmodeus’s laughter was abruptly cut off, a powerful arm clasped her throat, and with the force exerted by the wrist, the sound of bones cracking echoed. Asmodeus did not feel pain from this, instead, her cheeks flushed, her eyes filled with excitent, eting Belphegor’s gaze.
Belphegor’s eyes were cold as an ice cellar, but eventually, he loosened his grip. No matter how many tis he twisted Asmodeus’s neck, he could not truly kill her.
Demons cannot be killed, at least not in this way.
Belphegor looked at Asmodeus with pity, her completely shattered and twisted soul reminded him of that curse-like law.
"You don’t really understand the so-called emotions."
Belphegor murmured, "That’s why you resemble a harsh north wind, rushing recklessly."
...
Resentnt tore a black trajectory, the sturdy tendons and bones failed to hinder it in the slightest, the hideous and terrifying monsters crumbled into pieces, turning into a scarlet rainstorm, evenly draped over the ground.
Another monster attacked Bologue from the side, then the glow of ether surfaced on Bologue’s skin. He drew his sword with beyond-human speed, splitting the monster’s skull in the blink of an eye, the broken viscera hitting Bologue’s lapels with the montum, blood seeping into the fabric.
Palr pulled the trigger, with a few precise shots, the monster had not begun its attack before the lethal bullets pierced its skull, its body piled on the ground, forming heaps upon heaps.
Bologue wiped the blood from his face, frowning. The rampant vines had almost completely enveloped Daisy Castle, several tis Bologue tried to break through the window with force, while the vines swiftly swung their branches, retaliating forcefully.
After several encounters, no matter how many vines Bologue chopped off, they still made no headway, Bologue could only give up and search for another entry route.
"What do you think the inside of the castle will be like?"
In the silence, Palr couldn’t help asking. At this mont, he could see the castle close at hand by looking up, vines covered layer upon layer on the castle’s surface, so already drilled into the interior along the stone windows, the howling of monsters persisted in the darkness, their assaults never ceased since leaving the sea of flowers.
"I don’t know," Bologue didn’t think about such a distant matter. As usual, he focused on the present, "It’s certainly not a warm and joyous welcoming ceremony anyway."
Aimou was amused by Bologue’s words, Palr coughed a few tis, also unable to refrain from laughing.
Palr curiously asked, "Do you think our jokes are also written by Ewen?"
"Instead of that, why don’t you think about whether you, Palr Clarks, are real?" Bologue said, "Could you be a fictional character created by Ewen?"
Palr’s laughter ca to an abrupt stop, Bologue’s question stirred countless doubts in Palr, then Bologue, talking to himself, "Do you think we might also be fictional?"
Based on the real world, Ewen is at the highest level of narrative at this mont, yet at the sa ti, he is also in a subordinate narrative on this level.
Bologue and the others are not narrators but characters in the story, so they also reside in this secondary narrative level.
Palr said, "Can’t you not bring up philosophical questions out of nowhere?"
"Is this very philosophical?" Bologue said, "It’s just normal skepticism."
Saying this, Bologue slashed open another monster’s head, then his steps ca to a halt, "It seems this is the path Ewen left for us."
Under the wild weeds was a wide, long-dried drainage channel, well-disguised here, and if Bologue hadn’t been so close, it would have been undetectable from afar. The dark cavern was wide enough for adults to pass through, and the stretching darkness seed to connect all the way into the castle.
"This is a two-way rescue."
Bologue directly entered the dark cave, "If Ewen can see us appearing in the story, then he must find a way to help us."
As they tread over rubble and dry soil, the deeper they went into the cave, an old scent overwheld them, Palr couldn’t help covering his mouth and nose, the rotting sll was unbearably thick, as if emanating from hundreds or thousands of corpses.
A crisp crunching sound echoed, Palr seed to have stepped on sothing, Bologue snapped his fingers, the Fla of the Cauldron slowly burned, serving as a torch to illuminate the surroundings.
From the reality’s shattering, the suppression grew stronger, the range at which Bologue’s Secret Energy could be effective was narrow, and its intensity was almost depleted, but releasing the glow of ether could still be done.
As the faint light filled the darkness, combined with the hunter’s excellent night vision, Palr saw clearly what he had crushed.
It was a weathered bone.
"Does anyone rember what Ewen wrote in the first draft?"
As Bologue asked, more clicks and clatters sounded in the darkness, the tearing of fabric echoed constantly, sinister forces surged wantonly, footsteps resounded within the dark space, like many people slowly rising up.
"That bastard discovered the dungeon under the castle, and then he used it as a dumping ground, disposing of the demons he killed."
As a loyal fan of Ewen, Palr rembered every line he wrote.
"The hunters reached the dungeon, encountered those I discarded, the mountain of corpses, now under the influence of the King of Demons, they have risen again."
Ewen was tapping away at the typewriter, as the words Bologue et al. appeared more frequently on the page, he rarely felt a sense of security, and under this security, he regained rationality, thinking about what was going to happen next.
Ewen would not simply give in, the Crowned Blue Jay would not simply give in.
"I am at the highest level of narrative, I am the creator of all this."
Ewen murmured to himself, his eyes gradually brightened, as if finding the source of all vitality, mustering strength, he pressed the typewriter keys with blood-stained fingertips.
"Thirty-three years is still too long for , I can’t rember her face, can’t recall her voice, but I still rember that feeling, and all we went through together, as if branded into my soul.
She truly existed, even if the King of Demons says it’s just a façade, what happened is unchangeable..."
Ewen felt an unprecedented ease, he continued writing.
"I rember her..."
The beauty of dreams blood amid despair, Asmodeus’s smile gradually solidified on her face, she felt the force pressing from all sides, her body uncontrollably twitching, and even her form gradually changing.
Asmodeus’s figure was no longer illusory, but genuinely appeared in the material world, in Ewen’s presence, he could clearly hear her breathing, could sense her existence.
With the final recounting of mories, Ewen stopped, turned to look at the woman.
A gorgeous light rose in her dim pupils, the color like Fire Opal once again filled her eyes.
Invisible chains bound Asmodeus, restraining her tightly, at this mont she also fell from the top-level narrative layer, alongside Ewen, Bologue, and others in this morphing reality’s shattering.
Belphegor displayed a look of success as if his sche had succeeded, he said.
"Don’t forget, you are also part of the story, Asmodeus."
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