He hadn’t eaten for a long ti, nor drank water or slept. In this Hell, Bologue’s physical limits were stretched endlessly. Even when reaching the peak, he only felt boundless pain, not truly dying.
The only way to find relief here seed to be letting these monsters devour him.
Bologue refused to give up. To alleviate the pain, he would occasionally cut off pieces of flesh from these soldier-like monsters, then roast them over burning flas. The taste was not good, like chewing dry bark. Sotis he would close his eyes in contemplation, but such monts never lasted long before being interrupted by attacking soldiers.
This was Asmodeus’s Curse.
To avoid losing himself in endless slaughter, in those monts of contemplation, Bologue would repeatedly recall everything he experienced before entering this Hell, reminding himself that it didn’t an much.
He was still the steadfast will, not sinking in the killing.
The contemplative ti quickly ended; Bologue rested for less than half an hour. Although there were no ti indicators in this Hell, during the days in the Black Prison, Bologue had honed his skill in judging ti, which posed no problem for him.
Bologue vividly rembered every minute and second spent here, dealing with each mont of tornt with sobriety and rationality.
The blaring sound of the military horn resounded again; it had been played over forty thousand tis now. Soon, grotesque and bizarre soldiers erged from the bloody ground, noticing Bologue seated on the Skull Throne, launching yet another charge against him, howling.
Which ti was it?
Bologue pondered. He rembered the number of charges was the sa as the tis the horn sounded. It should also be the forty-thousand-sothing ti, but the exact number was sowhat hazy in his recall.
Never mind, at least the rough ti was rembered by Bologue.
Bologue lifted Resentnt Bite and dived towards the crowd. He tread over the cracked crimson land. Beneath the fragnted earth were faces of rotting skulls, beneath which lay more skulls, stacked together, forming a mountain on the flat ground.
These were all enemies slain by Bologue. They fell together, and the raised yellow sand buried them again. If not deliberately recalled, sotis Bologue would also forget that this was a mound of piled corpses.
The roaring crowd was easily scattered by Bologue. He always dealt with those carrying guns first among the soldiers. Quickly, Bologue pierced through the ranks, his figure darting and dancing among the soldiers who couldn’t aim at him. When Bologue was fully exposed in front of him, before the trigger was pulled, his arm along with the firearm got severed together.
If the soldiers had minds, they might fantasize that Bologue was an undead monster. They might even think Bologue was invincible. Under the Devil’s conspiracy, they were locked in an eternal cage with this monster.
This was the Devil’s punishnt to the soldiers; Bologue was the heavenly penalty sent upon them.
Thinking of this, Bologue felt much better. This fantasy was one of the few comforts since the tornt began.
Oh, what was I just thinking?
Amid shattered limbs and blood, Bologue tried to recall. The prolonged slaughter sowhat affected him; for instance, Bologue beca slightly inattentive and forgetful.
Before Bologue could continue thinking, the roar of engines approached, a rusty tank rushed from the slope, the cannon barrel pointing towards Bologue.
The booming explosion sounded, the impact flipped Bologue to the ground, shattered bodies and warm entrails, along with layer upon layer of yellow earth covering him. Bologue felt dizzy, the pain coursed through his body, seemingly with shrapnel slicing into him, but this wasn’t enough to kill Bologue.
In this prolonged tornt, Bologue suffered countless injuries. Sotis he thought he was dood, but as long as the wound wasn’t fatal, he always managed to recover, as usual.
Bologue coughed forcefully, spitting out the yellow earth from his mouth. He felt sothing crawling on his body, probably those white maggots.
Not far away was a crater made by the shell, countless corpses lay inside. This land was also piled up with corpses; Bologue almost forgot this fact.
The tank aid its cannon once more at Bologue, but by this ti, Bologue already sprinted wildly. The booming cannon sounded, Bologue easily dodged the artillery fire. The shell landed behind him, once again kicking up countless shattered corpses.
Bending to sprint, Resentnt Bite cut through the tank’s track. Bologue liked this Blade; it seed eternally sharp. No matter how many enemies Bologue killed with it, it never chipped nor dulled. In this Hell, it helped Bologue imnsely.
A series of slashes not only severed the track but also shattered the wheels. The tank was left paralyzed in place. Bologue swiftly leapt onto the roof, slashing the cannon barrel in half with another strike.
Previously, Bologue would brutally tear open the armor, rush inside the tank, and kill all crew mbers. Later, he realized he only needed to incapacitate the tank, no need to waste energy on such extra work.
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