Countless demons sward toward Bologue like schools of fish, severed limbs and entrails flying everywhere. Sotis, Bologue didn’t even swing his sword; rely raising Grudgebite would cause the creatures to rush onto the blade and cut themselves to pieces.
The pile of corpses grew into a mountain, blood flowing incessantly through the gaps until it pooled into a stream, gushing through the crack in the great library’s doors. Thousands of bloodthirsty jaws opened wide, emitting a thunderous roar akin to crashing waves. The cacophony layered upon itself, nearly tearing Bologue’s eardrums apart.
But Bologue felt no pain; his entire body was dominated by a furious power, his blood burning within him. This was the Hunter’s technique known as Boiling Blood, now augnted by narrative power and bestowed upon Bologue.
This power seeped into his bones, strengthening Bologue on all fronts like his previous three trials.
He stood like a rock dividing the sea, at the forefront of the demon tide. Behind Bologue was Palr, who dispatched the demons that slipped past him. Then ca Aimou, who was tasked with holding the last breach, preventing the demons from storming the great library.
By rights, Devils should not be able to directly interfere with the material world, but using the power of reality’s fracture, Asmodeus shattered this constraint. This was a struggle between mortals and Devils. Asmodeus’s dark power summoned vast numbers of demons, imbuing them with trendous strength. They were like swarms of sand ants.
The demons surged into Daisy Castle and even beyond its walls, encircling the solitary stronghold completely.
They sward like a sea of sand, with Daisy Castle akin to a lone boat in a sea of death, bracing for the waves to crash and shatter it.
For a mont, Bologue felt a wave of helplessness, but this was quickly replaced by a lust for slaughter.
Bologue’s thought process was simple: worrying solved nothing. Continuing to slash might just eradicate these creatures.
It could take months or even years, but as long as he persisted, Bologue was confident he could succeed.
Grudgebite smoothly sliced through yet another demon’s body. Amid the roar of the sea, Bologue detected an unusual sound. The next mont, thick vines lashed out like whips toward Bologue.
Agilely retreating, Bologue swung his sword to sever so of the vines, while others struck the bodies of the demons, tearing them apart.
"Is this also a power from the narrative?"
Bologue shouted loudly, long having felt sothing amiss with these vines. Now their threat had amplified greatly; each whip sent splatters of blood flying.
"Pretty much so!" Palr responded. "If you had read carefully, you’d know this sinister power affects all beings, twisting even humans."
"Really?"
Bologue hoisted a half-torso of a demon to block another vine strike. The cadaver quickly turned to chunks in his hands.
"Of course!" Palr flung Storm Feather, the flying knife spinning swiftly in the darkness, chopping dozens of vines. "You fake fan!"
"I never considered myself a fan," Bologue corrected, "I’m just an ordinary reader."
The body pile before them rose like fighting from a trench. Bologue stood higher atop the remains, suddenly feeling a sense of relief. In the long misery ten years ago, if he had Palr bantering beside him, it might have been more bearable.
Bologue could endure solitude, but unless necessary, he preferred to have soone by his side.
The situation was dire, with endless demons attacking, causing imnse pressure. But the good news was that the terrain was advantageous for Bologue and his companions. They only needed to hold this door, and not indefinitely, just until Ewen ended it all.
Ewen... Erwin Flesher.
Bologue’s mind conjured the familiar face. Sotis Bologue wondered, if thirty-three years ago, Ewen had encountered the Order Bureau instead of Joyful Garden, he might have beco an outstanding field staff mber. All the necessary virtues were apparent in this mortal, possibly even exceeding expectations.
This guy might have beco a Negative Power User, or even a Defender. With his rational mind regarding Devils, he could have led an action team.
But such thoughts were re fantasy. The reality before them was indisputable, and besides, Bologue was deeply worried about Ewen.
Bologue knew Ewen’s wish was simple: he just wanted to see that woman again. In Joyful Garden, Asmodeus cruelly mocked Ewen’s fantasies, crushing all his beautiful dreams.
Ewen might have beco disheartened. Though he was always clear-minded, otherwise he wouldn’t have made such a wish. But now, Ewen found another chance.
Asmodeus used narrative power to imprison Ewen, yet Ewen used that sa power to trap her.
The Devil’s arrogance never allowed Asmodeus to acknowledge Ewen. Even Ewen’s wish was scorned. Asmodeus refused to face Ewen with any beauty, but under narrative power, Ewen distorted Asmodeus, forcing her to use her beauty as temptation.
Regardless, Ewen’s wish was fulfilled, leading to the ultimate test.
If Ewen beca lost in temptation, they would be dood, but Ewen persevered...
Bologue couldn’t foresee what would happen next. To be honest, now that he was calm, he couldn’t figure out how Ewen could continue writing the story.
Even if Ewen endured the temptation, then what? How could he continue to write the story? An inexhaustible demon swarm surrounded them. Although Asmodeus was restricted by the narrative, Ewen couldn’t imprison her forever. She would escape eventually.
In the Devils’ wrath and the dark onslaught, Bologue couldn’t envisage how Ewen could compose a story with even a glimr of hope.
Deus ex machina?
Bologue stopped pondering these matters. Since he had promised Ewen, there was no point in overthinking. In tis of crisis, trust was also an essential elent.
Ewen had proven his nobility to Bologue, which was why Bologue was willing to believe in him once more.
"Bologue!"
The urgent cries ca from behind, and then a slender arm wrapped around Bologue’s waist, swiftly pulling Bologue back a distance. Imdiately, long sharp claws sliced through the spot where Bologue had just stood, neatly severing the pile of corpses.
The claws embedded themselves in the mound of bodies, and then slowly withdrew. Under the dim light, Bologue finally saw clearly that it was not claws at all, but rather a sharp tail blade.
Bologue murmured, "I rember there were so elite and powerful beings among the demons, right?"
"At least that part you read seriously."
Palr nodded, helping Bologue to his feet. The surrounding horde of demons gradually retreated, and the few understood this was not the end of the assault, but that another more terrifying presence was approaching.
A chilly breeze blew from the darkness, carrying the scent of death. The ground began to tremble slightly, and ripples appeared on the pool of blood.
In the darkness, a hideous and terrifying outline gradually erged. As it drew closer, the blurry figure beca clearer and everyone saw that it was a towering demon several ters high, squeezing through the corridor.
Bologue had seen this demon before, in a cross-page illustration at the end of the "Night Hunter" novel, depicting the monster’s abhorrent visage.
"How do you feel now?" Bologue joked, "You’re truly in the story now."
Palr shook his head, "I’m starting to see the gap between fantasy and reality."
"That’s a good start."
Bologue raised his sword to face the enemy.
...
Separated by just a door, outside was a stone mountain and a sea of blood. Along the crumbling fissure, pieces of flesh rolled continuously, and spreading blood drew extending lines across the vast library.
Inside, the world remained as always, maintaining an eerie tranquility. Everything seed normal, yet revealed chaos and madness. Erwin slumped in a chair, his strength almost entirely drained by the abdominal wound and incessant typing, like a dying man, his back tightly leaning against the chair, almost embedded into it.
"I like Bologue’s character," Erwin gazed towards the direction the blood was flowing from, faintly hearing the sound of a blade slashing, "Once he believes in sothing, he trusts it completely. This trust may sotis seem a bit foolish... but that’s who he is, like an arrow shot from a bow, never hesitating."
The woman walked slowly to Erwin’s side, placing the novel on the table, then moved behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders.
"It’s been a long ti, Erwin," the woman said, "Your writing is wonderful. I wish I had ti to finish it all."
"Actually, you’ve already read it all," Erwin looked ahead, "I an... another part of you."
The woman chuckled softly, moving the pages on the workstation. They fell to the ground like snowflakes, and she crossed her legs, sitting on the workstation, resting her face in her hands, tilting her head to watch Erwin.
For Erwin, it had been thirty-three years since he last saw the woman, but for her, it was as if it happened yesterday. She was rely one of the many incarnations of Asmodeus, sharing mories with the others, differing only in her personality, as Cinderella differed from them.
"What are you thinking now, Erwin?"
"I’m thinking you’re as beautiful as I rember, untouched by the years."
The smile on the woman’s face grew wider. She reached out to touch Erwin’s weathered face, "But you’ve changed, Erwin. Look at what ti has done to you."
"Ti has only altered my appearance," Erwin said, "To this day, I still feel like a young man. My body has aged, but my soul and will remain on that train. I have trapped myself in mory, thus retaining my youth."
She held Erwin’s blood-stained hand, "What else are you thinking of?"
"What else..."
Erwin paused in silence, complaining with distress.
"I’m thinking, thirty-three years ago, if I hadn’t boarded that train, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. I might’ve died at that station, but at least I wouldn’t be plagued by these endless nightmares."
Erwin’s voice grew light again, filled with emotion.
"Yet I’m grateful, for it was the luckiest mont of my life. I boarded that train, thus the Blue Jay ca to life.
My god, isn’t it marvelous? It’s like a deal with the Devil, gaining sothing yet losing sothing else."
This was Erwin’s heartfelt sigh, akin to his previous theories on talent; without this journey, Erwin might’ve beco a sailor, a worker... anything at random.
He wouldn’t know the feeling of touching a pen, of writing stories. Perhaps till death, he would never pursue creation, but eting the woman changed everything. She led Erwin down a completely different path in life.
She was the catalyst for Erwin’s divergence, the source of all his creative energy, inspiration, and romance.
She brought the Blue Jay into existence.
Erwin’s eyes flashed as though he understood all the truths of the world.
"I left only to return, to see you once more."
The woman remained silent, maintaining that sacred smile, like a Holy Mother statue crafted by an artisan.
"I finally see you... my Muse."
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