Chapter 20 - The Demon That Hunts Demons

Chapter 20 - 8: The Demon That Hunts DemonsThe faint light seeped through the curtains, falling on Bologue's face as he opened his eyes to start a new day.

Getting up, he thought he would space out as usual, but this time Bologue's consciousness cleared much faster. Not only that, he felt much "healthier".

The feeling was quite vague, but Bologue attributed it to the "satiety" from the assessment. Having killed so many demons, he felt his soul had never been so full, and this fullness not only filled the void but also reflected on his body.

A soul determines the body; a strong soul leads to a strong body, and a decaying soul distorts the body into a demon.

If it were like a game in his past life, Bologue felt his experience points would have surely increased significantly. But unfortunately, he could only rely on vague feelings to understand these things, unable to intuitively see the extent of his soul's fragmentation.

But this was not a problem. Bologue guessed the Order Bureau would solve this for him, and he began to look forward to the day he could intuitively observe his void.

"New life indeed."

Bologue sighed. After successfully passing the assessment, he felt a sense of relief, as if a heavy stone in his heart had finally dropped. He could finally continue planning for future matters without languishing in the Black Prison.

"Soul..."

Gazing at the ceiling, Bologue's thoughts wandered.

Geoffrey resembled a teacher; during the one-year internship, he taught Bologue a lot. In his words, these were the most basic "professional ethics," and it seemed from that time, he believed Bologue could join the Order Bureau.

All things in the world possess souls, whether steel, stones, cats, dogs, or humans. They all have souls, but due to the differences in wisdom and will, souls are somewhat differentiated.

For Devils, souls are items of "value," the only remedy for a Demon's hunger, the most precious alchemy materials for Alchemists.

Things like steel and stones, these "dead objects," have souls without will, "Cold Iron souls." Their souls will not "fade away" on their own and can be easily seized, confined, and utilized, which is reflected clearly in alchemy.

Living creatures like animals and plants have souls with a certain degree of wisdom and will, "Mang Silver souls." Thus, after their death, the soul will slowly "fade away." However, their wisdom and will are too insignificant and can be completely bound through "Condensation."

The human soul is the most precious, possessing complete wisdom and free will, the "Golden soul." After the shell's death, the human soul cannot be bound. Even if devoured by Demons, it can only temporarily linger in the void, easing the hunger.

Using "Condensation" to bind the "Golden soul" and transform the void into an entity is merely futile. The manifested "Golden soul" will slowly evaporate until it completely "fades away."

The human soul is the most precious and unbindable. Even using "Condensation" to forcibly "retain" the soul only delays its "fading away."

Except for one method.

The Devil's Blood Contract.

Through dealings with a Devil, writing one's name in the contract, offering one's soul, from that moment, the human soul will be fully bound, completely belonging to the Devil, unable to "fade away," eternally a part of the Devil's property.

The Devil's form shifts endlessly, and no one knows what shape it will take when it approaches you. It could be a bird, a letter, or even a phone call... Those drained of all their "Golden soul" in the deal transform into hungry demons.

Nowadays, Bologue has faced numerous demons. They were once satiated by Devils, fulfilling their "desires," but soon fell into another, deeper madness.

The most perplexing is the Devil's judgment of "value." To humans, everyone's souls are the extremely precious "Golden souls," yet to the Devil, souls seem to be differentiated "in value."

The most obvious reflection of this is Bologue, as a debtor, and those demons he slew.

To the Devil, Bologue's soul is of extraordinary value; even a part of it granted him a "Blessing," while most demons offered their entire souls and became monsters.

No one knows the criteria these Devils use to assess "value," just as no one knows what purposes these mysterious beings truly hold.

He sighed deeply.

So, a part of Bologue's soul now permanently belongs to the Devil.

Whenever he thought of this, Bologue felt a headache, wondering how he could redeem his soul.

But... it seems redemption might not be necessary.

Besides all this, the soul has another characteristic, which is the fragments.

In the birth and fading of a soul, or being seized and devoured, during the transfer of carrier or change of form, "loss" is inevitable, and these lost parts are termed "fragments."

Fragments are of the soul, yet not the soul.

Geoffrey could not explain this either. Currently, no scholar has effectively observed the existence of fragments; it's all deductions and theories.

Demons feast on others' souls, experiencing "loss," which neither fades nor transfers, but accumulates within the Demon, fully releasing upon its death.

Fragments do not behave like the "Golden soul," unable to be bound, inevitably "fading away." They can be absorbed and devoured by Bologue, significantly repressing the restlessness of the void, preventing the onset of Bulimia Nervosa.

This forms a somewhat interesting food chain: Demons devour human souls, and Bologue kills demons to seize fragments from their remains.

In this light, Bologue seems more like a Demon.

"A Demon that hunts Demons."

Bologue muttered to himself; he liked this notion. In his future work, he would have ample opportunities to collect fragments to complete his soul.

"I want to gaze at the sun and watch it be erased~"

Walking out of the bedroom, Bologue was humming a tune; it had been a long time since he felt this happy.

Brushing his teeth, washing his face, the familiar face in the mirror, with skin a bit unhealthily pale.

The Black Prison is a sunless place; having not seen sunlight for too long, when Bologue was released, he looked like a cold corpse. He had planned to lie in the sun for a while to make himself look healthier, but in this ghostly place of Opus, there was no sunlight at all.

Looking up, there were only heavy and oppressive, leaden-gray clouds. Sometimes these burdensome cumulus clouds would even stretch to the ground, and the entire city enveloped in toxic smog, making gas masks very popular in Opus, a necessity everyone owned.

Bologue, relying on his Undying Body, once went out without a gas mask during the "gray tide smog," walking alone into the fog that swallowed the city.

That was an utterly awful memory, feeling like swallowing shattered glass. Though not deadly, the pain was relentless, repeatedly strangling your respiratory tract, even your lungs.

Since then, Bologue earnestly prepared some gas masks at home and bought a drawer full of filter canisters, as these items were essentials in Opus.

Oubos, a dreadful city, yet countless outsiders still come here.

After tidying up, Bologue came into the corridor, which was still familiar, dust everywhere, with advertisements plastered on the yellowed walls, and garbage piled in the corners.

Sounds of commotion came from all sides, the noise of a TV next door, a couple arguing, and unrestrained laughter.

Nothing different, as always.

But Bologue's mindset had changed somewhat; he was a free man now, like an imprisoned slave breaking his own shackles. It felt wonderful.

Walking out the door, the building was as usual, no signs of slaughter, no remains of Demons. Bologue had carefully checked; there was not even a shred of meat.

It was as if that night's madness was merely a void nightmare.

But Bologue was sure it was real.

How did they do it?

Silently deploying so many Demons and then perfectly covering all traces.

Asking his neighbors, they appeared to know nothing, as if that night the entire building had, with the cement walls sealed, fallen into a long slumber.

The world was far more complicated than he had anticipated, but fortunately, Bologue now stood at the gate of the New World, just waiting to push hard to open it.

"Bologue!"

A sudden shout jolted Bologue from his thoughts; Geoffrey was at the end of the corridor, walking quickly over. After three days, Geoffrey finally reached out to him.

"Are you here to take me through the entry procedures?"

Bologue asked directly, harboring a hint of excitement he could barely contain.

"More or less, and to introduce you to some of the basic structures of our Order Bureau."

As Geoffrey spoke, he fished out a key chain from his waist, carefully sifting through it, picking out a rusty brass key, on which faint texts were engraved, but they were too minute for Bologue to discern what they said.

"Let's go."

He indicated to Bologue, standing in front of Bologue's house door.

"The place where you live is too far. Reaching the headquarters from here takes at least two hours. Time is tight, plus my application has been approved; it's just the time to show you around."

Geoffrey spoke mysteriously to Bologue.

Bologue didn't understand how Geoffrey's statements were connected, but recalling the strange feelings during the assessment, he let it go.

The "Order Bureau" was far more mysterious and complex than he had imagined. These guys not only dealt with Devils but also hunted Demons, wielding Extraordinary Powers that Bologue wasn't yet aware of.

"What are you doing?"

He watched as Geoffrey closed the door, then picked up the rusty brass key and attempted to open the iron door with it.

"Your key won't work on my door..."

Bologue's words trailed off as he fixated on the key.

Delicate, ghostly blue arcs appeared on the key, which perfectly slid into the lock core, and once inserted, the ghostly blue arcs quickly spread over the lock core and the entire door, swiftly sweeping across the metal surface before disappearing.

Bologue could feel it—something was flowing, something invisible, intangible, yet certainly present, surging, pouring into the key.

Geoffrey twisted his wrist slightly, the key turned, and a crisp mechanical spring sound resonated from within the lock core.

The door opened.