Chapter 39 - Villain

Chapter 39 - 19 VillainRetract, turn, punch, Bologue's fist whistled past, slamming towards the Demon's head. With each blow, the Demon's body trembled violently and retreated, the sound of shattering ongoing, until the final punch struck, and the Demon fell, its face a bloody blur, as if drained of strength, while Bologue's fist was also covered in blood.

He ducked his head, dodging another incoming blade. After witnessing Bologue's ferocity, the opponent didn't hold back. Missing the strike, he drew a Short Dagger, attempting to continue stabbing Bologue.

Both hands clasped the opponent's wrists, controlling the sword and Short Dagger. This Demon's strength was much greater than Bologue anticipated, and for a moment, they were at a standstill, neither able to overpower the other.

The Demon roared and headbutted Bologue, causing his nose to bleed. Expecting Bologue to recoil from the pain, instead, he laughed amidst the agony.

Footsteps approached, another Demon picked up a blood-stained long knife, chopping towards Bologue's head from behind.

At the critical moment, Bologue released his grip, evading the Short Dagger. The Demon, unable to control its strength, accidentally stabbed itself in the thigh. Bologue lifted his foot, fiercely kicking the Dagger, piercing through flesh, the blade tip emerging from the thigh.

Amidst screams and blood, the Demon collapsed weakly. Bologue took the opportunity to step on its thigh and shoulder, leaping briefly, delivering an elbow strike from above, smashing into the Demon's head.

Its eyes immediately filled with blood, and amidst the sound of breaking, the Demon's head visibly dented, its vision engulfed as if swallowed by a snowstorm, leaving only a blinding white chaos.

The long blade approached, whistling through the air.

Bologue, holding the unconscious Demon, fell to the ground, evading the long blade attacking from behind, and then fiercely kicked the unconscious Demon, its body sliding on the bloody ground, crashing into the Demon holding the long blade.

As it tried to get up, a shadow enveloped it. After a short run-up, Bologue delivered a flying knee, crushing its face, and immediately the two rolled together, struggling with each other.

The Demon growled, pinning Bologue beneath it, and drew a pistol, ready to end Bologue's life.

The narrow and dim interior restricted the use of firearms, but at this range, just a light pull of the trigger, it could kill the uninvited guest.

A sharp pain came from the elbow. Bologue drew a Flying Knife, deeply stabbing it into the joint, and before the Demon could howl, the irritating sound of bone grinding arose, Bologue twisted and broke its elbow, then seized the pistol meant to point at him.

"Smile, friend."

Below the blood-covered face was a clear azure glow.

After the gunshot, Bologue kicked over the Demon, now with half its head, slowly rising.

"Black as night, black as coal."

Humming his favorite tune, he stepped over corpses and pulled out the folding knife stuck in one, once again leaving knife marks on each corpse's throat.

After all this, Bologue turned his gaze to the only Demon still standing amidst the bloody pool.

Unlike the other Demons, it was completely frightened by Bologue's violence, frozen in place, doing nothing until Bologue looked at it, then, as if waking from a dream, it let out a sharp scream and ran towards the iron door.

Run, run fast.

That was the only thought left in its mind, but no matter how it tugged at the iron door, it wouldn't budge, and then it saw the security bolt was latched.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

It cursed, overwhelming fear causing its hands to tremble. Such a simple action, yet it couldn't accomplish it, metal in its hands making a trembling, sob-like sound.

Seeing this, Bologue laughed, leisurely raised the blood-stained pistol, furrowed his brow, contorted his expression, as his blurry vision cleared, pulling the trigger.

Gunshots sounded one after another. Sёarch* The Novelƒire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Bologue's shooting was bad enough, all bullets hitting the iron door, leaving one dent after another.

"You can't be serious!" Bologue complained loudly.

The Demon ignored it all, the gunshots like chords of death, extreme panic pursuing it.

Footsteps approached.

It dared not turn back, nor had the chance. An arm wrapped around its neck, holding it tightly.

"Take a deep breath, friend."

The monster's whisper sounded beside its ear, the Demon felt the air brushing against its skin, warm with a lingering scent of iron, like a bloodthirsty beast in the darkness behind it, baring its fangs.

"No... no..."

It patted the arm, but its strength was so weak, not enough to shake the tightening noose.

Breathing became difficult, the chest feeling like it was being crushed by a boulder, whether it was tears or blood, its vision blurred into gray and white void. Until a clear sound of breaking came from beneath its flesh, the Demon's head twisted, its face turning an iron blue.

Bologue released his grip, letting the body fall into the bloody pool, looking at his blood-stained hands.

Trembling, trembling with excitement, like a great shark smelling blood, the flame was kindled and would not be quenched until the darkness was shattered to pieces.

"Where are you?"

Bologue made a pose, inquiring among the corpses.

That rat-like man had vanished, fleeing into the darkness at the first sign of battle, and Bologue was tracking his trail, knowing that this rat would lead him to Norm Ward.

"Norm, where are you?"

Bologue walked to the counter, used the folding knife to pry open a hidden door, from the dark depth came a chilling wind full of vengeful souls.

"Oh, are you here?"

Bologue chuckled.

Faintly, the wailing of thousands of souls could be heard, but Bologue was unafraid. He relished in the Demons' suffering, yet everything here was not enough, still not enough.

Bologue was not satisfied.

It was like a sacrifice to an unknown entity.

He did not need the penitence of evildoers or their sincere repentance. What he required was the proper price paid by evildoers.

The blood of the wicked, the flesh of the wicked, the pain of the wicked.

He never got enough.

Bits of starlight rose from fallen corpses, gathering into silk-like strands of light, twining around Bologue. He devoured the soul fragments, and the azure glow in his eyes burned even more fiercely.

"Run fast! The Evil Spirit will catch you!"

He laughed out loud.

Nightmares stepped out from stories, into deeper darkness, carrying brutality and spreading fear that pierces the bone.