When Palmer returned to the church, everything was over. The church was teetering, crumbling bricks smashing the deity statue, and Bologue sat beneath the ruins with a gloomy expression.
In fact, from the Devil’s arrival to its departure, it was not even a few minutes, yet the horrific pressure and ominous feeling made Bologue’s perception of time infinitely sluggish.
The pain in his chest gradually subsided, but the handprint showed no signs of fading. This was the first time since Bologue became a Debtor that he encountered such an unhealable injury.
This might not be an injury but a curse, an irremovable curse.
Palmer, who had returned, questioned Bologue. He hadn’t been gone long, yet it seemed like a great battle had taken place here, and judging by his partner’s state, Bologue seemed to have lost.
Palmer wondered, trying to find Belli’s body, but he noticed that the corpses previously piled in the church, the blood-colored drawings, and other flesh-stained objects had all disappeared without a trace.
Palmer realized the issue and looked at Bologue with a serious expression.
"Was the ritual successful?"
It shouldn’t have been possible. He and Bologue had saved Bane, the human sacrifice, and slaughtered all the cultists, sending them to Hell. The ritual should have been stopped.
"The ritual didn’t succeed... it was just that the Devil found its way here on its own."
Bologue responded. He still remembered that mysterious feeling, a voice tempting him from within, prompting him to call out that name, allowing the Devil to see his figure amidst the void.
The feeling was terrible.
Bologue picked up the booklet in his hand, evidence proving what he saw wasn’t an illusion. From Belli’s words and the booklet’s description, Bologue had roughly understood the existence of the Vermilion Corrosion Sect.
This was an evil cult worshiping the Devil, serving a devil named "Gluttonous Beelzebub."
If Bologue guessed correctly, the ethereal woman who left a handprint on his chest was that Devil. The reason she remembered him might be related to him disturbing her ritual.
There are many Extraordinary Organizations in this world, and most of them maintain a hostile attitude towards the Devil. In the Order Bureau’s records, a long time ago, the Order Bureau even joined forces with the King’s Secret Sword to destroy the cultists’ ritual, showing the vigilance people have towards the Devil.
Bologue felt that the woman wasn’t someone petty. She wouldn’t oppose everyone who disturbed her ritual. The reason she targeted him might be his special identity.
"I am looking for someone, been searching for a long, long time."
The Tyrant’s words echoed in his ears. From the Tyrant’s attitude towards him, it could be felt that, in the eyes of the Devils, he was also a relatively special existence.
The woman also mentioned a so-called "scent," and the Tyrant had said something similar before. Bologue had a scent familiar to the Tyrant, but he was sure he wasn’t that person.
Bologue felt a bit of a headache. Excluding the Devil who took his soul, he had already encountered two Devils and wasn’t sure if he was lucky or unlucky.
"Do you know about the Vermilion Corrosion Sect, Palmer?" Bologue asked.
"The Vermilion Corrosion Sect? An old acquaintance," Palmer came over and responded to Bologue’s inquiry.
Bologue looked up to see Palmer with a bitter smile.
"Could it be such a coincidence?" Bologue said.
"It’s fate, or perhaps... bad luck!"
Palmer loudly complained, then sat beside Bologue, his voice slowly resounding.
"I talked to you about how I became a Debtor, right?" Palmer asked.
"I know, you stumbled into an evil ritual site but managed to seize the ritual and made a deal with the Devil," Bologue guessed. "Could it be the ritual site you encountered was related to the Vermilion Corrosion Sect?"
"You guessed right, but unfortunately, there’s no reward." Palmer nodded in affirmation.
So it was indeed , and for a moment, Bologue didn’t know what to say. Palmer then continued.
"Logically speaking, Opus... no, the entire Great Rift is the Forbidden Land for the Vermilion Corrosion Sect. The Order Bureau can tolerate the King’s Secret Sword intruding into Opus but would never allow the Vermilion Corrosion Sect near the Great Rift."
Palmer talked about the Order Bureau’s trivial matters. Bologue, who wasn’t long in the job, didn’t know much about these things.
"I don’t understand why the Order Bureau’s attitude is so firm, but at least in Opus, I’ve never seen anyone from the Vermilion Corrosion Sect, nor have I encountered anything related to them, so I didn’t think it was those lunatics at first."
"Why is it forbidden for them to enter the Great Rift?" Bologue asked.
"I don’t know about that. We’re just Condensers, our knowledge is quite limited. But Lebius and the others should understand why, right?"
Palmer didn’t continue this conversation but turned to Bologue and asked him.
"Then what? The Devil arrived in reality; what happened next?"
Bologue told Palmer truthfully about what happened next: the tendrils devoured Belli, the appearance of the woman, and the handprint on Bologue’s chest.
Judging by the connection to the umbilical cord, Palmer should have a deeper link with the woman, yet she targeted him, which made him feel uneasy.
"Do you have any ideas?" Bologue buttoned up his coat, covering his chest.
"No ideas," Palmer shook his head, "I don’t know much about the Devil either. More information will be revealed to us once we advance to Prayer Believers."
"And then there’s the Putrid Sect..."
Palmer was about to tell Bologue about his understanding of the Putrid Sect and the eighth Sect of Secret Energy, which had been deliberately forgotten and hidden.
The surge of Ether interrupted Palmer’s words, both reacted instantly and looked alertly toward one corner of the ruins, where a shaky door stood, the panel and frame barely maintaining the "door" stance.
Dense light trails appeared out of nowhere on the surface of the door panel, intertwining and twisting together to form a vortex of engulfing waves.
A sudden sense of familiarity hit Bologue’s mind; he recognized this pattern in the vortex roaring in the door...
The solitary standing door was pushed open, behind it connected not to Qiushang Town but to another void space, oppressive breathing sounds came from behind the door, as if hungry hounds were ready to break free.
Before Bologue and Palmer could say anything, a storm was stirred among the ruins by the Ether, it was called forth, making the surrounding thin Ether rich again.
As Bologue summoned the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid, forging his Iron Armor to protect himself, one silhouette after another appeared in front of the radiant door.
They just appeared out of nowhere, like an army descending from the sky.
The newcomers’ eyes swirled with bright light, their bodies clad in armor resembling Protective Clothing, some wielded knives and swords, others held rifles, each exuding a murderous aura, Ether surged, Secret Energy ready to burst forth, seeming prepared to tear the two apart alive at any moment.
Bologue was somewhat confused by the current situation; he recognized the pattern on the door but was unsure whether the opposing identities were friend or foe. Palmer, however, had reacted, seeing the markings on these people’s attire.
On the white Protective Clothing was a symbol of authority representing divine power, but that authority was circled by dark graffiti and marked with a hefty X, denying it.
"Brothers of the Ninth Group!"
Palmer put down his weapon, raised his hands, and shouted hoarsely.
"Our own! Spare our lives!"
Under Palmer’s howl, the Ninth Group’s rising murderous aura paused, and each felt a sense of absurdity at having witnessed a ghost; they’ve raided so many ritual sites, yet this was a first.
But it only made them hesitate for a moment; according to the Ninth Group’s operational regulations, they never listen to cultist nonsense, always executing immediately, especially when involved with the Great Rift.
Just as they were about to open fire and gun the two down, the leading man suddenly raised his hand, stopping the action.
The man removed his helmet; he was of similar age to Lebius, but from appearances, he looked much more fierce than Lebius, his face covered with scars, the most striking one ran from the corner of his mouth.
Due to this scar, the man’s gums slightly showed, giving his appearance an extremely fierce look.
"I remember him, the unlucky guy from the Clarks."
Looking at Palmer, man spoke, which sounded humiliating, but Palmer couldn’t believe that such a nickname had saved his life.
"Yes, that’s me! Palmer from the Field Operations Department Special Operations Group," Palmer forcefully patted Bologue’s shoulder, his voice panicked, "This is my partner Bologue."
"Special Operations Group, consisting of Debtors? No wonder they stink."
The man didn’t hold back his disdain for Debtors, but even with such words, others didn’t lower their weapons, as if even as colleagues, at the man’s command, they would swarm and chop the two Debtors into pieces.
"You arrived first, and resolved the situation here?"
Said the man as he glanced at the chapel, the ruins not showing any trace of blood, as the woman took all the flesh and blood when she left.
Their headstart on the mission displeased the man greatly, his gloomy gaze briefly scanning around; he looked at Bologue and Palmer who had stood up, and reported his name.
"Captain of the Ninth Group, Carnegie Dunbar."
It was Bologue’s first meeting with Carnegie, but he had long since understood their identities.
The Ninth Group, responsible for handling events related to devil worship and similar, with the code name, Atheists.