Bologue gradually approached, the candlelight igniting the carpet, illuminating his face.
It was a relatively young face, with black long hair falling disheveled, eyes hidden in shadows, dressed in a black windbreaker with a white shirt underneath, and a black tie at the collar.
Just an ordinary person, like an office worker after work, such people were everywhere in Opus.
"Devils are really a cunning, damned bunch, right?"
"Such people can't live like a sound soul, nor can they be driven by hunger like you demons, completely falling and descending into madness.
Neither here nor there.
Running around for their lost souls, hoping one day to redeem their souls from the devils' hands, repaying this heavy debt."
Doron lunged forward abruptly, it was beastifying.
Sharp claws like slender blades, muscles swollen, tearing through clothing, roaring in low growls, surging unstoppable.
The figure twisted into a blurry shadow, after a brief delay, a gale erupted, stirring the burning flames.
A sharp cracking noise echoed, sparks scattered.
Doron couldn't believe the scene before him, Bologue raised a folded knife with one hand, easily blocking its fierce attack, then repelling it. It swung the claws again, attempting to slay Bologue, but Bologue's speed in wielding the blade was faster, his figure vanished like a ghost.
The wind danced, when Bologue reappeared, he carried the cold gleam of steel.
The folded knife reflected the burning flames, dazzling light flashed before Doron's eyes.
The distraction lasted less than a second, but in that brief moment, the folded knife dodged the hard claws, slicing down from the side, severing Doron's right hand in one go.
"So why is that, Priest?"
His questioning accompanied the glow of the blade, each word left a grim wound on Doron.
"Good people should go to Heaven, so why isn't her soul there?"
Bologue wondered, the folded knife slashed Doron's lower leg, slicing it in two, forcing his body to kneel.
Doron panted, terrified, the demon who instilled fear into others was now immensely afraid.
"Bad people should go to Hell, why isn't your soul there?"
The voice came from behind, Bologue holding the folded knife, standing behind it like an executioner.
Doron trembled, the next moment, a fierce wind rose, shredding the words.
It counterattacked desperately at this moment, leaping up, twisting, swinging its claws, but what greeted Doron was an even more chilling blade glow.
The claws shattered, the remaining arm easily penetrated, torn apart, even the chest was affected, leaving a thin blade mark, blood gurgling out.
Cold gleams crossed and mixed, the folded knife's whistling wind extinguished the burning flames for a moment, white smoke rolled past.
Doron's body froze in place, a thin red line extended across its throat, quickly spanning half its neck, and then like a dam bursting, blood splattered, pouring out in torrents.
Under a fatal wound, Doron instantly lost all strength, collapsing, reaching out its fractured twisted arm chaotically, trying to cover the wound on its throat, but it was futile, blood continued to gush out, quickly pooling into a large bloodstain beneath.
Bologue didn't continue to slash, instead standing in place, stars reflected in his eyes.
Not only was there blood pouring out, but also wisps of azure light escaping the body, like dust, gently floating around.
This seemed visible only to Bologue, Doron completely unaware of these light points, barely lifting its head, its gaze filled with terror.
Bologue murmured, raising a hand, brushing scattered hair behind, revealing a face pale from long unexposure to sunlight, and those azure eyes.
He wasn't alarmed by this brutal scene, instead, as if awakened, azure spirals rolled in his eyes.
Simultaneously, the scattered azure points, as if summoned, surged toward Bologue, effortlessly penetrating the skin, merging into Bologue's body.
A sense of fulfillment surged in.
The sense of fulfillment made him momentarily dazed, when he regained awareness, the man remembered something, reaching his hand toward Doron, spoke slowly.
"Bologue Lazarus, a debtor."
Souls offered to devils to gain mysterious blessings, thus bearing a heavy debt.
Doron fell into the blood pool, as Bologue's words sounded, it saw the wounds on Bologue's cheek healing visibly by the eye. The blood remained flowing back, skin rejoining, resembling Time Reversal.
Bologue noticed Doron's gaze, explaining.
"Yes, this is my 'Blessing', the 'debt' I owe."
Finished speaking, a slightly sickly smile bloomed on his face, the folded knife descended again, snapping the sharp claws, transforming Doron's remaining limbs into a heap of flesh, wriggling like a maggot, driven by its last survival instinct, laboriously moving on the ground, leaving a streak of scarlet behind like a spread red carpet.
That frightening footstep followed relentlessly, the faint view of Bologue's silhouette observed, he held the folded knife, humming a strange melody, the folded knife lightly tapping his palm, beating a joyful, rhythmic pattern.
Light steps, treading on blood pools like dancing, Bologue circled around Doron.
Doron tried to say begging words, but blood clots blocked its throat, only making meaningless whimpering sounds.
Bologue grabbed Doron's hair, lifting the filthy blood-covered head forcibly.
"Begging won't work, Priest, you said it, bad people's souls belong in Hell."
Finished speaking, Bologue forcefully tossed the Priest's mutilated body forward, into the burning confessional, fire erupted, scorching heat echoed, countless sparks flew.
The sound of torturous cries, along with the smell of flesh being roasted by flames, filled the air.
Picked up the burning scripture, casually flipped open a page, its words turned into brilliant gold due to the fire.
Bologue recited its words loudly.
"Under His gaze, mountains tremble, Earth shakes!"
He tossed the heavy scripture, the folded knife pierced the burning pages, Bologue strode forward, piercing through the scripture's blade into the demon's heart, firmly nailing it in the burning confessional.
Bologue didn't leave, he and the demon together stood within the fury of flames, the fire tore his skin, but soon flesh reborn, searing wounds soothed one by one.
Under his gaze, the demon's struggles gradually ceased, its dark shell swallowed by flames, like scorched charcoal, turning into a sculpture of grey death.
The demon's remains fell as grey dust, azure light points seeped out, all merged into Bologue's body, he spread his arms, closed his eyes, as if enjoying the death and destruction of this moment, a satisfied smile appearing on his cheek, from the corner of his eye spilled rolling hot azure light.
He pulled out the folded knife, the scripture shattered, the shell crumbled, burning pages danced like golden snow, fluttering in the air.