In the sweltering, intense song, the man slowly opened his eyes, the deep blue gleam in them flickering out. As the wolf was beheaded by Bologue, the connection between the man and the wolf severed.
He rubbed his temples hard, blue veins emerged densely across his stern face as he took deep breaths, suppressing the disturbance in his chest and heart.
Bologue's decisive stroke not only severed the steel but also impacted his consciousness; the man wasn't that fragile, yet he felt his head splitting.
"Bologue Lazarus."
He muttered the name, after a brief silence, a slight smile crept upon his face. He reached out to move the stylus off the spinning record, finally putting an end to the disturbing song.
As Bologue had speculated, the man was indeed in his room, surrounded by various files.
"He's thrown everything into disarray; we should have been here for his final interview."
The woman's voice emerged from Bologue's bedroom as she walked out, occasionally glancing back at the photo-covered wall inside the bedroom.
"Are you just going to let him pass, Lebius?"
"Hmm... that's what I think, at least for now."
Lebius looked at the sandbox in front of him, stretching out his hand, moving the flags stuck in it.
"To entrust extraordinary powers to a debtor with an undying body... If he loses control, it would be devastating for us."
The woman appeared hesitant; although they had recruited debtors before, few had a 'blessing' as powerful as Bologue. Just thinking about Bologue's undying body and his cunning, enigmatic powers filled her with unspeakable dread.
"Sometimes, I feel Yas is right, dealing with debtors is akin to gambling with the devil," the woman said.
"The devil... gambling, you say?"
Lebius tasted the words, a chill in his voice.
"But he indeed is a very useful sharp sword, Yuriel," Lebius stated calmly, "even if he is a deadly double-edged sword."
"Have you... made up your mind?"
Yuriel sighed, knowing she couldn't change Lebius's mind but wanting to give it a try.
"You know, Nesanel, why was I entrusted with forming the Special Operations Group?"
Instead of replying to Yuriel, Lebius talked about something else.
"Because I'm different from you; apart from safety, contracts, or rules, I care more about outcomes. As long as I achieve my goals, whether my employees are humans, debtors, or creatures not even classified as either, it doesn't matter to me."
Lebius planted the flag down; the soldiers on the sandbox began their assault, attacking the high grounds of the city-state.
"Just like war, whether through overwhelming military force, cunning strategy, or elite decapitation strikes, our ultimate goal is to win, right? If we can attain that 'beautiful' outcome, does the process really matter?
No, it doesn't matter at all; the Order Bureau needs results, and my Special Operations Group exists for that purpose."
Yuriel remained silent, keenly perceiving the cold atmosphere spreading from Lebius.
"Bologue Lazarus is a decent employee; compared to the known 'undead,' he is still young, not that numb, with intense and burning 'desires' within, for which you've seen his ruthless means."
Lebius spoke with a hint of deeper meaning.
"Having 'desire' is a good thing."
Picking up the files beside him, he handed them to Yuriel, Lebius grabbed the cane next to the sofa, struggling to stand, while Yuriel stood beside without any intent to help.
Lebius arose from the darkness, the faint light casting upon him, carving his slender figure into a fragile silhouette on the wall.
He seemed frail, yet his eyes concealed sharp swords, so piercing that one dared not meet them.
"Aren't you afraid of losing everything in this gamble?" Yuriel asked.
"I have nothing to lose."
Lebius answered without emotion.
Given that, Yuriel had nothing more to say, picked up a key, inserted it into the door beside, once opened, the world beyond was no longer the familiar corridor but a murky darkness.
Lebius dragged his disabled right leg, leaning on the cane, as he and Yuriel stepped into the darkness.
...
With the door open, the fishy stench of blood wafted over Geoffrey and Yas, mixed with the lingering stench of demons.
Inside the door, the chamber had been entirely doused in blood, countless corpses scattered across the floor, nearly none unbroken, as if a twisted killer had just enjoyed a delightfully gruesome time here.
Some demons still clung to life, but they no longer had their demonic visage, lying on the ground like pitiable victims, wailing in agony.
The crowd outside the building were awestruck, some legs began to tremble, while others, weak in resilience, dry-heaved, bending over to spill their dinner and stomach acid from their mouths.
As 'professionals,' they were not unfamiliar with demons, even demon corpses, but rarely did they encounter scenes like this, akin to a slaughterhouse.