The folding knife, like a howling wave, strikes towards the evil wolf amidst the piercing drone.
Thousands of sharp blades rise, like blooming flowers, grazing the skin, penetrating the body, trying to hinder Bologue's advance, yet still unable to withstand this life-risking blow.
The sharp blade light descends upon the evil wolf's head, it blocks completely, but from its body comes a series of explosive sounds as if invisible chains suddenly bind it tightly, shackling all its limbs, leaving it helplessly watching the guillotine fall.
Thunderous explosions echo in the air, air currents swirl everywhere, blood mist surges, covering both in an instant, but soon the blood mist is blown away by the howling wind, with fine blood droplets pattering around.
Armor, sharp blades, body, ground, walls, ceiling, lights...
Everything in sight is draped in a crimson layer, momentarily seeming to wriggle as if infused with life, the world dragged into the stomach of some mighty creature.
Bologue falls, his face pale, limbs a bloodied mess, the whole person on the brink of shattering, as if dragged out of a meat grinder, fresh blood gushing out, he tries to get up but his body doesn't respond, Bologue's injuries are truly severe.
The most deadly wound comes from the neck, a slender cut slicing open Bologue's throat, accompanied by painful breaths, producing a night owl-like screech from the pitch-black wound.
The disturbing piercing drone gradually quiets down, the evil wolf stands its body up, slowly turning its head, for some reason, its movements are stiff, like a rusty gear-driven machine, with metal scraping sounds emanating from beneath its shell.
The gleam in the seams of the armor dims noticeably, seeming to extinguish in the next moment.
"Was this premeditated?"
the evil wolf asks.
It looks at its own hands, in Bologue's life-risking blow, instinctively Bologue should have been shredded before he swung the folding knife, but at that moment its arms lifting to the chest felt a hindrance, it was this hindrance that delayed the evil wolf for several seconds, failing to block the blow.
"To... demonstrate one's value,"
the evil wolf murmured, with broken blade heads staying within its armor, like long spikes piercing the body, influencing the armor's movement at critical moments, jamming arm joints, even the most agile body became slow.
This was the first time the evil wolf encountered such a thing, a hunter wounded instead by prey.
The evil wolf let out a low, hoarse laugh.
"I heard Geoffrey speak of you, he said you've been in the Black Prison long enough, suspected of some mental issues, narcissistic and paranoid, obsessed with so-called retributive justice... have you taken yourself as a Savior? Why?"
The evil wolf recalled information about Bologue, curiously asking.
"Why?"
Bologue's voice whimpers, as if hearing an amusing joke, the pale face gradually adopts an unrestrained smile.
"It's like sunrise and sunset, like birth, aging, sickness and death, like justice and evil... retributive justice isn't human iron law and principle?"
He laughs loudly.
"Does this kind of thing still need a 'why'?"
The evil wolf gives no reaction, it's just a cold shell, showing no visible emotional fluctuations, it seems in thought, or maybe just gazing at Bologue.
As for Bologue, after laughing at the evil wolf, he makes no more sound.
He is dead, his body lying within the pool of blood, unresponsive, his head looking towards the sky, pupils scattered.
It's said when a person dies, they review the scenes of their life, summarizing their lifetime.
Bologue cannot see life's scenes, all he sees is a terrifying and oppressive void.
It's an unbearable emptiness, wandering with silk-like azure rays, they span the vision, behind the deep gray void is endless desolation and massacre, with a deep, distant sound resonating, large chunks, like glacier mountains and rocks, colliding repeatedly, bursting with sporadic fragments, uninterrupted sharp angles like sharp fangs, biting each other, spreading to the end.
This is what Bologue sees "after death," each "death" he briefly enters this "afterlife world."
Then he's banished back to the human world again.
The evil wolf watches Bologue's corpse.
Its azure eyes reflect the blood-colored scene, the bright azure gradually dims, like scattering stars, disappearing into the abyss of the pupils.
The stars should fall into silence, but faint arcs of electricity flash, the stars brighten again, and with the ebb and flow the brilliance becomes more and more dazzling, they reunite to form a blazing sun.
The scattered pupils solidified once again.
The sound of trickling water arose, blood flowed back into the body, torn wounds began to adhere and heal, broken bones proliferated and reset, and the blurred flesh grew new granulation, interlocking to fill in the shaved-off flesh.
The rib cage raised once more, blood surged intensely in the vessels, rekindling the silent heartbeat like the pounding of war drums.
Bologue coughed painfully, spitting out the blood clots stuck in his throat, and like an unutterable phantom, slowly stood up, standing amidst the pool of blood.
"Phew, this 'Blessing' is quite useful, isn't it?"
Bologue touched his throat, the skin now intact, yet he still felt a faint chill.
The pain of having his throat slit was real, his death was real, yet Bologue eventually survived, standing up once more.
"The resurrected...Lazarus."
A voice filled with malice and eeriness echoed from beneath the Iron Armor; even though the documents had been enough to understand Bologue, witnessing this 'resurrection' invoked awe and fear in the Evil Wolf.
This was Bologue's 'Blessing,' a curse and blessing from the Devil.
"Does this mean I've passed the test? If so, I won't come upstairs to see you."
Even though he had just died once, Bologue acted as if nothing had happened, maintaining a nonchalant demeanor.
The Evil Wolf didn't respond, and Bologue reached out, grabbing toward him.
He grasped the folding knife that nearly split the wolf's head entirely.
The life-risking strike succeeded, as the folding knife bypassed countless obstacles of blades, like thunder splitting a mighty tree, accurately slashing the pitch-black steel, cutting the ferocious wolf's head in two.
Dim light sprayed out, like flowing blood, gushing from the split cracks, with the faint light beneath the armor steadily dimming as well.
Forcefully drawing out the folding knife, a sudden flicker of light followed by complete darkness, the phantom dwelling beneath the Iron Armor vanished, and the wolf's head shattered into halves, clanging to the ground, the empty shell of the armor trembling for a few seconds before collapsing entirely, as if it had died.
"Oh, by the way, remember to close the door when you leave."
Bologue gazed at the metallic carcass, hoping it could still hear him.
A thunderous rumble sounded as if the earth was shifting, the entire building slightly trembled, Bologue steadied himself, glancing around, seeing the walls enveloped with arrays resembling those of the Evil Wolf, rapidly dissipating.
The cement walls sealing the doors and windows retreated one by one, the physical space's structure modified and reset, the 'Cultivation Room' detached from the building, returning it to normality.
Bologue couldn't fathom this bizarre phenomenon, but he believed he would soon understand it all.
Picking up the shattered wolf's head helmet, as if it were a trophy, he walked towards the main entrance.
With no sense of hindrance, the door opened effortlessly, the night wind brushing over, slightly quelling the heat on Bologue's body.
He stood on the steps, endless blood flowing past his feet, like a red carpet for a protagonist's debut, converging into a small stream, cascading down the steps, towards those who'd been waiting in front of the building for a long time.
Bologue saw Geoffrey, waving his hand, flashing him a smile, then tossed the wolf's head helmet at his feet.
The helmet rolled over, emitting clanging sounds along the way, and upon seeing the appearance of that wolf's head helmet, everyone stepped back slightly, their gazes filled with caution.
They recognized this helmet.
Swallowing nervously, the invisible pressure weighed on everyone present, plunging the atmosphere into eerie silence.
They gazed at the figure emerging from the door, Bologue bathed in warm blood, emitting wisps of white mist, like red-hot iron meeting cold water.
For a moment, they found it difficult to distinguish Bologue's existence; human? Or Demon?
They were unsure until a relaxed voice broke the dead silence.
"Phew...is this considered a welcome party?"
Bologue brushed the fallen bangs to the back of his head, wiped the dirtied blood from his face, and gazed at Geoffrey.
"Where do I pick up my badge?"