CHAPTER 628: CHAPTER 139: THE PERSON WITHOUT A PAST

No matter how much Belphegor claims to be his fan, he cannot hide his obvious ulterior motives.

After the decision from the Decision Room, they confirmed Belphegor’s intel that the attackers were indeed the Zongge Orchestra, and they are pursuing the Tenth Group.

Belphegor’s involvement troubled Bologue for quite some time. He couldn’t understand whether he was being used by the Devil or helped by them.

Fortunately, Bologue soon figured everything out.

He was only temporarily sharing the same interests with the Devil. When their interests contradicted, the devil, who seemed like a friend, would not hesitate to stab him with a dagger.

This was just a cold transaction.

Indeed, just like during the Time Axis Disorder Incident.

Bologue pulled out a coin from his pocket. Strangely, unlike a regular Mammon Coin, the one in his hand seemed specially made. Even after leaving Opus, it still emitted a golden glow.

Interestingly, this Mammon Coin seemed to possess some sort of magic power, no matter what clothes Bologue changed into, as long as he searched his pockets, he could always find it.

As if fearing Bologue would forget it, it constantly hid in his pocket, accompanying him like a shadow.

It sounded quite eerie, but Bologue could barely accept it. After all, things related to the Devil were always like this. After working for so long, Bologue had started to get used to it.

This Mammon Coin had always followed him, and no one had told Bologue what to do, but whenever he picked up this coin, he had a premonition in his heart.

The way to get rid of this Mammon Coin was simple, just let Bologue throw it away. When he personally discarded it, it would completely fade away, rather than endlessly appearing in his pockets.

The Devil never forces anyone. He leaves the choice to oneself.

Bologue fiddled with the Mammon Coin, letting it roll across the back of his fingers, shining like bright gold in the morning light.

The Tyrant had helped him before, but that was also for his own benefit. When the Tyrant no longer needed him, he’d take a stance against him.

The backside of the coin depicted greedy Mammon, while the front side bore the symbol of silver.

This was Bologue’s connection with the Tyrant. Bologue had countless urges to throw away the Mammon Coin and sever ties with the Tyrant, but he always gave up.

There was always a voice whispering in his mind.

"Someday you will need him."

Bologue chuckled self-deprecatingly, now more able to sense the Devil’s strangeness: like playing with fire, thinking he could control it all, but unknowingly becoming fuel for the flames.

Bologue thought, every debtor must have had such a journey, believing as long as they didn’t sacrifice their most precious soul, they could toy with the Devil. But they all eventually ended up in the same fate.

Gripping the Mammon Coin tightly, the metal beauty pressing against his palm, delivering a hidden pain under pressure.

The Iron Whistles scattered among the Narrow Countries hurried to the scene after the incident, investigating the situation. They found traces of battle but discovered numerous corpses without finding signs of the Tenth Group.

Further tracking led the Iron Whistles to roughly infer the Tenth Group’s moving direction: heading towards Free Port.

The Zongge Orchestra’s attack on bases was not just to hinder reinforcements from the Order Bureau but also to stop the Tenth Group from escaping through other Curved Path Gates.

Under such circumstances, the Tenth Group’s choice was only to head south. The battle site was not far from Free Port, and once they reached, they could return to Oubos through shipping.

There were shadows of the Devils behind this incident. On one hand, it was the actions of the Joyous Desire Witch. On the other hand, it was Belphegor’s revenge, aiming to retaliate against the Joyous Desire Witch for the corruption of the Unfettered Poetry Society.

When Devils were involved in this event, Rupert’s Tail was the most suitable action group for the task. Depending on the debtors’ sensitivity to Devils, Bologue and others were deployed here.

Bologue unlocked the latch on the fence, pushed it open, and sat down at the gap in the fence, his legs swinging in mid-air.

The car door behind was open, Aimou emerged, "Looks like someone beat us to it."

Bologue turned around. Aimou yawned forcefully, appearing sleepy, his hair messily spiked like a fluffy cat.

Aimou stepped forward, leaned on the fence, and looked at Bologue, "What, daydreaming?"

"Sort of," Bologue said, "The scenery along the way is quite nice, perfect for dazing off."

Bologue tucked away the Mammon Coin, forgetting all these damned troubles.

Bologue has always had an inner sense of confidence. He didn’t think it was arrogance, but after countless hardships, he now possessed an iron-clad heart.

He absolutely believed in himself, trusting he wouldn’t get lost in the temptations of the Devil, he would harness this power until the victory over the Devils was determined.

After a brief uplift in mood, Bologue would start to doubt himself, even though he didn’t think it was arrogant. But this unaware stance, was in itself a great arrogance, akin to an irreversible paradox.

Thoughts thus became heavy, trapped in a dead cycle.

Bologue sighed and admired the scenery along the way, "I actually feel like I’m on vacation now."

The train glided across the lush green fields, and Bologue could see the white sheep and faintly hear their bleating.

Aimou said, "Didn’t we just visit the Wind Source Highlands? Doesn’t that count as a trip?"

As soon as she said this, Aimou remembered Bologue’s experience at Wind Source Highlands. Thinking carefully, it indeed didn’t count as a trip; instead, it was like overtime, without the extra pay.

"It’s different. Passing through the Curved Path Gate, I was suddenly a thousand miles away, as if the Wind Source Highlands were right next to the Order Bureau. It didn’t feel like going on a trip at all; it was more like buying a cup of coffee at the roadside."

Bologue thought deeply and came up with a term, "Without a sense of distance, there’s no delight upon arrival."

Aimou nodded in agreement. The sunlight grew brighter, making it hard to keep her eyes open. She squinted hard, "Yeah, watching the familiar city slowly fade below the horizon gives you a real feeling of leaving."

Bologue gazed into the distance, just as Aimou described. At this moment, Bologue truly felt he’d left Oubos, the city where he had spent sixty-seven years.

Sixty-seven years.

Compared to the grand timeline of human history, sixty-seven years seemed fleeting, like a blink to an Undead like Serey. But when viewed through the scope of an individual’s life, it’s often one’s entire existence.

The lifetimes of countless people, countless lifetimes spent on this land.

"Gone, without a trace," Bologue said, looking at the scenery with a helpless expression, a tinge more loneliness in his eyes.

Aimou asked curiously, "What’s the matter?"

"You might not believe this," Bologue pointed to the vast landscape, "but I’ve been here before."

"During the Rage of the Scorched Earth?"

Aimou knew of Bologue’s military adventures. Each time she heard them, she remarked that Bologue’s stories could be turned into a novel and make a fortune. Bologue would reply that the Order Bureau forbade its Field Staff from writing memoirs. Even if one wrote a memoir, it had to be kept within the Bureau.

"Yes, back then, this place didn’t look at all like this. Now, all traces of the past have disappeared, as if what I experienced was a mere illusion."

Bologue sighed. The demarcation of the Narrow Countries only appeared after the Fall of the Holy City. At that time, people often called this vast land the Conflict Zone, where the Kagader Empire and the Rhine Alliance fought fiercely.

As a soldier, Bologue had personally measured the vastness of the battlefield and witnessed the death of each person.

"If only I had a map, I could be your historical tour guide and explain the course of the war," Bologue joked. "There aren’t many veterans like me who’ve experienced it firsthand nowadays."

Aimou was silent for a few seconds and couldn’t help but say, "Is this the mindset of youth? It’s wonderful."

"What’s the matter?"

"Look at you, Bologue, if we go by actual age, you’re already an old man. But I always forget that; you are no different than the young."

Aimou believed that as long as you always remained vigorous, time couldn’t harm you.

"Who knows?"

Bologue continued to gaze into the distance. After a long pause, he suddenly spoke.

"I looked just like this when I left home."

Bologue flashed a carefree smile, swinging his legs vigorously.

"Just like this, sitting at the tail of the train, swinging my feet, thinking this is just an ordinary war. I thought it might end before I even got to the front lines."

Bologue rambled on.

"I’d earn a lot of money, use my military record to get into a good university and study for a few years..."

Bologue fell silent. Now, in hindsight, his desires at that time seemed so humble and small.

Aimou was filled with surprise, carefully asking, "Are you talking about your past?"

"Yes, why?"

Aimou’s expression was somewhat strange, eyes displaying a thinking progress bar, "Since I’ve known you, you’ve never spoken of your life before the military."

It wasn’t just Aimou. Many who knew Bologue only knew him from the start of his military career, the beginning of Bologue’s nightmare.

The tales before the nightmare were rarely mentioned by Bologue, and few knew them.

"You... are like someone without a past."

"How can that be," Bologue shook his head, "everyone has their own past; no one appeared out of thin air."

Bologue gazed into the distance. After a long pause, he suddenly asked.

"Want to hear it?"