Endless Debt.

Chapter 653 Muse
Countless monsters attacked Bologo one after another like a school of fish, with severed limbs and internal organs flying across. Sometimes Bologo didn't even swing his sword, but just held up his grudge bite, and these monsters rushed towards him. On his own sword, he cut himself into pieces.

The corpses piled up into mountains, and the blood continued to flow in the gaps, even converging into a stream, pouring into the large library along the crack of the gate, and thousands of blood basins opened their mouths, sending out mixed together, like waves. Roaring like a roar, layers of noise were superimposed, almost tearing Burlogo's eardrums.

But Bologo can't feel the pain, he is dominated by the power of rage, and his blood is also burning. This is a skill called boiling blood among hunters. Now through the power of narrative, it is blessed in the Bologo's body.

This power penetrated into the bone marrow, just like the triple trial that Bologo experienced, as if it strengthened Bologo's strength from all aspects.

He was like a reef separating the sea, standing at the forefront of the tide of monsters. Behind Bologo was Palmer. Responsible for guarding the last gap to prevent monsters from rushing into the big library.

It stands to reason that devils cannot directly interfere with the material world, but through the power of broken reality, Asmodeus broke this limitation. This is a struggle between mortals and devils. Asmodeus' dark power is summoning a large number of monsters, and Endowed with great power, they are as numerous as ants in the sand.

At this moment, the monsters not only rushed into the Daisy Castle, but even the outside of the Daisy Castle was covered with many undulating monsters, besieging the lonely castle.

They are as numerous as the sea of ​​sand, and Daisy Castle is like a solitary boat on the sea of ​​death, with rising waves, waiting for the waves of destruction to smash the ship.

For a moment, Burlogo felt a sense of powerlessness, but soon this sense of powerlessness was replaced by the desire to kill.

Bologo's way of thinking is very simple, troubles can't solve anything, if he continues to slash, maybe he can kill all these monsters.

It may take months, it may be years, but as long as you keep at it, Burlogo can make it.

The resentful bite cut open the body of another monster smoothly. Boluoge noticed a strange sound in the roar of the mountain and tsunami. The next moment, the thick vines were like whips, and they whipped towards Boluo quickly. Ge.

Retreating vigorously, Bologo swung his sword and cut off part of the vines, while the other vines lashed at the monsters, causing their bodies to be torn apart.

"Is this also from the power of narrative?"

Burrog shouted loudly, he had long felt that there was something wrong with these vines, and now they were much more threatening, and each whip brought up large swaths of blood.

"It is!" Palmer responded, "If you read the book carefully, this evil power affects all living things, even human beings can be distorted."

"Have it!"

Bologo picked up half of a monster and blocked another whipping. The corpse was quickly broken into large pieces of minced meat in his hands.

"Of course there is!" Palmer threw out the storm feather, and the throwing knife quickly turned in the darkness, cutting off dozens of vines, "You fake fan!"

"I've never considered myself a fan," Burrog corrects. "I'm just a reader."

The pile of corpses was piled up in front of several people, as if standing in a trench to fight. Burrog stepped on the corpse and stood higher. He suddenly felt a burst of relief. During the long torture of the past ten years, if Paar It should be easier for Mo to talk bad things to himself.

Burrog could tolerate solitude, but he preferred to have someone by his side unless necessary.

The situation is a bit bad, monsters are coming continuously, causing great pressure, but the good news is that the current terrain is favorable for Bologo and others, they only need to guard this door, and they don't have to keep guarding, Just wait for Irving to get over this.

Irving... Irving Fleischer.

The familiar face appeared in Burlog's mind, and sometimes Burlog thought, if Irwin had met the Bureau of Order instead of the Happy Garden 33 years ago, he would have become an excellent field worker , those necessary good qualities have been shown in this mortal, and it is even said that he has done better.

This guy might be able to become a power loser, or even a base defender. With his rational mind of a pair of devils, he might even become the leader of a certain operation team.

But this is just a thought, the current reality is indisputable, not to mention, Burlogo is very worried about Irving.

As Bologo knew, Irving's wish was very simple. He just wanted to see that woman again. In the Paradise, Asmodeus ruthlessly laughed at Irving's fantasies and crushed all his good things.

Irving may be disheartened, he has always been a rational person, otherwise he would not have made such a wish, but now, Irving found another chance.

Asmodeus used the power of narrative to imprison Irwin, but Irwin also used this power to imprison her.

The devil's arrogance made Asmodeus never face Irwin squarely, and even Irwin's wish was mercilessly ridiculed by her. Asmodeus refused to face Irwin with that beautiful side, but under the power of narrative, So Irwin twisted Asmodeus, letting her seduce him with that beautiful side.

In any case, Irwin's wish came true, and then came the final test.

If Irwin succumbed to temptation, they would lose, but Irwin made it through...

Bologo didn't know what would happen next. To be honest, after calming down now, he couldn't think of how Irving could continue to write the story.

So what if Irwin can survive the temptation?How should he continue to write the story?Now endless monsters surround this place. Although Asmodeus is limited by the narrative, Irwin cannot imprison her forever, and she will escape sooner or later.

Under the wrath of the devil and the invasion of darkness, Burlogo couldn't figure out how to write a slightly hopeful ending for the story.

A mechanical descendant?
Bologo no longer thinks about these things. Since he has agreed to Irving, then stop thinking about it. Trust is also a very important part in the face of crisis.

Irving had proved his own nobility to Burlog, for which Burlog was willing to trust him again.

"Bologo!"

An eager shout sounded from behind, and then a slender arm hugged Burrog's waist, quickly moved Burrog back a distance, and then the narrow and long claws split Burrog just now. Where they were, the piled up corpses were all cut off.

The sharp claw was embedded in the pile of corpses, and then it slowly pulled away. With the help of the shimmering light, Bologo could see clearly that it was not a sharp claw at all, but a sharp tail blade.

Bologo murmured, "I remember that among monsters, there are also some elite and powerful beings, right?"

"At least you have read this part carefully."

Palmer nodded and supported Bologo, and the raging monsters gradually receded. They understood that this was not the end of the offensive, but that another more terrifying existence was approaching.

A cold breeze blew in from the darkness, carrying the breath of death, the ground began to tremble slightly, and ripples appeared on the pool of blood.

A hideous and terrifying silhouette gradually emerged from the darkness, and as it got closer, the vague silhouette became more and more clear, so that everyone could clearly see the huge monster that was several meters high and almost squeezed from the corridor .

Burrog has seen this monster, and at the end of the novel "Night Hunter", there is a double-page illustration to depict the hideous face of this monster.

"How do you feel now?" Burrogo joked, "You're really in the story now."

Palmer shook his head, "I'm starting to see the gap between fantasy and reality."

"It's a good start."

Bologo raised his sword to meet the enemy.

……

There is only one door, and there is a sea of ​​blood outside the door. Along the collapsed crack, pieces of flesh and blood rolled down, and the spreading blood drew a gradually extending line on the ground, across the large library.

The world inside the door remained the same as before, maintaining a strange tranquility. Everything was normal, but everything revealed disorder and madness. Irving sat slumped on the chair, he was almost taken away by the abdominal injury and the successive keystrokes. Lost all his physical strength, like a dying person, his back was pressed against the back of the chair, almost embedded together.

"I like Bologo's character," Irwin looked at the direction where the blood flowed, and could vaguely hear the sound of the sword cutting, "He believes in something completely, and this kind of trust has Sometimes it even seems a little stupid...but he is like this, like an arrow that leaves the string, without hesitation."

The woman walked to Irwin's side slowly. She put the novel on the table, and then came behind Irwin, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Long time no see, Irwin," said the woman. "Your writing is excellent. I wish I had time to read it all."

"Actually, you've already read it all," Irving stared ahead, "I mean...the other part of you."

The woman chuckled a few times, she moved the papers on the workbench, they fell on the ground like snowflakes, the woman crossed her legs, sat on the workbench, leaned on her face, and looked at Irving with her head tilted .

For Irwin, the last time he saw a woman was 33 years ago, but for the woman, it all happened as if it happened yesterday. She is just one of the many incarnations of Asmodeus, and the memories are mutual. Shared, the only difference is that she has a completely different personality from Asmodeus, just like Cinderella has a different personality from them.

"What are you thinking about now, Irwin."

"I was thinking, you are as beautiful as I remember, and the years have not affected you at all."

The smile on the woman's face grew wider, and she reached out to caress Irwin's dimpled face, "But you have changed Irwin, look what time has done to you."

"Time has only changed my appearance," Irwin said. "To this day, I still feel that I am a young man, my body is old, but my soul and will still linger on that train. I put myself Trapped in the memories, I'm forever young."

She took Irving's bloody hand, "What are you still thinking about?"

"What are you still thinking about..."

Irwin was silent for a moment, complaining bitterly.

"I was thinking, 33 years ago, if I hadn't boarded that train, maybe none of this would have happened, I might have died in that station, but at least I wouldn't have been haunted by this endless nightmare."

Irwin's voice became relaxed again, filled with emotion.

"I'm glad again, it was the luckiest moment of my life, I got on that train, and the blue jay came alive.

God, it's amazing, isn't it?Like a deal with the devil, something is gained, but something is lost. "

It’s Irving’s heartfelt lament, like his previous theories about talent, that without this trip, Irving might have been a sailor, a laborer… whatever.

He doesn't know what it feels like to touch the pen holder and write a story, and he may not devote himself to creation until he dies, but the encounter with the woman changed everything, and she led Irving to a completely different life.

She is the opportunity for Irving to go astray, and the source of motivation, inspiration and romance for all his creations.

She gave birth to blue jays.

Irwin's eyes sparkled as if he knew all the truths in the world.

"I left just to come back, to see you again."

The woman didn't say a word, just kept that holy smile, like a stone statue of the Virgin carved by craftsmen.

"I finally meet you...my muse."

(End of this chapter)