Endless Debt-Chapter 782 - 247 Resentful Bite

Even knowing he temporarily possesses the Undying Power, making such a choice still requires immense courage. Ewen is unsure whether it’s the anger from being mocked that drove him to such irrational decisions or if it’s a noble act after careful consideration.

In any case, whatever the reason driving Ewen, the harsh reality lies cruelly before him. Ewen is deeply entangled in countless interlocking blades, and he can clearly feel the cold, sharp metal slicing through his body. They tear open his skin, sever bones and tendons, and shred his innards into a bloody mess.

Waves of pain crash like tides against Ewen’s nerves, as if sharp steel needles are piercing into his brain along the temples, and the high-pitched screech of metal friction sounds like wailing souls screaming beside his ears.

Ewen’s body falls apart, yet quickly reassembles. The rapidly spinning blades continuously push him outward, and soon half of Ewen’s body is squeezed out by the meat grinder.

"I’m a stubborn guy... I’m a foolish guy..."

Ewen mutters under his breath. Facing such peril, one always needs some ridiculous lies to deceive themselves, to find a suitable reason to do those foolish things.

As if he does not know pain, he tries hard to stretch his hands, even though the meat grinder pushes him away, he recklessly returns, watching his limbs once again turn into a ball of minced flesh, devoured by the greedy mechanical maw.

Vaguely, Ewen seems to feel that the meat grinder has come alive. Nourished by blood, it resounds with a bizarre, grotesque laugh, gobbling up the undying sacrificial offering, transforming flesh and blood into fuel, driving the Dawn roaring forward.

The storm spanning heaven and earth is close at hand, but it can no longer catch up with this train. It speeds across the sea like a scene from a fantasy, without a moment’s pause.

Asmodeus watches all this, the stench of blood pervades the air. Others, smelling this intense odor, instinctively retch, and thinking it comes from Ewen, the twisted sense of disgust becomes ever stronger.

The blood is beaten into a light red mist. Asmodeus takes a deep breath, she can taste Ewen’s pain and sorrow, the strong emotion fills her throat like honey, and like a blooming rose, her presence becomes all the more enchanting and beautiful, even her pupils ignite and turn into splendid gems.

Asmodeus likes strong and straightforward emotions, which differ from the pleasure her followers can bring her. Ewen hasn’t received the Protection of the Sin of Pleasure, he cannot transform pain into pleasure, only endure it directly.

"It hurts, doesn’t it, Ewen?"

Asmodeus approaches Ewen, she begins to understand why Belphegor is so fond of him, Ewen’s choices are always so interesting, making one want to completely control him.

"You could avoid this."

Asmodeus extends her hand towards Ewen. As long as Ewen is willing, she can grant him Protection at any time. Then, the pain brought by the meat grinder would never affect him again.

Ewen, gritting his teeth against the pain, asks back, "What about the price?"

Asmodeus is once again rejected, but she is not angry, her face instead blooms with a smile. She suddenly turns her head, looking towards the end of the carriage, where Belphegor stands quietly, watching their every move.

"The game is interesting this way."

"Indeed."

Belphegor agrees with Asmodeus for once, "We are omnipotent, yet we cannot conquer a poor soul."

Ewen is indeed a stubborn guy. Asmodeus knows what he desires, with his wish within reach, yet Ewen stops short. Is he cherishing his soul? Or hesitating over something else?

This kind of game, Asmodeus has played countless times, she has seen many souls. Everyone thinks they are special, but in the end, they too are proven to be nothing more than mediocre.

Ewen is no exception, he is just another mediocre soul. It’s just that he hasn’t been crushed yet, not pushed to the limit. When he is on the brink of collapse, Asmodeus will easily achieve victory.

"I will get him."

Asmodeus says, shaking her head, "He won’t refuse me, otherwise he wouldn’t have been foolish enough to board this train."

"Then show me," Belphegor is in no rush to join in, "Are you the sun, or the north wind?"

The dice cast accumulate together, a new round of Event Cards arranges itself before them. Bologue decisively draws a card, and this cruel game progresses in a more twisted direction. He wants to end it quickly, who knows what might happen if it drags on.

"Pressure, only when facing pressure and choices can a person’s true value be revealed."

Just before Bologue picks up the card, a ghostly voice whispers in his ear. Bologue recognizes that voice, the voice of Belphegor.

Bologue abruptly turns his head, seeing nothing. Then his gaze shifts to Canary.

"What on earth is going on? What exactly are you all plotting?"

Bologue loudly questions Canary. He doesn’t think it’s his hallucination, not just one Devil is in this game, and for some unknown reason, Belphegor has deliberately reached out to him.

The sinister umbilical cord connects everyone, tangled together like a ball of yarn, drifting along as one.