Endless Debt-Chapter 814 - 267: Dull and Tedious Life (Part 2)
He hadn’t eaten for a long time, nor drank water or slept. In this Hell, Bologue’s physical limits were stretched endlessly. Even when reaching the peak, he only felt boundless pain, not truly dying.
The only way to find relief here seemed to be letting these monsters devour him.
Bologue refused to give up. To alleviate the pain, he would occasionally cut off pieces of flesh from these soldier-like monsters, then roast them over burning flames. The taste was not good, like chewing dry bark. Sometimes he would close his eyes in contemplation, but such moments never lasted long before being interrupted by attacking soldiers.
This was Asmodeus’s Curse.
To avoid losing himself in endless slaughter, in those moments of contemplation, Bologue would repeatedly recall everything he experienced before entering this Hell, reminding himself that it didn’t mean much.
He was still the steadfast will, not sinking in the killing.
The contemplative time quickly ended; Bologue rested for less than half an hour. Although there were no time indicators in this Hell, during the days in the Black Prison, Bologue had honed his skill in judging time, which posed no problem for him.
Bologue vividly remembered every minute and second spent here, dealing with each moment of torment with sobriety and rationality.
The blaring sound of the military horn resounded again; it had been played over forty thousand times now. Soon, grotesque and bizarre soldiers emerged from the bloody ground, noticing Bologue seated on the Skull Throne, launching yet another charge against him, howling.
Which time was it?
Bologue pondered. He remembered the number of charges was the same as the times the horn sounded. It should also be the forty-thousand-something time, but the exact number was somewhat hazy in his recall.
Never mind, at least the rough time was remembered by Bologue.
Bologue lifted Resentment Bite and dived towards the crowd. He tread over the cracked crimson land. Beneath the fragmented earth were faces of rotting skulls, beneath which lay more skulls, stacked together, forming a mountain on the flat ground.
These were all enemies slain by Bologue. They fell together, and the raised yellow sand buried them again. If not deliberately recalled, sometimes Bologue would also forget that this was a mound of piled corpses.
The roaring crowd was easily scattered by Bologue. He always dealt with those carrying guns first among the soldiers. Quickly, Bologue pierced through the ranks, his figure darting and dancing among the soldiers who couldn’t aim at him. When Bologue was fully exposed in front of him, before the trigger was pulled, his arm along with the firearm got severed together.
If the soldiers had minds, they might fantasize that Bologue was an undead monster. They might even think Bologue was invincible. Under the Devil’s conspiracy, they were locked in an eternal cage with this monster.
This was the Devil’s punishment to the soldiers; Bologue was the heavenly penalty sent upon them.
Thinking of this, Bologue felt much better. This fantasy was one of the few comforts since the torment began.
Oh, what was I just thinking?
Amid shattered limbs and blood, Bologue tried to recall. The prolonged slaughter somewhat affected him; for instance, Bologue became slightly inattentive and forgetful.
Before Bologue could continue thinking, the roar of engines approached, a rusty tank rushed from the slope, the cannon barrel pointing towards Bologue.
The booming explosion sounded, the impact flipped Bologue to the ground, shattered bodies and warm entrails, along with layer upon layer of yellow earth covering him. Bologue felt dizzy, the pain coursed through his body, seemingly with shrapnel slicing into him, but this wasn’t enough to kill Bologue.
In this prolonged torment, Bologue suffered countless injuries. Sometimes he thought he was doomed, but as long as the wound wasn’t fatal, he always managed to recover, as usual.
Bologue coughed forcefully, spitting out the yellow earth from his mouth. He felt something crawling on his body, probably those white maggots.
Not far away was a crater made by the shell, countless corpses lay inside. This land was also piled up with corpses; Bologue almost forgot this fact.
The tank aimed its cannon once more at Bologue, but by this time, Bologue already sprinted wildly. The booming cannon sounded, Bologue easily dodged the artillery fire. The shell landed behind him, once again kicking up countless shattered corpses.
Bending to sprint, Resentment Bite cut through the tank’s track. Bologue liked this Blade; it seemed eternally sharp. No matter how many enemies Bologue killed with it, it never chipped nor dulled. In this Hell, it helped Bologue immensely.
A series of slashes not only severed the track but also shattered the wheels. The tank was left paralyzed in place. Bologue swiftly leapt onto the roof, slashing the cannon barrel in half with another strike.
Previously, Bologue would brutally tear open the armor, rush inside the tank, and kill all crew members. Later, he realized he only needed to incapacitate the tank, no need to waste energy on such extra work.
