Boluogo called to Ether and tried to cast iron armor to wrap himself in preparation for the battle, but this time Ether did not respond to him.
A strong sense of crisis arose in his heart. Boluogo tried to take out the folding knife and horn hammer from his waist, but now he could not even do such a movement. His body was completely frozen in place, unable to move.
.
A bright light fell from the top of the head. It did not shine on the ground, but on the wooden floor. The footsteps continued to approach, and a blurry figure gradually appeared in front of him. Finally, he stopped at the edge of the light. Burrow
Ge could only see a pair of polished leather shoes.
"We meet again, Mr. Lazarus."
A familiar voice sounded, and white gloves passed across the darkness. Boluogo sat back suddenly. He did not fall, but sat firmly on the chair.
The lights above his head brightened, dispersing the darkness around him, until Bologger could clearly see the madly coming person.
"Tyrant..." Gazing at the evil figure, Boluogo whispered.
"It feels so good to see you again."
The tyrant's voice was filled with laughter. He sat across from Bologg and looked at Bologg's blood-stained body before he continued.
"You look a little bad, do you need help? The kind that doesn't cost anything."
"Really?" Boluogo smiled, "Are you really so kind?"
"If I just help you, it will help me indirectly." The tyrant said frankly.
Boluogo did not reply immediately, but looked around. Just like when he met the tyrant before, he was in a strange space, where the tyrant was the only master.
"So...you can also profit from this chaos." Bologo said.
"Of course." The tyrant nodded.
"What I do next will help you, but because my condition is so bad, I may not be able to complete that thing, so you choose to help me."
"Yes."
As if the tyrant knew what Bologger was thinking, he raised his feet and put his hands on his knees.
"The power of choice is yours, Mr. Lazarus, you can accept my help and achieve a win-win situation for you and me.
You can also ruin my plan... just fail, but will you do that?"
Another ray of light fell, illuminating Palmer who was lying on the ground. The blood gathered under his body and continued to spread until it was submerged at Borogo's feet.
"Or, are you willing to fail? Just hand over victory to others."
Another light fell, and the container was placed on the base like a work of art.
Boluogo fell silent. His condition was very bad, and Aimu could not continuously provide himself with ether. It must be admitted that under these successive battles, even experts were in a desperate situation.
He could not sit back and watch Palmer die, and he could not allow his immortal heart to be taken away by TEDA, as well as the rotten roots all over the ground...
"What exactly do you want to do, tyrant?"
Boluogo asked, "What role do you play here?"
"Me? Mr. Lazarus, you need to know something."
The tyrant let out bursts of laughter, "I, the devils have no position to speak of."
"Everything I do is purely chasing value."
"Value?" Boluogo couldn't understand. "Isn't the value you got enough?"
"Enough? But not enough. I am a greedy person. Unfortunately, my desire for value can never be satisfied."
"What about the auction? This sacrifice to you has been screwed up. Aren't you angry?" Bologo said.
"Is it really messed up?" The tyrant said meaningfully, as if he heard a joke, "Is it really messed up?"
Boluogo was stunned.
"No, Mr. Lazarus, not only is it not messed up, but it is going on very smoothly? Look, the light you shine in the midst of death and suffering..."
The tyrant's body trembled, not from fear, but from excitement.
"I hope you can understand one thing. Sometimes we are not hostile, but can cooperate," the tyrant calmed down, "although it sounds like dancing with wolves."
The Tyrant suddenly appeared in front of Boluogo. He held up Boluogo's chin and stared at Boluogo's blue eyes, as if he could see the soul hidden under the body through the boundary between reality and reality.
"You have to admit one thing. In a desperate situation, God will not help you. The only person who can lend a helping hand to you is me, the devil who is spurned by you."
His narration was very calm, but when it fell into Bolog's ears, it was full of temptation, awakening the deepest original sin in nature.
Before Bologg could respond, the tyrant disappeared and reappeared on a chair not far away.
Boluogo stared closely at the crazy figure. The lights were extinguished one by one, leaving only him and the tyrant sitting opposite each other in the darkness.
He took deep breaths repeatedly, as if he was engaged in some kind of inner struggle. Fortunately, this struggle did not last long. Bologo had a new idea. This idea was terrible, but he was willing to give it a try.
"Are you...interested in my soul?" Boluogo suddenly asked.
"Oh? What a surprising suggestion."
The tyrant's mood rarely fluctuated slightly, and his words were full of surprise.
"It's a pity that I can't take your soul away yet."
"Why?" Boluogo asked curiously, "Is it because the soul is broken?"
"No... I have nothing more to give you, Mr. Lazarus. You don't need me to fulfill your wish now, so how can I take away your soul?"
The tyrant waved his hands and said helplessly. It can be heard that he also desires Bologo's soul extremely. No matter whether Bologo is related to the person he is looking for, Bologo's soul is extremely valuable to him, even if
It's a broken soul.
"What happens next?" Bologg asked.
"This is mutual help. I helped you and you helped me. We are in harmony."
Boluogo was slightly absent-minded and looked at the tyrant's words repeatedly, "If I didn't know about it in advance, it would be really difficult for me to connect you with something like the devil."
The tyrant hardly behaves like a devil, at most he looks like a... not very popular businessman.
"Devil... My brothers and sisters are all bound by different desires, which also results in us having different personalities. Some are so arrogant that they cannot communicate at all, and some are extremely angry, let alone communicating.
All creatures that come close to him will be devoured by his anger, and others..."
The tyrant burst into laughter.
"The devils are like this, they can change into millions as they please, and they are moody... Fortunately, I am the most sensible one among them and can communicate with them."
"I can see it," Boluogo nodded and affirmed, "You are more like a businessman than a devil."
The tyrant laughed again, taking Borogo's words as praise and recognition for himself.
"But why did you suddenly mention your soul?" The tyrant asked, "You don't look like someone who would take the initiative to sell your soul."
"I...I am the same as you. I am also looking for someone. He should be regarded as one of your brothers and sisters. My soul was taken away by him," Boluogo said, "I want to find him.
"
"Sacrifice another part of your soul just to find him... This doesn't sound like a good deal." The tyrant smiled.
"No, I just want to know how he will react after I am taken away by another devil," Boluogo said indifferently. "There are not many opportunities to tease the devil."
"Haha, how interesting, Mr. Lazarus."
The tyrant was amused by Bologna, but it was unclear whether he would be willing to cooperate with Bologg's crazy idea.
After calming down, Boluogo looked at the tyrant and asked again, "So can you foresee the future?"
"Foretell the future?"
"You seem to be able to see what happens next, so that's why we have this conversation, isn't it?" Bologo asked.
"This is not predicting the future. It's just that everything is going according to the script I wrote. But the script is a script after all. If the actors don't cooperate, there will always be many variables that will interfere with the direction of the plot."
"Sounds like a lunatic's self-entertainment," Boluogo joked. "Are you making a movie yourself?"
"Huh? Entertain yourself, I like this word."
"Then... what if someone finally breaks the ending you set? Will you feel angry about it?" Boluogo chatted with the tyrant.
"No, on the contrary, I will feel very happy."
"Why?"
"Few people can break their own script and resist their own ending...or, in other words, break away from the story and smash the end that fate has given them."
It is not so much a script as it is a fate that is secretly influenced and controlled by the devils.
"Those who escape fate are the embodiment of noble values."
Boluogo fell silent, seeming to be thinking about the information revealed in the tyrant's words, and then he remembered the conversation between Jeffrey and himself when he first truly understood the devil.
"You are interfering with the process of the world and constantly correcting history to what you want."
Boluogo noticed something. He didn't know whether it was something he had guessed or whether the tyrant wanted to reveal it to him deliberately.
"Resist destiny and smash the shackles... Those who can shake the direction of history are the ones with value, and they are the ones you devils want to hunt."
Faced with Boluogo's words, the tyrant did not make any reply, but just laughed meaninglessly.
Boluogo knew that he couldn't ask anything else, so he started talking about something else. He looked at this strange space.
"You are omnipotent in your land, right?"
"You can understand it this way."
When he met the tyrant before, he still needed certain rituals to call him, but in the tyrant's land, he seemed to be no longer bound and could appear as he pleased, even extending his protection to everyone.
The physical restraints had disappeared before, and Boluogo stretched his body vigorously, just like a warm-up exercise before a battle.
"Then before I leave here and work hard for us to help each other, I have some small requests."
"for example?"
Boluogo thought for a while and asked tentatively.
"Want a glass of orange juice?"
The tyrant was stunned for a second, then laughed again. He snapped his fingers, and a glass of orange juice appeared out of thin air in Boluogo's hands.
Boluogo took a sip, and the taste was no different from the orange juice in his memory. He even said that the tyrant even chilled it for him kindly.
"Is there anything else?" the tyrant asked again.
"Hmm? Let's have some music."
A ray of light fell, and a record player was reflected in the darkness. If Bologo saw it correctly, this was the one he had at home.
"Yes, Not Bad."
Bologg stood up slowly, and at this moment the tyrant also appeared in front of him. He suddenly stretched out his hands and hugged Bologg's head tightly with both hands.
The cables on the face began to twist and split, revealing a hundred scarlet eyes, which all looked at Boluogo's eyes.
"You... are of extraordinary value."
The tyrant seemed to have spoken a magic spell. He let go of his hands and merged with the darkness.
When the light lit up again, Boluogo returned to the dim land. Everything just seemed to be an illusion, but he still held a glass of orange juice in his hand.
There were bursts of coughing, and Boluogo turned his head, only to see that Palmer's injuries were healing at a speed visible to the naked eye, and at the same time, a heavy layer of ether was protecting his body.
Not only him, but also himself, the power from the tyrant protected Boluogo.
