The conflicts among Devils harvest human souls; it is a sacrifice with the world as the crucible, where every century Devils feast upon them with greedy brutality.

This kind of sacrifice continued for an unknown duration, until a century ago when humanity made advancements in Alchemy Matrix Technology and Serey's betrayal. Humanity ended the Dawn War, successfully stopping the Devils from feasting for the first time, disrupting their conflicts and sacrifices.

Bologue lowered his head slightly, clasping his hands together. Moments later, he reached out and accepted Nesanel's wine glass, draining it in one gulp, allowing the drink to burn his throat.

The once-enraged Bologue was consumed by the flames of hatred, relying on alcohol every day and night to numb his nerves, so he could sleep peacefully.

Since avenging Adelle, Bologue's heart embraced a long-lost tranquility. He no longer needed alcohol to escape the night; Bologue stopped drinking, at most opting for juice or something similar.

Now, Bologue once again needed alcohol. After one cup, he felt unsatisfied and directly grabbed the bottle, pouring it forcefully down his throat.

Nesanel raised his hand, intending to stop him, but Bologue had already started gulping down fiercely, while Nesanel watched painfully as the liquid level in the bottle kept dropping.

This bottle of wine was Nesanel's treasure, and what he couldn't accept was how Bologue's demeanor, as if drinking water, seemed like mistreating something valuable.

Throwing the empty bottle into the darkness, the expected sound of shattering glass did not ring out, nor any echo, as if Bologue had tossed the bottle into the Abyss, where it fell into endless darkness.

Bologue puzzledly glanced at the dark space, pondered for a few seconds, and then smiled with resignation.

Forget it, the bizarre nature of the Audience Chamber and what Nesanel mentioned today cannot even be compared.

A century of soul sacrifice, the conflicts of Devils, the battles of the Chosen Ones, and even the lost, seven-headed ten-horned Red Dragon...

Devils intersperse at every historical moment of humanity like true players, separate from the earthly realm, manipulating the world's path with abandon.

To them, humans are merely livestock that can continuously produce resources. Everything Devils do is for greater profit, more souls, plundering as many souls as they can within sustainable production limits.

Bologue even thinks that the Devils' conflicts are not just about resolving disputes but also about distributing the souls obtained from sacrifices based on the Chosen Ones' successes and failures.

Exactly... that's it, the greatest contradiction, the biggest conflict among Devils is indeed the quest for souls.

The world is finite, humans are finite, souls are finite; each Devil is a rival, and no contradiction is greater than their mutual competition.

"To become a Chosen One, delve into the conflicts of Devils, only then can you comprehend their purpose, and even the essence of Devils, and find the possibility of counterattack."

Bologue murmured, his eyes brightening with motivation and desire, "I think I have no reason to refuse."

"Oh? I imagined you'd agree, but didn't expect it to be so straightforward," Nesanel said, "I thought I'd have to do some persuasion for you."

"Why would you think that?"

"After all, they are mysterious Devils. Even if your Undying Body allows you to disregard death, you must know this Blessing was bestowed upon you by a Devil, and they can surely take it back too."

Nesanel said, "Which means that if that day indeed comes, you will no longer be an Undead."

"Do you think I'm afraid of death?" Bologue smiled, shaking his head. "I can't wait for that day to arrive, so I can have a clean slate with the Devil. He takes back his Blessing, and I reclaim my soul."

Nesanel said, "Interesting, maybe you're still young, that's why you feel this way."

Bologue said, "I'm different from others; time changes some internal matters, but I think I won't be corrupted."

The past obscured, inner darkness of Serey, once bearing glory, and now living in seclusion of Ralph...

Death.

Facing Death God's Scythe, the noble hero or base thief, all will expose their true nature before that silent intent, undergoing evaluation.

Facing the Death God, Bologue is not afraid; instead, he feels remarkably candid.

"Why is that?"

Nesanel questioned anew, realizing that his understanding of Bologue mainly stemmed from various textual documents; some details cannot be recorded in words, only perceived when truly facing this person.

"It's simple, I am blessed."

Bologue said naive-like, "My birth must be for something, like vanquishing those damned Devils."

Having gone through so much, Bologue's delusions seemed to intensify somewhat. He viewed himself as a savior, achieving salvation through destruction.

Nesanel paused for two seconds, unable to control his laughter. He had spoken with many people, discussed the essence of their hearts, and received various answers, never expecting Bologue would say this.

"What does this count as? For love and peace."

"Love and peace?" Bologue pondered, nodding, "It's quite a good goal."

Bologue actually thought Nesanel was acknowledging his words; love and peace—Bologue started liking these terms, simple and straightforward, much easier for enemies to understand than his twisted principles.

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