Thank goodness, thought Nemo. Oliver's wrists had metal armor plates, and he couldn't feel the cold sweat from his palms.
He tried his best to look like he was in control of everything, but his neck seemed to be rusted by nervous emotions, so he couldn't look back at Oliver's face. No matter how innocuous he tried to find an explanation for himself now, the truth always ran counter to his expectations. Nemo didn't know what expression he had on his face right now, but it must have been a far cry from "calm".
This is the third time he has directly confronted the real superior demon.
The first time was against Pandora. At that time, he only heard the other party's cry for help, and he didn't have the slightest idea of his own identity. The other party gave up the attack first, and the whole thing passed in a daze; the second time was to face Witherspoon. At that time, his state was very delicate, and he had no sensual impression of using "power" itself.
This is the third time.
This time, he was very awake, and he was sure that everything was of his own volition. Because of this, he felt more deeply how unnatural the status quo was.
When a normal wizard cracks a spell, he must analyze every feature of the enemy formation step by step, and then make the most appropriate response in time during the cracking process. Just like the silent chess players - they carefully calculated the opponent's intentions and all possible future moves, and finally mobilized their remaining pieces to win the game. To do this, knowledge, experience and strength are indispensable.
The world he saw was completely different.
In front of him is not chess pieces and chessboard, but stones and wood, which can be overturned by raising his hand. And those abyss magic had no resistance to his actions. No matter how much Nemo avoided it, he could see that it wasn't normal. If it wasn't for the fact that the demon was in poor health, he could even ignore the changing magic circles and forcibly break through, heading straight to the source of the spell.
There is no book about this, not even in the collection of the Church of the Abyss. Whether it is abyss magic or surface magic, the rules and constraints are like truth and cannot be broken.
But he did. No spells and formulas needed, just feel and domination.
He was only short of one sure piece of evidence. Nemo's chest got clogged. He didn't want to think about that possibility. The word "Demon King" seemed to have a thorn in it, and it could bring out the pain like a cut when swiping across his mind. He'll have to talk to Oliver about this when it's over.
The memories by their side continue.
"Vengeance." The legendary "Superior Demon Slayer" repeated Colestoro's answer, "...I respect your choice."
Orori took out a small piece of communication crystal from the bag on his waist, and threw it to the white demon, his voice was neither salty nor weak. "If you change your mind, use this to contact me."
"You're different from the rumored one." Colestoro shoved the crystal into a rough pocket. "I thought you were going to kill me directly."
"Rumour? Forget it... It's just that you reminded me of a person, unfortunately, I owe him." O'Luo Rui's voice came from behind the wriggling helmet, and there was a rare moment of sadness in the cold tone. "Now enjoy the rest of your life, my countryman."
Orori sighed softly, turned his back, and walked away steadily.
And Nemo clenched Oliver's wrist and quickened his pace. This is already the shortest route - after all, this is not the time to stop and visit other people's memories, they don't have much time.
It's not a good feeling to walk through the intersection of memories, like the whole person is struggling to pass through a thick layer of skin. When they stepped into the next memory, Nemo almost stopped subconsciously. Oliver also apparently stopped for a moment, and Nemo almost dislocated the opponent's wrist.
Seeing that the season should be spring, they saw Duran Fergil in the forest.
But it was the slender Duran Fergil—Mr. Fergil looked like a dead twig completely dehydrated, sitting at the easel awkwardly depicting the skeleton of a monster in the distance. Yes, only the skeleton. Right now, the Church of Silence doesn't even have a shadow, which is at least 600 years ago... And the appearance is not vaguely similar, Nemo is very sure, that is their client. Even if he was so thin that he lost his appearance, the details of his face matched all the features.
From this point of view, Duran Fergil was a demon warlock who had lived for at least six hundred years.
He was still dressed as they were familiar with, except that the large and small bags were placed on the ground aside. The linen shirt on Vergil's back was soaked with sweat, revealing a very visible spine and ribs. And there was a young man standing beside him, the white robe was a bit dazzling.
Collestoro stood silently beside Vergil, arms folded, eyes fixed on the canvas.
Virgil was talking ramble, with a wry smile in his voice: "… I would have quit earlier if I knew. Alas, people are like this, they always think they have a lot of time. You know? I have been boring myself before. In a closet-like room, dealing with materials and samples all day long—to be honest, I don't really like my job."
"Duri," Colestroro said, holding a bloody animal limb in his hand. "You should eat something."
"It's Duran." Vergil corrected him patiently, "I don't eat raw food, thank you, I'll clean it up later."
Colestoro frowned and said nothing. He looked away from the canvas and stared at Vergil, who was nagging while he was drawing, his eyes burning—the eyes that looked at his prey.
It's easy to understand, thought Nemo. Duran Fergil's aptitude is good, his limbs are intact, and his mind is clear. While it's unclear why he looked so weak, human disease was never a big problem for a superior demon, even one dying like Colestro.
Colestoro stared at his prey like a real leopard, waiting for the most vulnerable moment of the opponent, planning to kill it with one blow. After all, this place is remote, and the scope of personal activities of this incomplete contract is extremely small. It's hard to come across a skin with acceptable qualifications, and the opportunity is really rare.
The death of the superior demon is very long, at least it will take decades. Colestoro looks very patient, and is bound to win the contract with the human beings in front of him. Nemo could see his strategy. This superior demon decided to accompany this weak human first to gain the favor and trust of the other party. Regrettably, Colestoro apparently couldn't get much useful information out of the current brain diseased body—his gestures were too clumsy.
The white demon sullenly shoved raw bloody flesh into Virgil's face.
Vergil pushed that hand away with a smile, coughed twice, and continued to paint on the drawing board in front of him.
"The drawing is wrong, human." Colestoro's gesture was rejected, with dissatisfaction in his tone. "Stop painting, I said, you should eat something."
"What's wrong?" Vergil raised his eyebrows.
Colestoro grabbed the brush unceremoniously and scribbled quickly.
The crooked and crooked paintings disappear, the devil's brushwork is rough, but the shape is very accurate. Vergil smacked his lips loudly. "Do you want a drawing board?"
"Why?" Colestolo's tone became more and more dissatisfied.
"Because mine is going to be changed back to the way it was."
"But that makes no sense."
"...Look at my current situation." Vergil's eyes were slightly curved with a smile, "Is it like I'm looking for some 'meaning'? I just like painting."
The demon watched him quietly, the raw meat in his left hand still dripping blood.
"I've pursued 'meaning of life' all my life, Colesi." Virgil's tone was very gentle, "Working step by step, living according to the expectations of the elders. But I have only now discovered... The 'meaning' of others has nothing to do with me. any value."
"I don't understand." Colestoro's voice was flat. "You're in pain, and you have to have a purpose in your pain."
"No." Vergil shook his head. "Live naturally, die naturally. That's fine."
Nemo resisted the desire to stay, and he pulled Oliver forward, leaving the phantom of the two behind him.
Vergil in the next flashback looks even weaker, his tall body curled up, trembling with pain. And Colestoro still stood silently beside him, his face was not very good-looking.
In summer, the forest is full of vitality, and the cicadas are so noisy that people have a headache. Vergil was still holding the brush, and he painted the clumsy painting with each stroke.
"Don't you have any wishes, Douri?" asked Colestoro. In his hand he was carrying a piece of meat with bones, this time it was charred black. "Want to talk?"
"...It's Duran." There was an unpleasant phlegm in Vergil's low laugh. "Wish? There are many. The world is beautiful, isn't it? If I want to say the most... I want to go to the end of the world to see the glaciers. I've been bored in a city all my life, it's a big loss."
"Oh." The white demon was lost in thought. "I don't feel pretty."
"You don't need to agree with me." Fergil glanced at the piece of meat, and the smile on his thin face grew stronger. "Clessi, what's your wish?"
Colestoro looked away, almost crushing the bones in his hand into powder. "I want painless relief," he said, trying to suppress the hatred in his voice.
Nemo heard Oliver sigh behind him. They are very close to the source of the spell, and the speed of the flashes of memory is getting faster and faster.
The last memory is probably an autumn day. The lush forests are mostly gold and red. But this time the easel was not erected, it fell to one side, and was buried in most of the fallen leaves. Vergil was half-lying, his almost skeletonized body leaning against a tree, and his skin was abnormally gray. He looked like he could die at any moment.
"Clessie," he murmured. "Are you still there? I can't see you."
The demon jumped from a nearby tree, still expressionless. He was still carrying the meat, which seemed to be cooked just right. But he threw it aside.
"Hmm." He responded curtly.
Fergil smiled weakly, the flesh on his face shriveled and collapsed, and the smile even looked a little terrifying.
"You're going to die," Colestoro commented calmly.
"Yes."
"Then make a wish," said the white demon, "I am a superior demon, and I can keep you alive—Duri, you still have a chance to see the glacier at the end of the world."
"I know. I'm sorry to have kept it from you for so long... I have indeed been huddled in a small place, sorting out materials and samples—as the exorcist's assistant." Fergil said with a sigh, "Klessi, I know you want to what do you want?"
Colestolo sat down directly opposite Fergil, but Fergil's eyes could only stare at the void. The spreading abyssal toxin had taken away his vision. "But you didn't leave." The demon spoke very slowly, "You know I'm here, but you didn't report."
"Yeah, I'm a mean little guy," Fergil said. "If I'm going to do something 'meaningful'... I should pretend I don't know, leave your area of activity and notify the nearest army. Then they'll... settle it. You danger."
Colestoro looked at him silently.
"But I know what happened to you, Mr. Cliff Nightmare Leopard." The thin man coughed heavily, and the bloodshot from the corner of his lips was close to purple-black. "You did nothing wrong...and I know how desperate it is to be trapped in a dying body."
"...I don't need human mercy."
"No way, maybe I'm too sentimental." Vergil's voice was low, "I moved myself on my own, ran away and waited to die on my own, liked on my own..."
Not knowing because of the pain or something else, he stopped talking and took a few deep breaths.
"I make a wish to you." When he spoke again, Fergil's voice became smaller and smaller. "I want to make a wish to you."
"And that wish... you will definitely get it," he said. "I'm sorry, I have a position as a human being. But there is one more thing I can do... My wish is, 'Please don't kill innocent people.'"
His body twitched a few times, and he gasped for a while. "You can take this body directly, and then you can go anywhere, even in the abyss to kill yourself... You just have to swear to me..."
"I see." Colestoro was silent for a long time before finally speaking.
Vergil's arm moved, as if trying to make a hand-raising motion, but ultimately failed. He lowered his head, bowed his head in resignation, and fell into a dying drowsiness.
And Colestoro approached again with flesh and blood, but the purple-black flesh was still pulsing.
It's his own flesh and blood.
The white demon pursed his lips and slowly painted the magic circle. On the other side, the throbbing flesh seemed to come to life—it wrapped around Vergil's neck and burrowed into the back of his neck. The dark-colored blood flowed slowly.
"You should keep drawing," he said to the unconscious human. "You're drawing too badly."
Colestoro straightened up and stood for a moment with a blank face. Then he turned his body and walked towards the skeleton of his own body without turning his head. Nemo could see the cold sweat oozing from the demon's forehead and the slightly quivering body—the flesh was drained, and his strength could no longer suppress the pain. Now they are making a comeback.
"Lord O'Lore." The white demon activated the communication crystal, "I changed my mind."
"Seal me... the sooner the better."
"… what did he do?" Oliver's voice came from behind Nemo, sounding very uncomfortable.
"Oli, like I told you before. Theoretically, there is a very rare situation in the generation of demon warlocks." Nemo found that his voice was extremely dry. "The superior demon gave up the contract and voluntarily gave power."
They give freedom to each other, but none of them really succeed. Considering the complexity and obscurity of the erosion spell, the ancient passages that were secretly broken open under the church, how well Vergil knew about the Silent Church—
As things stand, Duran Fergil has never been truly free.
"He's fulfilling Colestoro's wishes." Oliver's voice was soft. "Are we really going to intervene? Wouldn't it be a little rude to Mr. Vergil?"
"I don't know," Nemo said, his voice shaking a little. "But in theory... there is indeed a better way."
Common sense, Vergil's choice may be the most reasonable. Nemo took a few deep breaths, trying to think as calmly as possible. If his guesses weren't wrong, if he really had that terrifying unknown power—
Then another option does exist.
,Wonderful!
(m.. = )