In the empty subway car, only Ferguson and Bologue remained. The carriage swayed slightly, and the two locked eyes, the atmosphere tense and oppressive, like a drawn sword.

"Strange...how did you find me?"

Ferguson asked puzzledly. According to the intelligence, Bologue shouldn't have had the means to track him.

Bologue didn't bother to hide it. He raised his hand, showing a silver thread wrapped around his fingertip, lighter than a strand of hair. If Bologue hadn't deliberately shown it, Ferguson would never have perceived its existence.

As Bologue waved his hand to stir the silver threads, the air was filled with countless intertwined silver threads dancing wildly. Ferguson looked down to find a silver thread wrapped around his ankle at some point.

Ferguson realized that when the hand axe was thrown, as it landed, it extended a silver thread connecting to him. Depending on the properties of Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid, Bologue just needed to proliferate silver threads within his domain, allowing them to stretch indefinitely.

"Still want to keep fighting?"

Bologue spread his arms wide and leaned back casually. The Flame of the Cauldron was ready to erupt, Bologue would turn this carriage into a sealed iron coffin at any moment.

Ferguson thought about it, then shook his head, placing the Silent Fang taken from his arms aside, disarming himself before Bologue.

"I have no chance of winning."

Ferguson spoke while raising his hands, a pained smile on his face.

A hint of disappointment flashed in Bologue's eyes, "I thought you would resist to the very end."

"I still have some rationality left. Fighting you now is just seeking death."

Bologue was too close for Ferguson. Given Bologue's violent methods, at this distance, Ferguson would still struggle to resist, even with the Devil's protection.

The unending Ether couldn't heal a body scarred by wounds.

Ferguson suddenly imagined that perhaps the Undead matched perfectly with this protection—the undying body could endure all suffering and access an endless supply of Ether.

But Ferguson could only ponder; he didn't envy the Undead, especially those protected by the Collector.

Ferguson had seen the person, whose eternal strength stood forever, yet the emptiness brought by the protection inflicted endless torment.

Having seen that person, Ferguson understood that death was a mercy, a key to release from this cage of suffering.

"Indeed, you have no chance. Your tendency is blunt, whatever you try, I can beat you to it."

Bologue nodded affirmatively, elucidating Ferguson's strength, conquering his spirit.

Now, Bologue had roughly understood Ferguson's Secret Energy. He was a member of the Commanding School just like him, but unlike him, Ferguson's Secret Energy tendency was blunt.

Thanks to this blunt tendency, Ferguson's Secret Energy could influence an area of several kilometers, allowing him to command those speeding bullets to hit their target from deceptive angles.

Ferguson was a skilled assassin; within his limited range, few could survive his gunshots. But once Ferguson was engaged in close combat, his advantage turned into an unrecoverable disadvantage.

The blunt tendency destined Ferguson's Secret Energy efficiency to be lower than Bologue's, making the battle last only a few seconds in this close quarters gambit.

In those few seconds, Bologue could wield a myriad of weapons while whether Ferguson could move to deflect them was questionable.

Ferguson made the optimal choice with an empty heart, devoid of any humiliation.

Sometimes Ferguson felt like he was just a walking corpse.

"Who are you?"

Bologue toyed with the hand axe and began questioning.

"The Zongge Orchestra."

Ferguson replied unexpectedly candid.

"Why did you attack me?"

"The Collector wants to add another item to their collection, so we tried to capture you."

Bologue squinted. He initially thought these lunatics were from the Unfettered Poetry Society, but they turned out not to be, and now there was a Collector involved...

"To collect me?" Bologue smiled. "Do they, like you all, have bizarre hobbies?"

"Sort of," Ferguson replied, "If you truly understood her, you'd comprehend these things."

"What do you mean?"

"The Collector is merely one of her numerous aliases," Ferguson said, "You should know that names carry Magic Power, the closer to her true name, the more it draws her attention."

Bologue feigned a presentable surprise, "So... I'm being watched by a devil?"

Ferguson saw through Bologue's flimsy performance, "Aren't you afraid?"

Bologue shook his head; ever since learning his duties as the Chosen One, Bologue had anticipated direct conflicts with devils.

Humans adapt easily to circumstances. Bologue had begun to grow accustomed to the frequent devil intrusions into his life; he just hadn't expected everything to happen so swiftly.

"You're more mysterious than I imagined. Looks like the information provided by the Collector hid quite a few significant details," Ferguson murmured, then smiled, "But it doesn't matter anymore."

"Yes, it doesn't matter anymore."

Bologue got up slowly, shouldering the hand axe, and he saw something in Ferguson's eyes.

Those pitch-black pupils were mirror-like, reflecting Bologue's form and the floating silver light outside the pitch-black subway window behind him.

Secret Energy: Command of Manipulation.

Commanding School Secret Energy, blunt tendency, Ferguson can inject his Ether into a substance, exhausting the Ether stored within to gain control, with an exceedingly vast range of influence, up to several kilometers.

At this moment, the advantage of range was gone, only Ferguson's desperate assault remained, as the suspended sharp sword pierced the window, and simultaneously the Flame of the Cauldron consumed the entire train in an instant.

...

The subway silently entered the station, stopping steadily beside the platform. Despite the station's usual bustle, it was now desolate, with only a group of grim-faced individuals standing there. Outside the station, they set up a perimeter labeled as a crime scene, cordoning off the crowd.

The adjacent area was under control, with numerous figures lurking within it, searching for those restless individuals among the crowd.

Marion inhaled deeply, the flame on his cigarette brightened then dimmed again. He exhaled clouds of smoke, tossing the cigarette butt onto the ground and stamping it out.

"I'm starting to hate this job,"

Marion complained to his colleague next to him. Minutes ago, he was about to clock out, then a sudden order from the Field Operations Department arrived.

They detected several abnormal Ether reactions within Opus and identified the Field Staff's Ether response among them. The Field Operations Department classified this incident as a sudden Extraordinary conflict. As a Logistics Department member, Marion was responsible for heading to the scene and handling subsequent affairs.

For this operation, only the Logistics Department was dispatched; the Field Operations Department sent no one, implying they trusted the Field Staff in place to manage it adequately.

Great, absolute trust among colleagues. But as the sacrifice of this trust, Marion was very displeased; such sudden overtime would irritate anyone, let alone the numerous disturbances caused by this Field Staff, which all required Marion's attention.

The train doors opened, and a heavy scent of blood wafted towards Marion from within the train. Instinctively, his hand moved to his holstered gun.

Through the open doors, Marion could see the twisted, warped carriage and the blood smeared everywhere.

A figure emerged from behind the train door, noticing the staff on the platform before Marion could raise his gun in warning, the figure revealed his identity.

"Yo! Good evening, Marion."

Hearing that familiar voice stirred a nightmare in Marion's mind, and he gritted his teeth. "Bologue..."

Bologue swung the hand axe vigorously, waving a greeting.

Having worked for a long time, Bologue had become somewhat acquainted with the Logistics Department staff, notably Marion, who often resolved troubles caused by Bologue.

Bologue saw Marion as a good companion, akin to a knight with his steed, while Marion saw Bologue as a harbinger of chaos; every disturbance sparked by Bologue was notoriously difficult to handle, like the time-axis disorder incident.

Marion rubbed his forehead; he'd resigned himself to working late into the night.

"By the way, come over and help out!"

Bologue beckoned as he dragged a body full of scars out of the car. The baffling part was the unfortunate soul was clad in ragged upper wear but had exposed underpants below.

Marion shifted his gaze to Bologue, who awkwardly adjusted his ill-fitting trousers.

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