Afterwards, things became much simpler. Bologue had done this type of work many times before and was extremely proficient.

After a brief greeting with Marion, Bologue ignored Marion's murderous glare and went ahead with passing the trouble on to Marion, leaving him with the task of wrapping up tonight's chaos.

Everyone has their role, and Bologue wasn't cut out for cleaning up the aftermath.

Dragging the barely conscious Ferguson, Bologue took the subway back to the Deep Nest Courtyard and handed Ferguson over to the Field Operations Department.

The remaining matters were no longer Bologue's concern. According to the department's protocol, Ferguson would receive preliminary treatment, then transferred to the Crow's Nest for interrogation by the Iron Sentinels, and when his usefulness was exhausted, he would be transported to the Black Prison.

Depending on the target, the Order Bureau has multiple prisons to choose from, and the one people most dread facing is probably the mysterious Black Prison.

Just think, ever since Bologue was released from prison, he hadn't returned to that place. Others might think Bologue was out of his mind if they heard this, but Bologue quite missed that place. Not only did he spend countless years there, but now looking back, it was also an extremely mysterious and eerie place.

During his imprisoned days, Bologue often heard whispers coming from beyond the walls and the occasional midnight cries.

For most of the staff at the Order Bureau, the Black Prison and the Decision Room alike only exist in conversation, with few ever seeing them.

Bologue pushed the door open; the office was shrouded in darkness, with only a desk lamp shedding light.

Work hours had ended, and both Yuriel and Geoffrey had left early, but Lebius remained, as usual.

Lebius was a genuine workaholic, but no matter how dedicated, even he needed some personal space to handle matters outside of work and to relieve his strained nerves.

Piles of documents lay stacked to the side, and a book was open before Lebius. Bologue's arrival interrupted his reading.

Lebius glanced up at Bologue. News within the Field Operations Department traveled fast, not to mention the latest extraordinary conflict that just occurred in Opus; by the time Bologue boarded the subway, Lebius already knew what had transpired.

Bologue removed his bloodstained and tattered coat, rolled it up, and stuffed it aside, then tightened his pants to prevent them from falling down.

During the chase of Ferguson, half of Bologue's body remained on the other side of the Shadow Gate. The Time Reversing Axis could reverse his body but couldn't restore Bologue's clothing. Out of necessity, after shedding his Scale Armor, Bologue had to rob Ferguson a bit.

Lebius clearly noticed Bologue's ill-fitting clothes and the shocking amount of bleeding, yet this wasn't unusual. His expression remained calm.

Inserting a bookmark into the pages, Lebius closed the book and placed it aside. Bologue noticed the cover's title, his expression registering surprise.

Lebius asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing much," Bologue replied, "Just didn't expect you to be reading that, boss."

"You mean this book?"

Lebius picked up the book, glanced at the cover, and explained, "Palmer brought it and insisted it was excellent, told me I absolutely have to read it."

"I quite like reading."

Lebius was not just a workaholic but also quite reclusive. Unless necessary for work, he rarely left the Order Bureau. In this monotonous and oppressive Cultivation Room, there weren't many forms of entertainment to relieve stress.

Hence, Lebius developed a reading habit, spending his free time absorbed in one book after another. He didn't resist book recommendations from his team, showing a willingness to accept them.

Lebius sometimes felt out of touch with society and took this opportunity to see what the younger generation was reading.

Bologue glanced at the "Night Hunter" book and remembered he had a copy at home. It seemed Palmer really loved this book, likely buying several copies and handing one out to everyone he met.

"What happened?"

Lebius asked, following the protocol that Bologue was supposed to report the recent events to him.

Bologue nodded and laid out the entire course of events for Lebius, sticking to a straightforward narrative without interjecting his thoughts.

Collector.

Bologue wasn't quite sure yet who this Devil referenced, but it was clear she had taken interest in him for some reason.

The identity of the Chosen One?

Bologue thought it unlikely. If the motive were to eliminate rivals, she should have sent a Negative Power User or even a Defender, rather than two Prayer Believers skilled in assassination. Apparently, Bologue wasn't that important in the Collector's eyes.

"Collector..."

Lebius pondered, trying to recall any intelligence related to that term.

Bologue asked, "You don't know who the other party is either?"

After a moment of silence, Lebius nodded and explained, "The same entity is referred to by different words in the eyes of different people, and it's the same for the Devil. That's why they have countless names."

Bologue knew this well. As he deepened his contact with the Devil, he often flipped through the book given to him by Nesanel.

"Devil and Electric Guitar Operation Guide."

The book mentioned an example where two small cults clashed in the Narrow Countries. It was only after Group Ten resolved the conflict that they discovered both groups worshiped the same Devil, but within their understanding, this Devil had completely different names and forms.

The Devil doesn't care about his followers. He is a profit-driven merchant. As long as souls are offered to him, any craving for power can be seen as a cold business relationship.

As for faith.

It's merely an addition of fantasy that mortals make about things beyond their understanding. They deify the incomprehensible, thereby arrogantly assuming they understand it.

"Alright, I got it," Lebius said, "I'll have the Crow's Nest keep an eye out for related intel. You can go off work now."

"Alright."

The two exchanged words simply, as if what had just happened was not a life-and-death struggle but just an ordinary street fight.

Working for a long time, such sudden incidents occur frequently. Having dealt with many, the nerves of the Field Staff have long been numb and indifferent.

To Bologue, the battle with Ferguson and Brow was no different from hunting Demons after work or brawling with gangs.

"I'll go next door to change clothes," Bologue said, adjusting his pants.

In the activity room next door, Bologue had stored a lot of his work clothes. He often encountered such sudden incidents and would return to the Order Bureau covered in blood, so the activity room was always stocked with clothes for changing.

When Bologue returned to the apartment, it was late at night. A familiar blue vehicle was parked in the apartment's parking lot.

As he pushed open the door, the room of Palmer echoed with loud snores. Ever since he went home to visit his family, it was as if Vasilina had given him some kind of boost, normalizing his daily life from the previous chaotic days.

At least this time, Bologue didn't smell the strong scent of alcohol in the living room, nor did Palmer return late at night.

Returning to his room, Bologue lay flat on the bed, his mind replaying the events to come.

Suddenly, Bologue sat up, pulling out the "Devil and Electric Guitar Operation Guide" from the bookshelf, flipping through its pages, searching for information related to the Collector.

Bologue felt certain that Nesanel must have recorded something about it; he just hadn't realized because in Nesanel's records, the other party wasn't called the "Collector."

Different Devils wield different authorities, hence the protection they bestow varies. From this point, Bologue could deduce the identity of the Devil.

Sinister whispers resounded endlessly in Bologue's ears. He knew this was the power of the umbilical cord. As he delved deeper into the Devil's nature, Bologue would also endure the backlash of the Devil's power.

Bologue took a deep breath, sweat beading on his forehead. Recklessly probing into the Devil's secrets, Bologue didn't know what might occur. The safest way was to conduct it within the Order Bureau, but Bologue was growing impatient.

Line by line, distorted and blurry text gradually became clear, composing that ancient and obscure story in Bologue's eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, Bologue's breathing grew heavier. In the dark room, shadows began to writhe, and sinister murmurs grew clearer.

A phantom umbilical cord floated from Bologue, gradually gaining substance, connecting into the endless darkness. Someone in the darkness on the other end tugged at the umbilical cord, attempting to drag Bologue over.

Bologue was completely oblivious to these; his mind was allured by the contents of the book, as if bewitched.

The door was forcefully kicked open; Ether whipped up a gale that flipped and closed the book as Palmer shouted.

"Bologue!"

In an instant, the sinister presence vanished, leaving Bologue and Palmer staring blankly at each other.

Palmer clutched a fruit knife, suspiciously surveying Bologue's room, warily asking, "Did something happen?"

Since Zefirin's attack on Palmer in his sleep, Palmer seemed to have developed a psychological shadow. Usually not very alert, but at night, when lying in bed, his whole body tensed up.

Bologue was stunned for a few seconds before retrospectively realizing the danger just now. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and responded.

"No... Nothing."

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