CHAPTER 630: CHAPTER 141 EVIDENCE OF EXISTENCE

Bologue Lazarus.

This is not a name given by parents, but by some unknown friend, given to Bologue.

"For a long time, I didn’t pay much attention to it, after all, my parents were illiterate, and if they had named me, they probably wouldn’t have given me something better. They said I was an extraordinary child.

My parents had high hopes for me. They often said that my achievements would far surpass my predecessors, so I should have the name of a king, and not be as random as falling leaves like theirs."

Bologue completely relaxed. In his memory, this was the first time he spoke to someone about his past like this. He wasn’t just recounting it for Aimou, Bologue was also gradually reminiscing about his own life through the narrative.

A bizarre life.

Looking back at the past, Bologue was grateful to those who blessed him, seeing that he still maintained a sound mind.

With the help of others, Bologue went further and further, never fell into darkness, nor became decadent.

Bologue couldn’t think of a better ending than this.

"Names have magic power," suddenly, Bologue said, "This is a principle I learned after knowing the existence of the Devil."

To summon a Devil, you must first know its name.

Aimou patiently observed Bologue’s side profile, listening to his words.

Bologue said, "Sometimes I think, does my name hold any meaning? Unfortunately, that secret I will never have the chance to know."

Aimou said, "You can give meaning to yourself."

"Hmm..."

Bologue straightened up, hands on the railing, continuing to describe his past fantasies to Aimou.

"As a child, I didn’t like Redwood Town. It was my hometown, but I hated it. I wanted to see a bigger world and not be imprisoned here, grow up, and take up my father’s axe to become a lumberjack."

Bologue continued, "During countless afternoons, I imagined secretly hitching rides on merchants’ wagons to let them take me away from here. I would go to a new town, like a stray, hitching a ride on the end of a train to be taken to another bigger world."

"But you didn’t do that."

"Yeah, even though I felt unfamiliar, I couldn’t bear to leave my parents, until I joined the army. That was the first time I left that small town, and then I never went back."

Bologue lamented, "As of now, my former life is so unfamiliar, like an illusion."

"Sometimes I get strange thoughts, wondering if my former life was just a dream."

Aimou asked, "Why do you feel that way?"

"My memories of the past are incredibly unfamiliar and vague. I myself... am buried in mystery."

In front of Bologue appeared the figure of the astronaut again, in a world black and gray bleak, where he watched his stories in open-air cinemas.

Perhaps he is now watching himself.

Bologue emphasized, "The most important thing is, nothing can prove I ever existed, Aimou."

An indescribable chill spread in Bologue’s heart. He was not someone prone to excessively reminiscing his past. As an undead, his eyes were set only on the unknowable future.

What’s past is past, and no matter how tangled up it gets, it can’t change it, so why waste time?

But during his conversation with Aimou, Bologue gradually fell into memories, those pasts he never cared about became elusive and mysterious, like a bomb buried in his heart, waiting to explode.

"I can vividly recall every day of my military career, but everything about Redwood Town is incredibly vague... It’s strange, when I lived in the Black Prison for what felt like an eternity, I never thought of recalling these things. Every time my memories reached the start of my military days, they would halt, as if that part of life didn’t exist."

"I’m not like you, Aimou," Bologue said, "To you, a past like a dream, is real, there’s plenty of evidence to prove Alice’s existence."

"But I’m different," a strong sense of unfamiliarity filled Bologue’s mind, he troubledly lowered his head, muttering to himself, "I’ve lost that small town, it’s as if it vanished into thin air, over the years, those who experienced it with me have already passed away."

"It’s so strange, Aimou, looking back now, nothing can prove Redwood Town’s existence, nor prove I lived there..."

Bologue fell silent, whispering to himself.

Only one person.

Only one person can prove Bologue’s peculiar and vague past, the one who knew his ’next life’ from the beginning.

Astronaut...

Bologue suddenly realized something, if his ’next life’ was inextricably linked to the astronaut, then from the moment he came into this world, he’d fallen into the astronaut’s sights. Why was it only until the Fall of the Holy City that he signed the blood contract with him?

Invisible hands grasped at Bologue, pulling at his body forcefully, bringing both mental and physical pressure, trying to drag him into an endless abyss with hoarse wails.

"Bologue!"

The call interrupted Bologue’s chaotic thoughts, Aimou looked at him nervously, "Are you okay?"

Bologue’s expression was somewhat dazed, after a few seconds he realized his awkwardness, he took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his emotions, calmly and rationally regarding his past.

"It’s nothing, just some wild thoughts."

Bologue pressed his face forcefully, the intense sensation keeping him lucid.

"I’m starting to think, focusing so much on the future might be an avoidance tactic, to forget the past disturbances."

"Don’t overthink it, Bologue," Aimou comforted and encouraged, "if there’s a problem, then deal with it."

Aimou said, "You’re no longer the child from back then, but a Prayer Believer, the Order Bureau’s finest Field Staff, capable of standing on your own."

Bologue hesitated for a moment, then smiled with relief, he spoke to himself, "Yeah, I have enough time to solve these things."

Standing up, he still had tasks at hand, Bologue stopped thinking about it. If everything was indeed related to the astronaut, one day he’d understand it all.

Returning inside the carriage, Palmer was awake surprisingly, sitting by the window, happily polishing his Alchemy Armament.

This was a trophy Palmer brought back from the Wind Source Highlands... anyway, he described it as a trophy, but in reality, it was a gift from Fuen to Palmer, celebrating his good son’s successful promotion to Prayer Believer.

Alchemy Armament, Storm Feather.

It was a Flying Knife closely resembling a feather, small and exquisite as a whole, with a keen edge. Palmer didn’t disclose its specific effect to Bologue, saying Bologue would know when the time came.

Seeing the carefree smile on Palmer’s face, Bologue was actually somewhat envious of him, wanting to slice open his head and see what kind of structure produces such an attitude.

Sitting opposite Palmer, Bologue let out a long sigh, the oddity from reminiscing inciting a headache.

Palmer asked, "How much longer until we reach Free Port?"

Bologue said, "Why, getting impatient?"

"I just want to jump into work quickly," Palmer argued.

Aimou didn’t pay attention to their bickering, she leaned against the window, watching the passing scenery. This was Aimou’s first train journey over a long distance, everything along the way piquing her curiosity.

Geoffrey opened the door and emerged, "Don’t rush, we’re expected to arrive at Free Port by early morning the day after tomorrow."

"Logically, the Order Bureau should be able to allocate a private train for us, why are we stopping and going with this group of people?" Palmer continued his complaints.

"Because the Bureau’s private train is carrying others moving."

Geoffrey said as he tossed Palmer a report, freshly printed with the ink still fresh.

In this exclusive carriage, the Field Operations Department’s communication equipment was also set up, which is why this Special Operations Group brought Yuriel along.

"Not only are we heading towards Free Port, the Sixth Group has been dispatched as well. They’re traveling by special train, much faster than us, and last night, they were just nearing Free Port when they were attacked by the Zongge Orchestra."

Bologue said, "Is the Sixth Group drawing fire for us?"

"Exactly, one group is for feigned assault, the other for clandestine infiltration," Geoffrey explained, "we are the latter."

"Was this all the doing of the Zongge Orchestra?"

Palmer flipped through a few pages, hiding his smile, the Zongge Orchestra had somewhat sealed all routes from Opus to Free Port, swearing to obstruct the Order Bureau’s interference.

"Sure enough, this time we’re facing a stubborn enemy, prepared to fight us to the bitter end for the primal item."

Geoffrey spoke to himself.

"I’m growing more curious about what exactly this primal item is."