Chapter 533: Chapter 46: Blood Pact
On this bizarre and peculiar battlefield, a Night Race force breaks through and looks at you with excited eyes, greedily craving, as though you are his dream lover... or his enemy.
Anyone encountering such a situation would be deeply shocked, their mind frozen, but fortunately, Bologue had experienced this before. As early as when he met Olivia, that woman had mentioned her own scent to him.
The scent of Serey Villeries.
This originated from a drunken night when Serey slit his wrist, narrating how precious his blood was even as he shoved it into Bologue’s mouth, attempting to transform Bologue into a super Undead.
The chaos concluded with Bode’s intervention, and afterward, Bologue thoroughly cleansed his body. He thought he had scrubbed away the bloodstains, but after encountering Olivia, Bologue realized the blood of a Night Race Lord isn’t easily washed clean.
The blood washes away, but the blood’s aura remains.
The Sharp Sword pierced the chest of the Night Race, and the Flame of the Cauldron burned along the metal, seeping into the wound. The Night Race’s eyes revealed curiosity, observing the scene before him. In the next moment, the Sharp Sword collapsed, like a seed buried deep into flesh, rooting and sprouting under Bologue’s command.
The Iron Thorns tore the Night Race’s body to shreds, bloody entrails hanging on Iron Branches, like a cruel work of art.
Despite such heavy damage, the Night Race did not die. After all, he counted as a Debtor burdened with the debt of the Undead. His head twisted and shouted loudly at Bologue.
"Interesting, in this era, someone has actually obtained the Blood Contract of the Lord."
Blood Contract.
Bologue was familiar with this term, akin to "Blood Donation," particular to the Night Race. This bizarre mysterious family has formed its own system within the Extraordinary World.
The blood of the Night Race is extremely unique, it can be used as a kind of Alchemy Material when necessary. If a Night Race grants their blood to a human, and the human willingly accepts the blood, they automatically form a Blood Contract, becoming a member of the Night Race, transformed into an Undead of eternal night, bearing a heavy debt.
Refusal is death.
Blood Donation occurs between High Tier Night Race and Low Tier Night Race, with High Tier Night Race enhancing the blood purity of Low Tier Night Race.
During the temporal chaos events, Bologue accepted a Blood Donation that couldn’t quite be called a Blood Donation.
Licking his lips, Bologue vaguely remembered the taste of "Serey’s Love," a cup mixed with Serey’s blood.
The taste was awful, as if he were drinking laundry detergent, and it was lemon-flavored.
The Blood Donation between Night Race and humans resembles a slave contract, but humans are not always so contemptible in the eyes of the Night Race. Some who are acknowledged by the Night Race will form a "Blood Contract."
In short, a pact made with blood, initiated solely by the Night Race, who smear their blood on the recognized ones, much like animals marking their scent. The recognized ones will carry the aura of that Night Race.
In street terms, Bologue is like Serey’s little brother in the eyes of the Night Race, taken care of by the big brother. If any Night Race dares to harm Bologue, they will face the wrath of the Night Race Lord.
Hundreds of years ago, this was considered supreme glory. With Serey’s blood, Bologue could walk horizontally within the territory of the Night Race, receiving the highest treatment everywhere.
Unfortunately, times have changed.
The Night Race has long been buried in the graves of history, and the Night Races that appear now are merely the remnants of unfinished historical reckoning.
Luckily, this Blood Contract can only be recognized by the Night Race themselves; otherwise, if Bologue met other organizations’ Condensers, once they detected the Blood Contract on Bologue, they would surely see him as a Night Race’s minion and strike hard.
This information Bologue consulted after meeting Olivia, besides learning about the history of the Night Race, Bologue discovered another matter.
The Blood Contract itself lacks any Power of Contract, meaning it doesn’t bind anyone or anything.
This is not some alliance driven by interest, more like an intimate relationship certification, stemming from the Night Race’s own emotions and recognition.
This represents Serey’s friendship.
Thinking about this made Bologue feel surprised, never expecting such a delicate emotion behind Serey’s absurd demeanor.
But sometimes Bologue wonders, is this just sympathy between the Undead, or is it a momentary whim of Serey’s psychopath?
Serey might indeed do such things, given how chaotic his private life is, just the photos with his wife are enough to pile up a whole album, considering those female friends he has met, Bologue thinks Serey could put together a whole group.
Just counting those female friends, Bologue believes he has quite a few blood-contracted friends like himself as well.
But Bologue didn’t consider his friendship with Serey to be so cheap, and he was too lazy to speculate about those matters.
Compared to the fleeting thoughts in his mind, Bologue preferred to deal with the Night Race member in front of him first.
"Since I possess the Night Race Lord’s Blood Contract, I doubt he’d have any objections if I kill a Night Race."
Bologue said viciously; being an Undead himself, Bologue knew well how to deal with his own kind.
The spreading Iron Thorns quickly retracted, pulling together the severed limbs and recomposing them into a cross-shaped tombstone, solidified by the deceitful snake scale liquid pouring like molten iron.
Bologue snapped his fingers, and the friction between the iron pieces at his fingertips sparked, igniting the fire line as if it had spontaneously combusted, and then the inferno rose from the tombstone like a witch’s pyre during an inquisition.
This was Bologue’s first battle with the Night Race. Even though he knew a lot of intelligence about them, in actual combat, Bologue wasn’t sure to what extent the enemy could remain "undead," so incapacitating the opponent first was certainly correct.
Sever the limbs, forge them into a monument, and then burn with fierce flames.
All of this was Bologue’s impromptu idea; he even felt a sense of pride, thinking he resembled more the violent maniacs in horror films.
Bologue always thought that if he were to act in a movie, he would surely be the kind of actor whose superb skills would make the director applaud with excitement.
Bologue only needed to play himself, but unfortunately, his range of roles was somewhat limited.
The joy of the desire for violence being satisfied didn’t last long before Bologue realized another issue—the opponent seemed too young from the "Night Race" perspective.
The Ether strength of this Night Race individual was not high, merely at the First Stage Condenser level. If he had been an Undead for a century, even though the path to promotion is fraught with difficulty, he shouldn’t be at this Tier.
A newly transformed Night Race? It’s not impossible.
The opponent couldn’t escape the burning tombstone for now. Bologue raised his hand, and walls of stone rose from the Flame of the Cauldron, as if he were a battlefield commander constructing his own defense line.
The deceitful snake scale liquid spread out dense Iron Thorns, each connected by nearly invisible threads. This was Bologue’s minefield; as soon as the opponent tripped the line, they would suffer Bologue’s storm-like counterattack.
But the anticipated situation of being beset on all sides did not happen; this time, Bologue was not alone.
Someone grabbed one of his threads, but it was not an enemy. A familiar Ether reaction came along the threads, and then Aimou leapt over Bologue’s head with force.
This time, besides helping Bologue with tasks, Aimou found time to optimize herself; under extreme exertion, Aimou’s body seemed to be endowed with Ethereal Amplification.
Aimou’s alloyed iron fist descended, crushing a Black Armored Soldier’s skull, then twirled a whip-like kick, snapping the enemy’s few ribs through the armor.
Under Bologue’s combat teaching, Aimou showed significant progress in her Fighting Technique, but clearly, Aimou still had much to learn, such as maintaining constant vigilance.
The darkness behind Aimou began to writhe, a pair of scarlet eyes lit up, lunging directly at Aimou. Just as the strike was about to succeed, Aimou’s body eerily shifted slightly, dodging the attack.
Aimou was somewhat bewildered herself; she was launching a forceful punch when she was pulled by the thread, causing her displacement.
Bologue was manipulating the battlefield, assisting Aimou to avoid the strike; Bologue then waved, and an Iron Spear was forged, suspended in the air, then pierced through, hitting the Night Race member and propelling his body to nail the spear into the Black Armored Soldier behind him.
After advancing to become a Prayer Believer, Bologue was somewhat unsatisfied with his Secret Energy·Cauldron Flame, not because it wasn’t strong enough—in fact, quite the opposite, it was too powerful and convenient. Many times, before Bologue could enjoy his favored close combat, he could pin his opponents from afar.
It left him with a sense of unfulfilled excitement.
A sharp-edged feather fell from overhead, more bloody feathers fell, Bologue looked up, seeing the sky completely covered by dark clouds, devoid of any light. No matter how hard Bologue tried to see, all he got were blurred and chaotic silhouettes.
Bologue sensed something unusual; an endless amount of Ether was surrounding the battlefield, transforming into a void-like tsunami, raising a destructive gale.
Bologue saw, Ether in vast quantities gathering here, even appearing as tangible as his Cauldron Flame, high-concentration Ether surging out like luminescent silk, with the tumultuous invisible whirlwind revealing its flowing path under the guise of light.
The Clarks’ retaliation had begun, and before he knew it, the domain crafted by the Celestial Vault Tower had expanded to the coast, encompassing Bologue and his companions within.
At this moment, the Ether concentration inside the domain was rapidly soaring, with various Ether reactions arising within the defensive lines of the cliff, calling upon the winds which swiftly shattered the Wind-Eroded Bird flock.
Bologue didn’t know how the battle above was playing out, but he could clearly see mass after mass of Wind-Eroded Bird carcasses crashing down, their warm blood mixed with the torrential rain, splattering on his body with surges of warmth.