Bologue raised his hand, his fingers brushed across his throat, and he spoke softly, "Slit my throat, nearly decapitated me, that feeling was terrible."
"Just hearing about it sounds awful. Unfortunately, I don't have an undying body, so I can't quite relate to your troubles."
Geoffrey was utterly amazed. He knew the truth behind Bologue's "blessing," yet every time he witnessed Bologue's resurrection, he still found it unbelievable.
Blood reversed its flow, wounds healed, and even broken bones repositioned themselves one by one. You could see those faint scars on his body, but soon those scars disappeared at a speed visible to the naked eye, leaving only skin stained with dirty blood.
Just how dearly did that demon favor Bologue to bestow him with such power?
"I need some rest... Did I pass the assessment?"
Bologue pushed Geoffrey away. He slowly leaned backward, trying to lie down, while Geoffrey crouched beside him and said.
"You passed, surpassed expectations. Not only that, but you also gave Lebius a beating!" Geoffrey reminisced on the person that name represented and continued, "I've always kinda disliked that guy."
"Who is that?"
"Your future 'boss,'" Geoffrey chuckled, "How does it feel to give your future boss a thrashing during an interview?"
Bologue's expression momentarily froze. He never expected his future boss would personally assess him. He shook his head and countered.
"And what about you? Where will you go?"
Geoffrey pondered how to explain it to Bologue.
"Our organization is divided into many departments, like fieldwork, logistics, and personnel, among others."
"I guess you are in the personnel department, right? Choosing unfortunate debtors from the Black Prison," Bologue asked.
"More or less, but not entirely."
Geoffrey gave Bologue a thumbs up, praising him, "You're so impressive; they must give you quite a commission."
Bologue had no energy left to banter with Geoffrey. He raised his head, gazing into the pitch-black night.
The sky over Opus was always gloomy and gray, devoid of sunlight, and starless. The night was pure darkness, with scarce sightings of the moonlight.
He coughed painfully a few times, his chest heaving violently, as deferred pain surged up his nerves.
Bologue possessed an undying body, but the "blessing" was not without its price. The undying body also came with its burdens.
Back in the Black Prison, "those people" conducted precise tests on him for better containment.
The specifics of those tests... Bologue was somewhat reluctant to recall them, though he was grateful for those awful tests, as they provided him with a clear understanding of his undying body.
His manner of undying was somewhat complex. In a normal state, it was like time reversal, with spilled blood returning to the body and fractured bones reconnecting.
In special circumstances, if, for instance, an arm was severed and the limb locked in an iron box, it wouldn't forcefully break out and reattach itself; instead, a new arm would regenerate from the stump, while the original severed limb would turn into ash-gray powder, like dust, after a short while.
Or if his body shattered into countless meat fragments, it would regenerate and revive from the largest piece as the origin.
Because of this complex undying mechanism, "those people" found it difficult to categorize Bologue's undying process, but they understood it operated with the least energy consumption.
Every resurrection left Bologue feeling exhausted. With each subsequent death in a short period, his resurrection time would progressively lengthen, increasing his fatigue.
From the current tests, it appeared that after dying five or six times, Bologue would faint from exhaustion, and according to "those people's" calculations, if Bologue were continuously killed within a short span, it was estimated that after about a hundred deaths, his resurrection time could extend to several days or even months.
Therefore, Bologue's undying body seemed to have a certain limit. If he died excessively in a short period, he would become incapacitated.
What utterly dreadful memories.
Luckily, this time, the "Soul Shards" helped. These shards acted like a panacea, aiding the process of "resurrection," and the more shards there were, the less burden Bologue had, and the quicker the healing.
Sometimes he wondered if there were enough demons, perhaps Bologue could become a "Perpetual Motion Machine," able to "resurrect" over and over, as long as he continued to kill demons.
"Now then, can you finally tell me who you people are?"
Bologue tilted his head, looking at Geoffrey.
"Rhine Alliance Order and Security Bureau."
Geoffrey calmly uttered this strange term. Even though it was the moment of the revelation of the riddle, both of them reacted quite composedly, as if the story naturally progressed and unfolded undisturbed.
He reached out and shook Bologue's hand, stained with dirty blood.
"Shortened to 'Order Bureau,' as the name suggests, it's under the Rhine Alliance, an organization maintaining extraordinary order and human safety."
"Order Bureau..."
Bologue murmured the words, slowly sitting up. After a short rest, he felt considerably better, just a bit weary, yearning for a place to sleep peacefully.
"According to Lebius's requirements, you'll be assigned to his action group, though his team was only recently approved, and the facilities for their activity room and staff dormitory haven't yet been determined...
Oh, and tell me your measurements so they can make your uniform. You'll need to fill out your own forms for matters like benefits, and I'm unsure about your salary. The pay scale varies across different departments…"
Geoffrey droned on like a nagging old lady, endlessly chattering in Bologue's ear. In terms of "personnel," he was indeed quite professional, akin to a nanny, continually looking after him.
Unfortunately, Bologue hadn't listened to any of his words, merely sitting there dazed, staring at the sky.
Amidst the bustling crowd and with the reason for his successful employment, these people carried on without concealment. A group of people in black emerged from the night, cleaning the bloody building, and heaps of corpses were being transported out. A few people guarded nearby, akin to security, yet none of them carried any guns.
What did they use to fight then?
The intricate patterns and the term Geoffrey once let slip came to mind.
Alchemy Matrix.
Then Bologue saw Yas, commanding the scene. Upon noticing Bologue's gaze, Yas swept his eyes over with hostility.
"That's Yas, Yas Cyril. Don't be mad, that's just how he is," Geoffrey noticed the exchange of looks and explained to Bologue, "He doesn't hate you; he just abhors your connection with the Devil."
"He has always been against hiring debtors... Fortunately, his words don't count," Geoffrey joked.
Bologue didn't mind Yas, he just murmured to himself.
"Free at last."
Bologue was free, even if just temporarily.
After a prolonged imprisonment, Bologue finally returned to this world. With no "Black Prison" hanging over his head anymore, whatever he wanted to do now had the opportunity to be carried out.
Thinking of this, Bologue displayed a morbidly satisfied smile.
"In any case..."
Geoffrey pulled Bologue up and addressed him with an extremely formal attitude.
"Congratulations, Bologue Lazarus, a new life begins."