"You’ve done well, containing the disaster in time and preventing it from spreading."

Carnegie glanced at the Blood Lake below; the freshly birthed blood and flesh creation was shattered by the Fire Meteor, its fragmented flesh struggling futilely, only to be charred by the flames.

Other members of the Ninth Group hovered above the Blood Lake, equipped by the Logistics Department before arrival. Each one carried a massive gas tank, pressing switches to release enormous Fire Snakes from flamethrowers, burning the flesh while boiling the Blood Lake.

The flames utilized special gas from the Sublimation Furnace Core, granting them extraordinary qualities, strongly suppressing the Blood and Flesh Plague.

The most obvious effect was the slowing of the blood-and-flesh transformation of the rock walls until they halted completely, revealing the stone beneath.

The flames nearly consumed the air, Bologue felt a heaviness in his chest, suffocated by the constant oppression.

"Let’s leave first."

Carnegie patted Bologue’s shoulder, who nodded and asked, "What will you do next?"

"Keep burning, burn everything, exhaust its entire Life Force," Carnegie replied.

Confusion filled Bologue’s eyes, "I tried to destroy it before, and I did, but it came back alive..."

"You didn’t truly kill it, just shattered its form," Carnegie glanced at the writhing flesh below, "to deal with such extremities, you need to eradicate its essence."

Thick black smoke rose from the charred flesh, almost obscuring everyone’s view.

Bologue pondered Carnegie’s words, soon understanding his meaning, realizing Bologue had only killed the form, not destroyed its extraordinary qualities. As long as those qualities remained, it could still convert matter into flesh.

The essence must be annihilated.

All extraordinary qualities originate from Ether.

"Command its Ether."

Bologue thought to himself, no longer lingering, extending the Silver Hand around him, climbing the rock wall like a giant spider until he emerged from the pit he had dug.

By then, the sky had brightened; Bologue had been worried dealing with the Blood and Flesh Plague would cause mass panic among Gray Stone Town citizens, but standing on the street, the entire town was eerily quiet, as if everyone was still asleep.

Closing his eyes, Bologue easily detected another strong Ether reaction, like his, the opponent was also a Negative Power User. Opening his eyes, he scanned around, spotting the tall figure atop the town’s highest clock tower.

The opponent was likely a Negative Power User from the Void Spirit School, their Secret Energy probably involved controlling sleep, causing all ordinary people within the range to fall asleep, avoiding this horrific scene.

Beyond that, many Field Staff had arrived on site, setting up irrelevant barriers, inspecting the surroundings just like a familiar procedure to Bologue.

Soon after, the Ninth Group also withdrew from the pit, somehow procuring a giant oil tank and pouring tens of tons of fuel into the pit, igniting a roaring flame.

Like a volcanic eruption, the flames erupted from the pit, spewing out tongues of fire nearly tens of meters high, thick black smoke reaching the skies.

"Like a bonfire party... pity it’s daytime."

Watching this scene, an absurd thought surfaced in Bologue’s mind.

Leaving the site to the Ninth Group, Bologue returned to the small chapel where Aimou awaited him, beside him lay York, tightly bound.

To avoid York being exposed to sunlight, Aimou thoughtfully wrapped him tightly in black cloth, as for that eerie Thorny Pain Lock, it hung to the side, appearing no different from ordinary chains without drinking blood.

"Is it resolved?" Aimou asked upon Bologue’s return.

"Yes, it went smoothly," Bologue said, "control was timely, the disaster was minimized."

Having experienced a lot, such great calamities became breezy to Bologue.

Gazing at York on the ground, Bologue said, "Now the Ninth Group is handling the aftermath, we just need to take him back to the Order Bureau."

"It’s already daytime," Aimou reminded.

"I know, I know."

Bologue said, pulling out the Key of the Crooked Path, inserting it into the nearby door lock, subsequently opening a murky darkness leading directly to the Undying Club.

"Let’s go."

Bologue hoisted York, entering directly into the darkness.

As the view cleared up, Bologue had arrived inside the Undying Club. The club was devoid of people; perhaps they were asleep or finding amusement elsewhere.

Bologue had no time to greet others, now eager to take York back to the Order Bureau, for the Crow’s Nest folks to interrogate thoroughly, hoping to gain useful information.

Regarding work, York himself... Bologue found York quite interesting; rarely can Night Race resist the Bloodthirsty Syndrome’s influence, let alone someone as ignorant as York.

Given Bologue’s odd values, he appreciated York’s nature, naturally fitting for a terrible job like Field Staff.

If the chance arises, Bologue would gladly write York a recommendation letter.

"This short journey shouldn’t expose him."

Bologue said, turning to leave, Aimou following closely behind. But neither noticed the black fabric beneath had absorbed blood, and as they moved, a few drops pooled together, falling, leaving a dark red stain on the carefully cleaned floor by Bode.

Closing the door, the Undying Club plunged back into silence. After a while, a figure staggered out from the stairs, bare except for wearing shorts, seemingly just awoken, searching for a drink.

Serey expertly entered the bar, poured himself a full glass of alcohol. Ever since the Night Race rose with this frustrating affair, his bloodstream alcohol had nearly always been excessive.

He numbed his spirit, escaped his problems, doing so quite successfully.

Once replenished, Serey scratched his head, intending to return to his room, take a sleep-in, continue dreaming. He had managed to dream about past beautiful things, couldn’t let it end so soon.

But as he climbed out of the bar, heading toward the stairs, a faint blood scent in the air caught Serey’s attention. As a Night Race member, he felt extreme sensitivity toward blood.

If it was ordinary blood, Serey wouldn’t pay much attention, but this time, he caught a familiar scent within the blood aroma.

A sweet, pleasant scent.

Like recalling wonderful memories, Serey froze, his gaze unfocused like staring afar, but soon, he snapped out of the trance, feeling wide awake.

"What’s going on?"

Serey frowned, circled around, baffled by where the anomaly arose, knowing the Undying Club was isolated in power, external influences couldn’t truly affect this place.

Just as Serey puzzled deeply, his foot slipped suddenly, sending him crashing hard on the ground, moaning from the pain.

Rising up, he saw the stretched, scar-like bloodstain.

A familiar and sweet blood scent emanated strongly from it.

Serey murmured, "Pure Blood?"