Eventually, apart from this absurd story, Bologue didn't get a bit of useful information from Serey... though in a way, at least Bologue knew that Serey had been this neurotic for hundreds of years.

Bologue muttered, "But this guy Serey has really been around for quite a while."

Serey got excited as he told stories, and several people gathered around a blood-stained head, listening to his decades-long experiences.

After running with that group of lunatics for a while, Serey gradually felt bored. He needed new amusement, so he left the camp alone on a dark night.

"All the way, I couldn't figure out what those madmen were doing, but at the moment I left the camp, I suddenly understood. They, like me, were a group of walking dead consumed by emptiness, seeking a bit of pleasure to give their numb lives a glimmer of fluctuation."

Serey showed a puzzled expression, "But what I don't understand is, I am an undead who has lived through countless years, and they are just a group of mortal beings with limited lifespans.

It was an ignorant, primitive era, where everyone believed in the King and Knights. The kind of thoughts we have now didn't even have a bud in that time. I don't think these people were believers of the void; they seemed more like doing things for someone's view, providing entertainment to someone."

I know similar things like this, maybe some deviations, but there's no other choice. After all, so much time has passed, memories are inevitably blurry."

The only intelligence Serey offered was just this. This fellow got drunk so badly that after a brief greeting with the two, he fell asleep soundly on the table. It was Bode who passed by and carried him back to his room.

Bologue and Palmer walked through the empty corridor, their eyes on the ground ahead, reminiscing over Serey's past experiences.

Suddenly, Bologue realized something; if it's Serey, he must know something.

The Night Race originated from the ignorant ages of thousands of years ago. At that time, there was no Kagader Empire or Rhine Alliance, only hidden societies and hidden clans lurking beneath the dust of the world.

Among them, the Alchemists were the first to perceive Ether and study the Secret Source. They developed alongside the Night Race. Humans, limited by their lifespan, kept dying, relying on books to teach the next generation endless knowledge.

But the immortal Night Race was not subjected to such constraints, which means, as a Night Race Lord, Serey very likely witnessed the gradual increase in Ether concentration.

With the passing years, Extraordinary Power gradually seeped into every inch of land, allowing the Secret Energy, which only slightly affected reality in the past, to possess the power to move mountains and fill seas today.

The Night Race secretly developed for thousands of years, during which they frequently conflicted with secret societies until the Dawn War a hundred years ago. When the Night Race was about to create the Eternal Night Empire, the coalition army of secret societies completely defeated them.

Then came the brief peaceful years and the rise of the Kagader Empire. To resist this expanding royal power, countries united and formed the current Rhine Alliance, followed by Scorched Earth Wrath, Fall of the Holy City, Secret Wars, and even now...

Bologue recalled the ancient history he knew, in this long span of time, countless powers emerged and equally countless powers perished. Only the Devil persisted, lingering in the shadows of people's hearts.

"I always feel the past of this world isn't that simple, at least the part concerning the Devil is like that," Bologue muttered.

"If you have an interest in history, when you get to Wind Source Highlands, you can check out my family's library."

Palmer said beside him, "Because Condensers need to hide in the shadows of the dust, the history of the Extraordinary World is quite fragmented. Each secret society records differently, with their own limitations. Even if the Order Bureau unified some of the forces, for various reasons, everyone would somewhat hide some secrets, making this historical scroll riddled with holes. Therefore, sometimes the Order Bureau's records aren't comprehensive."

Bologue nodded. He felt as if he were a detective, facing a conspiracy so vast and borderless that traverses through ancient and modern times.

Palmer whispered, "And... Bologue, could you pay attention to your image?"

"Image? I think my image is okay, what's wrong?"

Bologue looked down at his attire. All this while, he dressed in the uniform of the Order Bureau. Even his personal clothes were mostly gray-black tones. Coupled with Bologue's indifferent and aloof gaze, his first impression on people was like that of a stern and high-standing stag.

Palmer stared at Bologue's hand, and Bologue followed his gaze, realizing he was still carrying a human head wrapped in an outer garment. Although covered by clothing, in the Order Bureau, everyone counted as professionals, recognizing the contents at a glance.

The worst part was, the filthy blood soaked through the fabric, dripping thick blood along the way, leaving striking traces on the white ground.

Now this stag's antlers were adorned with the enemy's corpse, guts intertwining among the branches.

...

The suspended auxiliary arms fell one after another, and Lebius looked up, with a complex gaze, at Bologue and the blood-stained head he carried.

Lebius had long been aware of Bologue's character's kind of obsession, but this obsession, at times, would make one feel helplessly amused.

Lebius said, "In my impression, you're the first employee to bring a human head into the office."

"First case? Not bad, this gives me a special sense of accomplishment."

This cold stag was actually quite passionate. After acting with Palmer for so long, in the end, he picked up on telling some jokes too.

Lebius asked, "What's going on?"

Bologue didn't hold back and directly recounted the anomalous sensations of these past few days, as well as his conversation with Serey, to Lebius.

Lebius's expression was extremely calm, unwavering from start to finish. After Bologue finished speaking, he picked up a pen, gently tapping the tip against the desk.

"I see..."

"Do you have any thoughts? I always feel like someone wouldn't target me for no reason, let alone a group of strange lunatics like this."

Bologue was quite troubled by this, "They give me the impression of being a bunch of perverts, it's really disgusting."

Hearing such words from Bologue's mouth, even Lebius couldn't help but smile a little, then his expression turned serious.

"Are you saying their eyes are like cameras?"

"Exactly."

With Bologue's affirmation, a hint of the observer flickered in Lebius's eyes.

After the Order Bureau rejected the observer's request, he indeed began taking action, using those followers to obtain Bologue's gaze.

Lebius's eyes gradually turned icy. If his guess was correct, the observer is now watching Bologue through his own eyes, sitting under that giant screen, grabbing handfuls of popcorn and stuffing them into his mouth.

Then, everything he says and does will inevitably be observed by the observer...

Lebius knew the observer was a lazy guy, coldly watching worldly affairs for thousands of years without ever taking any proactive action. Even if he knows what's happening now, he would merely view it as an "entertainment" story without any response.

In other words, he is harmless.

No matter how harmless, it can't change his essence as a Devil. Even if he doesn't take any action, this feeling of being spied on and losing privacy still fills Lebius with aversion.

Bologue asked, "Do you know who this person is?"

"Hmm..."

Lebius hesitated for a moment, but still gave a definite answer, "Just like the Plague sect, they are a group of Devil worshipers."

"Just like the Plague sect's persistent pursuit of flesh, they have very distinct characteristics, which are those eye-like cameras."

Lebius narrated the information he had about the observer and his loyal followers.

"Honestly, our Order Bureau doesn't know much about them, only barely know that this group currently calls themselves the 'Crew.'

"Crew?"

This overly modern term confused Palmer, "I thought these Devil worshipers were all like the Plague sect."

"Full of ancient cult overtones?" Lebius shook his head, "Every Devil has different groups of followers, and these groups evolve into different forms based on the Devil they worship."

"The 'Crew's uniqueness lies in that this is just their name in recent years."

Bologue asked, "Are you saying they have many other names throughout history?"

"According to the Order Bureau's records, this group changes with time.

With the rise of the film industry in modern times, their eyes have become like cameras, and they've since called their community a 'Crew.' Within them, there's a clear division of labor - director group, photography group, lighting group, location, props..."

"Sounds like they genuinely want to make movies."

Palmer sighed, after intimate exchanges with the Plague sect for a long time, the "Crew" seemed to be a breath of fresh air among cultists.

"Movies, huh? Something like that."

Lebius continued discussing the past, "Before movies existed, when only words and pictures were conveyed, they viewed themselves as minstrels, and at that time were seen as a poet group.

Now that poets have met their end and movies have risen, they are undergoing a replacement... But it doesn't change their essence, no matter how many names they go through, so in the Order Bureau's official records, we still habitually use that ancient term to call them."

Lebius retrieved that dusty name from memory.

"Unfettered Poetry Society."

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