Belphegor fell silent; he did not recount the part about the corruption of the Unfettered Poetry Society, merely watching the screen in silence. Bologue did not inquire further but rather watched the film with him.

Watching a movie with the Devil.

Bologue had done this before; previously, he even played chess with an Astronaut. Who knows what will happen next? Playing board games with the Devil?

Thinking about it, his experiences were indeed extraordinarily peculiar, and it was no surprise that Belphegor longed to see through his eyes and share in his life.

What Bologue did not expect was that the mysterious Unfettered Poetry Society had long been corrupted, slipping from Belphegor's control, causing Belphegor's ideals, the plan known as the Endless Poems, to fall apart.

The gray-white light illuminated the faces of Bologue and Belphegor, and in the dim environment, the two resembled marble statues.

Bologue asked, "Will this movie be long?"

Belphegor answered, "Its filming spans millennia and even now it hasn't concluded."

"Sounds really long."

Bologue peeled back his cuff to check the time.

"Do you have something to do later?"

Belphegor asked in a relaxed tone, almost like friends chatting.

"Of course I have something to do; today is a workday."

Bologue tugged at his badge hanging on his chest, showing his photo and brief personal information.

"Oh? No worries, I've already taken care of your leave."

Belphegor smiled, and looking at Belphegor's Palmer-like face, Bologue increasingly felt Belphegor resembled Palmer. Palmer had previously tidied up the living room and prepared snacks and drinks just to recommend a film, like an enthusiastic pup.

Bologue realized that Belphegor and Palmer weren't alike; they merely expressed their enthusiasm similarly.

The cinema fell silent, and the image on the screen began to change. Poets gathered yearly in different places to establish a community for fourteen days, the first seven for sharing poetry with each other, and the latter seven for sharing their views and experiences with visitors.

Year after year.

Bologue had already guessed; these poets were probably the original Unfettered Poetry Society, and the visitor naturally was Belphegor.

In this black-and-white world, Belphegor bore all the beautiful stories, carrying the singular color.

Suddenly, a crisp bird song echoed in the silent cinema, followed by even more raucous sounds, as if someone who had lost their hearing was hearing the low hum of the world again; the melody surged like a tide, filling the ear canals.

It was then that Bologue realized the previous film was silent, like a silent movie, and as the era within the film changed, the black-and-white blurred images gradually became clearer, and the movie had added score, becoming increasingly brilliant.

If one forgets the bizarre, rabid existence of the Devil, in Bologue's eyes, the Unfettered Poetry Society should be the most romantic organization he had ever seen, but soon he recalled Serey's description of the Unfettered Poetry Society.

They were a group of lunatics driven mad by poetry, burning villages, overthrowing castles, reveling in the agony of countless people.

"Corruption."

Subtitles emerged on the film.

"Humanity will decay and grow old with the passing of time, staunch wills will become lost and turbid, even the sturdiest rocks will turn to dust, and mountains will crumble, let alone the dry, cracking oceans..."

In another year's gathering, poets had their first disagreements, glaring at each other and hurling accusations, sounds blaring with a blurred texture, giving a dramatic distant illusion.

The visitor sat silently in the corner; some poets surrounded him, recounting the year's experiences to him, while others stood at a distance, not approaching.

As time passed, the disagreements among poets grew larger, to the point where they began to attack each other, and the annual gatherings began to break down, eventually occurring only once every five or ten years.

The visitor always observed, never intervening, regardless of what happened between the poets, seeming indifferent until, when they poured their hearts out to him, he would exhibit a slight reaction.

Belphegor was idle and lazy, unique among Devils...among many special Devils, he was the most peculiar and innocuous.

He merely watched, observing, refraining from engaging in any disputes, letting changes in the world unfold.

The poets never disappointed Belphegor; they still adhered to the same ideal, purging discordant voices from the Unfettered Poetry Society, re-purifying it.

Then once more, they corrupted.

History always repeats itself. Belphegor's disregard is perhaps due to his familiarity with all this; he understands that humans are fragile, not to mention their so-called ideals.

They will invariably decay. The factions that split still believe in Belphegor, but they have become more extreme, setting wildfires in the wilderness, bringing death to the towns they pass by, composing new poems in the midst of blood and lament.

Belphegor did not refuse.

Suffering, tragedy, death... These too are parts of the Endless Poems.

As eras changed, the power of the Unfettered Poetry Society grew stronger, new entities constantly emerged, and this time the vocabulary for poets expanded.

Similarly, the meaning of poetry was no longer confined to rhythmic words; all crystallizations of human art fell into Belphegor's yearning.

With the progress of civilization and technology, Belphegor's collection grew ever larger, the variety became immense.

From ancient ballads to grand symphonies, from brief verses to lengthy epics, books no longer simply expounded thoughts or recorded history; they bore human imagination, writing stories of those fantasies.

Even to the birth of the first science fiction novel.

"I've witnessed many souls; hers is undoubtedly the brightest."

A deep male voice resounded, his words appearing alongside subtitles. Though the voice was unfamiliar, Bologue knew it was Belphegor's voice.

This film is a documentary; it not only records the development of the Unfettered Poetry Society but also Belphegor's pursuit of ideals.

It can be said to document Belphegor's entire life.

In the picture, a woman's face gradually emerged, then vanished into smoke.

Bologue knew about the birth of the first science fiction novel; he had seen it in Palmer's collection when Palmer introduced him excitedly to the novel titled "Frankenstein."

Palmer uncertainly said, "The protagonist of this book is like you, also considered... Resurrection?"

That book's birth was already a century ago when industrial technology was just beginning to emerge. Hence, Bologue could deduce the historical progress of the film.

Bologue felt somewhat anxious; he knew what was about to happen next, the film's melody became oppressive and deep; the Devil's dispute was about to begin, heralding the Dawn War.

War began.

The poets delved into the battlefield. These folks who usually did nothing but play the lute and recite poetry wielded swords more fiercely than their enemies; they did not belong to any side, merely wishing to witness the course of the war, delivering this cruel chapter to Belphegor.

Bologue carefully watched every upcoming scene, borrowing Belphegor's assistance to glimpse into the past.

Clouds overshadowing the blazing sun, gales roaring across the land, countless people slaughtering each other, castles rising and falling again...

Countless images intertwined, flashed, and spliced together; this montage technique lasted for over ten minutes, the mixed imagery made Bologue dizzy, the music transitioned from melodious symphony to authentic narrative sounds.

Screams, cries, the humming of swords, the discharge of firearms...

All melded with a metallic roughness, feeling like sharp grains rubbing against the eardrums.

Bologue's expression trembled, became pained, as if attending a frenzied heavy metal concert, amidst the mixed images, a vague figure appeared at the center of the screen, standing firm regardless of the surrounding scene's changes.

The camera began zooming in, and that vague figure gradually became clear. From his appearance, he seemed slightly thin and was not Serey. In Belphegor's depicted scenes, his figure, like Serey's, permeated through the entirety of the Dawn War.

Bologue was about to clearly see that person's face when suddenly, the image turned entirely white, the intense light stung Bologue's eyes, flooding them with tears.

Shielding his eyes, Bologue felt as if facing the scorching sun directly, while beside him, Belphegor was wearing sunglasses from who knows where, laughing heartily.

"This is the beginning of the corruption, Mr. Lazarus!"

Belphegor cheered, waving his hands wildly.

After the intense light, the castle was abandoned, overgrown with weeds, and later became a bustling tourist spot overnight; emerging technology engulfed humanity like a flood, internal combustion engines roared, railway tracks extended into no-man's land.

"Nothing is eternal."

Belphegor lamented, in the scene, poets walked into a shabby little shack. As the projector started, light beamed onto the wall.

The train rumbled in the light; it headed towards the poets as if intending to smash through the wall, along with the poets and that bygone era.

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