Endless Debt Chapter 1032 - 97: Preparations for Battle (Part 3)

The clothes worn under the black robe had long since become tattered, like ruins eroded by the passage of time, flesh resembling a corpse buried deep beneath the earth, unseen by sunlight for decades, the dim luster exuding a sense of despairing decay.

"I’m running out of time, old friend."

The Second Seat reached out, touching the Iron Armor of the Third Seat.

His nails were dry like deadwood, devoid of life, defeated in the endless struggle against time.

The Second Seat’s hand passed through the Iron Armor.

No, it was the closed Iron Armor that had opened up.

Bologue destroyed one Silver Knight after another, yet had never seen the true form of the Third Seat... Many had never seen the true form of the Third Seat.

Before the secret war began, the Third Seat was an extremely mysterious presence in the King’s Secret Sword, always appearing in the form of a Domination Object to hide the existence of his true form.

Few knew his true appearance, let alone more detailed information. The only thing that could be disclosed was that the Third Seat was not only a Defender of the Commanding School, but also had considerable achievements in Alchemy, being an Alchemist capable of creating Domination Objects for himself.

Since the split, most of the Alchemy Armaments used by the King’s Shield Guard were personally crafted by the Third Seat, and the Silver Knights he commanded now were the same.

The Chest Armor cracked open to the sides, revealing the existence wrapped underneath.

The Second Seat looked at him with pity.

That thing occupied all the space within the Chest Armor, it was a rotund ball of flesh, skin dark and moist, surface pitted with hollows filled with morbid filth and an indescribable stench, like rotting chunks of flesh bound together, diseased cells proliferating, forming patches of dark blotches, repulsive to behold.

In the compressed mass of flesh, only a single bloodshot eye could be seen, a black hole beneath the monocular eye, slightly expanding and closing with the rise and fall of the flesh ball, perhaps that was his nose.

The Second Seat could not see his ears; they must have been squashed by the bloated flesh, a large and grotesque mouth hung below the monocular eye and nose.

The large mouth was full of folds and ulcerated wounds, seemingly on the verge of rupturing. His mouth appeared created not for speaking, but for devouring all.

The Second Seat stood in front of him, dense gears-like teeth visible within his mouth, like an old-style large industrial machine, ready to crush whatever it consumed.

Most repulsively, his body secreted a strange, viscous liquid, reminiscent of the fluid from crushed venomous snakes or insects.

The Second Seat was not unfamiliar with this, sometimes in his memory, there would be some grotesque buds growing, crawling, entangled on his body, disgusting the nerves.

He was a pitiable being abandoned by life, his entire body appearing like a repugnant sirocco.

A cursed life.

A monster.

A freak rejected by fate.

"Old friend..." The Second Seat whispered.

Others would detest and loathe him, but the Second Seat would not, in times of despair, only this twisted, evil flesh ball accompanied his side; to the Second Seat, he was a holy angel.

Except for the very few in the King’s Secret Sword, no one knew the past of the Third Seat. He was a naturally born freak, abandoned by his mother and later tormented by Alchemists.

In an action, the Second Seat saved his life, back then his limbs had not yet degenerated into this form, he said he would repay him.

The Second Seat did not care, who would expect anything from a freak who couldn’t even walk normally?

Until he miraculously endured the implantation of the Alchemy Matrix, until he continued to ascend, becoming a powerful Defender with this twisted body.

Until he chose to betray alongside him, enduring this long suffering.

"My liege..."

The Third Seat addressed the Second Seat respectively, his monocular eye seemingly gazing into the distance, as if reminiscing about the fragments of life, yet also as if lost by years, unable to find his coordinates.

"Your current appearance is truly ugly," the Third Seat commented, "like a decayed carcass fallen into the Abyss, mentally deranged, every cell filled with deathly aura."

"I once thought we would remain hiding here until death, after all, you always had that silent demeanor, like a withered tree."

Always occupying one’s own territory, time withered away, while the Shadow King was like an ancient tree shriveled, until faded and worn by time, standing in a corner of harsh winds."

"Do you feel disappointed in me?" The Second Seat asked.

"No," the Third Seat said, "it’s fine, if it is to enjoy life’s final tranquility, I’d be willing to waste away the last moments with you here, but if you say... if you say you yearn for war, to reclaim what was once yours."

Clanging iron interrupted their conversation once more, another Armor emerged from the darkness, its coating absolute black, only a slight etheric glow indicating it was commanded by the Third Seat.

"My liege, I have prepared your Armor and Sword."

The Armor stopped, it half-knelt, its back cracking open, inside blank, threaded with cables and infusion lines, densely arranged needles, as though waiting for someone to don it.