Endless Debt Chapter 1034 - 98: The Final Moment

The operation began faster than Bologue had anticipated. Just the day after Bologue informed Palmer of his intention to join the Suicide Squad, a phone call from Geoffrey awoke him. The matter was urgent, and by the crack of dawn, Bologue and Palmer were already fully armed and aboard the subway.

Inside the Order Bureau’s exclusive armed subway, the swaying car was occupied only by Bologue and Palmer. The atmosphere was somewhat quiet as both were busy checking their weapons to ensure they were in peak condition.

Palmer first polished his Storm Feather, an alchemy armament from Fuen, which was currently his primary weapon. Next was the revolver named Thunderclap that had been with Palmer for a long time, complemented by expensive alchemy warheads.

In the past, to save on expenses, Palmer would only carry a small number of alchemy warheads. However, this time, he seemed to empty his pockets, carrying only deadly alchemy warheads.

Aside from these two regular weapons, Palmer had something new— a tourniquet on his wrist, which looked somewhat worn out, exuding a lingering scent, like a mix of blood and disinfectant.

A dice pendant was attached to the tourniquet.

Since visiting the Joyful Garden, Bologue had been averse to such things, but Palmer couldn’t get enough of them.

"Punk decoration?" Bologue asked, knowing Palmer’s penchant for such niche items.

"No, it’s a Contract Object," Palmer replied nonchalantly.

Bologue gave Palmer an extra glance.

"Distributed by the Order Bureau. I’ve seen it on the list for a long time, but I didn’t have enough merit to apply for it back then. Later... I felt there was no need, until now."

"What’s its ability?"

"Very simple. Roll the dice, and it distorts reality according to the value rolled. The higher the number, the luckier; the lower the number, the unluckier."

Palmer raised his hand, shaking the dice before Bologue, "This thing suits my Blessing well."

"You’re a thoroughbred gambler now," Bologue commented simply, not giving much opinion on Palmer or the Contract Object.

"We’re all gamblers, putting our lives on the line, only nobody admits it," Palmer muttered, "For some supposed dignity... like in gangster movies, killing is just killing, making it elegant is just pretentious."

Bologue felt that Palmer had matured a lot through this experience.

He said softly, "Either win or lose."

"I will keep winning," Palmer insisted.

"You’ll have a day when you lose everything."

"The day I lose is the day I die. I know it well... everyone has a death day," Palmer covered the tourniquet with his sleeve, concealing the dice, "But you won’t die. Even if you lose, it’s only temporary. You’ll win it back."

"But losing doesn’t feel good," Bologue nodded, "Let’s hope we keep winning."

The tremor of the carriage subsided, and they reached their destination. The casual atmosphere completely faded away, and they tensed up entirely.

Palmer instinctively placed his hand on the grip of his gun at his waist, maintaining high alert, ready to draw his revolver or throw a flying knife in case of emergency.

Bologue did the same, one hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist, the other lightly resting on the axe handle protruding from behind.

Eternal Bite emitted a cold metallic chill, while the wooden handle of the Hand Axe gave off an eerie warmth, as if a fire quietly burned, waiting to be soaked in blood.

The murky air of the Great Rift filled his nostrils, and Bologue thought, soon the space would be heavy with the scent of blood.

A few minutes later, Bologue and Palmer arrived at the meeting point.

Bologue suspected he had gone to the wrong place.

Fog billowed around, rusty aerial corridors vaguely visible. This place, meant to have a decayed and lifeless atmosphere, unexpectedly had a red carpet laid on the desolate, muddy ground.

Tables covered with white cloth sat on the red carpet, topped with desserts, wine, and burning candelabras.

Bologue wondered if he was here to fight or attend an open-air banquet.

Looking around, others were already present, making Bologue and Palmer appear late.

Off to the side of the open-air banquet stood a group prepared for battle, incongruous and ready for action. Bologue first saw Lebius and Geoffrey, then he noticed a man in red light armor with a smile on his face, holding a goblet.

Everyone was in a battle-ready posture except him, who, despite wearing armor, behaved whimsically as though intoxicated. It was a private party for him. It was Bologue’s first time seeing this stranger, but he instantly recognized him by his back.

The Sixth Seat: Red Dog.

Red Dog seemed to notice something, turned his head, and saw Bologue and Palmer. After a brief glance, he happily raised his glass, "I remember those two faces, they’re your team members, right?"

Lebius did not respond.

Bologue was aware of the animosity between Lebius and Red Dog, surprised by Lebius’s calm demeanor. But recalling their conversation on the street, Bologue thought that Lebius’s current composure was instead indicative of an approaching storm.