Endless Debt Chapter 1054 - 104: Pacifist_3

The tragic death of his companion, the desperate situation; Jessey chose to embrace death, turning into a cold corpse in a pool of blood.

Bologue guessed that until the moment of his death, Jessey was still cursing him.

The ground trembled, waves of Ether reactions continuously rose in the distance, the flames of war gradually spreading to the Fog Abyss Fortress, even reaching the wanderer’s crossroads and engulfing most of the Great Rift.

This was a battle of purification; under the strict seal of the Order Bureau, citizens would only see strange lights rolling in the Sea of Mist. To them, the spectacular lights had long been taken for granted. Except for newcomers who might pause briefly, no one paid attention to the scene within the Sea of Mist, nor did anyone realize how thinly they were separated from the Extraordinary war.

Blood dripped from Bologue’s fingertips as he walked, asking.

"Do you think I’m a pervert, Palmer?"

"Sometimes," Palmer confirmed, "Luckily you’re an Order Bureau staff member; if you were outside, you might become a homicidal maniac."

"Do you think my violence is a hobby?"

"Isn’t it?"

Bologue was silent for a moment; he couldn’t deny it. He indeed enjoyed inflicting brutal behavior upon enemies.

Bologue had a savior spirit, but unlike the noble savior under universal values, Bologue leaned more towards the punitive side.

He couldn’t help but argue, "I’m just very serious about my work."

"Then you’re a bit too serious."

Palmer didn’t sympathize with the enemies; that was a child’s idea. He only felt a little disgusted and questioned Bologue’s mental state.

With Bologue’s help, Palmer often watched some heavy-taste low-budget movies, feeling nothing inside. Compared to these artistic films, Palmer had seen real knives and guns at work.

"Well... speaking of which, you might not believe it, Palmer."

"Not believe what?"

Palmer and Bologue answered each other; this was often their style of action, seemingly chatting in terrible situations to pass time and alleviate stress.

It could be said that the more idle talk between them, the greater the stress. Under normal circumstances, Bologue would efficiently complete tasks and head home.

"Actually, I’m a pacifist."

Bologue stopped, turned to Palmer, and said seriously.

Palmer was expressionless, "That joke is really cold."

"No, I’m serious, Palmer. I’ve read many books lately, and I’ve discovered I’m quite like pacifists described in them." Bologue continued walking.

"If you’re a pacifist, then what’s the Devil? An Angel?" Palmer shook his head, "That’s too ironic."

"No... I just think there’re many ways to achieve peace, and violence is undoubtedly one of them."

Bologue repeated his answer, "Violence breeds peace."

Palmer didn’t know what to say, while Bologue continued his twisted reasoning.

"As long as all other violence is completely destroyed, becoming the sole, most formidable violence, then absolute violence also represents absolute peace, doesn’t it?"

Bologue became somewhat excited, muttering to himself, "Everyone daring to disrupt order shall face severe punishment of violence."

Palmer commented, "Sounds like a terrifying dictator."

"I think so too," Bologue replied with a smile, "I also know this sort of thing is too idealistic."

"Nothing can be absolute, like justice and evil," Palmer quickly added, "The Devil is certainly evil."

"The Devil?" Bologue thought for a moment, "They’re more like a mass of chaotic forms."

The dark umbilical cord at his abdomen gradually solidified; Bologue knew he was growing closer to the Shadow King, feeling a certain excitement.

Palmer asked, "Do you think you’ll become a terrifying dictator?"

"I don’t know," Bologue shook his head, "I don’t even know what kind of person I truly am."

Bologue halted, raised his hand to stop Palmer; the time for idle chatter was over. The roaring of engines approached from afar, the two exchanged a glance, and the next second, the stones beneath their feet collapsed and shattered.

After the billowing smoke, Bologue and Palmer fell into an interior courtyard; the space was large, but everywhere lay collapsed rubble. Several huge rifts traversed the building, seemingly resulting from Bologue’s full-force strike last time.

Like toppling dominoes, Bologue only needed to destroy the crucial parts of the building, and then it would collapse under its gravity.

The surrounding noise became clear.

Bologue gripped the Sword Axe tightly, vigilant, and after the dust settled, a nightmare-like monster appeared before him.

It was a grotesque creature pieced together from various mechanical parts and ghastly limbs, its surface tangled with a cable network that appeared twisted yet filled with an industrial sense. The cables’ surfaces were covered with hideous gears and bayonets, resembling a bloody, juicy circuit diagram.

Bologue guessed these cables were the monster’s nerve center, transmitting energy through massive machinery. Within the monster’s bones and muscles grew numerous mechanical attachments and parts, seemingly made of rare metals, shimmering with strange light, transforming the entire monster into a colossal fusion of flesh and machinery.

What truly made Bologue uneasy and excited was the slight sting he felt in the air, as if corrosive gas permeated the area.

Behind the flesh monster, countless personnel in Protective Clothing bustled; they seemed to be calibrating something. On the outer perimeter stood fully armed Shield Guards, among whom Bologue saw the hateful face.

"Morrison!"

Palmer’s roar rang out first; the previously relaxed chatting Palmer suddenly raged, squeezing the trigger, shooting at Morrison.

The Alchemy Warhead drew a fatal trajectory, but with Morrison’s timely dodge, it left only pits on the metal plates.

As Morrison was surprised at the deep invasion of enemies, Bologue also felt quite astonished.

Bologue hadn’t found the Shadow King, but he guessed he found what the King’s Shield Guard had been scheming.

The massive flesh construct exuded a deep, thick sense of doom.