Endless Debt Chapter 1070 - 109: Land of the Death Duel (Part 3)

After enduring countless barrages from the white mist, the inferno's intensity waned, and the Shadow King finally managed to push back the persistent, encroaching force.

A spark of unwavering resolve ignited within the Shadow King's eyes. His decision was made; he would no longer sidestep this confrontation. The flame-forged sword in his grasp hummed with a sharp, resonant tone as its blade slowly darkened and grew weighty.

Guttural, mechanical noises emanated from beneath his obsidian-like armor. As embedded needles drove into his desiccated form, a vast quantity of Mang Silver Souls was infused. Concurrently, his unhealing wounds were replenished with crimson Philosopher’s Stones, granting him the freedom to draw upon Ether at will.

These Philosopher’s Stones and Mang Silver Souls, acquired through his dealings with Mammon, had been meticulously reserved for this ultimate confrontation.

Under his command, the amassed Ether exploded outward, unleashing a blinding torrent of fire. The heat became so concentrated that it resembled a searing crimson line, annihilating all that lay in its path.

In that precise moment, all the white mist turned as brittle as glass, shattering into an infinite number of tiny fragments.

The First Seat let out an unearthly, peculiar wail as he brandished the Great Scythe. The burgeoning Sea of Mist ascended and writhed, coalescing into spectral forms that assembled into a destructive legion, advancing relentlessly toward the core of the white mist.

The Shadow King observed myriad bone-white mists intertwining, the coalescing energy forming a colossal serpent-like entity. This entity instantly compressed the central mass of white mist into a confined area, akin to a viper's strike.

During this intense compression, the Power of Destruction was amplified exponentially, causing the very air to feel as though it were being rent asunder. Following this, an intensely pure stream of fire erupted once more from the blade, like oceanic waves scouring away sand, beginning to cleanse the surrounding white mist.

The Shadow King strode forward with immense purpose, jets of steam expelling from his back as several depleted canisters were jettisoned, crashing onto the ground.

The Shadow King was acutely aware of the nature of his adversary—a being of cold-blooded malevolence, imbued with arrogance yet tempered by caution and vigilance.

Rather than engaging in direct combat, the First Seat persistently sought to exhaust him. The Shadow King suspected the First Seat harbored fear—a fear that perhaps, over the many years spent at the Great Rift, he might have bartered with Mammon for some unfathomable power.

Indeed, the First Seat possessed profound understanding of the Devil’s terrifying might, for he himself housed the very power of the Devil, a servant to that certain lady.

"What is it you fear!" the Shadow King challenged, his voice ringing out. "I am not like you!"

The First Seat remained impassive, his pair of eyes, devoid of warmth, scrutinizing the Shadow King from the shadowed depths beneath his hood.

The Shadow King had undergone a transformation.

The First Seat mused internally; he knew his brother's disposition intimately. However, ever since the secret war concluded, an event where he had ambushed him, the First Seat had detected something amiss—the Shadow King had become peculiar, no longer the familiar blood relative he once knew.

Ah well, what did it truly matter? All beings were in a perpetual state of flux, evolving like him, like... himself.

The Shadow King’s advance triggered a cascade of extraordinary phenomena. As if unleashing his absolute might, an immense volume of Ether gathered at the sword's apex, the concentrated energy resembling a miniature sun, immolating any white mist that dared to approach.

With every indrawn breath, the flames pulsed rhythmically, an inevitable decay, each wave surpassing the last in magnitude, ultimately eradicating all traces of the white mist.

In the very instant of this fiery incineration, the Shadow King reached the First Seat.

The Blazing Fire Sword was elevated high, and the skull-emblazoned Great Scythe swung in a lethal, arcing motion.

A resounding detonation followed, unleashing a power far exceeding previous displays. The clash between these Seekers of Glory unleashed Etheric devastation that the Material Realm could scarcely contain, initiating the very disintegration of this pocket of reality.

Numerous environmental shifts occurred within the densely packed Ether: gases coalesced into nascent clouds, brilliant bolts of lightning pierced the sky, and ceaseless, thunderous roars echoed, as if the entire world were being violently torn apart.

The thundering seismic waves radiated outward, causing the Fog Abyss Fortress to crumble entirely, the encompassing cliff face beginning to disintegrate. This earthquake rapidly propagated into the surrounding outlying territories.

The Fourth Seat, still engaged in his own struggle, perceived the approaching shockwave. It was swiftly followed by ripples of Ether that swept over a vast multitude, even agitating the Sea of Mist itself.

The Great Rift shuddered ceaselessly; even the peripheral Lebius and Red Dog registered the anomaly. Then, streams of high-velocity airflow erupted, supporting towering, enduring pillars of atmospheric pressure.

The concussive wave surged towards the outer urban sectors of the Great Rift, causing colossal structures to sway ominously. Amidst the panicked screams of the inhabitants, fissures began to spiderweb across the surfaces of walls.

The tremors initiated even more profound calamities, leading to the consecutive ruptures of fire hydrants and geysers of water erupting. Following a brief interlude, the subterranean gas conduits, affected by the Ethereal Shock, underwent a subtle distortion of reality, triggering a cascade of explosions.

Disaster struck with suddenness as intense heat billowed forth from the Great Rift. Shockwaves toppled street vehicles and sent countless citizens sprawling, while the superheated air, laden with ash, permeated the surroundings. Some unfortunate souls clutched their throats desperately, gasping for breath.

The formidable power of the Seekers of Glory coalesced into an overwhelming tide, sweeping over the entire combat zone and reducing everything to cinders.

Amidst the relentless devastation, Bologue strained to open his eyes. After a short respite, he found himself resurrected once more. Pushing away the heavy slab that had pinned him, he experienced a fleeting moment of bewilderment. Then, amid the resounding quakes, he fled outward without a backward glance.

This is a conspiracy! Bologue almost cried out.

There exists no absolute justice or evil, merely standpoints dictated by self-interest.

After carefully evaluating the potential gains and losses, the Shadow King opted to ally with Bologue. He intended to utilize Bologue's Undying Body to escort him away from the battlefield, tasked with delivering the critical intelligence regarding the First Seat's emergence to the Order Bureau.

The prospect of perishing at the hands of the First Seat was far more unbearable than being eliminated by the Order Bureau itself.

Bologue commanded the descending massive stones, his steps echoing over the rubble. By this point, the Fog Abyss Fortress had utterly vanished, leaving behind only the colossal, partially collapsed remnants.

The King’s Secret Sword could not be entirely relied upon, as evidenced by the First Seat's clandestine infiltration. Who could truly ascertain his intentions after he potentially eliminated the Shadow King?

Bologue considered his options—appropriating Xilin’s corpse would achieve multiple objectives simultaneously. It was even plausible that the King’s Secret Sword still possessed the capacity to inflict a certain degree of harm upon Oubos.

Wild notions flooded Bologue's mind. Disregarding his depleted Ether, he frantically sprinted towards the edge of the ruins.

The Fourth Seat dispatched the final Silver Knight. The shattered Alchemy Puppet tumbled into the Sea of Mist, vanishing without a trace.

Sensing the heart-pounding Ethereal Fluctuation from a distance, the Fourth Seat cast his gaze towards the Silent Ones, who had now attained the Defender Tier.

"Shall we proceed?" the Fourth Seat inquired.

The Silent One paused momentarily. Clearly, the First Seat's sudden appearance had also been beyond his expectations.

A swirl of mist enveloped him, and the Silent One’s presence dissipated from the battlefield. Witnessing this, the Fourth Seat exhaled a sigh of relief. Mammon was indeed a shrewd Devil, adept at maximizing his advantages.

The Shadow King could no longer survive. Mammon's wager had failed. His sole recourse now was to cease all interference with the King’s Secret Sword, allowing them and the Order Bureau to engage in a battle to the bitter end.

Time flowed onward, days turned into nights, and the familiar patterns of the past replayed themselves once again in this very moment.