Endless Debt Chapter 1080 - 112: One Among the Multitude (3)

The Shadow King whispered, "He... he perceived it all and orchestrated a rebellion. Eventually, the opportune moment arrived. He convened those of royal blood for a lavish banquet, and during the festivities, he temporarily subdued the Will of the First-Sealed King, reclaimed his own body, and ignited everything."

The Night of Blood.

Gray understood the Shadow King's words. In that instant, the truth behind the Night of Blood became clear, and the real intent behind that chaotic bloodshed was revealed.

"Such a formidable sacrifice."

Gray's frame shuddered uncontrollably. Resorting to extreme measures, severing all ties with the Devil, even if it meant the Empire's downfall.

"The First Seat was aware of the royal secret from the outset and chose to align with the Devil. Meanwhile, I pledged loyalty to the true King, conspiring in this endeavor with him. Alas, the Night of Blood was left incomplete."

"Xilin managed to survive."

Gray murmured. At that moment, the distinction between the King's Secret Sword and the King's Shield Guard became apparent to him.

"Perhaps it was paternal affection, or maybe he couldn't bear it. Xilin was spared, becoming the sole surviving heir. Since then, the First-Sealed King has yearned to reclaim Xilin, to perpetuate himself."

The Shadow King sighed, "We battled, but regrettably, we still failed."

With great effort, the Shadow King lifted his head, aware of a transaction occurring within the Great Rift. The King's Secret Sword was poised to acquire Xilin's remains, intending to transfer his soul into the husk of the Seeker of Glory - an empty vessel - thereby achieving rebirth. Xilin, though referred to as deceased, was not entirely gone. His soul had been extinguished at the conclusion of the secret war, yet his physical form remained intact, a fact known to precious few. The Shadow King lamented his failure to simply decapitate Xilin with a single blow. Who could have foreseen the subsequent events? The Shadow King tried to push these thoughts aside.

"Does this revelation satisfy you?"

Gray's countenance was etched with desolation and despair. From the Shadow King's account, the King's Secret Sword, to whom he had once sworn allegiance, now appeared to be the antagonist, while the King's Shield Guard emerged as the true combatants.

As his mind began to fracture, Gray grasped these revelations. Yet, each time he sought to release them, Milasha's death would flash before his eyes.

Then, what was the significance of Milasha's demise? A minor casualty?

What value did his own actions hold?

Within the suffocating gloom of despair, Gray seemed to attain a profound understanding and made a resolute choice.

"No... it is not yet concluded."

Gray rose and approached the Shadow King, kneeling beside him.

"You still breathe."

Gray's eyes were red-rimmed. "Damn it, I know you're alive! If you endured the secret war, you can find a way to survive through other means!"

The Shadow King faltered for a moment, only to hear Gray continue. "I recognize your identity. This knowledge was acquired through a soul transaction."

Gray's voice was manic. "Naturally, my initial intention was to kill you."

Gray was privy to the Shadow King's true name.

Within the Shadow King's gaunt eyes, a flicker of disbelief appeared.

"To be truthful, I still harbor animosity towards you. This hatred cannot be easily dismissed. However... compared to the grand destiny you face, my grievances and hatred appear minuscule. Indeed, when traced back to their origins, those wretched individuals are the source of all our misery!"

Gray paused, his hand closing around the tarnished Silence Sword. "According to Mammon's plan, this blade was destined to end your existence."

"I do not wish for the Devil to triumph, and I presume you do not wish for those scoundrels to succeed either, correct?"

Rage consumed Gray, transforming him into a reckless fugitive, a furious child.

"Blast it, say something! How can I help you survive and annihilate those villains?!"

Gray's eyes welled up; he refused to perish without significance. He desired to make a difference. "I am incapable, but I know you possess the means!"

He was but a Prayer Believer. Confronting the vast world, Gray's defiance had no impact on the colossal powers at play. Yet, he understood that this dying figure before him possessed the ability to alter everything.

The Shadow King was rendered speechless. Gray seemed so small, yet at this moment, he appeared colossal, like a towering mountain.

For a grander objective, Gray was prepared to relinquish his personal animosity.

"You will perish," the Shadow King stated.

"If my demise could serve as a final obstacle to the Devil's triumph, would not my end hold significance?"

Gray thrust two Secret Swords into the ground before the Shadow King. Gathering every ounce of his resolve, he bellowed, "Tell me, what must I do?"

An inexplicable warmth suffused the Shadow King, akin to an internal inferno within Gray, granting him unimaginable power. This surge supported his near-dissolved form, enabling him to push himself up. He raised a hand, placing it upon Gray’s shoulder.

"I hold a Blessing akin to the First Sealed King's, but mine isn't bound by bloodline; it's tied to the willingness of the other party," the Shadow King stated solemnly. "Only those prepared to make a sacrifice for me will be touched by my Blessing."

"So, the original Second Seat was sacrificed in this manner, in your stead?" Gray questioned, the intricate puzzle of the secret war slowly slotting into place.

"Indeed."

The Shadow King's response was strained, a painful memory he preferred to leave buried.

Leviathan had offered him power, but with the stipulation of future repayment.

Consequently, the secret war had ignited. The Second Seat, aware of his own limitations, had opted for survival through a unique method: soul annihilation while preserving his perfect physical form.

This action had granted the First Sealed King a lifeline, and simultaneously provided him with the means for his own resurgence.

All he needed was to reclaim that form...

"And that is why you refuse to relinquish this crumbling vessel?" Gray finally grasped the Shadow King's unyielding resolve.

This dilapidated body represented more than just the power of the Seeker of Glory; it was also the vessel of his friend, his mentor, and his comrade.

"I demand that you take an oath," Gray commanded, his voice laced with desperation. "I want you to triumph! To defeat them!"

The Shadow King opened his parched mouth, a bloody foam tinging his lips. This was the second solemn oath of his life, sworn upon his very soul.

"I swear it."

Gray knelt on a single knee, grappling with profound pain, yet experiencing a rare sliver of joy.

"I pledge my allegiance to you, King Xilin."

...

Initially, Gray was engulfed by an unbearable agony, as if being torn apart in a relentless grinder. Every fiber of his being, every single cell, screamed in torment—a reflection of the suffering endured continuously by the other.

His vision slowly sharpened, and Gray perceived a familiar figure, its back turned to him.

It was his own likeness, yet within that shell, a completely different soul resided.

He unleashed the Blood Transfer Sword, cleaving the air with a crimson cross.

The fabric of space fractured, manifesting numerous rifts. The edges of these ruptures warped spatial perception, resembling a meticulously organized tangle of countless lines. Almost instantaneously, arcs of energy and streams of blood erupted from the rift's borders, appearing to pour endless currents and vital fluid from each fissure.

He cast one last glance at Gray, offering a gentle nod before turning and stepping into the Cross Sword Light. The fractured space began to mend, gradually sealing until it vanished entirely.

Within the dim, silent void, only Gray remained, ensnared within this perishing body. Despite the extreme suffering, Gray found himself enveloped in an inexplicable serenity.

Gray understood; he was destined to become one among the countless, a silent victor in the grand war.

One solitary soul in a sea of many.

With this realization, Gray felt his existence held meaning, including Milasha's involvement. A profound sense of fulfillment washed over him, assuaging all his internal anguish.

Gray closed his eyes. Above, rocks rained down, the First Seat let out a piercing shriek, and the Skull Scythe descended, carving through all existence. Terrifying mastication sounds echoed amidst the pervasive dust.

The First Seat's form gradually materialized, wiping a viscous, pus-like blood from the corner of his mouth. The sensation of devouring his adversary filled him with an unparalleled sense of gratification.

Leaning on the Great Scythe for support, the First Seat then affixed the "Shadow King's" head to the scythe's blade as a grotesque trophy. Just as he reveled in the enemy’s demise, he noticed a subtle smile of contentment gracing the near-mummified visage.

The First Seat remained bewildered; he had never fathomed his brother's thoughts, much like he couldn't comprehend why his brother had refused immortality when offered.

But, mercifully, it was all over, he mused internally.