Endless Debt Chapter 1102 - 119: Blazing Sun at High Noon
Previously on Endless Debt...
Amidst a world shrouded in fog, Aimou urgently fled, carrying Xilin while Geoffrey maintained a protective escort. Ethereal fluctuations and the echoes of unimaginable battles raged behind them.
Aimou’s focus remained absolute, driven by Bologue’s directive to ensure Xilin's escape. This mission, she was resolved to complete, no matter the cost.
"In critical junctures, mutual destruction is preferable to allowing the enemy to triumph."
Bologue’s words resonated in Aimou’s mind, her fists clenching as she glanced at Xilin.
The implication was clear: if she could not safeguard Xilin, she was to obliterate him, body and soul.
"Xilin..." Aimou whispered his name.
It was Xilin Kagader whose ambush had indirectly led to Aimou’s very existence, forging an intricate web of connections between them.
The memory of Teda’s profound hatred for Xilin filled Aimou with a bewildering sense of confusion.
Dwelling on complexities was a luxury Aimou could not afford; the perilous circumstances demanded her undivided attention. Her steel form moved with unflinching precision, tireless as she ran.
A subtle anomaly from her shoulder suddenly registered. Aimou turned to look at Xilin, who appeared unchanged, showing no outward signs of distress.
Just as Aimou dismissed her initial concern, a second anomaly presented itself. Though her synthetic body’s sensory input was diminished, certain fundamental perceptions remained intact.
As she carried Xilin, and he disengaged from the container's confines, Aimou detected a faint warmth radiating from him.
Aimou attempted to speak to Geoffrey, but he was in distress, bleeding from both ears, his hearing severely impaired. The sounds reaching him were reduced to unintelligible mumbles.
This peculiar sensation, Aimou realized, was hers alone to endure.
Against all odds, Aimou struggled to comprehend the strange thoughts that surfaced in her mind.
Could it be... could Xilin still be alive?
Whether it was the crushing pressure or some lingering effect of the Heart-devouring Song inducing phantom sensations, Aimou couldn’t be sure.
Not only did she feel Xilin's warmth, but she also imagined hearing his heartbeat from within. It was as if the container had preserved Xilin in his final moments, but now, freed from its constraints, the powers of the Seeker of Glory were stirring within him.
Lost in the incomprehensible, Aimou wrestled with an almost maddening impulse.
She considered using Heart Overlapping Shadow on Xilin, delving into his psyche to ascertain if any semblance of consciousness remained.
Ultimately, Aimou suppressed the urge, refraining from further thought and recommitting to her sprint. In the very next instant, an even more profound chill swept through her very being.
The ambient temperature plummeted noticeably. The ground beneath their feet developed a thin layer of frost, and tendrils of white mist began to silently coil around Aimou.
Something colossal was approaching.
Aimou turned, glimpsing a shadowy figure cutting through the mist and hurtling towards her. The immense Casket Scythe seemed to grow larger in her vision.
The Reaper had arrived.
A flash of Canyin’s golden light erupted, its radiance failing to pierce the encroaching chill of death. Blood welled in Geoffrey’s eyes as he attempted to challenge the First Seat, but the vast gulf in their power rendered his interference futile.
The Casket Scythe sliced through the air, its piercing cry akin to a chorus of damned souls. Its lethal trajectory directly targeted Aimou and Geoffrey, a final sweep poised to cut them down like mere reeds.
Aimou instinctively reached out, intending to shove Geoffrey clear. Her unique nature, an Alchemy Puppet, meant her thoughts occasionally aligned with Bologue’s, recognizing that as long as her Constant Motion Core remained intact, she could be reconstituted even after severe dismemberment.
Her plan was to use her own body as a shield, but the First Seat moved with blinding speed. Despite Aimou’s rapid consciousness, the lag in her physical response made her sacrifice impossible.
Despair threatened to engulf her, and just as oblivion loomed, a faint surge of Canyin’s golden light flared, accompanied by an intense brilliance and warmth, seemingly intent on banishing all despair and cold.
A miniature sun ignited, vaporizing the surrounding mist in its incandescent fury.
It was then Aimou grasped the truth: this was not Geoffrey’s final, desperate stand. Instead, the previously contained force had seized its moment, coiled like a viper, ready to clamp down and sever the First Seat’s throat in a single, decisive bite.
The First Seat's descending strike halted abruptly. A powerful hand seized the scythe blade, immobilizing the weapon capable of severing life itself. With a crushing grip, the blade fractured, hairline cracks spreading rapidly before crumbling into fine dust.
"Deputy... Deputy Director."
Aimou’s voice trembled with awe, while Geoffrey stood beside her, utterly dumbfounded.
Beneath the lion mask covering his face, a brilliant golden light emanated from Nesanel, a stark contrast to the gloom surrounding them. He positioned himself resolutely between the First Seat and the others. Suddenly, the 'ether flood' characteristic of the Glory Holder Tier unleashed itself without the slightest hint. This intensely concentrated power coalesced into a storm front that bore down on Nesanel. The First Seat felt as if he were under assault from countless swords, brilliant sparks erupting around his body, further tearing apart his already damaged armor. With unsettling sounds, flesh began to regenerate within the gaps of the armor, morphing into grotesque, blood-drenched tumors.