Endless Debt Chapter 1105 - 119: Blazing Sun, Daylight_4

Against Aimou’s accusations, Aimou tried to pay her no mind, telling herself that Alice was long gone, merely a figment of her imagination.

The chaotic visions dissipated, yet her senses began to warp gradually.

Aimou remained uncertain if this was due to the Sword of Confession's influence, but she started to perceive Xilin's heartbeat with increasing clarity. However, upon placing her hand on Xilin's body, Aimou could detect no pulse.

It seemed as though the body existed in a liminal state between life and death, requiring an external force to definitively determine its condition.

Aimou had no idea what such a force might be; her sole impulse was to flee, but the swirling white mist behind her pursued like an relentless tide.

Within this profoundly malevolent atmosphere, the white mist thickened, transforming into a vast, churning mass that enveloped the entire vicinity, creating a barrier akin to a dimensional separation, isolating everything within from the outside world.

In this world cut off from reality, the Confession Song's melody grew ever more powerful. Accompanied by the singer's cheerful tune, monstrous entities emerged from the mist – rulers of the abyss, possessed of furious tempers and boundless malice, emitting nonsensical, discordant cries that further eroded sanity under layers of mounting fear.

"Aimou!"

A ghastly visage materialized from the shadows, shouting at her.

"You've ruined everything... you selfish wretch, it was I who gave you life..."

Aimou recognized the foul, blood-splattered figure lunging towards her, vowing to pull her into the grave.

The overwhelming pressure fractured Aimou's mind; almost unconsciously, her escape faltered, and she froze as the rolling mist drew nearer.

"Wake up!"

Geoffrey shook Aimou vigorously. As a user of Negative Power, his resilience was undoubtedly superior to Aimou's. Aimou, disoriented for several moments, narrowly broke free from the hallucination.

Her mind in disarray, her nerves dulled, she stumbled forward. However, after only a few steps, Aimou realized Geoffrey had vanished. Turning her head, she saw him standing there, tears streaming down his face.

Aimou could not fathom what he was witnessing, perhaps something profoundly moving that had halted him. Aimou's consciousness grew increasingly hazy, struggling to think coherently, feeling like merely an ant-like Prayer Believer on the battlefield of the Seeker of Glory.

"Aimou?"

Another voice called out to her. Instinctively, Aimou turned her head, and there she saw a figure that brought her a sense of peace.

"Bo... Bologue?"

Aimou felt a surge of joy; seeing Bologue there was a miracle. She hastened towards him, but suddenly, Bologue's face contorted into a snarl, like a ravenous beast. He raised his hands and gripped Aimou's neck.

"You betrayed me!"

The sensation of being strangled overwhelmed Aimou's mind; she was on the verge of tears, whispering, "I'm sorry..."

"You let me down!"

The constricting force intensified, as if her spirit and body were on the verge of separation, inflicting excruciating, distorted pain.

Aimou felt as though she had plunged into true damnation, first Bologue, then Teda, Alice, and countless others.

They all extended their hands, eager to tear Aimou apart amidst a barrage of curses and accusations. In this nightmarish, malevolent climate, countless spirits lay dormant within the mist – spectral apparitions that would drift closer or vanish abruptly with the mist's ebb and flow.

Aimou felt her soul eroding, bordering on utter desolation.

"Aimou!"

A powerful roar silenced all the surrounding clamor, causing even the phantoms tormenting Aimou to dissipate. A figure then charged from the mist, bound in chains, wielding both a sword and an axe.

"Bologue?" Aimou was momentarily bewildered. "Is it really you?"

"It's me!"

Bologue confirmed as he swung the chain, which coiled around the dazed Geoffrey, dragging him closer. Having been subjected to the Heart-devouring Song and the Confession Song consecutively, Geoffrey's spirit, much like Aimou's, was on the brink of shattering.

"You can confirm it."

Bologue grasped Aimou's hand, urging her, "Heart Overlapping Shadow."

Their palms met. In that desolate realm, Aimou sensed another consciousness. Faced with the resonance of that soul, Aimou felt like a parched traveler finally encountering a pristine lake, relief washing over her.

"It's truly you!"

Were Xilin not slung over his back, Aimou would have gladly embraced Bologue. However, this was hardly the opportune moment for such an embrace.

Bologue cast a glance back towards the area where the Seekers of Glory were engaged in battle. Reality itself had utterly disintegrated there, replaced by unimaginable horrors. To locate Aimou, Bologue had traversed a vast expanse, carefully navigating around the conflict's periphery.

"We must leave. We need to get out of here, immediately."

With Geoffrey hoisted up, Bologue declared as he delegated the rest to the Deputy Director. Their continued presence here felt utterly pointless.

"Alright," Aimou stated, seeming to have finally found his courage.

Just as they were about to proceed, a deep rumbling vibration emanated from behind them. It was as if the very heavens were parting, the dense fog dispersing like smoke, revealing a path straight upwards. A faint sun could be seen, streaks of its light falling through the dissipating mist.

Bathed in that sunlight, Bologue caught sight of Nesanel's indistinct form. He was half-kneeling within a massive crater, a thin sword wound marring his chest, with residual flames still licking at his body.

Carried on a powerful gust of wind, Bologue perceived the arrival of the First Seat. Even as Bologue’s eyes traced his movement, the First Seat had already materialized before him.

The overpowering stench of blood assaulted Bologue’s senses. He struggled to comprehend how the First Seat was still alive.

His left arm, his left leg... the entirety of the First Seat’s left side appeared as though it had been savagely ripped apart by some colossal claw. It was entirely gone, exposing stark white bone and entrails that spilled out like morbid garlands.

Upon the blood-drenched surfaces of the wounds, most of the flesh had become blackened and carbonized. Countless granulation tissues writhed and squirmed, resembling a swarm of writhing maggots. Bologue recognized this specific type of flesh; he had observed it on the Immortal Heart.

"Fresh blood!"

The First Seat let out a spectral howl. The hood that had perpetually obscured his face was now completely incinerated, revealing a gruesome head. A significant portion of his face had transformed into a charred, carbonized layer, from which rampant granulation tissue grew, shedding flakes of ash.

"Get out of the way!"

The Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid contorted, forming an extending arm. Bologue flung Geoffrey violently away, simultaneously shoving Aimou and Xilin to the side. In the very next instant, a slender Thrusting Sword plunged directly through Bologue’s chest. An unhinged Confession Song erupted violently within Bologue’s mind, threatening to shatter his skull.

The Thrusting Sword tore away Bologue’s entire right arm. Amidst unimaginable agony and hallucinatory delirium, the First Seat clamped his jaws onto Bologue’s severed limb, devouring it with savage hunger. As the blood and flesh were consumed, his own grievous wounds began to mend at an alarming rate.

B উদ্বেগue recognized this potent ability; he had witnessed similar power from the Crimson Queen’s Protection·Bloodthirsty Healing, a technique employed by a corrupted Sect.

Could the First Seat of the King’s Secret Sword actually be a Protector? The terrifying implications of this realization hammered at Bologue’s mind, yet he had no opportunity to delve deeper. The potent force of the Supreme Secret Sword radiated from the blade embedded in Bologue’s chest. He felt as though he were trapped within a colossal cathedral, the deafening roar of an organ symphony engulfing his senses.

"Confess."

A soft voice whispered directly into Bologue’s consciousness.

Bologne’s gaze went vacant, and he plummeted downwards, collapsing into a widening pool of his own blood.

Amidst Aimou’s panicked screams, the First Seat tore another substantial chunk of flesh from Bologue’s unresisting form. Though Bologue was no longer capable of feeling the pain.

It felt as though Bologue had descended into the crushing depths of the ocean, his consciousness growing heavier until a faint glimmer appeared in the darkness.

"Congratulations, Mr. Bologue Lazarus."

A voice intoned beside him.

"You have been released from your imprisonment."

Bologne slowly raised his head. Beneath a somber, gray sky, snowflakes began to fall. He found himself standing utterly alone on an unfamiliar street, a profound sense of bewilderment washing over him.

For a period, this desolate scene remained unchanged, until a stooped figure emerged within his field of vision, approaching him steadily with the aid of a cane.

"Long time no see, Bologue."

Bologne blinked in astonishment. The voice held a familiar cadence, yet perhaps due to his prolonged confinement, he couldn't quite place its origin. He focused on the aged face, discerning a fleeting trace of illusion amidst the deep etchings of time.

"A... Adelle?"

Bologne’s voice trembled with disbelief, while Adelle let out a dry chuckle, as if savoring the culmination of some elaborate, long-standing jest.