Endless Debt Chapter 1110 - 120: Royal Domain_5

With a calm demeanor, Bologue inquired, "Are you Adelle?"

The old man merely offered a smile.

Aimou's senses sharpened. The name resonated with her, associated with a past rescue of Bologue. The potent Confession Song had conjured such potent visions within him, and his continued fixation could lead to him being completely ensnared.

While she hesitated to question Bologue's resolve, she couldn't fully grasp the nature of his connection with Adelle. It was conceivable that Bologue might choose to remain, drawn by Adelle's presence, should she extend an invitation.

Precisely as Aimou sought a resolution to the impasse, Bologue inhaled deeply and posed another question, "If you truly are Adelle... what would you do?"

The old man maintained his serene smile, his voice soft as he replied,

"You should depart now, Bologue."

Bologue's expression immediately eased, replaced by a smile of profound relief. "You are indeed Adelle."

Confronted by this peculiar exchange, Aimou found herself utterly perplexed.

Bologue then elucidated, "That bizarre illusion must be fabricating visions from our memories, employing enchanting dreams to ensnare us."

Aimou softly interjected, "But she... she permitted your release."

"Because that is precisely the sort of action Adelle would undertake."

Uttering this with evident pride, Bologue gazed at the young woman before him and commended her, "You remain as magnificent as my memory serves."

Having spoken, Bologue clasped Aimou's hand firmly. "It is time you took me away."

...

The formidable power of the Seeker of Glory was drawing near. Perhaps it was due to the numerous encounters with the harbinger of death today that, upon the First Seat's descent, Geoffrey felt an absence of fear, replaced instead by a deep serenity within his heart.

Geoffrey was acutely aware of his inability to contend with the First Seat. His sole recourse was to channel all his remaining strength into propelling Xilin forcefully away, a meager act of defiance against the overwhelming presence.

Contemplating this, Geoffrey found a touch of wry amusement in their predicament. Under such immense pressure, their actions seemed utterly insignificant.

Xilin's form impacted the flat terrain some distance away, kicking up a plume of dust. Geoffrey, drained of energy, collapsed. Above, a crimson figure streaked past, trailing a white mist. The instant the mist brushed against Geoffrey, his face became etched with wrinkles, and several strands of his hair turned white.

Geoffrey felt as though he were on the verge of suffocation.

A fierce howl accompanied the First Seat. As he flew past Geoffrey, intent on intercepting Xilin, a sharp jolt emanated from his back where a nearly fractured dagger was lodged.

In the distance, Bologue struggled to rise from a pool of blood, his arm extended in a throwing motion.

After enduring innumerable confrontations, the Phantom Dagger had finally reached its absolute limit.

In mere moments, the Ether surged, erupting and twisting around the First Seat's back. Bologue's own power might be insufficient to impede the First Seat, but what of employing Ether and channeling the might of a twisting Dao?

The fragmentation of the Phantom Dagger triggered a spatial distortion, instantaneously conjuring a colossal sphere where the very fabric of space and time became precariously unstable, threatening imminent collapse. The fractured edges scintillated with arcs of lightning, completely engulfed in raw energy.

This distorted Dao enveloped the majority of the First Seat's physique. Although incapable of delivering a fatal blow, it dramatically diminished his velocity. His entire being appeared to lag, buffeted by errant currents and scarred by the fractured Dao carving countless wounds upon his flesh.

This represented the zenith of Bologue's capabilities; every combatant had pushed themselves to their absolute limits. The subsequent events now rested solely upon Nesanel's actions.

With a resounding roar, the golden lion pulverized the ground beneath its powerful paws.

The First Seat extended his hand, reaching with impossible length towards the individual lying prone on the ground. Just as his fingers were about to make contact, a resplendent, blood-hued Cross Sword Light manifested from an unknown source.

The Dao was violently rent anew, and a fleeting silhouette emerged from the Cross Sword Light, positioning itself directly beside Xilin's fallen form. Under the piercing gaze of the First Seat, the figure gathered Xilin into their embrace.

"Halt!"

The First Seat bellowed in fury, propelling himself with astonishing speed before the intervening figure, severing their head with a singular, decisive sword stroke the instant they appeared from the Cross Sword Light. In the subsequent moment, the severed head soared skyward, while the headless body remained rigid for a few seconds before collapsing lifelessly to the earth.

A grotesque, contorted hand reached out towards Xilin. The First Seat was consumed by a surge of triumphant exhilaration; he was finally within reach of Xilin. But at that precise juncture, a blade of even greater swiftness sliced through the air.

Witnessing this dire turn of events, Nesanel recognized the futility of further attempting to shield Xilin's physical form. He resolved, therefore, to enact the most desperate gamble imaginable.

The Secret Energy·Daylight erupted with immense heat, turning the Immovable Sword nearly red. Infused with the Extreme Realm’s Ethereal Amplification, he hurled it like a meteor towards Xilin, intent on annihilating it upon impact.

The First Seat countered with the Sword of Confession. Upon the thunderous collision, his sword was flung aside, and the arm wielding it was shattered by the residual force. The Immovable Sword tore through the First Seat’s body, continued into Xilin, and embedded itself deep into the earth, gouging a path for tens of meters before coming to a rest.

Staring in disbelief at the impaled form, the First Seat let out a furious roar.

"How dare you!"

He bellowed his curse at Nesanel.

Nesanel scoffed, a look of disdain crossing his features. He had long desired to personally destroy Xilin. Yet, in the very next instant, Nesanel’s expression hardened, his body stiffening as if rooted to the spot.

It wasn't only Nesanel. Bologue, Geoffrey, and even Palmer and Lebius, watching from afar, were rendered speechless by the unfolding scene.

Within a dimly lit chamber, Mammon slowly rose from behind a television screen. Beneath it, Belphegor, who had been observing through Lebius's eyes, stared blankly at the display. An image far exceeding his expectations materialized.

In a world of hazy gray, the Astronaut tilted his head, gazing at the vibrant blue planet, and spoke in a low tone.

"Welcome back."

The First Seat, compelled by an unseen force, slowly turned his head, mirroring the gazes of others. He observed the gash in the torn earth, from which the figure presumed dead was now rising. He gripped the hilt of the Immovable Sword and began to draw it from his abdomen. No blood spilled forth, only pure Ether flowed from the wound.

His eyes snapped open, golden pupils shimmering as they swept coldly over everyone on the battlefield.

The First Seat's heart plunged into icy terror; his understanding of reality fractured. He could not fathom the events transpiring. Nevertheless, primal instinct took over—almost without conscious thought, he initiated an attempt to flee the battlefield.

Victory was impossible. In his current condition, facing this resurrected entity, he stood no chance.

However, the moment the First Seat moved, his entire form seized up. It wasn't fear that paralyzed him but an overwhelming power that ruthlessly restrained him, as though countless colossal hands were crushing every inch of his being and locking every joint in his skeleton.

Struggling desperately, the First Seat twisted his head. He saw the Celestial God raising a hand, intricate patterns flaring to life and illuminating his arm. With a choking gesture, ethereal chains completely subjugated the First Seat's body.

Secret Energy·Royal Domain.

Xilin clenched his fist with immense force. The chains tightened. Like fruit overripe and decaying, the First Seat’s body was crushed, unleashing a torrent of blood that rained down upon the battlefield.