Endless Debt Chapter 1111 - 121: Ring of Swords

Amidst the chaotic and shadowed battlefield, the Ether reaction from the third Seeker of Glory erupted, akin to a second blazing sun piercing the daylight.

The First Seat's form was suspended in mid-air, ensnared as though by an unseen force. His bones fractured incrementally under immense pressure, twisting grotesquely with agonizing cracks. Blood churned within him, coursing through every vein, scouring his internal organs, and then erupting from his wounds like a burst waterskin, drying with unnatural speed.

In a slow, torturous execution, the First Seat's limbs contorted and deformed. His muscles writhed like coiled serpents, his face a mask of pale agony, his eyes reflecting only excruciating moans and a miasma-shrouded madness. The relentless sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh echoed with horrific shrieks, the air thick with the cloying scent of blood.

The First Seat felt his life force rapidly diminish, teetering on the brink of collapse. He attempted to resist, unleashing the inherent power of a Seeker of Glory in an explosive burst, while the power from the Crimson Queen churned fiercely within his abdomen. Though ten bones had been shattered, he resolved to regenerate a hundred.

Unbeknownst to him, the First Seat began to lose his human shape, transforming into a grotesquely mutated flesh construct, violently breaking free from the invisible bonds.

Gazing upon the writhing, deranged, and horrifying figure, Bologue's thoughts turned to the ancient calamity slumbering beneath this world's Great Rift.

The First Seat's body distorted further, his rapidly swelling muscles mercilessly ruptured his crimson blood vessels, causing them to bloom amidst his screams. His sanity frayed almost completely, he lashed out with sharpened fangs and claws, his teeth and nails elongating and deforming into deadly weapons.

"Xilin!"

A voice laced with bitter resentment escaped his blood-stained throat, echoing like a Word Spirit, fully awakening the resurrected Celestial God.

The First Seat could not comprehend; he could not accept it. "How could it be you? How is this possible?"

Someone who rightfully should have been dead stood before him once more. The First Seat understood the profound implications: the individual most capable of challenging the royal family had returned.

But... but he had been deceased for so long...

The First Seat recalled the Cross Sword Light and the person he had nonchalantly slain. The corpse lay not far away, its blood seemingly drained, forming a small, dark pool.

"What did he do?" the First Seat demanded.

The marble-like countenance of Xilin gradually shed its rigid coldness. After a brief period of adjustment, Xilin regained control of the body, reclaiming the formidable power of a Seeker of Glory.

Xilin merely shook his head, offering no answer to the First Seat's question, a subtle, bloodthirsty smile playing on his otherwise indifferent lips.

"Long time no see," Xilin stated, "First Seat."

In response, a furious roar erupted from the First Seat. Abandoning the side of the Order Bureau without hesitation, he charged, his Sword of Confession slashing wildly towards Xilin.

The Age-Stealing Mist surged violently, rolling like an oncoming tsunami, instantly engulfing the land. Even solid rock crumbled to dust upon mere contact, the pervasive dust rapidly advancing, forming an inexorable wall of death.

Within the encroaching mist, indistinct sounds could be heard – at times a low droning hum, at others, bestial roars. Phantom-like, spectral figures emerged, brandishing swords, spears, and halberds, cleaving through everything in their path, be it steel or flesh, reducing it all to nothingness.

Xilin took a step towards the mist. This body, having been submerged in the container for so long, felt stiff even in its muscles. He required time to acclimate.

First step, second step, third step...

Xilin's initial steps were light and unsteady, as if he might falter at any moment. However, his footing gradually became more secure, each stride landing with the weight of a boulder.

Concurrent with this reawakening of his physical presence, the power within him began to stir.

Blessing: Incarnation.

This power, derived from Envy's Leviathan, permitted Xilin's soul to freely exchange places with another, provided they offered themselves as a sacrifice.

It was a blessing that granted Xilin a form of immortality, a secret energy that enabled him to feign death, evading all prying eyes.

At times, Xilin pondered if the acquisition of such a blessing was preordained by Leviathan, a seed planted for this very moment.

The foundational principles of a Condenser were frequently elucidated within the "Golden Thesis," the cornerstone of all extraordinary knowledge.

It spoke of the trinity: body, mind, and spirit.

The Alchemy Matrix itself was conceived from such a constitution, intricately inscribed into the soul, mapped onto the physical body, and governed by the force of will residing in the mind.

Any imbalance among the body, mind, and spirit would cause the secret energy to falter, thereby limiting Xilin's capabilities while in his incarnated form and compelling him to rely on external resources.

Now, with the Blood Transfer Sword carving a path, he manipulated Gray’s body. At the precise moment of contact with his own form, his long-lost soul finally found its way back home.After considerable time had passed, Xilin’s body, mind, and spirit were finally reunited. This awakening of the trinity reignited the dormant Power of Dominance within him. Aimou detected an immense concentration of Ether, nearly corporeal and pressing down on reality itself. As Xilin drew upon the Ether from the earth, nascent energies began to coalesce, forming countless luminous tendrils that snaked downwards, wrapping around Xilin’s form. It was as if Ether had gathered into a colossal storm, and Xilin was positioned directly at its calm center.