Endless Debt Chapter 1139 - 2: Warning Squad

As crimson liquid seeped from Bologue’s hands, the Bloodthirsty creatures bared their fangs, casting wary glances at this unexpectedly powerful foe. Bologue, however, remained unfazed, acting as though he were oblivious to their presence.

There was a time when Bologue might have struggled against such opponents, but now, as a Negative Power User, the unparalleled might he wielded was more than sufficient to obliterate any obstacle.

Bologue advanced toward Kemp, his Negative Power User ether unfurling to encompass his surroundings with every stride. The instant the Bloodthirsty creatures prepared to strike, they were pinned with an immense, crushing force, akin to being subjected to a thousand pounds of gravitational pressure. They writhed and struggled, forcefully held against the ground.

With each step Bologue took, the pressure on the Bloodthirsty intensified, like a relentless hammer pounding on a chest. Their pained cries filled the air as their bodies were pressed flat against the earth, bones snapping, ribs piercing flesh, and limbs contorting unnaturally.

Their heads were bowed in agony, skulls scraping the ground, blood surging into their brains, eyes turning bloodshot, even shedding tears of blood.

A sharp crack echoed as one Bloodthirsty’s form was utterly flattened, as if stepped on by an unseen colossal foot. Its flesh became a mangled ruin, its insides ruptured, leaving a gruesome trail of gore across the floor.

More cracking sounds followed in rapid succession as, one by one, the Bloodthirsty were pulverized into bloody messes, completely incapable of launching any attack from start to finish.

Blood flowed and spread. Upon entering the chamber reeking of flesh and blood, Bologue detected a peculiar sound from above. A hidden Bloodthirsty creature, unaffected by Bologue’s ether, had been concealed and now descended to assault him.

Just as the creature’s deadly claws were poised to slit Bologue’s throat, its form abruptly froze mid-air. Then, crimson blades erupted from within its body, obliterating it into countless fragments.

Qico, watching the descending figure, felt a knot of apprehension tighten in her chest. Bologue’s presence exuded an oppressive aura far exceeding that of the Night Race, resembling a true God of Death, with each step he took claiming innumerable lives.

Clutching the firearm in her hand, Qico’s heart pounded erratically. As the distance between them diminished, Qico, almost on instinct, raised her weapon. The moment she aligned her sights on Bologue, an overwhelming force seized her hand, rendering it immobile. She attempted to fire, but found herself incapable of performing even such a basic action.

"Calm yourself, newcomer. I pose no threat to you."

Bologue extended his hand, and the firearm was effortlessly plucked from Qico’s grasp, disappearing into a nearby pool of blood.

Qico watched, bewildered, as Bologue walked past her, moving to assist Kemp.

"Why are you here?" Kemp questioned, unable to comprehend why his distress signal had drawn this particular individual.

"Would you believe it if I told you I was merely passing through?" Bologue inquired.

"Passing through? Are you jesting?"

"My word is serious. You are aware of the recent strain on the Field Operations Department, the critical shortage of personnel, and how various action groups and teams sometimes encounter unforeseen complications… I function much like a rapid response unit, dispatched wherever assistance is most needed."

A low rumble emanated from beneath Bologue’s feet as the ground began to ascend, and the ceiling overhead split apart like unfolding petals, revealing a faint luminescence.

The very bricks beneath their feet transformed into a platform, rising with remarkable speed.

"Did you come this way specifically to rescue me?" Kemp asked.

"In a manner of speaking."

Bologue gazed upwards as the view above gradually expanded. "A few hours prior, I was engaged in a hunt against the Night Race in a neighboring settlement. Upon receiving your distress signal, I proceeded here without delay."

"How many of the Night Race did you eliminate during that time?" Kemp pressed further.

Bologue cast a downward glance at him. "It becomes rather challenging to maintain an accurate count; these Night Race members are remarkably dispersed. Provided they possess a certain bloodline, they can command a Bloodthirsty army, spreading like a pestilence."

He paused briefly. "I estimate I must have felled hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Bloodthirsty. However, genuine Night Race members of significant lineage? Merely a handful. These scoundrels are adept at draining our vitality."

Since the outbreak of the Decline Plague six months ago, a series of extraordinary conflict incidents had erupted throughout the Rhine Alliance. Furthermore, with the escalating ether concentrations, certain regions exhibited signs of impending extraordinary calamities.

Amidst this unsettling cascade of news, the most significant development was the resurgence of the Night Race.

Earlier, while Bologue was en route to the Wind Source Highlands, he had encountered the Night Race, whose activities were then primarily restricted to the vicinity of that region. However, following the Decline Plague event, they had reappeared in the mortal realm, seemingly having consolidated their forces.

Even though a century has elapsed since the Dawn War, none dare to take these formidable beings lightly.

That cursed bloodline appears to wield an arcane allure, drawing all towards it. With but a whisper of temptation, the hearts of mortals become ensnared by the Devil.

Through the power of blood donation, provided they possess a specific lineage, the Night Race can propagate their bloodline amongst humanity. After numerous generations of dilution, a vast multitude of the Bloodthirsty come into being.

With this infectivity akin to a plague, a solitary Night Race member can often corrupt an entire village or town, perpetuating its influence endlessly. Recently, the Order Bureau has been directing all its resources toward combating these Night Race operatives, even enlisting the aid of the Extraordinary Clans and Secret Societies.

They are left with no alternative but to answer the summons of the Order Bureau.

Now, Bologue’s role resembles that of an executioner; wherever signs of the Night Race’s rampant corruption surface, he is dispatched to dismember the adversaries.

Regardless of Bologue’s enjoyment in this grim duty, amidst the ceaseless, blood-soaked carnage, he too finds himself growing weary. Not to mention that for him, at this present moment, certain matters hold greater significance than mere annihilation.

Bologue did not prolong his contemplation on the matter.

The trio descended to ground level, by which point the surrounding hamlets had already transformed into an inferno.

Flames roared with fury, dark smoke ascended in dense plumes, and the heavens themselves seemed stained with a crimson hue. The scarlet glow cast upon the earth instilled an unutterable dread, as if the entire world quivered beneath the specter of an apocalypse.

The conflagration devoured dwellings, arboreal giants, conveyances, and sundry objects, emitting sharp hisses and explosive bursts. Fuel and gas tanks ruptured, unleashing sparks that danced like countless demonic talons, grasping and dragging all into the fiery abyss.

The entirety of the village was entombed in thick smog, compelling inhabitants to gasp with wide-open mouths in a desperate search for breathable air. The calamitous spectacle wrought by the fire was beyond imagining, yet more horrific still was the lamentation of those who had lost their kin, a grief that language failed to encapsulate.

"When I received the initial report, the Night Race presence was minimal, but by our arrival and subsequent deeper investigation, the majority of the village had already succumbed," Kemp voiced, his tone heavy.

"I observed it on our approach," Bologue responded, "you exerted your utmost effort."The imposing figure before him, reminiscent of a black gorilla, was a recent acquaintance of Bologue, enlisted for a distant assignment. Their paths crossed mere days prior when Bologue stumbled upon Yoni, critically wounded, deep within the dense woods. Stretching out behind Yoni, the entirety of the forest lay devastated. Countless colossal trees were uprooted and strewn about, as though a titan had descended there... Yet, no giant had met its end in this place. What had transpired was simply a Vortex Point of concentrated Ethereal energy, neutralized before it could escalate into an Extraordinary Disaster. This threat had been diverted by Yoni. The released ether, in its uncontrolled fury, had flattened the surrounding forest and brought the unfortunate Yoni to the brink of death. Bologue had expended considerable energy to extricate him from that perilous situation, marking his inaugural meeting with an operative from the eighth unit—the Disaster Warning Team.