Endless Debt Chapter 1147 - 10: The Stranger

"Dennis! Dennis!"

A familiar voice called out, reverberating around him. Dennis felt someone nudging his body, but he had no intention of responding. He simply feigned being unresponsive, his eyes shut tight, curled up within the muddy trench. Explosions boomednearby, raining down dust that repeatedly struck him. He could feel a warm liquid seeping over his skin. What's more, in the murky depths of the trench, he sensed several stout rats scurrying past in haste.

"Dennis!"

The cry echoed once more, each shout akin to a heavy hammer striking Dennis’s heart, shattering his resolve, his spirit, and his dignity.

"Shut up!" Dennis screamed inwardly, his eyes remaining firmly closed. "Shut up, Bologue!"

"Dennis?"

The shouting abruptly softened. Dennis squinted, and through his blurred vision, a slender figure came into view. Clad in tattered, blood-stained garments, the individual wore a steel helmet marred by numerous scratches and dents. In their hand, a rifle with a bayonet attached dripped blood from its tip.

Dennis couldn't discern the face, but he knew the person must be regarding him with eyes brimming with disdain and contempt. Indeed, his charade was patently absurd, a pretense of unconsciousness while his body quivered uncontrollably. The mere thought of his self-deception filled Dennis with profound shame and humiliation, yet he lacked the fortitude to rise.

"Don’t let me down, Dennis," the man urged.

Dennis offered only continued trembling and silence, leaving the man deeply disappointed.

"Bologue! Where is Dennis?" another voice bellowed.

"He was knocked out by the blast," Bologue lied for Dennis, providing cover. "Looks like he passed out... I can cover his post."

"Are you certain?"

"Positive."

"Very well."

At the commander’s instruction, soldiers began to muster. They were preparing for an assault aimed at breaching the enemy lines—a perilous charge where many lives would undoubtedly be lost.

As the resounding horn blared, Dennis heard a cacophony of roars, and the retreating footsteps faded away from him. He opened his eyes to see that familiar figure vanishing rapidly into the thick, explosive smoke. This marked the final time Dennis laid eyes on Bologue. Later, he learned their charge had been successful, not only piercing the enemy’s defenses but also advancing deep towards the towering walls of the Holy City…

"Dennis."

The call sounded again, momentarily overlaying the voice from his memory. After a brief spell of disorientation, the searing heat dissipated, and the chaotic, scorched landscape vanished. All that remained was a smoothly moving vehicle, with Ivan seated opposite Dennis.

"Bologue Lazarus," Dennis murmured, the name escaping his lips. "I never thought I’d hear that name again."

Ivan inquired, "Could you share the story between you and him?"

"That was over sixty years ago, and he's long dead," Dennis replied, perplexed. "We were just obscure figures, lost to history..."

"No one has forgotten you," Ivan stated earnestly. "I cannot disclose why, but your account with him is crucial. It holds immense importance."

Ivan’s emphasis on his words caused Dennis’s expression to freeze. In that moment, Ivan’s eyes shimmered like brilliant jewels.

An overwhelming pressure lifted from Dennis’s heart, and he felt an inexplicable sense of security emanating from Ivan, as if he could unburden himself of all his secrets.

Ivan probed further, "Bologue’s presence seems to inflict pain upon you; why is that?"

Dennis responded as if in a trance, "Perhaps... maybe it stems from the disparity between self-expectation and the true self."

Ivan nodded thoughtfully, uttering, "Self-discrepancy."

As an expert interrogator, Ivan was well-acquainted with this psychological phenomenon, wherein an individual’s attitudes and emotions toward themselves clash with their actions and behaviors.

A person might hold certain beliefs about their traits or values, yet their conduct demonstrably contradicts them. This internal inconsistency frequently breeds conflict and distortion, manifesting as negative emotions such as inferiority, anxiety, depression, self-doubt, and fear.

Ivan had not anticipated that Bologue would be the catalyst for such psychological distress in Dennis.

It is akin to an extreme perfectionist, burdened by excessively high self-expectations, resulting in a vast chasm between inner feelings and outward manifestations. Such individuals find themselves unable to accept their own flaws and deficiencies, ultimately leading to a breakdown.

Ivan harbored a curiosity regarding the source of Dennis’s feelings.

"In my youth, back in Redwood Town, I was quite popular. I was tall, robust, articulate, and spirited. Bologue, on the other hand... he was a reclusive child, always keeping to himself."

Dennis continued his narrative, "We didn’t interact much, yet I harbored a strong dislike for him."

"What caused that?"

"His gaze."

Dennis struggled to articulate that particular sensation, yet as time marched on and circumstances shifted, the initial reasons behind it became a hazy memory. Reflecting on it now, it seemed utterly absurd.

"While everyone else showered me with endless praise, he alone always maintained that detached expression," Dennis chuckled wryly, "When you're young and full of pride, you're hypersensitive to others' opinions. His gaze felt like a direct blow to my self-worth."

"What forged your bond?"

"War, the brutal chaos of scorched-earth warfare. I enlisted with Bologue, and by sheer luck, we ended up in the same unit. Though we were separated at various points, we miraculously reunited alive."

Dennis paused, gathering his thoughts before he began to bare his soul, "Have you ever experienced that? A feeling of being the 'main character' amidst overwhelming confidence and arrogance.

That was me. I endured countless battles. Amidst the clash of steel and the scent of blood, my rank steadily climbed. I often envisioned the post-war celebrations, picturing myself hailed as a hero, returning laden with honors."

"Your arrogance grew unchecked," Ivan observed.

"Indeed," Dennis concurred, "I was hurtling towards my own ruin."

"It was a horrific engagement. We had just secured the Fog Abyss Fortress and were pushing towards the Holy City. The enemy unleashed devastating firepower, leaving trenches like gaping wounds across the ravaged landscape. We were locked in a brutal stalemate for months. The trenches became a grim testament to the fighting, filled with corpses, decaying flesh, vile fluids, and rats feasting on the fallen."

Dennis's eyes widened, a faraway look suggesting his soul had departed his body. The depths of his gaze held an terror that even years later, the nightmares rendered with chilling clarity.

"The incessant buzzing was often deafening, the sound of flies swarming over the battlefield. We piled countless bodies outside the trenches, using them as makeshift cover for our firing positions. At times, a deceased soldier's face would be turned directly towards me, his eyes a milky, unfocused haze, with maggots writhing at the edges... My once proud mind was utterly shattered in that meat-grinder of a hellscape. When the commander ordered the charge, I realized it was a mission into the jaws of certain death."

"I was consumed by fear," Dennis whispered.

"Continue," Ivan prompted.

Dennis’s voice caught in his throat, his expression contorting as if something were clawing its way out. He appeared on the verge of retching.

"I squeezed my eyes shut, feigning unconsciousness, desperately hoping to evade the charge. Bologue found me. He yelled for me to rise and lead them forward, but my courage had evaporated. I was trembling uncontrollably, a fact Bologue could not ignore. By military law, he should have had me executed, yet he didn't. As the commander's call echoed, he covered for my cowardice, then turned and left without a backward glance."

Dennis let out a harsh, hollow laugh. "What transpired next is common knowledge. Every soldier who breached those lines and entered the Holy City perished. Yet, I survived through sheer fortune, received immense accolades, and was adorned with medals."

"But I know I should have met my end in that same light. I am no hero; I am nothing but a complete coward."

Dennis's voice resonated with anguish and a desperate plea, "Yet, they all hail me as a hero..."

Ivan’s gaze was a cold assessment of Dennis. His suspicions were confirmed: Dennis suffered from a profound internal schism. The chasm between his perceived self and his actions had warped his psyche, creating a persistent nightmare that haunted him to this day.

It was through Dennis's raw and honest account that Ivan could finally validate Bologue's past – his origins from a small, now-destroyed town were indeed real.

"I considered making amends to Bologue, attempting to locate his hometown and inform his people," Dennis confessed with evident pain, "How foolish I was. Redwood Town is no more, its inhabitants all gone; how could I possibly find his home?"

Ivan inquired, "Hometown? Wasn't he from Redwood Town?"

"Bologue did grow up in Redwood Town, but his family wasn't originally from there; they had relocated from elsewhere. As for their original place of origin, his family never spoke of it, and Bologue himself believed he was born within Redwood Town. I learned the latter part from the town elders."

Dennis's revelation plunged the already murky mystery into deeper shadow.

"Bologue was an outsider."