Endless Debt Chapter 1152 - 15: Dream

Serey Villeries, formerly the Night Race Lord, now finds himself tending bar and performing as a pole dancer at the Undying Club.

Geoffrey had known Serey for numerous years. While he couldn't claim to fully grasp the inner workings of this Night Race Lord's mind, he could, to some extent, perceive Serey's shifting emotions.

Serey's countenance typically displayed a few familiar expressions: a nonchalant, indifferent smile; a perpetually vacant gaze, as if burdened by profound solitude; or at times, a drunken, distorted grimace.

However, today Geoffrey observed an emotion that Serey had long suppressed, one that Serey himself seemed close to forgetting.

Anger.

The name Olivia was akin to a forbidden utterance; the instant Geoffrey spoke it, Serey was consumed by absolute rage.

Geoffrey could distinctly feel the potent murderous intent barrelling towards him, a violent aura that seemed to materialize, transforming into crimson wings unfurling behind Serey, their falling plumes striking the skin like the keen edges of blades and swords.

"You can't, you can't do this, Geoffrey!"

Serey's voice escalated as he advanced on Geoffrey. Though Geoffrey recognized Serey's fury and his terrifying destructive potential, he remained rooted to the spot.

Serey lifted his hand; his palm was deathly pale, appearing devoid of life, chillingly cold and bloodless, with blue veins protruding beneath the skin like grotesque earthworms, an unsettling sight.

His once noble bearing vanished in an instant, supplanted by the visage of a terrifying nightmare.

Nails elongated, becoming sharp and formidable, edged with razor-like serrations, poised to tear through any impediment.

Serey's features contorted grotesquely, his skin becoming exceedingly dry and uneven, riddled with wrinkles and pits, its texture rough and chaotic like the ravages of time, utterly devoid of Life Force.

As sunlight streamed in, Geoffrey could clearly discern the texture of the skin, resembling etchings made by a knife, with blood vessels prominently rising in blue or purple hues. The flow of blood within was almost visible, intricate like a network of rivers converging into a vast lake, radiating an eerie yet sinister aura.

This, perhaps, was the true form of a High Tier Night Race.

Geoffrey's breath hitched; he harbored no fear of what was imminent. Serey was bound by the Undying Club's power, incapable of inflicting harm on anyone. Geoffrey, another Undead, would at worst endure a few blows. Geoffrey was prepared.

The distance between them rapidly diminished. Just as Serey's fingertips were about to graze Geoffrey, sunlight ascended, its warmth filtering through the architectural gaps, a golden shaft cleaving through the encroaching shadows.

This luminous line demarcated Geoffrey and Serey.

Serey halted precisely at the golden boundary, yet his unnaturally deformed hand had already transgressed the limit.

Sunlight made contact with his palm; the skin's surface began charring, scorching. Dead cells evaporated, releasing a pungent odor reminiscent of burnt flesh, leaving the skin cracked and brittle like ceramic shards on the verge of shattering.

Over time, Serey's skin darkened and hardened, fracturing into countless tiny apertures, from which a bloodthirsty scent emanated, a chilling stench permeating the atmosphere.

Subsequently, the flesh began to evaporate. The entire section of flesh caved inward, the body continuously contracting as blood and cells slowly vanished, leaving behind a husk of black-gray shell from which faint flames emerged, exuding a dense, metallic smell of blood.

The agonizing sensation from the sunlight jolted Serey back to awareness. He retracted his hand, the ashes falling away as fresh flesh swiftly regenerated.

Witnessing this spectacle, Geoffrey recalled sentiments Serey had once voiced during his inaugural visit to the Undying Club. Serey's lineage was exceedingly noble; even when exposed to lethal sunlight, he retained a degree of mobility thanks to his Undying Power.

"Have you calmed down now?" Geoffrey inquired.

"You’re such a bastard, Geoffrey."

Serey cast a look at Geoffrey before resolutely crossing the sunlight boundary, heading towards the Undying Club positioned behind Geoffrey.

"Serey!"

"Quiet, just leave me alone for a while!" Serey retorted.

"No, what I mean is, if you're that resistant, we can bypass the subject," Geoffrey offered apologetically. "We can discuss something else entirely."

Serey scrutinized Geoffrey, a profound wave of pain flickering in his eyes before being swiftly concealed, leaving behind a single statement.

"Olivia is not the Regent King; the true Regent King is someone else."

With that pronouncement, Serey turned and entered the Undying Club without a backward glance.

Geoffrey queried, "Why are you so certain?"

"Because she gave me her word, sworn upon her mother's name."

Serey emphatically slammed the door shut, the resulting sound reverberating through the deserted street.

...

When Geoffrey followed him inside the Undying Club, he only caught a glimpse of Serey's receding silhouette in the stairwell, his footsteps fading into the distance, followed by another resounding door slam.

Geoffrey stood there, contemplating Serey's parting words, when a different voice emerged.

"Don't mind him, Geoffrey. Serey's just been in a foul mood lately."

Wei'Er materialized from the shadows, its jet-black fur providing perfect camouflage for traversing the darkness.