Endless Debt Chapter 1154 - 16: Forgotten

The Vengeful Saw Axe, a so-called ominous Contract Object provided by the Order Bureau, was rumored to have never led its wielder to a favorable outcome. Bologue initially dismissed the Order Bureau's solemn warnings. However, this Hand Axe became his constant companion through numerous battles, orchestrating the demise of countless adversaries. Through the grim rituals of blood and death, Bologue could distinctly perceive the Hand Axe's gradual awakening, its Life Force steadily returning.

This was not some abstract notion but a tangible reality. Bologue vividly recalled the Hand Axe's initial appearance upon his receipt: it seemed to have lain dormant in some forgotten warehouse for years, deeply corroded by oxidation, its edge marred by rust and numerous scars, while the leather binding the handle had become desiccated and fragile.

Yet, with each unceasing drenching of blood, the Hand Axe underwent a visible metamorphosis. All traces of rust vanished, the nicks and scratches were miraculously mended and restored, and the once-dry leather became supple and warm, akin to touching heated skin.

"Vengeful Saw Axe?" Wei’Er mused, retrieving the term from her memory. She had hoped that the expansive recollection of an Undead being would yield some useful detail, but alas, nothing surfaced.

Bologue glanced at Bode, who responded with a shake of his head, signifying his own lack of knowledge regarding this particular Contract Object. "It's understandable you wouldn't know, considering you've been comfortably settled in retirement. It's difficult to remain privy to every development in the outside world," Bologue remarked.

"Do you have the axe with you?" Bode inquired.

"No, this Contract Object possesses the capability to influence a person's psyche. Merely being in its proximity or gazing upon it can incite a nameless fury. Those with susceptible minds succumb instantly, compelled to wield it and indiscriminately attack others." Bologue elaborated, "Aimou fashioned a specialized containment box for me, constructed from an isolating metal, which significantly dampens its potency. Apart from during operational use, I store it within the Cultivation Room for enhanced security."

"An exceptionally volatile Contract Object, and it appears capable of further growth," Wei’Er observed its unusual nature, her voice laced with concern, "Can you manage it?"

Bologue stated with unwavering conviction, "It is merely a tool."

Upon hearing Bologue's resolute response, Wei’Er felt a sense of relief. Among them all, Bologue remained the most dependable, characterized by numerous exceptional traits: prudence, perseverance, steadfastness, and loyalty. Whatever promise Bologue made, he was certain to fulfill it, with a resolve as formidable as a Devil’s Blood Contract.

"On a related note, why does this power feel familiar to you?" Bologue inquired, a hint of curiosity in his tone. "Have you ever had dealings with this... entity, or perhaps the Devil behind it?" Bologue continued, "Could it be that you are a Debtor to that Devil?"

"I'm uncertain. It feels like something distant and indistinct," Wei’Er’s voice grew serious. "Furthermore, let's not delve into discussions about our past."

"Understood, understood. I grasp it."

The inhabitants of the Undying Club, all having sought peace and retirement, actively shielded themselves from external disruptions to preserve their tranquil existence, much like Serey.

Bologue slowly began to realize that extracting any valuable intelligence from them was proving futile. He also acknowledged that pressing them too hard might jeopardize the rare camaraderie they shared. While these detached Undead might not be bothered, Bologue certainly was.

"What are your plans now?" Wei’Er asked, observing Bologue rise and head toward the stairwell.

"I believe I should extend an apology to Serey," Bologue added. "Finding his quarters shouldn't be too difficult, correct?"

Long before the calamitous Decline Plague, during a discussion with Serey, they had speculated on the origins of the Undying Club, ultimately concurring that it was situated within the domain of a Devil. Recalling this, Bologue experienced a distinct chill; he had never fathroned the possibility of spending his days reveling and socializing within the Devil's territory. What puzzled him even more was the Devil's apparent absence, despite ruling the area, igniting Bologue's curiosity about this unseen entity's true identity and nature.

As an integral part of the Devil's domain, the Undying Club naturally adhered to numerous protocols. Among these was the assurance of protection for every retired Undead, severing all ties to worldly conflicts to embrace serene repose. Initially, Bologue found this difficult to comprehend, but as he grew more acquainted with them, he recognized their shared status as individuals laden with transgressions. Without the Undying Club's safeguarding presence, their old enemies might well appear by nightfall.

Another stipulation decreed that those under protection were obligated to contribute value to the Undying Club. This was a simple requirement: to aid in sustaining the Club's existence. In comparison to the benefits bestowed by the Club, this contribution was a mere gesture of goodwill. It was for this reason that, at some juncture, Serey found himself inadvertently serving as a bartender.

Ascending the stairwell, Bologue took several steps. As he moved forward, the corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, like a phantom, giving Bologue the impression that he would never reach its conclusion. This, too, was one of the peculiar rules.

The Undying Club was governed by numerous rules that baffled most, yet this particular one had no real impact on their daily existence. Consequently, the carefree Undead paid it little mind.

Serey was not entirely dormant. When he opted for a prolonged slumber, projecting himself into the future, it was akin to checking into a hotel. He would hang a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on his door, causing his room to vanish within the labyrinthine stairwells, rendering it utterly inaccessible.

The majority of the Undead residing within the Undying Club existed in this very ‘Do Not Disturb’ state, sleeping through decades, or even centuries, at a time.

In stark contrast, Bologue had been a resident of the Undying Club for merely a handful of years, a duration that felt infinitesimal when compared to those staggering spans.

Initially, Bologue found himself perplexed as to why only Wei’Er and a select few other awakened Undead were active. Upon reflection, he realized that if one were to frame this vast expanse of time as a single day, Wei’Er and the others would be enjoying afternoon tea, the other Undead would be napping, and Bologue himself had only just arrived and ordered a glass of orange juice.

Drawn by the heavy aroma of alcohol, Bologue continued his search. Rounding the next corner, an unexpected figure materialized before him.

“Sai Zong?”

...

“What exactly is the problem?”

After Bologue’s departure, Wei’Er remained preoccupied, striving to dredge up forgotten memories. The Undead, blessed with infinite time, often found themselves ensnared by certain quandaries.

Bologue recalled Wei’Er recounting a tale of an Undead who, in an effort to pass the eons, had constructed an elaborate puzzle spanning dozens of square meters, a project he never completed. Some Undead found solace in carving chess pieces, much like Bologue’s war simulation table, meticulously recreating every pivotal historical battle.

“Are you still pondering the Vengeful Saw Axe?” Bode inquired.

“Yes, idleness is merely idleness, after all.”

Wei’Er rolled over, tumbling to the edge of the bar before plummeting off. Yet, just before impact, it deftly twisted, landing gracefully on all fours.

“Hmm? Then by all means, take your time contemplating.”

Bode murmured, resuming his task of polishing the bar. Though it gleamed immaculately, he stubbornly picked up a cloth and wiped it repeatedly.

The known world, as understood through human technology, possesses finite boundaries. However, this finite world is destined to be gradually consumed under the protracted lifespans of the Undead. This consumption is not driven by resource depletion but by a mental exhaustion, akin to reading a lengthy tome filled with tens of thousands of words countless times.

As an Undead of considerable experience, Bode found himself grappling with such a predicament, compelled to engage in activity to grasp the significance of his existence. It was this compulsion that led him to meticulously attend to every task.

Bode had even devised a personal checklist, employing ten-year intervals to systematically explore and master various interests and hobbies. This rigorous approach served to decelerate the erosion of his spiritual being.

Wei’Er, conversely, was rather less fortunate, its physical form imposing limitations on the scope of its pleasures. Fortunately, it retained the freedom of movement, a luxury denied to the ‘ancient Undead’ who often languished under the torment of eternity.

“What is it?”

Within these constraints, Wei’Er found enjoyment in contemplation, though not in profound philosophical debate—simply thinking about matters to keep its mind engaged.

As it mused, it ambled towards the periphery of the Undying Club. During languid days, Wei’Er often took to wandering the city in the guise of a black cat.

It slipped away from the Undying Club, stepping out onto the bustling street.

Gradually, as though the chains binding its thoughts had been broken, deeply buried memories began to resurface. Wei’Er stopped, overwhelmed by the flood of recollections, simultaneously bewildered as to why these memories had remained elusive moments earlier within the confines of the Undying Club.

“Damn it… Bologue!”

Wei’Er sensed that something was amiss. It turned, sprinting back towards the Undying Club, intent on warning Bologue. However, upon its abrupt re-entrance, its gaze became unfocused.

“What’s wrong, Wei’Er, finished with your little excursion?” Bode inquired, not lifting his gaze from his task.

Wei’Er stood momentarily stunned, its previously unfocused eyes gradually regaining clarity as it questioned itself.

“Huh? What was I just thinking about?”

The black cat circled a few times, utterly unable to retrieve what had just slipped from its grasp.