Endless Debt Chapter 1337 - 104: Land of Eternal Flame (3)

At this moment, Bologue finds himself on a straight boulevard in the plaza, where most of the cobblestones underfoot are shattered, like broken notes, resembling an ancient forgotten tune. As he moves his gaze, the thick layers of dust obscure the avenue, as if burying the entire world.

Surrounding him, the soaring towers stand like frozen smoke; some are fragmented, like twisted memories eroded by time, rugged and desolate. Others are on the verge of collapsing, emitting eerie moans, as if lamenting some unspeakable sorrow.

The towers encircle the Ashen Plaza where Bologue stands, forming a towering wall of protection. They seem to be defending this place, or perhaps they are watching over this ash-covered graveyard.

"Though we couldn’t directly reach the Golden Palace, it has brought us to its forefront."

Bologue’s gaze continuously ascends, overtaking the ash mounds piled up like mountains. At the end of it all, he sees the twisted flesh coiled around, accompanied by light that reaches sky-high, as bright as daylight.

With just a glance, Bologue immediately averts his eyes. Even so, he feels a burning pain in his eyes, as if any delay would blind him.

A profound and distant breathing sound emerges, the surrounding ashes are swept by the currents, relentlessly rushing towards the piled ash mounds. Bologue understands the implication and immediately dives behind an overturned boulder. Then the breathing grows louder, deafeningly so, as all inhaled ash is violently expelled by the storm.

"Heavens!"

Aimou wails in Bologue’s mind, as he gathers all his Rhombus Shields to protect his body as much as possible. Suddenly, a torrent of burning ash sweeps past his side, the red blaze consuming the entire shelter Bologue hid in.

Deadly fire bursts from the edges of the boulder. Bologue curls up, avoiding even the slightest touch of the flames, while the scorching heat bakes his body. Amidst the roaring, Bologue hears the faint crackling of his hair being singed.

The deadly firestorm continues for over a minute before slowly ceasing. The ground is covered with burning red ash, which gathers again by the Calamity’s vast remains, forming ash mounds one by one amid its deep breathing.

Stepping on the scorching ground, Bologue withdraws from behind the boulder, suppressing the discomfort in his eyes, and forces himself to stare directly at the source of light before him.

Just as he previously saw from the towers, beyond the ash mounds lies a massive and twisted flesh lump, as large as a castle. Inside, it emits an intense glow, rendering its fleshy body as transparent as amber, with its clustered internal organs and web-like blood vessels clearly visible.

Tears involuntarily stream down Bologue’s cheeks as, beyond the blinding source, he struggles to discern a vague outline.

The outline of a palace.

The breathing sound reemerges, and Bologue nimbly retreats behind the boulder, this time feeling surprisingly at ease, even unable to resist breaking into a smile.

"What are you laughing at?"

In his mind, Aimou questions loudly, thinking Bologue has lost his mind, laughing in such a ghostly place.

Responding in his heart, Bologue says, "We’ve finally made it, Aimou. We’ve finally arrived!"

Aimou pauses, barely understanding Bologue’s sentiment. Long before now, Bologue had charged toward this palace, and now he is about to achieve it.

This matter is irrelevant to factions, advantages, or morals, but stems purely from Bologue’s unique sense of regret.

Like a child eagerly watching a roller coaster, experiencing it for the first time only as an adult, it seems like a satisfaction that compensates for childhood flaws... Damn it, whose satisfaction comes from such things?

"How do we get in?"

Aimou questions, thinking Saqin’s authority would grant them direct access to the Golden Palace. Now it seems they had oversimplified matters.

"What else? Even the Devils have to force their way in; there are no winding secret paths for us."

Bologue takes a deep breath, seizing the lull in the wind, and dashes out from behind the cover. The ashes have yet to be reclaimed, but as the dust disperses, he notices one silhouette after another buried in the plaza.

They are hand-in-hand statues, all facing the Golden Palace, as if engaged in a grand and mysterious ritual.

Those are not statues but people burned into salt pillars by the light.

Having endured countless years, they continue to stand, while the scorching wind lashes incessantly, raising a thick layer of ash upon the salt pillars.

Saqin mentioned in a message that apart from the banquet hall, rituals in other areas proceed in order.

A strange emotion wells up in Bologue. During the Fall of the Holy City, Raymond Gaudent’s Scholars chose collective suicide for some mysterious ritual.

A grand sacrifice.

For whom is this offering made?

No one replies, as the burning wind approaches.

In the distance, Bologue notices another shelter—a fallen tower’s wreckage, having collapsed from the sky, shattered into debris, forming a low wall that barely wards off the oncoming wind.