Endless Debt Chapter 1372 - 114: Time for Vengeance_3

One by one, gigantic, pillar-like limbs seemed capable of supporting the heavens and the earth, smashing into the cliff, vowing to destroy everything before them.

Faced with such a desperate situation, Hart surprisingly sighed in relief, ready to calmly accept his impending fate, even the Giant Shield slipped from his hand, crashing to the ground and raising a cloud of dust.

"How much do you think our compensation will be?"

Hart pulled a grim smile, joking with Yas beside him.

This time, Yas no longer maintained his previous seriousness, trying to go along with Hart’s joke. Then, a majestic Ether reaction descended from the sky, and suddenly several collapsing giant pillars froze up in mid-air, unable to move.

"Retreat!"

A voice roared at everyone, Hart looked up and saw Holt, severely injured but still rapidly moving between the limbs.

Secret Energy·Zeno’s Wall successfully blocked the Beast of the Herd’s round of attacks, and the Iron-Cutting Steel-Slicing Sword mercilessly cleaved everything Holt touched into fine gouge.

Hart was stunned until Yas kicked him in the rear, only then did he remember to pick up the Giant Shield, and with an uncontrolled expression, retreated alongside Yas.

"I’d prefer a bonus over compensation!"

Fortunately, this time the serious Yas went along with Hart’s joke.

Despite Holt being just a Defender and heavily wounded, he clearly couldn’t resist the Beast of the Herd’s attacks for long; soon the frozen limbs began moving again, like giant hands recklessly pounding the Desperate Outpost.

The crumbling cliff along with its warped vertical track approached like a relentless explosion, closely following the lift platform but never catching up, until it disappeared above the heights.

Amidst the flying boulders, Yas and Hart swiftly relocated on the cliff’s protrusions; this was no longer a battle they could be part of; aside from escaping, there was no need to consider anything else.

The sound of impact came from nearby, Holt landed on the other side of the cliff, leaning on his Secret Sword, his face smeared with blood, pain and exhaustion tormenting his body, his figure wobbled, seeming as if he might fall at any moment.

Holt hadn’t fought with such intensity in years, and now, picking up the blade for the first time, he faced such a formidable enemy in battle.

At such times, apart from cracking a few jokes to soothe his terrible emotions, Holt couldn’t think of anything else.

After rounds of battles, Holt was severely wounded, his Ether nearly depleted, this was probably his limit.

The Beast of the Herd slowly shifted its body, limbs mercilessly sweeping across the cliff, destroying the last remnants left by the Desperate Outpost, staring at the barren cliff, Holt felt some melancholy for a moment.

Soon, the dreadful creature sensed the Ether reaction from Holt; in its view, a Defender was undoubtedly a high-value target, vastly relieving its inner hunger.

Like a mass of seaweed, countless slender limbs surged towards Holt, even if he could deliver a thousand slashes, the Beast of the Herd could regenerate ten thousand times.

Yet Holt still arduously raised the Secret Sword in his hand, pointing it at the Beast of the Herd.

A streak of fire abruptly arose from the endless twisted limbs.

...

Inside the Beast of the Herd, in the distorted, ruined Golden Palace, pitch-black tar flowing from Yidir’s body crawled like a black snake, threading through piled debris, bypassing rampant flesh, finally at the top of the Golden Palace, it once again beheld the figure upon the throne.

The tar transformed into a pool of black quagmire, amidst the burbling sound of boiling, Beelzebub slowly emerged from the tar, appearing somewhat exhausted, for Sai Zong had given her quite the trouble in the Ethereal Realm just now.

Luckily, she had won.

The Beast of the Herd had seized the Golden Palace, granting her time to explore King Solomon’s legacy, particularly his remains.

"No matter how great a life is, it ultimately cannot escape death, isn’t that so?" Beelzebub mocked as she advanced.

His throne wasn’t grand, might even say it was simplistic, merely a series of undecorated steps, and an ordinary chair.

Beelzebub remembered about King Solomon; his original name was Hill, after earning the recognition of the previous Wolfgang Gold, he inherited the name, yet chose not to continue the sanctification of it, instead self-proclaiming as King Solomon.

As for his throne... it was a chair Hill used for research while still an apprentice, he truly cared little for ceremonial gestures, relocating it here directly to serve as his throne.

It’s not the crown that counts, but the power in one’s hands; likewise, the throne’s not key, but its position is.

Beelzebub ascended step by step, arrogantly standing before King Solomon’s remains.

King Solomon’s remains resembled many corpses inside Raymond Gaudent, draped in a simple gray robe, hands clasped before him, his face covered by a delicate mask, yet one might presume the flesh within had long decayed.

In Beelzebub’s nearly eternal life, she’d confronted numerous foes, yet none had impressed her as deeply as King Solomon.

This guy was so stubborn, troublesome...

Beelzebub mocked, "Truly pathetic."

She survived in the end; she was the victor.

Suddenly, Beelzebub noticed something in King Solomon’s hand, she slowly pried open the already hardened and dried skeletal fingers to reveal a pitch-black staff beneath them.