Endless Debt Chapter 1585 - 98: Flash of Life Before Death_3

"Severin, the Calamity Servant of the Rebellious Royal Court," Fuen explained, "the previous assault on the Fortress of the Morning Wind was orchestrated by him."

Calamity Servant, a term specifically for those who can unleash Extraordinary Disasters with their own power, such as Yidir, who carries the Blood and Flesh Plague. Sevilla, before them, is also a Calamity Servant, and his power is clearly what summoned this dense Dark Iron Curtain.

Severin looked disdainfully at Fuen and Bologue below. In the distance, Holt’s Ether reaction was still closing in steadily. Unlike Fuen, who freely manipulated the winds, Holt’s movement in the high sky was as clumsy as Bologue’s.

The two Seekers of Glory already had Severin overwhelmed. Bologue’s accidental rear assault wiped out the Night Race maintaining the ritual, and Severin realized this raid had failed. He was unwilling to give up and wanted to try again, but then a Curved Pathway Rift opened behind him.

Severin seemed to be speaking to something within the Curved Pathway Rift. Soon, he turned his head to look at Bologue, hatred in his eyes deepening before he resignedly stepped into the Rift.

No extra figures remained in the sky.

Bologue stood on the transparent vortex and asked, "Is it over?"

"Maybe."

"By the way, what’s going on here exactly?" Bologue took the chance to inquire, "Why did the Rebellious Royal Court suddenly attack?"

"Haven’t you realized yet? If they don’t attack us, we’re going to attack them," Fuen felt Bologue’s reaction was a bit slow, "Otherwise, why would you be here? Bologue."

Bologue blinked, seemingly just waking from the rage of battle, and belatedly nodded.

"Yeah, war is upon us."

Just as Bologue finished speaking, a powerful wave of weakness spread from within his body. After a brief continuation, the Ether inside him had leaked away completely through the Alchemy Matrix’s fissures, leaving Bologue captured by a massive sense of powerlessness.

"Are you okay?"

Fuen raised his hand to support Bologue, who nodded pale-faced, pretending to be relaxed and said, "It’s fine, just a minor mishap."

"Are you sure?"

"It’s fine," Bologue affirmed again, "I just need some time to recover."

After a brief moment of rebounding from the brink, Bologue entered an extreme state of weakness, far more severe than he imagined. But upon rational evaluation, the cost was something Bologue could completely accept.

According to tabletop RPG rules, Bologue’s original Ether Amount could be considered one life, a full reserve of Soul Shards another, the forced acquisition of Protection·Soul Sucking and Essence Stealing yet another. After all these measures were exhausted, the Ether Siphon would become Bologue’s last life.

Bologue didn’t think anyone could push him to such an extreme situation. Even if the enemy succeeded, they should also be trapped in the same dire straits as Bologue.

As a counterattack in desperation, Bologue found the current performance of the Ether Siphon satisfactory, but if possible, he hoped to further perfect this Ethereal Skill, even if it couldn’t lessen the damage to himself, at least to extend the duration it maintained.

"More importantly, let’s clear the fog first," Bologue, enduring multiple negative statuses inflicted by the Ether Siphon, said to Fuen, "There are still many residual enemies on the ground."

After pushing back the Throat of the Abyss and severing the channels, Bologue not only stopped the Rebellious Royal Court from deploying more troops but also erased the retreat route of the remaining enemies. The only fate awaiting them was being burned to ashes by sunlight.

Fuen took a deep breath, as one of the few Seekers of Glory capable of combat at high altitudes, he bore all the pressure overhead. Facing these troublesome enemies, Fuen couldn’t afford a fight to the death. If anything happened to him, the safety of the Fortress of the Morning Wind would become precarious.

Like Bologue, Fuen was also exhausted at this moment, with only a trace of Ether left within the Alchemy Matrix. But with the ritual of the Dark Iron Curtain interrupted by Bologue, Severin also retreated into the Curved Pathway Rift, the boundless clouds were just clouds now, and dispersing them was not a difficult task.

Fuen closed his eyes and spread the Ether in all directions, firmly grasping every stream of air in the high sky. With arms extended, he waved them like a conductor, weaving the air currents together. Wisps of weak wind gathered into strong currents united together, until forming a high-speed spinning air mass.

Countless air masses concentrated and gathered around Fuen as the focal point. As Fuen opened his eyes, the momentous currents stirred into a frantic gale, resembling furious serpents biting into the dense clouds, leaving astonishing wounds in them.

Golden blood flowed from the wounds; it was warm and gentle sunlight.

The light fell upon the ground, dispelling gloom and coldness, landing on the Bloodthirsty, instantly turning them into burning fireballs.

As products of infinitely degraded Blood of the Night Race, Bloodthirsty couldn’t withstand sunlight at all. Not just the living Bloodthirsty, even those fallen and turned into corpses were covered by successive flashes of fire.

This was the curse of sunlight, the world’s disdain. Even blood pools gathered on the ground spontaneously combusted, and in the blink of an eye, the entire battlefield was covered in unstoppable flames, stretching into an unending sea of fire.

Under Fuen’s guidance, the Dark Iron Curtain collapsed piece by piece, and the Bloodthirsty felt the most primitive fear buried deep in their bloodline. They defied the commands of High Tier Night Race, scattering in terror as beams of sunlight mercilessly fell down, chasing after them.

Thick smoke filled the air as raging fires spread. Even the Night Race sought refuge from sunlight, but on the barren coastline, there was no shelter for them. Not to mention the troops of the Fortress of the Morning Wind, who seized this opportunity to launch a mighty counterattack.

The sound of slaughter gradually settled down, leaving only occasional cries of lament. After an hour of burning, sunlight purified the earth, evaporating the last trace of Blood of the Night Race. The flames diminished, leaving the earth charred and blackened.

Condensers regrouped, fully armed, searching the surrounding areas for shadows, inspecting if any stragglers were fortunate enough to survive. The search must end before sunset, or the night would once again shelter the Night Race.

The weary Bologue descended with Fuen back to the ground, without a moment’s rest. Joining up with Holt and others, they swiftly headed to the core of the Fortress of the Morning Wind, Wind’s Breath Castle.

In the fierce battle, many Night Race silently infiltrated Wind’s Breath Castle. Looking at the top of the castle, Bologue could see wisps of black smoke rising, faint traces of blood drifting from its direction.