Endless Debt Chapter 662 - 173 Elegy

The heavy rain washed over the rust-covered wreckage, flowing through the intertwined metal frames, carrying with it the warmth of fresh blood, dripping heavily onto the ground. Very quickly, puddles of dark red stains gathered, with thin threads of blood floating inside.

The scavenger rat collapsed to the ground, feeling uncontrollable searing pain throughout his body. He tried hard to curl up, protecting his soft innards, so even if the men kicked and punched him, it would only be superficial injuries.

The men must be laughing at him, right?

The scavenger rat knew that, with his hunched and deformed stature, now curled up, he probably looked no different than an oversized rat.

Many had laughed at the scavenger rat for this, and he had long grown used to it.

That’s life. Once you get used to it, even the most brutal things can’t stir waves in your heart.

"This is a trap."

The man with blue eyes said, while at the same time, the scavenger rat muttered softly in his heart, "It’s also a trap for me."

The butcher deceived these two lunatics; the price was cheap, merely the lives of the scavenger rat and the divination master. In this cruel food chain, such an outcome was not unexpected for the scavenger rat.

"Did the butcher tell you anything else?"

Bologue asked the hunched man, who was the scavenger rat, once more.

"No," the scavenger rat shook his head forcefully, "he only told us to stall you, nothing else."

The scavenger rat was adept at the way of survival. He knew how to pursue benefits and avoid harm. At times like these, the danger from the butcher had already been forgotten; the most important was survival in the moment.

Lebius suddenly asked, "Is this place run by the butcher?"

"That’s right, I’d count as one of the first inhabitants here, I know everything about Wrecked Ship Shore."

The scavenger rat, enduring the pain in his body, explained to Lebius, "If you want to know about this place, I could easily assume the role of a tour guide."

Bologue believed he had found a clue, "What has the butcher done here?"

"He hasn’t done much; the butcher merely demarcated a region and moved our businesses here. Beyond that, he never interfered."

The scavenger rat always thought the butcher was a strange man, a pure madman.

After establishing Wrecked Ship Shore, the butcher directly abandoned it, uninterested in profits or power.

Bologue asked the crucial question, "Then who is managing this?"

The scavenger rat suddenly fell silent, Bologue pressed closer, "It seems you know."

After a brief struggle, the scavenger rat spoke, "Them... a group of strangers. They usually aren’t in the markets but hide deep within the wreckage and ruins. I don’t know who they are or what they intend to do..."

The scavenger rat was speaking the truth. To them, those people were like a sort of taboo, existing in the same environment yet without any connection or interference.

Bologue glanced at Lebius, the whistle connecting them, the sound echoing directly in the mind.

"Continue, Bologue."

Bologue nodded, lifting the blood-stained sheep horn hammer, threatening.

"Where are they?"

The scavenger rat stared blankly for a moment, the noise of the rain and thunder drifting away, replaced by soft whisperings, as if seductive women were caressing his rough skin, softly speaking to him.

"They..."

The scavenger rat raised his hand, pointing behind Bologue.

"They’re right there."

Bologue turned his head, and the open ground of the market was already crowded with people whose eyes showed a bizarre fanaticism, holding blades and firearms in their hands.

An anomalous fervent atmosphere descended, with everyone in a state of excessive excitement, panting heavily, their chests heaving violently, even their faces flushing.

Then Bologue heard it, the woman’s mournful singing.

In a daze, Bologue felt he was inside a theater, the woman on stage twisting her body, letting out exquisite melodies from her throat.

She was using an ancient language Bologue couldn’t understand, with profound and enigmatic meaning, like a segment of a great epic. Bologue believed it wasn’t his own auditory hallucination because everyone in front of him, even Lebius, had the same expression as Bologue.

Sorrow, endless sorrow.

Bologue held his breath. He couldn’t find words to express this pure sadness, and even his eyes unconsciously gleamed with a hint of moisture. Fortunately, it didn’t fall until the very last moment.

"So sorrowful..."

Aimou whispered in Bologue’s mind.

The fervent and restless people in front of him were also pacified by this song, and the tense atmosphere instantly turned into a funeral.

Who the funeral was for, no one knew.

"Condenser from the Void Spirit School, tier unknown..."

In this endless sorrow, Bologue’s voice inappropriately surfaced in the minds of Lebius and Aimou. Bologue couldn’t determine the position of the opponent, so he had to leave this task to Lebius.

"It seems the Wrecked Ship Shore is just a decoy."

Bologue spoke, his voice clearly echoing within the market.

Glancing over the Scavenger Rats and the manipulated masses, Bologue sneered, "You are nothing but a layer of camouflage to hide the true darkness."

Lebius moved, and even without the Blade-Biting Wolf, he could overlap the wolf pack upon himself for further enhancement.

Illusory Spirit Wolf.

Relying on keen Ethereal Perception, Lebius quickly found the position of the opposing Condenser amidst the complex wreckage.

The action began, and Lebius was like a bolt of lightning, disappearing in the blink of an eye. The twisted wreckage buildings roared with each step, and with each move, Ethereal Amplification left the ground supporting his body sunken and shattered. He was like a charging bull; just the lingering sound of his arrival was terrifying enough.

The mournful melody ceased, and the female voice turned to anger. She raised her longsword and Round Shield, glaring at her enemy, blowing the horn of vengeance.

She was too slow.

Before the raging anger could reach its peak, Bologue had already leapt into the crowd, the Sheep Horn Hammer in his hand transformed and forged into a blade. Like the blade of a propeller rushing forward, in an instant, blood and flesh flew, and severed limbs scattered.

The roar stopped abruptly in the throat, the shrill wails drowning the woman’s low chant. People clutched their wounds in terror at the arrival of the Death God.

Bologue savored their pain, expertly cleaving head after head, the spilled blood warming the chilling space. At that moment, Bologue felt he had returned to the crossroads of hesitation.

Cold serpents extended from Bologue’s other hand, interweaving and biting each other, tensed into a twisted longsword. Its surface was covered in uneven undulations, as if freshly forged by a craftsman’s Heavy Hammer.

The silvery metallic hue bore traces of red. This wasn’t blood but appeared more like oxidized rust. As the metals rub against each other, the rust ignited by the instant heat. In the next moment, the Red Mercury blazed intensely.

The blade swept up flames in layers, the scorching firelight tracing the path of Bologue’s sword, and instantly the frenzied crowd was torn into fragmented chunks of meat. The high temperature roasted the flesh, fats sizzling and popping, and a strange scent of charred flesh wafted up.

Countless faces flashed before Bologue’s eyes, each with different expressions. For a moment, Bologue felt he had seen all the world’s people, then burned them to ashes.

The Scavenger Rat curled up in place, not driven to frenzy by the woman’s song. A vast sorrow captured his heart, and he remained immersed within it.

The experiences of past years surfaced one after another in the Scavenger Rat’s mind. His spirit was under a severe test, but at the last moment, he still managed to endure.

The Scavenger Rat saw it, the amassed gold coins. He was about to save enough money to shed his filth and stand upright in the light.

He couldn’t die, absolutely couldn’t die.

The Scavenger Rat growled lowly, overcoming the physical pain and mental grief. He stood up on the blood-soaked slippery ground, lifting his head to meet a pair of green eyes.

Behind those green eyes lay a scene like a slaughterhouse, bodies piled together, the fire quietly burning...

The Scavenger Rat didn’t continue to look, even someone dealing in death could hardly suppress his retching at this moment.

The flaming blade hovered above the Scavenger Rat’s head, as Bologue looked curiously at the creature before him.

The Scavenger Rat’s hunched posture stemmed from his deformed spine, his back arched at an extreme angle, forcing him to keep his head low like a sneaky, despicable mouse.

"You actually made it through."

Bologue intended to cleave the Scavenger Rat’s head with one slash, but to his surprise, the Scavenger Rat endured the mental shock; this was truly rare.

The Scavenger Rat didn’t understand what happened, he pleaded for Bologue’s mercy.

"I know where they are! I can take you there!"

The Scavenger Rat roared in his heart. He couldn’t die, not here.