Endless Debt Chapter 997 - 82: Not Yet Over

"You know, our recent work has been incredibly busy, so busy that we’ve been sleeping in the laboratory, never leaving."

On the Observation Tower, Bologue and Aimou sat on a bench, with the sky above gradually darkening, revealing the deep night sky where the stars gleam in the darkness.

Beneath them was a churning sea of clouds, the city’s glow casting a slight blush on them, and within the gaps of the clouds, the dense tall buildings are faintly visible.

Bologue sat beside Aimou, patiently listening to her complaints, occasionally smiling to show acknowledgment.

Aimou seemed to have accumulated stress from work for a long time, and her complaints went on endlessly.

"I’m a bit better, the Steel Body can avoid fatigue, but my senior sister is in a bad state, she drinks a cup of coffee every two hours, and when resting, she crawls into a sleeping bag and tucks herself under the table."

Due to working together, Aimou and Belli’s relationship had become increasingly harmonious. Aimou found that in work, her senior sister was reliable, but once out of work, in life, Aimou would rather keep a distance from Belli.

Thinking of this, Aimou hesitated for a moment, recalling Belli pulling open the sleeping bag in the lab with a mischievous grin, inviting Aimou to join her, thanking work for leaving Belli exhausted, otherwise Aimou would have almost been dragged into it.

These matters are best left unsaid, although Belli’s craziness is well known, Aimou still feels that as her senior sister, for the sake of the sect’s reputation, she should somewhat make up for it.

Bologue asked, "Did you come out now because work has come to a pause?"

"Sort of, our preliminary work is done, now it’s up to the Scholars’ Hall."

Thinking of those elderly scholars, Aimou felt only respect. While a few could work and steal moments of leisure, cracking jokes, those academics reliant on potions and machines for survival worked like flesh and blood machines, besides their low mutters and coarse breaths, their working environment was eerily quiet and oppressively stifling.

At this moment, soft flesh replaced steel as Aimou gazed at the outside scenery, deeply breathing the fresh air and then letting out a long sigh.

With flesh attaching, the sense of fatigue grew stronger, if it were afternoon instead of evening now, Aimou would like to lie here lazily basking under the sun.

Seeing Aimou in such a fatigued state, Bologue spoke, "Am I disturbing you?"

"What do you mean?"

Perhaps due to the identity of an Alchemy Puppet, Aimou disliked the veiling talk between humans; in those twists and turns, misunderstandings in her comprehension always arose, leading conversations astray.

Hence, Aimou preferred the efficiency of machines, her words straightforward, never misinterpreting any intent.

But...

But although she felt this way, as she fully integrated into human life, Aimou found it wasn’t absolute; she also grew fond of human subtlety and concealment, which adds a bit of unreality and dreaminess to relationships and truths.

Just like now, according to her own thoughts, Aimou clearly knew what she should say to Bologue, yet the subtlety wrapped around her heart, making it hard to let the real thoughts escape.

"They say you’ve become the team leader?" Aimou threw out another topic to avoid letting the atmosphere sink into silence, "So fast... no wonder you’re the best newcomer of the year."

If Aimou had said this earlier, Bologue might have felt a little proud, but now his heart only felt bitterness.

"Yes, I became the team leader," Bologue murmured, "I still feel unreal."

Within the Field Operations Department, the highest position any field staff could reach would be team leader; for many, it takes decades, but Bologue only took three years.

Bologue knew he shouldn’t compare like this. Compared to ordinary field staff, he had too many special qualities—Undead, Chosen One... It’s these identities that made him capable of taking on this position.

Bologue has remained clear-minded, not allowing pride to engulf reason, but he still couldn’t stop that eerie pressure from enveloping his mind.

"Did something happen?"

Seeing Bologue in such a low mood, Aimou felt a surge of unease inside.

"A lot of things happened... many, many things."

The sky had completely darkened, the bright moon hanging high in the sky, Bologue quietly narrated the experiences of his first mission to Aimou, almost recounting the entire story, only concealing the incident of Xilin’s suicidal attack on the Cultivation Room.

This was the truth of the secret war, a Devil’s conspiracy.

Bologue was unsure of what reactions revealing these facts might incite within the Order Bureau. He needed to meet the crowd, even though he didn’t like that beast, Bologue still had to admit at such times, he needed the crowd, needed the wisdom of previous directors of the Order Bureau, all heroes.

After hearing Bologue’s narrative, Aimou’s tired consciousness re-energized, she muttered that name softly, "Church..."

Immediately after, Aimou realized something, "Palmer? Is he okay?"

Bologue envisioned his partner’s figure in his mind, "Palmer..."

"Palmer needs help," Aimou said.

Bologue hesitated for a moment, then shook his head, "No, he’ll handle it."

It wasn’t that Bologue was unwilling to help Palmer or offer him comfort, but Bologue understood well that Palmer didn’t need such things. Although Palmer often seemed to make one question his mental maturity and intellect, Bologue knew Palmer’s true nature and understood what Palmer was thinking in such circumstances.

"Palmer doesn’t need my comfort; he knows who will give him peace."

Bologue continued, "I’ve been through similar things, and I know what Palmer is thinking. Besides the peace others offer, he needs some time."

"To calm down?"

"No."

Bologue denied Aimou’s words, "I mean, he needs time to hone his skills, sharpen his dagger, find the enemy who hurt Church, and then personally slit his throat."

Aimou remained silent for a while; Bologue had vaguely mentioned things about Adelle, then Aimou asked in a very complex tone.

"Was it like this for you then?"

"Pretty much," Bologue thought for a moment, "Maybe even more extreme."

Aimou’s expression became more complex; she knew this was a serious matter. She wasn’t in a position to judge Bologue and Palmer, but she still felt it was somewhat crazy.

"You might think it’s abnormal, even perverted, but it’s inevitable. Those in our line of work always accompany death. To say there’s no psychological issue is impossible... To be precise, if someone dances with the Death God daily and has no psychological problems, then the situation itself is already distorted."

Bologue tried to explain his life and work to Aimou. Although Aimou often operated with Bologue, most of the time, Aimou only supported, providing power.

According to the law, Bologue is the mastermind behind the murders, and Aimou is merely an accomplice. If the defense attorney is good, Aimou could even be seen as coerced.

"We need some means to vent this twisted rage inside," Bologue continued, "Breaking the enemy’s limbs and hearing their wails is a great way to relieve pressure."

Aimou had no idea what to say.

Bologue took a deep breath; he knew his words were somewhat twisted, but once he opened his mouth, he couldn’t help but expose his most brutal thoughts.

With this realization, Bologue suddenly became aware of something. He looked toward the distant direction and whispered in a low voice.

"My revenge is not over."

In the blink of an eye, it was as if a beam of light rose from the ground, far beyond the horizon, within the Kagader Empire, the headquarters of the King’s Secret Sword, one of the giant entities dominating the continent for a century.

During Bologue’s night of revenge, although he stopped the train from leaving Opus and smashed Sandbox with his own hands, the power granted by the Tyrant hadn’t ended, a pillar of light symbolizing his revenge enemy stood at the distant end, unreachable by Bologue.

As the first ray of morning light descended, the enemy’s pillar of light merged with the brightness, disappearing.

It vanished, but Bologue still remembered everything.

If anything is more terrifying than a fervent avenger, it’s when that avenger has an Undying Body.

Bologue gently rubbed his cuff, the Silver Snake formed by Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid coiling around his wrist, the cold metal touch giving Bologue an inexplicable sense of security.

After a deep sigh, following the desire for revenge, Bologue felt a bout of exhaustion, followed by inner paleness.

Bologue vaguely understood everyone’s words; revenge was indeed a torrential flame, but the flames would eventually extinguish, and the light would not; it would remain forever with the blazing sun.

Bologue needed something like the blazing sun.

"Aimou..."

Bologue suddenly spoke, as if all defenses had been removed, Bologue said quietly.

"I’m feeling tired."