Endless Debt

Chapter 1660 - 127: A Step Away

Inside the dilapidated Pilgrim’s Courtyard, columns lay fallen, the red carpets dimmed, blood trickled over the marble floor, solidifying into dark red patches. Even as a century had passed, Bologue and the others could still glimpse the past prosperity through the gloom.Yet the fragrance of wine was no more, what remained was only the stale air mingling with the scent of decay, smelling like some foul fermented product, crawling with filthy maggots.

The complex and subtle sounds came from all directions, sounding like insects on a massive crawl, or like the gentle patter of rain hitting the ground... The reality was far from beautiful; the source of the sound was those scarlet tentacles, which spread in from the outskirts of the Royal City, nearly devouring the palace completely, converting inorganic matter, and eroding broken bodies.

There was the sound of dripping water and a dull, sticky echo; that was the immense festering flesh swarm digesting the palace, turning everything it touched into Extraordinary Disaster: Eternal Rotting Land.

In the murderous atmosphere, Hinda, who had remained silent, turned her head back. The burgeoning flesh had submerged the corridor they came from, countless scarlet branches stretching freely, and from that frenzied aura, Hinda could sense their endless hunger for flesh.

Yet the carpet of flesh did not continue to spread forward; it halted outside the Pilgrim’s Courtyard, as if receiving some instruction, or sensing some terrifying threat, forbidding them from proceeding any further.

"There’s no turning back."

Hinda thought decisively, raising her gun, finger poised on the trigger, her gaze through the lens, the silhouette of the man at the end becoming clearer in her eyes.

He was of the Night Race, with a pair of blood-red eyes almost dripping with blood, clad in heavy armor, the pitch-black plates layered like sharp peaks, covered in spikes large and small, each forged from fine steel, shimmering with a cold gleam.

The man seemed like an iron wall, standing before the road to the Origin Tower, resting on a long halberd wrought from fine steel, like a cold-hearted harbinger of death, exuding unparalleled majesty and power.

"Olivia."

The man spoke, his voice not high nor low, the sound waves reflected through the Pilgrim’s Courtyard, entering everyone’s ears like thunderous roars.

Olivia looked solemnly at the man, for as soon as he spoke, she recognized his identity, yet Olivia did not expect that he had survived the dark ages.

"Daughter of Serey, are you here to atone for your father’s sins?"

The man grasped the long halberd with both hands, angling it before him. His voice appeared calm, but his eyes were filled with uncontrollable rage.

"Atonement? Perhaps," Olivia smiled, "though the sins I seek to confess may differ from what you imagine."

"No matter, I will personally drag you to him, and let him decide all rights and wrongs."

The man stepped forward, the plates of armor grated against each other, emitting sharp friction sounds, the dense metal spikes undulating, appearing chaotic, yet in reality, each spike was meticulously embedded within the armor, not interfering with one another.

Hinda maintained her aim, through the lens, the man’s silhouette was crystal clear, each step he took brought forth immense pressure.

"Olivia, who is he?" Hinda couldn’t help but ask.

"Trick."

Olivia silently clenched the Bloodthirsty Dagger, shadows expanded quietly, forming a black carpet, spreading below everyone’s feet.

"He’s the commander of the Imperial Guard, the Night King’s confidant, his most faithful servant," Olivia explained, "during the end of the Dawn War, it was his desperate resistance that allowed the Night King to retreat from the battlefield and hide within the Origin Tower."

"Likewise, he is one of the beings who most hate Sere."

Without any warning, Trick’s pace suddenly accelerated, the armor appeared heavy and cumbersome, yet in no way limited Trick’s agility. He stomped heavily on the ground, crushing the red carpet and the floor together.

Accompanying Trick’s advance, copious Ether burst forth, mysterious runes lit up on the surface of the armor, sketched out spectral blue lines, fusing with Trick’s own Alchemy Matrix, surpassing the limits of time, unleashing grand power without restraint.

Seeker of Glory.

High concentrations of Ether surged forth, sweeping over everyone like a howling wind, faintly stinging the cheeks.

On a usual day, encountering a Seeker of Glory would cause most to feel some fear and astonishment, no matter how composed their mind, given that such seekers were lofty and few throughout the world.

But today, in this dreadful nightmare land, forget about Seekers of Glory, multiple Extraordinary Disasters and Calamities had already emerged, and the Undead were as numerous as cattle.

Under consecutive impacts, everyone’s mind seemed numb, aside from exchanging the fact that he was a Seeker of Glory requiring cautious handling, there was no other reaction.

Only Bologue maintained some respect for the Seeker of Glory, and as he strode forward, he questioned, "What is his Secret Energy?"

"He can create Illusion Creations of Thunder and Command them!"

Under the vast disparity of the Alchemy Matrix, even though Trick was a Seeker of Glory, the nature of his Secret Energy tended toward ordinary, far from the current day’s Secret Energy which has become complex and diverse.

However, Bologue did not underestimate Trick for this reason; sometimes, the simpler the nature of the Secret Energy, the more it can erupt with direct and terrifying damage under the Ether support of a Seeker of Glory.