Endless Debt-Chapter 825 - 271: The Great Rescue Within the Story_4

"Sounds truly ironic," Asmodeus mocked, "you’re so concerned about authenticity, yet you fell in love with a phantom you never truly understood."

"It’s nothing, to you, I’m just a pastime, a toy in your long life. You seem so attached to me, but it’s only to maintain your ridiculous self-esteem."

Ewen said nonchalantly, "Your appearance is fake, your words are fake, your body is fake, everything about you, everything is fake, chaotic and void, utterly meaningless.

But one thing is real, my emotions as Erwin Flesher, my actions, the book I wrote because of it, everything, absolutely everything is undeniably real and has truly existed, beyond doubt, beyond denial."

Ewen was frighteningly sober, as if the warm, vulnerable side he had just shown was merely an illusion to numb Asmodeus.

"No one will remember you, Ewen."

Asmodeus, unable to conquer Ewen, could only seek to destroy him.

"How could that be?" Ewen laughed as if he’d heard a joke, laughing until he coughed, "You’ve read my story, you know my name; your existence is my proof."

"I will forget you, that’s true. In my long life, I’ve encountered many interesting people like you, but they all eventually turned to dust."

"You won’t remember everyone, just like we can’t remember every book we’ve read, but are they truly forgotten?

No, they may no longer come to your mind, but they become dust buried in your heart, forming the foundation of who you are. You may not see their presence, but they undeniably exist and continually influence you."

Ewen brought up an example, "Just like those biologists speak of genes? The combination of people passes on their genes; you may not see it, but it does exist.

Stories are the same, you may forget them, but the emotions they evoke hide within your soul. If you possess what is called a soul.

Just as you influence me, just as I influence you."

Asmodeus, for a moment, didn’t know what to say. Whether it was the north wind or the sun, neither could shake Ewen in the slightest; instead, it seemed to add to Asmodeus’s feelings of frustration.

She, driven by anger, bluntly threatened, "You will never see her again."

Ewen liked Asmodeus’s angry demeanor; it filled him with a sense of honor, "She will live in my memory, and we’ll walk towards destruction together."

Asmodeus felt a rare sense of powerlessness; even as a devil, she couldn’t determine everyone’s fate. She couldn’t even defeat Ewen.

"Then you will die here."

Asmodeus cursed, "Not just you, your friends will also pay the price for your nobility."

As she spoke, a violent wind rose outside Daisy Castle, and dense ranks of demons piled up like mountains, pressing against each other like ants on a sand dune. Even if Bologue and others had regained their extraordinary power, facing this sea of enemies like sand, perhaps only Bologue, with the undying body, could survive.

At this moment, darkness nearly swallowed all light, leading the story to its ultimate despair, which Bologue always feared. Even if Ewen resisted temptation, could he rewrite the ending of the story?

Asmodeus clearly understood that in the fractured reality, Ewen’s narrative was constrained. His story needed logical development, not an abrupt deus ex machina.

The sound of a thunderous crash echoed, as if a heavy stone pillar had collapsed. Ewen looked in the direction of the sound; the twisted wolf-head was nearly split open, white brain matter, yellow layers of fat, and scarlet blood mingled together, the open wound emitting steaming breath, the stench filling the air.

Bologue’s battered figure stood with his back to the corpse of the wolf-headed demon, covered in foul slime, blood slowly trickling down the sharp edges of his resentful bite.

Taking a deep breath, Bologue looked at Ewen, his voice cold and clear.

"Have you finished writing?"

"Finished," Ewen tapped the final period, the crisp sound of the mechanical keys clear like a low hum of a sword sheathing.

"Just in time."

Asmodeus stood stunned, completely unclear about what the two were talking about, but she could sense something was about to happen. Looking at Ewen again, his muddled eyes were filled with treachery and mockery.

Ewen, full of confidence, asked, "How was my performance? Quite exquisite, right?"

"You... deceived me?"

Asmodeus didn’t know what Ewen had deceived her about, but his gaze inadvertently proved the deception had been complete.

"It doesn’t count as deception, those words were indeed what I wanted to say to you, from the heart," Ewen’s hands left the typewriter, "Ah, it felt good to say it out loud, you know? The plot just now, I’ve rehearsed it countless times in my mind."

"What did you do?"

Asmodeus suddenly felt a surge of panic, thinking she was playing with a mortal, but all along, she was in Ewen’s elaborate trap.

It was just like what Ewen once told Cinderella, the author is the most perfect liar.

"What did I do? Of course, I finished the book, concluded the story," Ewen said, standing up and overturning the chair, "That’s the duty of an author!"