Endless Debt-Chapter 866 - 16: It’s Over

Unlike the usual brightness, the training room was completely shrouded in darkness, the vast space plunging into pitch blackness, with cylindrical pillars rising from the ground, crisscrossing to form an endless labyrinth.

Bologue stood at the center of the labyrinth, entirely enveloped in darkness, the only sound remaining was his calm breathing.

Since coming to the Order Bureau, Bologue decided to train here, to master the next Ethereal Skill.

Closing his eyes, Bologue calmed his mind, all his senses becoming extremely sharp, with his connection to the ether gradually deepening, he could faintly glimpse a water-like presence in the darkness.

The ether flow.

"The ether gathers and intertwines, flowing like water, omnipresent and wantonly rippling, forming a vast ocean."

Hart’s voice echoed in his mind. As a Condenser of the Origin School, Bologue had been seeking Hart’s guidance on the techniques of Ethereal Skills for the past few months.

After successfully mastering Ethereal Concealment, Bologue deliberated for a while. Among the many Ethereal Skills, he ultimately chose Ethereal Perception as his next learning subject, based on his own situation and capabilities.

This skill could enable Bologue to more acutely sense the flow of ether, which not only allowed him to manipulate the ether with greater precision and complexity but also to detect others’ ether movements from its directional changes, thereby predicting opponents’ attacks in advance.

If this perception were expanded, Bologue would be like a radar, able to detect the ether reactions of others over a wide range, granted they hadn’t concealed themselves with Ethereal Concealment.

After some learning, Bologue gradually found the rhythm; despite the surrounding darkness, he could sense those vague flows, until a moment when this ocean of ether became agitated.

First sensing the ether boiling, then the sound of wind tearing through the air, a dagger, dragged by the fierce wind, sped around the pillar, closing in on Bologue’s eyes in an instant.

Bologue didn’t activate Secret Energy, but decisively drew his sword, solely relying on its ordinary iron properties for the slash.

His vision obstructed, Bologue could only rely on his perception of the ether flow to retaliate; as the blade swung, resistance was felt at the wrist, followed by a light sound, and Bologue sliced through the dagger.

This was not the end but the beginning, as more dense sounds filled the air, numerous daggers broke through space towards him. Bologue did not foolishly stand still but started running, the clanging and clinking lingered for a few minutes before ceasing.

"Is it enough?"

A voice called out from the darkness, Palmer speaking up after a few seconds as Bologue responded, "It’s enough!"

Bologue could sense an ether reaction rising at the other end of the darkness had extinguished.

The lights turned on, dispelling the darkness, and in the vast gray-white space, Bologue walked leisurely towards Palmer, seeing as the lights brightened, only then noticing the shallow wounds all over Bologue’s body.

To train Ether Perception, Bologue suppressed himself as much as possible, and the effect was quite apparent, as his progress was rapid.

"Today looks not too bad."

Palmer glanced at the healing wounds, "Much better than before."

He remembered the first time accompanying Bologue for training, Bologue had asked him to go all out, and Palmer complied by releasing daggers; only a low hum echoed in the darkness, when the lights came back on, a dagger was precisely lodged in Bologue’s chest.

Fortunately, Bologue was an Undead, allowing him to train in such an extreme manner.

"Do you want to fully master this extreme technique before the action?"

"No, I don’t think I’m that talented," Bologue replied, "I just want to become as strong as possible."

Palmer had no comment; he had noticed Bologue’s changes over this period. Bologue was becoming more like Lebius, a complete workaholic, as if burning himself out completely.

Sometimes Palmer felt like something was chasing Bologue, making him so anxious and eager to grow stronger.

Clearly, nothing was chasing him, nothing was chasing anyone.

"You’re looking pretty bad," Palmer scrutinized Bologue’s expression, "It’s getting worse; you might need a doctor."

During this time, Palmer had suggested countless times that Bologue should see a doctor, and as for the outcome, everyone was already aware.

Bologue said, "I’m fine, just more troubles piling up."

"What troubles? Tell me about it."

Palmer threw an arm around Bologue’s shoulder, in response, Bologue remained as silent as ever, though he couldn’t help but recall his conversation with Aimou the previous night.

...

Aimou lay on the bed, usually keen to relish these rare moments of rest, engaging in things she enjoyed without wasting a moment, yet today, Aimou had lain on the bed primly for a while, letting the light slip by.

She lay with eyes open, not asleep, and at this moment, her thoughts hummed like factory machines, if she were in a Steel Body state, Aimou wondered if she’d hear the buzzing under her shell.

Aimou’s mind was a bit muddled; since waking up, the conversation with Bologue last night kept replaying in her mind, both hadn’t drunk, yet somehow had such a bizarre conversation, not to mention how strange it had been.

The words were full of assumptions and implications, like a debate gradually moving toward the core issue.

Bologue wasn’t stupid, and neither was Aimou. When she came to her senses, she realized how embarrassing her crazy implications were, and Bologue’s wooden reaction left her at a loss once again.

Aimou believed that Bologue liked her, absolutely, definitely, she was so sure, like a fervent cultivator. But when she saw that after all the prayers she’d said, the one she worshipped still had an indifferent face, even Aimou had to have a bit of doubt.

Was she being overly sentimental, overthinking things?

The suspicion chain, which Aimou had only read about in books, was rampaging in her mind. She complained about her own entanglement over such matters, yet couldn’t free herself. She didn’t even notice the knock at the door.

A few minutes later, Belli and Aimou were lying side by side on the bed, as if they were tourists sunbathing on the beach.

"So... you’ve been thinking about this all the time?"

After hearing Aimou’s story, Belli propped her arm and sat up sideways. Aimou replied softly, burying her head in the pillow.

Belli’s expression turned complicated, even somewhat disgusted. She didn’t understand why two usually smart people were being so twisted, and then she couldn’t help but exclaim.

"Are you two kids?"

"Him... I’m not sure, but I am."

"Now you remember you’re a child!"

Belli reached out to pinch Aimou, who nimbly rolled over, wrapping herself in a quilt and rolling off the bed.

"Damn it, can’t you two be straightforward? Must you be so subtle?"

Belli continued to complain, "He’s not usually so decisive? Why does he become shy here?"

Besides the extremely twisted negotiation-like interaction between the two, what shocked Belli the most was Bologue’s strange reaction.

Belli had never seen that side of Bologue, she couldn’t even imagine it. Who could expect it? The scene of a psychopathic killer being shy shouldn’t even exist, right?

"Or is it that the age gap between you is too big?" Belli speculated, "After all, rounded up, the difference is nearly a hundred years."

"I don’t know, but I feel he might have some... emotional barriers?"

Aimou poked her head out, recalling what Bologue had said, "Bologue seems like someone who pursues personal perfection, always appearing flawless..."

The more he cares, the more restrained he becomes, the more he seeks perfection, even trapping himself in a cocoon.

Bologue gave Aimou that feeling, he was afraid to show that vulnerable side — if Bologue had one.

But in that intimate relationship, everyone reveals their vulnerability, and that might be exactly what Bologue feared.

After a headache, Belli sighed about the stirrings of youth while wondering if they got together, wouldn’t it be a twilight romance? More than twilight, it would be a century romance.

"What’s wrong with you?"

Belli noticed the change in Aimou’s expression, who had been looking troubled and was now giggling.

"On the flip side, the more restrained he is, the more he wants to appear perfect before me, right?"

Seeing Aimou like this, Belli didn’t know what to say for a moment, she could only pounce on her, rubbing her face fiercely, crafting her carefully sculpted work.

"Right now you feel like a wildflower growing wildly, with every petal drenched in glorious sunshine."

...

Palmer leaned against the door frame, licking the ice cream in his hand, watching Bologue nestled on the sofa. Ever since he returned, Bologue had stayed in that pose, as if he had suffered a major blow.

Numerous worries were weighing on Bologue, and now this pressure increased a bit more from Aimou, wantonly pressing on Bologue’s spirit.

He barely forgot the Devil disputes, then Bologue would remember the King’s Secret Sword negotiations, the bizarre Decision Room, potential crises...

After solving and forgetting all that, a familiar face would slowly appear again.

"Ah..."

When Aimou felt the bright sunshine, Bologue let out a toneless groan of pain.

It was like going out early in the morning to walk the dog, humming a tune, only to return and find his house engulfed in flames. Before he could rescue it, the burning beams collapsed with a crackle, leaving nothing but smoking ruins.

Bologue rolled over, murmuring, "It’s over."