Endless Debt-Chapter 921 - 42: Daylight Core (2)

"Just like... just like a soul!"

The soul exists not only within humans; it simultaneously dwells in both the Material Realm and the Ethereal Realm. When humans die, their souls leave the Material Realm and return entirely to the Ethereal Realm.

What about the Devils?

In this Ethereal Realm, they have their projections too. Does this mean that Devils, like souls, exist not only within the Material Realm but simultaneously in both the Material Realm and the Ethereal Realm?

Slaves to power.

The Devils are divided; hidden in the Ethereal Realm is their frenzied, chaotic authority, and in the Material Realm exists their frenzied will.

Power and will are thus separated.

Bologue struggled fiercely. At this moment, he felt an incredibly strong urge to survive. He wanted to live, to take this intelligence back.

"Astronaut!"

Bologue shouted as he saw that anchor smashing through the umbilical cord. The astronaut was here; was he going to stand idly by while being consumed by the Secret Source?

"Take me away!"

Bologue continued to shout; his voice echoed in the vast, boundless world for a long time without any response.

No answer at all.

Bologue shouted again, "I know you’re here!"

The Ethereal Realm responded with silence.

Bologue fell toward the Daylight Core, the calm eye of the storm.

The blazing white storm was several times larger than Bologue had anticipated; its diameter spanned at least several kilometers. It was an unimaginable monumental creation, channeling unimaginable power.

Bologue couldn’t help but speculate what kind of disaster such power would unleash upon the Material Realm; it wouldn’t merely be described as an Extraordinary Disaster but rather an extraordinary apocalypse.

The surrounding streams of light grew even fuller; they filled Bologue’s view, passing by him. At this moment, Bologue felt as if he were in a white corridor, gazing at the writhing tar shadows at the end, shrinking continuously.

Specters collided against Bologue, and each impact brought fragments of memories, with his will suffering heavy blows, riddled with cracks.

These specters had no self-will; they were merely information carriers bearing memories. This reminded Bologue of the current director who had completely turned into a damp mass, her will shattered, blurred, rendered into a walking corpse under countless conflicting wills.

Bologue was heading toward such an end too. He only hoped to hold out a little longer before completely collapsing.

No, can’t be like this.

"To summon a Devil, first you must know its name."

Bologue gazed toward the pitch-black tar beyond the endless light and trembled as he spoke.

"Leviathan!"

His voice slowly traveled to that bizarre front line of conflict, triggering a certain power, accompanied by the rustling sound of metal scraping against metal.

Something was coming.

The darkness surged into the storm, effortlessly surpassing the gathering wave of specters; the blurry shadows enlarged continuously in the blazing white light until the rust-stained anchor appeared before Bologue’s eyes.

Bologue was reluctant to resort to the Devil’s power, yet at this point, he had no other choice.

The heavy anchor was covered with sticky tar, coalescing into large schools of swimming fish, cruising along with the anchor’s advance. At the moment of contact with the brilliant flame, the tar fish evaporated entirely, paving the way for the anchor to move closer.

Bologue reached out with all his might, attempting to grasp the anchor.

This collision of forces triggered earth-shattering changes, and horrifying power spread wildly. At the same time, the anchor drew closer and closer. Just as Bologue was about to reach it, he was enveloped by pure streaming light.

Bologue was caught.

In high-speed pulling, Bologue had already delved deep into the eye of the storm, touching the core of daylight.

Almost at the moment of contact, Bologue lost consciousness. In his final thoughts, he saw the unreachable anchor and his evaporating body.

Vision plunged into darkness, and consciousness stagnated.

...

Amidst chaos, a trace of thoughts was slowly gathering. He spent a long time gradually accumulating more thoughts until forming a complete consciousness, and after an extremely long time, he finally realized his own existence.

He opened his eyes.

In view was the shabby wooden roof, beams covered with gray cobwebs. The boy lay on the bed, dazed for a long time, unable to get up until a woman’s voice came from outside the house.

"Hill!"

Hearing the woman’s call, a confused expression appeared in the boy’s eyes. Only after the call echoed again did he belatedly realize that Hill was his name.

Hill climbed out of bed, dressed, and walked out the door. By the time he did, the woman had already started working in the morning chill with her sleeves rolled up.

Hill moved beside her silently. The woman noticed the strange look in Hill’s eyes and asked, "What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare again?"

"I did, but... but it doesn’t seem like a nightmare."

"Hmm?" The woman smiled gently, "Tell me about it."

"I dreamt that I became someone else, someone named..."

Hill tried to recall the elusive dream, and after a long time, he slowly replied, "Someone named Bologue, that seems to be the name."