Endless Debt

This time, Bologue dreamed a dream, a long, long dream in which he saw countless humans eking out an existence in the darkness, trembling with fear and dread.

Everyone lived under the shadow of darkness until one night when someone used dry grass and dead trees to ignite the first torch that illuminated the dark.

It started as a tiny flame, then more and more torches were lit, their lights converging into a blazing bonfire bright enough to dispel the darkness.

To sustain the life of the fire, humanity had burned all combustible materials, and to keep this glow alive, Bologue dreamed of one person after another sacrificing themselves by stepping into the flames, letting their bodies become ashes and fueling the roaring fire.

The dead left behind blackened, broken skeletons, with successors standing upon their remains, transforming into the same desolate relics, generation upon generation filling the void, the bones forming a High Tower that grew ever taller, its flames within the bone cage becoming ever more intense, until it became a tower connecting heaven and earth, impervious to storm and rain, never to be extinguished.

Amidst the sacrifice of predecessors and successors, the civilization of humanity endured in darkness, no longer content to barely survive in its shadows.

The High Tower was built, reaching for the stars.

Humans, like fools, trampled upon one another, climbing the man-made High Tower, stretching out their hands with all their might, attempting to seize the stars from the dome of the night sky.

How could they possibly reach it?

The High Tower collapsed, countless figures tumbling to the ground, mangled and bloody, staining the earth red, a heavy sense of death shrouding the land, yet humanity’s desire for knowledge remained undeterred.

They tossed the bodies of the dead into the fire, once again treading upon the scorching coals, enduring the pain to rebuild the High Tower and explore the cosmos anew.

Collapse, rebuild, collapse, rebuild...

Like a cycle, this scene played out in front of Bologue repeatedly, until his blurry consciousness felt a touch of absurdity.

Humanity engaged in futile actions, punishing themselves with inexplicable pain, but after ten, a hundred, a thousand years—time so long it left Bologue bewildered—Bologue noticed.

In the countless repetitions, in each destined destruction, the falling High Tower always left something behind.

The foundation piled high with countless skeletons.

It began the size of a tree trunk, but now it stood as grand as a mountain range, and the human-built tower intersected with the clouds, perhaps it would collapse again soon, but it was destined to rise once more.

No one told Bologue this answer, yet he instinctively knew.

Then...Bologue opened his eyes.

The sense of disorientation from the dream vanished instantly, leaving Bologue with a slight headache that eased after a few seconds. As he looked around, he found himself awakened in a rather unfamiliar environment.

Sublimation Furnace Core? Or Scholars’ Hall?

Observing the familiar architectural style around him, Bologue guessed that he hadn’t been unconscious for too long, so much that they hadn’t had time to send him to the Border Sanatorium.

Standing up, apart from feeling a bit fatigued, Bologue experienced no other peculiar sensations and called upon the Ether. The Ether intensity that belonged to the Defender released from Bologue’s body.

Bologue had become a Defender.

This information, like a mark, connected the chaotic fragments of Bologue’s memory, immediately awakening him to the present situation.

Like awakening from a great dream, Bologue took a deep breath, his relaxed demeanor tightening as he tidied his disordered clothes and pushed the door open.

Passing through the empty corridor, Bologue heard faint conversations coming from ahead. Crossing another door, he encountered the familiar dim Dome.

The Garden.

At this time, the Garden looked as if it had been invaded by enemies; most of the High Tower had collapsed, the numerous restraining spires also fell, massive cables snapped in the middle, and the thick lines dangled like ruptured intestines.

Many staff were urgently repairing, the sound of clatter being incessant. Bologue suspected that during the promotion ceremony, his consciousness was impacted, and now these noises sounded extremely piercing, like sharp knives scraping against his eardrums.

What’s going on?

Bologue felt puzzled by the plot after this awakening, tentatively shouting, "Furya!"

The sound spread rapidly from near to far, but elicited no response.

After all, Furya isn’t a little dog; how could she appear on command, especially from anywhere?

Just as Bologue was planning to search further, he turned around, and three Fuyas appeared simultaneously before his eyes. Furya always seemed to exist in trios, speaking one sentence per person.

"Ah!"

Bologue couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise at the sudden appearance of the Fuyas.

The Fuyas, appearing and disappearing mysteriously, brought convenience to the staff but also added a significant amount of psychological pressure.

"Where’s Mamo? Where’s Aimou?" Recovering his composure, Bologue quickly asked.

The three Fuyas exchanged a glance and answered collectively.

"Border Sanatorium."

...

Inside the rocking carriage, Bologue sat alone on the seat. Now he was riding the subway to the Border Sanatorium, the entire train belonging to him alone, a privilege given to him.

After becoming a Negative Power User and assuming the position of team leader, aside from being unable to casually open doors in the Cultivation Room or access those forbidden materials, Bologue felt that the Order Bureau had posed no substantive restrictions on him.