Endless Debt

On the throne of the Golden Palace, Beelzebub saw the decaying yet not completely dead living corpse, and she recognized who it was.

The great King Solomon, Wolfgang Gold, or Hill...

No matter what name this body once held, Beelzebub could confirm that during the Fall of the Holy City, she had witnessed his self-destruction with her own eyes.

But upon noticing the black cane beneath those bony hands, Beelzebub hesitated.

She remembered the cane, all Devils remembered the cane; it was Leviathan’s personal item, and he was always leaning on it, like an elegant enigma, walking through the dark of cities.

For centuries, the cane had never left his hand. To Devils without concrete forms, the cane was like a perpetual anchor, confirming his existence.

Yet the cane was now in King Solomon’s hand, also since the Fall of the Holy City, Leviathan donned that cumbersome diving suit and hid within the shadows.

When the blaze erupted, destroying the cane, burning the body, and incinerating the Golden Palace, Beelzebub did not feel anger for stepping into a trap; instead, a nearly forgotten emotion surged within her.

Fear.

Beelzebub couldn’t help but wonder if something unknown had occurred during the Fall of the Holy City, and whether the Devil now hidden beneath that cumbersome diving suit was indeed the one she knew.

Perhaps the true Leviathan had already died, and the presence people saw now was an entirely unknown will.

The Devil’s death.

This sounded inconceivable, but it wasn’t impossible.

Just as Beelzebub said to Bologue, there are many forms to achieve eternal life, and many forms to achieve death as well.

Consciousness shift.

When a person reflects on their life, looking at their childhood self, youthful self, and elderly self, they often have this feeling—past selves are not oneself.

Thoughts and will differ drastically across stages of life; that indeed is not him, yet how could it not be him?

So too is the case for Devils, Beelzebub knew Leviathan hadn’t died; his consciousness merely shifted, transforming into another alien existence.

As the embodiment of obsession, consciousness change, isn’t that a form of death?

"I thought we were all decent people."

Bologue slowly opened his hands, expressing harmlessness.

He indeed was harmless; appearing in the Ether realm was only Bologue’s consciousness, absent were the Curse Jaw capable of cutting anything and the Vengeful Saw Axe that tore through life. Even surrounded by Ether, Bologue couldn’t manipulate or unleash his Secret Energy.

Even if he did unleash Secret Energy, it wouldn’t matter; he was facing two Devils, two Devils directly appearing in the Ether realm.

"The conflict has escalated, accordingly, there’s no need to maintain that so-called decency."

Beelzebub’s voice was icy and ruthless; she no longer wanted to speculate or doubt, she only wished to cut through chaos and restore the uncontrollable situation back into her hands.

She clenched her fists, a multitude of shadows surged toward Bologue like a black curtain, sweeping across everything on the Icefield.

Simultaneously, Mammon lightly waved a hand, tearing a curved rift within the Ether realm, echoing with horrifying wails, pale worms descended out of nowhere, opening their dark maw toward Bologue.

This World’s Calamity: Throat of the Abyss.

Bologue had seen it in Saqin’s memory, though unclear of the precise aftermath of the fight, Bologue could already perceive the outcome from the vicious scar upon Throat of the Abyss.

An unbreachable scar traversed its mouth, a corner of its round orifice was torn open, extending into its abdomen; with its movement, the wound split like a rotten, overly ripe fruit, blood oozed incessantly, and the countless bones stuck to its skin cried out in agony.

Faced with this scene, Bologue decisively made a decision.

Turn his head, spin around, swing his arms, Bologue turned and sprinted toward the depths of the Secret Source; any thought of confronting the Devils head on would be an insult and disrespect to both the Devils and his own intelligence.

"Damn it, if you have a grudge against Leviathan, go kill him first!" Bologue couldn’t help but complain.

Darkness rapidly approached, under the inescapable net, no matter how Bologue strode, he couldn’t escape their grip.

But at this crucial moment, a heart-palpitating wave emanated from the depths of the storm, a radiant light burst forth as intense as the stars, shattering the darkness like a falling meteor shower.

In the blur, Bologue heard a voice calling out.

"Run! Don’t look back!"

Bologue obeyed the voice, sprinting without looking back, faster and faster, the entanglement around him deepening, until even the umbilical cord couldn’t hold onto him, and Bologue was completely swallowed by the surging light.

Pilgrimage.

Every Condenser, during their elevation, experiences a momentary detachment from their body, ascending into the Ether realm, to face the Secret Source.

Like a great pilgrimage, under the watch and approval of the Secret Source, the soul of the Condenser is reinforced, the Alchemy Matrix further expanded, thus ascending, acquiring more potent Secret Energy.

Generally, the vast majority of Condensers possess merely a vague consciousness when reaching the Ether realm, akin to a dreaming infant, capable only of sensing dimly.

They cannot perceive the full scope of the Ether realm, and upon awakening, they won’t remember, so the Ether realm doesn’t remember them, nor can Devils perceive their presence on this desolate Icefield.