Endless Debt

"Free exploration, right?" Bologue asked again.

"That’s right, follow your instincts," Mamo continued, "Have confidence in yourself, Bologue, among us, you could be considered the expert in exploring the Ethereal Realm."

Such praise didn’t make Bologue happy; he gave a bitter smile, his eyes grew determined, "Let’s begin."

"Prepare!"

The Furya were loudly commanding, they were everywhere, like the diligent little elves in stories, taking on various important roles. With the addition of Furya and the Forge Furnace Volcano, the efficiency of the Sublimation Furnace Core had increased several times recently.

Nothing to worry about. Bologue thought to himself.

Mamo and Aimou retreated outside the platform and spire, leaving only Bologue inside the constraint force field about to be activated. The tightened steel provided both constraint and an odd sense of security, making Bologue feel like a criminal shackled to a copper pillar.

Relaxing his body, his gaze naturally looked to the dark dome. Accompanied by a gradually sharp buzzing, the entire garden awakened, the constraint spires rose several sections higher, the complex mechanical structures fully unfolded. Currents surged through the cables, summoning the ether dispersing into the air, gathering above the platform and condensing into a mass.

"First, increase the ether concentration..."

Bologue looked at the void above him, silently reciting the ritual procedure in his heart.

The entire platform had now fully unfolded, with smooth metal surfaces collapsing into a dense array of complex patterns, collectively forming a bizarre and special matrix diagram.

The invisible ether was like unseen water vapor, accumulating in the constraint force field, continuously gathering and pressurizing, forming clusters of rain clouds.

Golden raindrops precipitated out of thin air.

"Increase pressure!"

Mamo, wearing protective goggles, ordered the others. Mamo was an indispensable part of this ascension ritual; with the power of the Seeker of Glory, he could forcibly intervene in the ascension ritual and implement necessary remedial measures at any time.

The Furya heard the command, pulling levers. Although they appeared as individual independent entities, their minds were actually unified, with each Furya’s actions maintaining absolute consistency, like precise machinery.

Dazzling arcs of electricity erupted from the constraint spire, colliding along the unfolded metal structures toward the adjacent spire, one after another, continuously, until in the blink of an eye, a brilliant arc ring enveloped the entire platform.

That strange ethereal sensation assaulted Bologue’s consciousness again, making him feel like his movements were sluggish, his limbs moved, but something seemed to be left behind, only to catch up after a few seconds delay.

The high-concentration ether environment separated Bologue’s body and soul, allowing them to separate, thereby granting direct access to the Ethereal Realm.

The energy level surged, the golden raindrops gathered into an almost perfect sphere, countless currents striking the liquid surface, causing it to continuously collapse until it became a tiny flickering dot.

Until that dot collapsed under the terrifying pressure as well.

The dot resembled a needle piercing through two worlds, after a brief halt, it rapidly collapsed into a vortex of spinning light rings, from which a tidal wave of ether gushed out, spilling onto the platform.

Bologue only saw a myriad of starlight burst before his eyes, the light clusters merged into absolute pure white, and when the pure white extinguished, that familiar endless icefield appeared before Bologue once more, and he found himself freed from the shackles of the iron chair, standing alone in the desolation.

Ethereal Realm.

Stunned for a few seconds, Bologue quickly snapped back to reality, looking around, seeing the same scene as the previous times he arrived in the Ethereal Realm.

Countless figures frozen on the icefield, and beneath the dark, solid ice below the icefield, there were infinite frozen figures as well. At the horizon of his vision lay unknowable void, and the shadows crawling restlessly.

The shadows attempted to engulf the endless icefield entirely, but whenever they tried to advance, light and storms would block their progress, pushing them back, driving them away.

So Bologue turned his head, looking at the tranquil storm that reached skyward.

Secret Source.

The Secret Source that devoured countless returnee souls.

Every previous time Bologue stepped into the Secret Source, it was a perilous situation, risking his life, fearing he would lose himself in the raging storm. But now it was different, Bologue realized that the Secret Source couldn’t harm him at all.

Soulless.

Bologue was Soulless. That is to say, even without a soul, he could still survive. Bologue wouldn’t lose himself in that storm.

And this led Bologue to question one thing. In what circumstances did he make that transaction with Leviathan back then?

He was a Soulless created by Saqin, later banished by King Solomon. By logic, Bologue should never have any connection with them again in his lifetime. Yet, under the manipulation of fate, Bologue found himself on the battlefield, beneath that Holy City.

Like a bird returning home after a long journey.

Bologue couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him in the part of his memory lost during the Fall of the Holy City?

What was the transaction he initially made with Leviathan?

According to the abilities of a Soulless, didn’t he just trick the Devil?

Bologue’s heart was filled with confusion, yet he resolutely walked towards the Secret Source. This time, he would actively confront the Secret Source, step into this strange and dangerous place by choice.

He wanted to know what was hidden in the center of the storm.

As if sensing Bologue’s arrival, the familiar sense of connection surged again. Bologue advanced while examining his own abdomen, seeing strands of pure white threads weaving into a bundle, reaching towards the depths of the Secret Source.

Bologue was deeply entwined with the Secret Source, and similarly, he also had a tangible umbilical connection with the devils. Bologue stopped walking, turned his head towards the endless darkness, where an umbilical cord had already formed in mid-air.

Like a tug-of-war, darkness and light were vying for Bologue.

The disordered shadows squirmed violently. For a moment, Bologue felt the whole Ethereal Realm shaking with the intense tremors, as one terrifying shadow after another rose tall, kilometer-high, without end.

Within the Ethereal Realm, there were Secret Sources, but also devils.

Yet the devils within the Ethereal Realm didn’t match the tangible devil imagery Bologue knew. Instead, they seemed more like the materialization of the conceptual power of a devil.

The shadows within the Ethereal Realm were the sinister Source of Power, and the devils in the Material Realm were the emissaries of this power.

Supposing this was true, the Secret Source should also have some projection or emissary in the Material Realm.

"Condenser."

Bologue sighed softly; the answer was now clear.

With a sigh, Bologue watched as countless black hands extended from within the shadows, crossing the snowstorm, pouncing towards him like a volley of black arrows.

Just as Bologue encountered before, these shadows wanted no living thing in the Ethereal Realm, nor did they wish for its secrets to spread beyond.

Bologue guessed this was not the will of the devils at play, but a natural reaction of this sinister power.

Indeed, the devils are also slaves to power. While they obtain power, they must also submit to it. Within this Ethereal Realm, this chaotic power only acts on instinct with its chaotic actions.

"Even knowing all this, it still takes a bit of courage."

Bologue sighed again, turning his head as the storm loomed close, dazzling like a blazing sun.

This time, Bologue hesitated no more, turning his back to the endless darkness, sprinting forward. He would be the Pioneer, the forerunner, bringing new hope to change that pitch-black destiny, leaving no room for failure.

Bologue charged into the storm, never looking back.