Endless Debt

Chapter 1159 - 19: Hiking Trip

When Bologue stepped out of the stairwell, Sai Zong did not leave with him but stayed alone in the armory. It housed more than just human weapons and the history of warfare; it bore witness to Sai Zong’s long life. His fingertips brushed the cold metal as if leafing through the dry, coarse pages of a diary.Bologue did not linger long in the Undying Club; he went straight outside. The fresh morning breeze carried away the stale moldy smell of the armory, and the warm sunlight flooded in, warming Bologue’s heart.

"I can tell you the devils’ secrets, at least those I know," Sai Zong’s voice echoed in his ears, "and I can help you combat other devils without disturbing his peace, and even usher in the true end."

"Why do you do so much for him, just because of the Chosen One’s identity?"

Bologue did not immediately respond to Sai Zong’s words but instead questioned him. His loyalty was too suspicious. Even as a Chosen One himself, Bologue didn’t have much affection for Leviathan, instead constantly scheming against the devil.

Sai Zong held absolute loyalty to the Eyes of Eternal Fury, as if the will of the Eyes of Eternal Fury was his own will, his wishes were Sai Zong’s wishes, and he cared for nothing else.

Regarding this question, Sai Zong did not answer but continued speaking to himself, "With the accumulation of slaughter and fury, the bearers of the Original Sin Armament will attract each other, like an umbilical cord.

Like a mad duel, the Original Sin Armament will drive its bearer to collect other Original Sin Armaments until they defeat everyone else, becoming the only victor, the champion of blood."

Sai Zong prophesied the enemies Bologue would face, a smile appearing on his scarred and wrinkled face, then darkness descended.

When Bologue’s vision returned, he had been escorted out of the armory, and the end of the nearby corridor became an unreachable distance.

Now Bologue walked through the increasingly bustling streets, casually sitting on a bench, his gaze piercing through the traffic, looking at a blank space.

After a long time, Bologue heaved a deep sigh.

"So tired this early in the morning?" Bologue muttered to himself.

The Sin of Wrath, the Eyes of Eternal Fury, the duels between the bearers of the Original Sin Armament... The problem of the Night Race was yet unsolved, and a new round of issues had emerged.

Bologue had a premonition that as the dormant powers awakened one by one, growing conflicts would fill this world until everything shattered into dust.

He no longer rested or lingered but stood up and strode toward the Order Bureau.

...

"As you can see, the personnel in the Field Operations Department is severely insufficient now, and even after the expansion, it’s hard to replenish in a short time."

Geoffrey started with some pleasantries to soothe Bologue’s mood, "So many tasks are assigned to the Special Operations Group, and your vacation will need to be postponed for a while."

"It’s nothing; I’m an Undead. I’ve got plenty of time to rest."

Bologue had no objection to the increased workload. He liked working, just like his former team leader, Lebius.

"So what tasks did the Decision Room send?" Bologue asked.

"Some minor tasks," Geoffrey raised an eyebrow, "the Decision Room is quite considerate, knowing you’ve been slashing for a month straight; this task is quite relaxing, and you’re very familiar with it."

"Let’s hear it."

"Patrol the Great Rift."

Geoffrey added, "Xilin’s Command destroyed the Wandering Crossroad and distorted the topography, further collapsing the already fragile geological structure. Now many fissures cross the land and even extend beyond Oubos."

"Is every massive fissure extending outward a road, a road leading to the Abandoned Land, is that so?" Bologue asked.

"Yes, without the mist of the Wandering Crossroad, we’re troubled with how to hide the Abandoned Land, as for the things within it..."

Mentioning these, Geoffrey felt a wave of headache, "The Decision Room is trying to find a way."

"Got it, I understand."

Bologue stretched lazily and then asked, "Do I go alone?"

"Up to you; after all, the Special Operations Group hardly has many people left, and hiring is very difficult for us."

Mentioning this part, Geoffrey recalled the new instructions issued by the Decision Room today, "By the way, to cope with the increasingly adverse situation, the Decision Room is preparing to expand the Field Operations Department comprehensively."

"Sounds like no different from a military expansion."

Geoffrey chuckled, and then his expression turned serious, "The Decision Room is preparing to rebuild the second group, the Second Group, Blade of Order."

Bologue’s expression slightly stiffened; he directed his gaze to another person in the office, who had been busy since Bologue entered, just like usual.

Lebius did not look up but said, "Seeing the Second Group being reintegrated into the operational sequence is very gratifying."

Bologue blinked, moving his gaze back, expecting Lebius to be greatly excited upon hearing this news, but he seemed calm, as if the death of the Red Dog had completely untied his heart’s knot.

That’s a good thing.

"Alright, I understand," Bologue continued to ask, "when does the work start?"

...

Aimou put aside the stack of ledgers almost piling up, moved the chair back slightly, placed his feet on the desk, and leaned his head back, letting out a profoundly tired sigh a few seconds later.

"Ah..."

Having a researcher handle these matters is really a killer.

After a long time, Aimou couldn’t help but suspect whether this was Belli’s conspiracy, training her research and administrative abilities bit by bit, until one day, she was mature enough, and then pushing all the work supposed to belong to Belli onto her.

It sounded like something Belli, that crafty senior, would do.

Aimou’s sigh gradually stretched out, as if to expel all the air from her lungs. Her voice gradually weakened but maintained an unbroken tone until there wasn’t a single breath left, and then she stopped.

This behavior was extremely childish.

"Does this count as child labor?"

The words Bologue had once said involuntarily came to Aimou’s mind. Child labor? It seemed odd no matter how one thought about it, but there was no way around it; her existence indeed defied common sense.

A magnificent artificial life, a steel body by nature... Sometimes, Aimou couldn’t even understand her own identity.

No matter how much she complained, the workload wouldn’t decrease one bit. Aimou sat up straight, preparing to continue her tasks, and it was then that she noticed a tall figure standing at the desk.

"Good morning, Aimou."

Bologue acted like he was at home, pulling up a chair and sitting opposite Aimou.

Aimou was completely stunned; after a long pause, she asked, "When did you get here?"

"Just now."

"Why... why didn’t you knock?"

Recalling her recent actions, Aimou felt an image-shattering sense of shame.

"Your door wasn’t shut," Bologue glanced at the door and then turned the question on Aimou, "What were you doing just now? Training your lung capacity?"

Bologue didn’t care at all about Aimou’s image.

"Yeah." Aimou nodded stiffly.

"What brings you here?" Aimou asked.

It was strange; even though their relationship was certain, as Aimou had previously thought, there was always a sense of alienation when they interacted.

Aimou pondered for a long time and thought it might have to do with their experiences. Both Aimou and Bologue couldn’t really be considered ordinary people by conventional standards.

Aimou was born from the power of Fantasy Becoming Reality, a creation of imagination. By human lifespan calculations, Aimou was still a minor, whereas Bologue was a bit too grown-up.

In Bologue’s twisted life, he indeed experienced a period of ordinary living, but what followed was a frenzy of wars and cyclical deaths, until now.

They both seemed normal, but mentally, they were vastly different from regular people. One could be considered underage, and the other should already be buried, which made them like novel species that couldn’t fit a regular template.

Bologue said, "Nothing, just came to see you."

"Really?"

Aimou squinted her eyes, appraising Bologue, "You’re a completely goal-oriented person; without a motive, you wouldn’t do anything unnecessary."

"You’re one of the goals," Bologue said.

Aimou frowned; sometimes Bologue’s words could really touch her heart, and other times they felt odd, like some middle-aged uncle. Bologue should be considered a super old man.

In comparison, Aimou felt that her artificial life possessed full emotional sensitivity, whereas Bologue, this flesh-and-blood body, seemed mechanically cold... perhaps related to Bologue’s expression ability.

Bologue reluctantly said, "Alright, there’s something else actually."

"I knew it!"

Aimou was pleased with her guess, "So what is it?"

"There’s a new job offer; it’s patrolling the Great Rift and checking those extending cracks," Bologue said, "The job is simple, even relaxed. I wanted to invite you along, treat it as... a hiking trip?"

"Huh?"

Aimou didn’t expect this, and then Bologue continued, "Mainly, I’ve noticed you seem tired recently, and maybe you’d like to get out a bit?"

Bologue said while observing Aimou’s expression, "Can we go?"

"Of course!"

Aimou rarely refused Bologue. Suddenly, she showed a sly smile, "And what about Palmer? You two are inseparable. Won’t he be heartbroken?"

She liked to tease Bologue like this, just as Bologue enjoyed seeing her flustered and shy. Aimou loved seeing Bologue in such a predicament.

A hint of an uncontrollable smile appeared on Bologue’s face as he spoke softly, "Palmer?"

Thinking of Palmer’s recent experiences.

"He’s in big trouble now, no time to go hiking with me."