Endless Debt Chapter 1065 - 108: The Death God Descends

In the dim room, Mammon sat as usual on the worn-out sofa, stacked televisions showing him the full scope of the war from different angles.

In the first screen, Palr wiped the bloodstains from his face, obeyed Bologue’s orders, and retraced his steps through the breach in the ruins towards the outside world, Morrison’s corpse had turned into a fine blood mist, evenly spread on the ground.

In the second screen, the Fourth Seat had broken through the defenses built by the Silent Ones and the Third Seat, with the Fog Abyss Fortress close at hand, though the fierce offensive of the Fourth Seat had weakened considerably, most Secret Sword mbers were injured, and so had died.

On a rapidly changing battlefield, they had no ti to deal with the bodies, and could only take whatever valuable items were on them into the next round of combat, such as the Secret Sword symbolizing strength and honor.

Mammon asked, "Gray, among the King’s Secret Sword, shouldn’t there be quite a few people who can wield multiple Secret Swords at once, just like you?"

Gray did not respond, Mammon called again, "Gray?"

Still no response.

Mammon turned his head, looking around briefly, Gray had disappeared, nowhere to be found.

A bizarre smile blood on Mammon’s face, his breathing beca rapid, he fell into inexplicable excitent, pressing the remote, a dark screen lit up, reflecting Gray.

He moved through deep dark corridors, the ground trembled slightly, roaring Ether echoed in the distance, none of which affected Gray, who gripped the blade scorched by venom, his gaze firm as he ascended the stairs.

Mammon’s eyes were filled with ecstatic joy, almost bringing him to laughter.

He looked towards another screen, a dark figure advanced swiftly, crossing winding corridors, piercing obstructive ruins, as if sensing Mammon’s scrutiny, he turned his head, eyes filled with deadly intent were cast from beneath a pitch-black visor.

Not giving Mammon further attention, he swung up the blade in his hand, blazing flas arose along the blade, lting and burning through the rocks ahead.

In the next screen, a figure draped in a crimson robe advanced silently through the mist.

Upon seeing him, though separated by the screen, Mammon couldn’t help but hold his breath, afraid of being discovered, suppressed breathing masking irrepressible glee.

The crimson figure began trembling, the screen seed to malfunction, with images starting to distort, sparks flashed around the television screen, internal static crackling in a series of red and green tones, the figure vanished as if it never existed.

Only then did Mammon breathe deeply, yelling excitedly, "I just knew! Haha, I just knew!"

A rare grand occasion, Mammon felt his blood heat up.

After so many years, he hadn’t felt this way for a long ti, for a mont, Mammon even felt ti had reversed, returning him to a point in this place’s past.

Just like the secret war, just like the Fall of the Holy City.

History repeats itself, over and over.

"The final mont has arrived," Mammon murmured, "What choice will you make?"

On the last screen, Bologue’s figure appeared in it, stepping over shattered stairs, heading towards the depths of darkness.

...

Through a deep pit, rustling sounds ca from all directions, Bologue barely discerned these noises, so were groans of pain from the injured, so were rubbing of stone slabs against each other predicting another collapse, and others just the eerie sound of cold wind sweeping through.

The roaring Ether reaction above, Bologue imdiately discerned it was Palr’s power, Bologue’s expression remained calm, as if he had foreseen it.

Bologue knew Palr wouldn’t let Morrison off easily, a lengthy punishnt awaited Morrison, but that was none of Bologue’s concern, nor did he worry about it, knowing Palr would end the event perfectly.

Going further down, Bologue’s bloody scent surged, the bottomless pit seemingly led to endless darkness.

Bologue noticed bloody substances covered the walls and floor of the pit, when flesh creatures collapsed into the darkness, these sharp protrusions split them open like Sharp swords.

Evil, maddening air emanated from the pit, chilling to the bone.

At the bottom of the pit, so viscous liquids were slowly gathering, exposed to Bologue’s gaze, these liquids mixed with red and black, like congealed blood and so unknown worm liquid. Reminding Bologue of massive worm swarms, they tore savagely with sharp teeth at their harvested prey.

Reaching the pit’s bottom, Bologue glanced around, darkness engulfed everything, no light at all, he ignited Red rcury on the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid, then transford them into Long Spears and hurled them one by one.

Like blazing torches, the Fire Spears pierced into the surroundings, illuminating the darkness.

Bologue saw the massive flesh creature, embedded in the ruins, its surface heaving violently, as if breathing heavily.

Countless wounds covered its flesh surface, streaming blood ford rivulets, running ceaselessly through the rubble.

Standing atop the flesh mountain, Bologue was reminded of worldly Calamity by this monster, though it didn’t possess such frenzied aggression as Calamity, instead, in Bologue’s eyes, it seed relatively gentle.