Endless Debt Chapter 565 - 77: The Perfect Undead

The bombardnt of the Wind Gun and the burning of the Fla of the Cauldron brought a montary silence to the chaotic battlefield. Neither Derby nor the Elite Bloodthirsters dared to make a move, and Palr and Bologue didn’t launch another attack.

Both sides maintained a delicate balance. In the ruins, Vasilina and Zefirin were the only ones still moving, each running towards their respective camps. They didn’t even glance at each other or make any attempt to attack as they crossed paths.

Vasilina retreated to a safe zone, and Palr rushed in with the wind, crashing in clumsily and rolling a few tis. Zefirin’s poison continued to affect Palr, limiting him to using simple attack thods like the Wind Gun.

Upon seeing Vasilina unhard, a slight joy flashed across Palr’s face. Before Palr could say anything, Vasilina greeted him with a head-on embrace. Without slowing down, they collided and rolled on the ground several tis before stopping.

Palr was sowhat dazed from the collision, and the consciousness he had just regained almost faded again. Vasilina noticed Palr’s condition; his face looked terrible, and he had an injury on his abdon.

"What happened?"

Faced with Vasilina’s inquiry, Palr lifted his hand with difficulty and pointed at Zefirin, who had rged with Derby, with words filled with hatred, "That bastard..."

The brief encounter between Palr and Zefirin had been the worst nightmare in recent mory.

Vasilina turned her head to look at Zefirin. Compared to Palr, Zefirin’s condition was even more disheveled.

Zefirin thought he could silently elude the pursuit of the two by relying on Ethereal Concealnt, but under Bologue’s wide-ranging Command, Zefirin was quickly discovered in such a crude manner.

What followed was a childish ga of cat and mouse, with Zefirin fleeing in front and the two pursuing behind, occasionally launching attacks as if urging Zefirin along, toying with him.

Normally, this would be fine, but during his recovery, Palr had unearthed a batch of Silverware and handed it over to Bologue for Command. These tal materials were forged into a series of lethal weapons under the Fla of the Cauldron.

The majority of the wounds on Zefirin’s body were inflicted by the Silverware, making them difficult to heal.

"Help ..."

Zefirin gasped painfully. Although most of the Silver wounds were superficial, the tornt from the Silver incessantly plagued Zefirin’s nerves.

Derby realized the severity of the situation and decisively extended his hand, with pale skin and visible blue veins beneath.

Zefirin bit into Derby’s wrist, extracting blood from Derby’s body. Relying on the blood of a High Tier Night Race, Zefirin accelerated his body’s recovery and struggled to resist the effects of the Silverware.

Releasing his bite, Zefirin exhaled deeply, his face stained with a large blot of blood, resembling a beast that had just feasted.

Being drained of one’s blood was not a pleasant feeling, but in light of the current battle, Derby had no other options.

"Is it that person?"

Vasilina stared at Zefirin, clenching her fists, eager to try.

Palr grabbed her and asked, "Are you okay?"

"I... I’m fine, just so scrapes."

Hearing this, Palr noticed the blue halo in Vasilina’s eyes. In the next second, the blue halo vanished, and a familiar figure appeared behind Vasilina.

"Thanks, Aimou."

Palr gave Aimou a thumbs-up. Aimou didn’t respond verbally but returned the gesture with a thumbs-up in reply.

Palr requested Vasilina, "Help up."

After being freed from Zefirin’s Secret Energy influence, Palr first regained his Rectangular Soul Critical. Ether once again filled his body, but the toxic physical injuries took a long ti to heal. Throughout, he relied on the support of the fierce wind.

Vasilina nodded and easily hoisted Palr onto her shoulder. For Vasilina, Palr’s weight was no burden at all.

"Wrong! Wrong! Turn around!"

Palr tapped Vasilina’s back repeatedly. This manner seed like she was going to carry him away.

"Oh."

Vasilina adjusted and cradled Palr instead. Palr’s expression was sowhat complex, and he persuaded, "Just help a little."

Palr struggled out of Vasilina’s embrace, propping himself up with her shoulder to barely stand upright.

"Shy?"

Vasilina’s voice whispered beside Palr’s ear. Palr’s eyes darkened as he retorted softly, "You’re starting again, aren’t you?"

Bologue stood at the forefront like a shield wall, blocking the enemy. The Fla of the Cauldron blazed fiercely beside him, chains stretched from his armor, hooked onto the Silver Swords scattered among the ruins, and hurled them backwards, embedding them one by one in front of Palr.

Palr reached out, casually drew a Silver Sword, his gaze wandering between Zefirin and Derby, like a hunter with a taut bowstring, waiting for the mont to release and kill.

"Don’t we need to join the battle?"

Noting Palr’s abnormal behavior, Vasilina held himself back to avoid getting dragged into the fight.

"Leave professional work to the experts."

Palr wrapped an arm around Vasilina’s shoulder. As the breeze passed, the Silver Sword in his hand lifted, positioned directly in front.

"We just need to wait for the right opportunity."

The jagged armor kneeled halfway, a gap opened in its back. Bologue lazily stood up, simply sweeping over the battlefield.

A Negative Power Overlord, a Prayer Believer, several Elite Bloodthirsters...

Bologue felt a hint of pressure; the enemy was not simple nor easy to deal with, but victory wasn’t impossible.

Most importantly, this battle didn’t necessarily need a winner; it was about stalling ti. Each passing mont increased the possibility of failure for the Night Race.

Derby asked, "Where’s Haiqi? Didn’t I tell him to assist you?"

"Haiqi..."

Zefirin recalled the terrifying scene, taking a deep breath, "Haiqi is dead, I... I don’t know if he can co back to life."

Haiqi’s body shattered into nurous pieces, sealed inside an Iron Coffin with Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid. Even if Haiqi could revive, it would take substantial ti to escape from the coffin.

"The other side... the other side is an Undead too."

Zefirin disclosed key information, "His immortality is more perfect than ours."

Even after several clashes, Zefirin hadn’t discovered any flaws in Bologue’s immortality. His self-healing speed was unbelievably fast, able to revive from fatal neck wounds quickly, and moreover, each revival reset many of Bologue’s negative statuses.

Things were getting troubleso, but the real trouble was yet to co.

Aimou walked over leisurely, placing both hands on Bologue’s shoulders. Golden light twisted, Aimou vanished, replaced by a blue ring floating in Bologue’s green pupils, with gilded radiance flickering on his body.

Without a word, Bologue’s armor burned with blue flas, the Dead Giant rose again, engulfing Bologue. Then, the giant’s form began to collapse, more lethal Scale Armor layered together, making the heavy figure increasingly slender and deadly.

Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid ford a blade in hand, Bologue raised his other hand, the Silver Swords embedded in the ground began to lt, evenly covering the blade, performing a simple silver plating which spread across the armor, coating it with deadly Silver.

Without any warning, Bologue suddenly stepped forward, his figure twisting into a rapidly advancing silver light, the lethal blade slicing through multiple obstacles.

Derby’s eyes glowed with a crimson sheen, Elite Bloodthirsters swiftly stationed themselves in front, forming a defensive line. Although the Silver Sword struck his body, under the enhancent of Potion and Secret Energy, these injuries weren’t enough to be lethal, especially with critical areas covered in armor.

The clash was like cars colliding on a highway, the towering figure of the Elite Bloodthirster surprisingly shaken, retreating uncontrollably, Bologue’s figure paused montarily in mid-air, then he flung a hook line, piercing the Bloodthirster’s body.

As he pulled, the Elite Bloodthirster, before it could fall, was dragged crashing into Bologue.

Crashing into the blade in his hand.

Even surrounded by much armor, so parts of the Elite Bloodthirster’s seamless tal were left unprotected.

The blade pierced through the Bloodthirster’s eye, shredding his brain, protruding from the back of his skull.

Bologue gripped the sword hilt, allowing the deadly silver toxin to invade the Night Race’s flesh, until his brain was completely scorched by the Silver.

Withdrawing the blade, Bologue stirred up a wisp of black smoke and ashes, drifting with the wind as the towering figure collapsed.