Endless Debt-Chapter 202: Final Act: Bargaining with the Devil

Today is a rare good weather day, clear skies, with a blue curtain covering the earth, the temperature just right, neither cold nor hot, a gentle breeze brushing past, the roadside wild grass and flowers swaying.

A motorcycle slowly cruised along the slate-paved path, Palmer and Bologue sitting together, with Palmer in front and Bologue behind, both particularly adhering to traffic rules, with motorcycle helmets on their heads.

During the stormy night chase, to reduce resistance and speed up, while launching an assault on the train, Bologue used the Summoning Hand to dismantle the motorcycle’s sidecar. Fortunately, the sidecar had been broken many times, so Palmer didn’t feel bad. And since a new sidecar hadn’t been purchased yet, Bologue could only squeeze in with him.

The motorcycle stopped by the roadside, Bologue took off his helmet, the sunlight was somewhat dazzling, and he had to squint his eyes to look ahead.

"Is this the place?" Palmer asked.

"Yes, it is. I’ve been here once." Bologue replied.

Palmer’s gaze traveled from head to toe over Bologue, who was in a neat suit and had his hair carefully combed, with a flawless face and holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

If it weren’t for the fact that they were in a cemetery, Palmer would have thought Bologue was here for a date.

His gaze turned towards the distant forest of tombstones, Palmer wondered to himself, "A date in a cemetery?"

With Bologue’s personality, it’s not impossible for him to do such a thing.

"What kind of flowers are these?"

Palmer noticed the flowers in Bologue’s hand, which were chosen by Afeiya after discussing their purpose with Bologue.

"I think they’re called forget-me-nots, meaning never forget," Bologue said skeptically, "Didn’t you listen to Afeiya at the time?"

Back then, Afeiya had earnestly explained the meanings of different flowers to them, and Bologue, not wanting to refuse this kind gesture, patiently listened to it all.

"I’m not very interested in such knowledge." Palmer shrugged.

Finally reaching this point, Bologue felt like a pilgrim, his mood extraordinarily calm, almost devoid of emotional fluctuations.

"Do you need me to wait for you here?"

Palmer asked as he could see the importance of today to Bologue, the ceremonial man had already maximized the sense of ritual, and he wouldn’t disturb this sacred moment.

"No worries, let’s go together." Bologue invited.

They entered the cemetery, located in Opus’s countryside, and unlike the city’s cloudy atmosphere, it was vibrant and full of life.

Bologue waved his hand from afar, greeting the gravekeeper.

The cemetery at the Border Sanatorium seemed like an isolated secret realm, hiding all missions and glories static away, but here, Bologue felt some liveliness rather than secrecy.

It was visible that not only Bologue’s group came to mourn today; there were shadows moving in the distance, and when passing some tombstones, there were also flowers placed upon them.

Bologue wandered around, finally reaching a cross-shaped tombstone with Adelle’s name engraved on it.

Placing the flowers at the tombstone, Bologue squatted down and carefully cleared the surrounding weeds, pulling them out from the crevices between bricks.

"Is she Adelle?" Palmer asked.

During the time spent vacationing at the Border Sanatorium, Bologue had told Palmer the reason for his revenge, as the reliable driver during the stormy night, Bologue felt Palmer had the right to know this.

Thus Palmer also learned of Adelle’s existence, understood why Bologue stubbornly chased the train and wanted to eliminate them completely.

"Hmm." Bologue replied.

Bologue cleaned away the weeds around, wiped the tombstone with his hand, dusting off a lot of dirt.

"I’m curious about what kind of person she was, being able to change a killer like you." Palmer sighed.

"She was a good person, a kind person." Bologue replied.

"I know, I know." Palmer nodded repeatedly, having heard such words countless times from Bologue during the ride here.

Faced with these issues, the violent killer turns into a child, going back and forth with the same few sentences, so much so that Palmer’s ears formed calluses.

"Next is liberating her soul." Bologue said softly, then took out the ruby from his chest.

Under the sunlight, the Philosopher’s Stone exhibited a brilliant brilliance, so elite and transparent, like a treasure of the world.

Once the Philosopher’s Stone is shattered, the bound soul will be released, but it symbolizes Bologue completely losing everything.

"Actually, you don’t need to break it." Palmer saw Bologue’s hesitation.

"Once a person dies, they’re gone. In the ’Golden Soul,’ perhaps there are traces from when we were alive, but it’s not us... the Philosopher’s Stone in your hand is not Adelle, it merely carries her shadow; you could selfishly keep it." Palmer said.

One must always keep something as a memento, if Bologue secretly preserves the Philosopher’s Stone, Palmer is willing to keep it confidential for him.

"No, I’m just thinking about some things," Bologue shook his head, his eyes deep, "It’s time to say goodbye, can’t be too hasty."

The memories of the past flashed and flew by, as Bologue slowly clenched his fist, holding the Philosopher’s Stone in it.

"I have many ways to remember her, there’s no need to selfishly keep a soul, especially since I am the Undead. The Philosopher’s Stone will eventually fade away, but I will not."

Speaking, Bologue squeezed forcefully, the sound of the crystal shattering came from his palm, waves of warmth overflowed from his hand, warm and fiery like blood.

Slowly opening his hand, the crystalline Philosopher’s Stone had already shattered into countless particles, with the fragments sparkling like stars under the sun, quickly dissolving, turning into an invisible gas, dispersing back into the world.

Both silently watched it all, vivid specks of light slowly ascending, merging into nothingness under the gentle breeze, until Bologue’s hand held nothing.

Vaguely, Bologue seemed to hear the gentle laughter of a woman, as she circled around him, giving him one last look, before her steps gradually faded away until he could no longer follow.

Bologue knew, she had left, truly left.

He tilted his head to look at the sky, after a long gaze, Bologue lowered his gaze back to the earth before him. Surprisingly, as the Philosopher’s Stone faded away, Bologue’s emotions were not greatly stirred. Thinking about it, he was already prepared for the farewell. To cry at this moment would inevitably be too undignified.

"Is it over?" Palmer asked.

"Yes, it’s over."

There were no moving words, no solemn ceremony. Everything felt so serene, as if fearing to disturb the spirits slumbering here.

Bologue slowly retreated, a light smile suddenly emerging on his face, not caring about the cleanliness of his clothes, he sat directly on the ground.

Palmer mimicked Bologue’s actions, sitting down facing the gravestone beside him. Today was the last day of the holiday, they had all the time to waste.

"Interested in telling her story?" Palmer asked.

Regarding the story of Bologue and Adelle, Bologue hadn’t said much at the Border Sanatorium, merely stating that Adelle was his friend, and he wanted revenge for a friend, that’s all.

But seeing the peaceful serenity on Bologue’s face—this damn expression on a killer’s face was truly puzzling—Palmer’s curiosity drove him to pursue the story of the two.

"Her story? There’s not much to it, really."

It was as if Bologue was prepared in advance. He took out a yellowed photo from his pocket and showed it to Palmer.

"This is what she looked like when she was young, very beautiful, right?"

Palmer nodded. Time had blurred the photo, but he could still discern Adelle’s youth and beauty from its outlines.

Then, Palmer’s expression changed. He saw another familiar face in the photo, a face that shouldn’t be there. Before he could say anything, Bologue continued.

"This is Mo’Er, one of my comrades. Perhaps because we came from the same place, I got along well with him."

Bologue pointed to the other person in the photo. He had a faint smile on his face, chatting incessantly, much like Palmer.

"During a battle, we were injured. At the time, Adelle was a military doctor, responsible for taking care of us. We spent some good times together, but later the camp was suddenly attacked by the enemy... Mo’Er died."

"I nearly died in the attack too, but Adelle saved me. She placed me on a stretcher and dragged me into the dense forest."

"The whole battlefield was in chaos, the melee lasted a long time. Adelle and I hid in the forest, avoiding enemy attacks while searching for the main force. We drank dew when thirsty, gnawed on tree bark when hungry."

"Many times, we both felt like we couldn’t hold on. At night, we confided our lives to each other. She even said if I really felt I was about to die, to remind her. She said she was somewhat a priest, so she could hear my confession before I died."

It was a terrible time, but for Bologue, it was immensely precious.

"Fortunately, neither of us gave up, and we survived. Back at the camp, Adelle continued taking care of my injuries. As a form of gratitude, I would listen to her teachings occasionally. Though I understood nothing, I faked it well enough that she believed she had truly saved a lost lamb."

Bologue turned his head, looking at the dazed Palmer, "So, she’s an incredible person, right?"

Palmer rigidly nodded, then cautiously asked.

"Bologue, can I ask you a question?" freewёbnoνel-com

"Go ahead."

Palmer took a deep breath, suddenly realizing that he had overlooked something so important.

"How old are you," Palmer quickly added, "I don’t mean your damned psychological age."

He was somewhat incoherent, paused briefly, then organized his words before seriously asking again.

"Bologue Lazarus, how long have you been the Undead?"

This question stumped Bologue. He thought for a moment, then slowly stood up, brushed the dust off, and gazed toward the edge of the horizon, at the gloomy, dark city.

"It happened a long time ago," after a brief silence, Bologue recalled, "back then this land was not called Oubos, but known as King Solomon’s Holy City."

"Sixty-six years ago, during the battle known as the Fall of the Holy City..."

Against the light, Bologue softly said.

"I sold my soul to the Devil and thus became an immortal, eternal being."

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