Endless Debt

The surface of the shackles shimmered with complex inscriptions; they were another form of Alchemy Armament. Their effect was similar to the Ethereal Seal, but compared to the Seeker of Glory, these restraints were much weaker, and their effect diminished the higher the tier of the restrained individual.

Even now, how to restrain the High Tier Condensers remained a problem for most forces.

The Order Bureau was an exception. Since the banishment of Calamity·Beast of the Herd to the Ethereal Realm and its incineration by light, the Order Bureau intended to transform the Abandoned Land enclosed by the Serenity Defense Line into a new, large prison.

Upon hearing this news, Holt felt calm and somewhat elated; he remained a Prison Guard, but this time, the prisoners were much gentler.

"Oh? Is this a personal hobby of yours?"

As Holt was being shackled, the Spirit Duke noticed the collar-like structure on Holt’s neck, resembling shackles. He tapped it, producing a metallic clink.

Holt did not answer his question, but glared at him viciously, and suddenly launched a headbutt, forcefully striking the Spirit Duke’s nose.

The Spirit Duke covered his face as blood streamed through his fingers incessantly. The Duke of Origin strode forward, placing a deadly Ethereal Blade directly at Holt’s neck.

Pure Ether churned uneasily, like a burning Fire Sword, emanating a scorching heat.

His voice was low, "Behave."

"What are you planning next? Take us to meet the Ancestral Council? Or find those shady things and have them take a bite out of us one by one?"

Holt licked the blood at the corner of his mouth, appearing especially ruthless. "Otherwise, you might as well just kill us outright."

"You still have some use, so you’re still alive."

The Duke of Origin pressed the Ethereal Blade closer, and Holt could feel the pain of his skin being scorched; the wounds had just opened when they were cauterized shut again, the blood evaporating before it could drip.

"Oh, right, Condensers are just another resource to you," Holt raised his neck.

"Shut up."

The Spirit Duke approached, cursing, and hit Holt with a heavy punch. This strike used Ethereal Amplification, the great force penetrating Holt’s flesh. He immediately collapsed to one knee, dry-heaving.

"Captain!"

Evan said nervously. They tried to protect Holt, but the attendants were faster, unsheathing sharp blades and placing the sword tips at Evan and the others’ throats, preventing them from moving forward.

"I’m fine, these people won’t kill us," Holt said, struggling to stand, "Whether they trade us to the Night Race or keep us for themselves, we’re more valuable alive than dead."

Holt spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm, his expression still brash.

"I’m very disappointed in you, Holt."

Suddenly, the Duke of Origin uttered this inscrutable sentence to Holt.

"Why?" Holt asked.

"I’ve heard of you; you’re a proud guy. I thought you’d ignore the tier disparity or the hostile environment and directly attack us, but... you end up being just proud in words," the Duke of Origin said.

"I am indeed proud, I think so too," Holt glanced at Evan and the others, "but I’m not stupid. I can survive, but my team members might not."

"So you just gave up?"

"What else?"

Holt displayed a helpless expression, as if genuinely defeated by the situation, incapable except to accept it.

The Duke of Origin approached again, the gleaming Ethereal Blade brushing against Holt’s cheek. Just a slight wrist movement could cleave Holt’s head.

The two maintained their standoff until the Duke of Origin relaxed, "We overestimated you. We should’ve put more effort towards Nesanel."

Holt chuckled, ignoring the Duke of Origin’s taunt, yet beneath his indifferent gaze lay another set of emotions.

Nesanel is already engaged with the enemy’s main forces, so what are these people up to?

Just as Holt pondered, an attendant suddenly remarked, "Two are missing."

"What?"

The Spirit Duke turned, incredulous, "Who’s missing?"

"According to the list, Bologue and Palmer are missing, a Defender and a Negative Power User," the attendant replied.

"What’s going on!"

The Duke of Origin glared at Holt again, comprehending, "Were you doing this deliberately? Distracting us?"

"How could that be? From the beginning, we’ve been caught by your Ethereal Prohibition, you know exactly how many of us there were," Holt argued, "Which means, before you arrived, they had already escaped."

"What task did you assign them!"

The Duke of Origin pressed on, knowing Holt wasn’t a good person; how could he be so easily captured?

"No task, they’re not my team members; I have no authority to issue them any orders."

Holt laughed freely; he hadn’t lied—he truly didn’t know where Bologue and Palmer went. These guys from the Special Operations Group always brought surprises.

The Duke of Origin stared at Holt, silent for several seconds, then issued orders to the rest.

"Sound the alarm, capture them!"

...

"Where exactly are we going? And what was that thing earlier; is it your Alchemy Armament?"

After escaping the shadows, Palmer pestered Bologue incessantly with questions, his voice uninterrupted, making Bologue both irritated and aware that the upcoming operation required Palmer to be informed of certain matters.

"We?"

Bologue pulled Palmer into a shadow, speaking with solemnity, "Now we’re the Decision Room’s Investigation Team, Imperial Envoys!"

"In...investigation what?" Palmer was still somewhat bewildered.

"Investigation of what else? The All Secrets Order!"

Bologue shook his shoulder vigorously, "Wake up, Palmer, don’t act half-asleep."

Palmer swallowed, gradually realizing the severity of the situation. Unsurprisingly, the worst happened. What was worse was that Palmer had no clue as to what exactly transpired.

"Additionally, regarding what just happened to us... Palmer, I’m going to introduce you to a temporary team member. You might find her familiar and be shocked, but I hope you stay calm and rational, okay?"

Bologue coaxed. He never doubted his partner’s work capabilities, but to have Palmer in a serious working mode required adequate mental preparation.

Damn it, most field staff carry noble ideals, working day-to-day, but Palmer was a different case, a pure lifer; work was just a way to live.

Bluntly honest to an exasperating degree.

"Oh, oh, oh, go on."

Palmer nodded, curious about whom this acquaintance might be... Palmer didn’t have many acquaintances.

Just then, the shadow where they stood started to wriggle. Palmer grabbed a dagger instinctively. Had Bologue not stopped him in time, Palmer would have pierced the shadow; Palmer’s thought process and instincts seemed to operate on dual systems.

A slender silhouette emerged from the shadow, then the shadows clad around her slipped like rain, revealing a figure shrouded in hazy black gauze.

Upon seeing that obscure face and ruby-like eyes, Palmer paused, overwhelmed by distant memories.

Simultaneously, loud alarms rang out among the High Towers, as one Condenser after another leaped into the sky, searching for the missing pair.

Olivia surfaced from the shadows, smiling at Palmer.

"Long time no see, Bologue Clarks."

Upon hearing this fabricated name, Palmer’s face turned ghostly pale.

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