Endless Debt

This feeling is quite wondrous, like being submerged in icy seawater, every inch of muscle in the body relaxing under the buoyancy, strands of coldness wandering across the body, soothing the weary spirit.

This is an environment suitable for sleeping in late, even Bologue is somewhat indulged in this rare tranquility, letting his body drift along.

In this void world, Bologue tightly shuts his eyes, swaying back and forth between massive rubble and dust, like a lost wanderer.

A layer of frost hangs upon his body, as if he had been dead for many years.

Upon contact with roaming boulders, Bologue is gently bumped aside, his figure slowly shifting among the rubble. After unknown lengths of time, his body is seized by the gray-white earth, gravity weighs upon him, dragging him from the deep void toward the ground.

Bologue crashes hard onto the ground, but this time he does not awaken; gray-white matter, unclear whether snow, ash, or dust, gradually engulfs his body, until only a blurred outline remains.

Thus passes much time again, in the gray-white wilderness a figure slowly emerges, resembling a traveler of this gray-white desert, dressed in similarly gray-white robes. Strangely, his face seems protected by some force, blurred and distorted, eluding all observers from seeing his true visage.

The traveler approaches the nearly buried corpse, showing no reaction, as if sights like this are ones he has witnessed many times before, his heart remaining unmoved.

He extends his hand, seizes the cold frozen body, and then drags Bologue towards the Ring Mountain beside them, reaching the highest point before releasing, dropping Bologue's corpse into the darkness of the Ring Mountain.

The traveler silently watches all this, the corpse incessantly rolls, stirring gray-white dust, bit by bit descending to the depths, falling into the immense shadow of the Ring Mountain.

The floating rocks above collide, shattering into countless fragments, extending gigantic rifts, and then faint white light descends, gently illuminating the shadow of the Ring Mountain.

The shadow contracts, it becomes faintly perceptible that there is something within the shadow, dense, piled into heaps.

The traveler pays no extra heed to those things, rather turning to walk toward the gray-white wilderness. After he departs, more light filters through the rifts, a corner of shadow is dispelled, revealing the grim under it.

Corpses, countless corpses, piled into mountains of corpses, filling the depression of the Ring Mountain.

In this silent void world, innumerable corpses intertwine, layered upon each other, their skin losing all pigmentation, resembling plaster statues, only gray-white remaining.

In the prolonged tranquility, some corpses descend into utter gray-white, then shatter like sculptures, their dismembered limbs not bleeding sticky blood, nor any flesh to speak of.

Only gray-white dust remains, as if upon death, corpses transform into these gray-white sculptures, the dust dispersing, merging into this gray-white world.

It seems as though this world is not meant to be like this, but through the annihilation of countless corpses, increasingly heavy dust swallows everything.

No one notices the happenings here, and beyond layers of massive rocks, within the void, a singularity appears out of nowhere, it distorts the surrounding space, even light paths become twisted, forming arcs.

In the next moment, the singularity expands, a blurry figure appears within it, then begins to solidify, after a brief stupor, Bologue opens his eyes.

Bologue feels somewhat bewildered, then his expression shows slight alarm and curiosity, he remembers the last scene before losing consciousness.

He had fallen into the Great Rift.

To this day, Bologue remains unclear what lies at the bottom of the Great Rift, yet he can faintly sense that it is an ominous place.

Curiosity and reverence coexist within Bologue's heart, he had thought about finding a chance to explore there, but never imagined he would do so in this manner.

But... how did he fall into the Great Rift?

Bologue recalls carefully, all he feels is at that moment he lost all strength, even the Ether fell silent, then the fall ensued.

He cannot comprehend all this, but regardless of confusion, handling the current situation is paramount.

"So... did I die from the fall?"

Bologue mutters softly, drifting along in the void.

Fortunately, Bologue does not wait long, a massive tugging sensation ignites from his heart, his figure begins to distort, stretch, ultimately vanishing into the void, returning to reality.

After Bologue's departure, the void world continues to operate steadily, the traveler strolls upon the gray-white ground, awaiting the appearance of the next corpse, then dragging it into the shadows.

...

"Bologue!"

Resounding calls echo near his ears, it seems someone is calling him.

"Bologue!"

The voice sounded very familiar; she must be someone Bologue knows.

Bologue felt someone pushing him, then pounding, then... then...

A hazy consciousness suddenly solidified, and Bologue snapped awake, opened his eyes, and struggled to sit up. Before he could say anything, Bologue painfully retched.

He vomited a puddle of foul blood, barely controlling his churning stomach, and the belated sensation of pain assaulted Bologue's body.

This pain was a thousand times more intense than anything he had ever experienced before, causing Bologue to completely lose control of his body, collapsing to the ground and trembling continuously, as if having a seizure.

Beside Bologue, Aimou had already come out of the Shared Chord Body state, and in the dim light, she tried to control Bologue's body, but he struggled fiercely. She had never seen this side of Bologue.

"Don't touch me... let me catch my breath."

After a brief loss of control, Bologue gradually stopped trembling, but the intense feeling of pain in his heart still lingered stubbornly.

Bologue reached out and pushed Aimou away, as if he didn't want her to see him in such a pathetic state. He groped around, crawled to the other side, leaned against the rock wall, and repeatedly took deep breaths to suppress the raging force.

Bulimia Nervosa.

Bologue couldn't have imagined that this condition would erupt now, the exhaustion after battle, the void of Ether, the headache after resurrection, coupled with the endless craving of Bulimia Nervosa.

These negative states stacked upon one another, and Bologue, who had barely come to, almost fainted again.

After a few minutes of respite, Bologue finally managed to stabilize, but even so, his condition was far from good. A dull intense pain shot through his body, and he tried to clench his fists, but his body couldn't muster much strength.

Bologue thought this was probably the worst he'd felt since he'd been released from prison.

"Are you... still alive?"

Seeing him stabilized, Aimou leaned in. The surroundings were incredibly dark; the only source of light was the vague luminescence trickling down from above, along with the blue halo in Aimou's eyes.

As she approached, Bologue could also see Aimou's condition clearly; she wasn't doing much better.

Aimou was draped in Bologue's clothes, but after the fierce battle, the clothes were long soaked with fresh blood, coagulating into clumps, exuding a stench of decay.

Her limbs enveloped in Iron-Repelling Paint bore numerous scratches, her thigh showed damage that exposed the internal mechanical structure, and her once-fine cheeks were marred with many cracks, revealing faint light from the gaps.

Aimou seemed like a porcelain doll about to break.

Bologue opened his mouth to speak, but the intense pain in his mind left him unable to sort his thoughts. At this moment, Aimou leaned closer.

She first reached out, pinching Bologue's arm. Sadly, without a human flesh-and-blood body, she couldn't feel the warmth of Bologue's body; even the softness of flesh was hard to perceive.

Then pressing her hand on Bologue's neck, then his heart, Aimou, like a doctor, assessed Bologue's life status in a way she comprehended.

Bologue couldn't grasp what she was doing, but he did not resist. Then, Aimou gazed intently at Bologue and suddenly embraced him.

"I thought you wouldn't wake up."

Aimou's monotonous voice unexpectedly fluctuated with emotion, deeply frightened. Before Bologue could say anything, she continued.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

It was unclear what she was apologizing for.

Bologue didn't mind this and comforted, "I am the Undead..."

Having said that, Bologue was startled. He seemed to understand the reason behind Aimou's fear, and slowly pushed Aimou away, he asked quietly.

"Aimou, how long was I dead?"

Afraid that Aimou couldn't comprehend this, Bologue added again.

"From the time I died to waking up again, how much time elapsed?"

Aimou controlled her emotions briefly and answered.

"Three days."