Endless Debt

The city is completely shrouded in winter, gloomy snow clouds pile up on the towering skyscrapers, scattering heaps of snowflakes between heaven and earth. The gusts of wind drag these crystalline fragments, scraping pedestrians' cheeks like razors.

Bologue put on a thick coat, wrapped a scarf around his neck, and walked with uneven steps on the streets of Opus.

It has been more than a week since the end of the Vow Festival, yet the echoes of the festival still linger in the city—the decorations that haven't been taken down, the ribbons mixed with gray-black slush, the celebratory songs occasionally played at store entrances...

Blizzard and strong winds hit his face directly, each breath of cold air scratched his chest. Bologue felt nothing of the festive atmosphere; rather, there was a desolate sense of destruction.

Only a chaotic gray-white remained between heaven and earth, snow and ice hanging from building surfaces. It was clearly morning, yet the heavy snow obscured all light, within the chaos, street lights turned on, and vehicles struggled to move through the snowstorm.

Today was not a good day for work, but regretfully, an important task had to be done, and Bologue had to make a trip to the Order Bureau.

Entering the "Cultivation Room," Bologue forcefully closed the door, sealing the snowstorm outside, and vigorously brushed off the snow clinging to his body, letting it fill the floor and melt into puddles.

There were many such puddles at the entrance, suggesting everyone found it difficult coming to work today.

Pushing open Lebius's office door, Bologue collapsed onto the sofa, vigorously rubbing his hands to warm his cold body.

"This weather is truly deadly," Bologue muttered.

"You won't die."

Geoffrey remarked, having arrived earlier than Bologue.

"Not dying doesn't mean not cold... the feeling of freezing is truly deadly." Bologue said with lingering fear, as if he had truly frozen to death before.

"Have a cup of hot coffee."

Yuriel handed Bologue a steaming cup of coffee.

Bologue quickly took it, warming his hands while thanking her, "Thanks, Yuriel."

Yuriel smiled at Bologue and continued with her busy work, assisting Lebius with various tasks.

Watching Yuriel's busy figure, sometimes Bologue nearly forgot there was such a person in the group, but every time he saw Yuriel, he felt a sense of relief.

Yuriel, oh Yuriel, in this Special Operations Group, she is one of the few normal people, making Bologue feel the baseline of reality still had a connection.

"Opus winters are always like this; this is just the beginning. The deep winter blizzards haven't arrived yet," Geoffrey said.

"Deep winter blizzards..."

Bologue muttered softly, the "deep winter blizzard" was something he had experienced firsthand.

When he was released from prison, he collided with Opus's winter. Fortunately, Adelle sheltered him, and Bologue spent the entire winter on her sofa.

During deep winter, a thick layer of ice formed on the windows. When light fell, it was blurred into a hazy white, and when the blizzard descended, it was as if thousands of ghosts marched through the storm, the gusts brought wails and murmurs.

Bologue always felt Opus's blizzards were true natural disasters. After the blizzards passed, street traffic often came to a halt, but the worst wasn't inside Opus—it's the Great Rift.

It's said that every winter, many people freeze to death in the Great Rift, and the snow and ice cover the already rusted corridors, making movement within the Great Rift even more dangerous.

The office door was forcibly pushed open, Palmer walked in leisurely. Unlike Bologue's disheveled state, Palmer seemed unaffected by the storm, his clothes impeccably neat.

Bologue felt a bit surprised, knowing Palmer should have entered with snow all over him, screaming as he pushed the door, then snatched Yuriel's hot coffee, huddling on the sofa, complaining about working in such weather.

"Wind Source is really a useful Secret Energy."

Noticing Bologue's gaze, Palmer seemed to know what Bologue was thinking, raised his eyebrows, and said.

The external weather was extremely harsh, but with gusts clearing the way for him, Palmer didn't need to worry about being noticed, he used Secret Energy all the way to the "Cultivation Room."

Sitting beside Bologue, he casually asked Geoffrey, "What's so urgent today that we need to report in such weather?"

"Rather than urgent matters... Palmer, if you violate the regulations again, I will dock your salary," Geoffrey said sternly as he stared at Palmer.

Upon hearing Geoffrey's words, Palmer instantly transformed back to his familiar self, straightening on the sofa, repeatedly apologizing.

The employee manual at the Order Bureau contains such a regulation: unless necessary, the use of Secret Energy in the city must be avoided, not only to conceal the existence of Extraordinary Power, but also to prevent causing unnecessary alarm.

Oubos is vast and has been continuously developing and growing over the years.

As a city wedged between two giants, it houses countless foreigners, and no one is sure how many desperados are hidden beneath the quiet life, even whether exiled Condensers exist.

Activating Secret Energy within the city is bound to cause Ethereal Fluctuations, and if there are potential Condensers nearby, it is undoubtedly actively exposing one's identity and location.

As a professional, Bologue had always adhered to the employee guidelines. He practiced Secret Energy to refine his skills only at home, and even then, he would often observe if unfamiliar faces appeared nearby, ever vigilant.

Palmer, on the other hand, is another extreme. He often races through the night with Secret Energy, making him a habitual offender. Geoffrey has deducted his salary countless times because of it, but it usually only makes Palmer restrain himself for a few days.

"Okay, okay, I'll be careful," Palmer nodded repeatedly.

Since the Clarks stopped Palmer's living expenses, Palmer's lifeline has completely depended on the salary from the Order Bureau.

"Don't be like those old radicals, always thinking about stepping into the spotlight."

Geoffrey said something unclear, but Palmer felt even guiltier upon hearing it.

"What's the pressing matter today?" Bologue changed the subject, his eyes glancing at Palmer.

Sometimes, Bologue feels like he hasn't utilized Palmer enough, even though he's unlucky, a salary thief, and quite unreliable, none of these can overshadow the fact that he is part of the Clarks.

As an ancient Extraordinary Clan, the Clarks should know quite a few secrets, though it's unknown how much Palmer knows.

He needs to find a way to pry Palmer's mouth open and extract those secrets.

"Pressing matter..."

Geoffrey muttered a couple of words and then looked at Lebius.

At this moment, Lebius put down his current work and looked at the two, expressionless.

Bologue's heart tightened; his boss always maintains silence, and whenever he speaks, it's usually about matters of life and death.

"The Sixth Group has already received the invitation."

Lebius said as he opened a drawer, taking out two black keys, placing them on the table.

"This is... the Key of the Crooked Path?" Bologue noticed the Ethereal Fluctuation floating on the keys.

"These are two keys to the auction venue," Lebius laid out the mission details, "Contractors of the Gray Trade Association have inscribed the Devil's Power of Contract on them, setting various limitations."

"Such as?"

"This Key of the Crooked Path is one-time use. Once used, it will be destroyed, and it can only allow one person through," Lebius explained.

"Is that so..."

Bologue fell into deep thought; once the action begins, he and Palmer would be deep in enemy territory.

"This Key of the Crooked Path won't send us somewhere else, will it? If that happens, the Sixth Group won't be able to catch up for a while," Palmer said.

"No, this is a sacrifice for the Tyrant. No matter what, everything must proceed within the realm of the Crooked Path," Geoffrey said.

"Then... it's about these things."

Lebius said as he took out two black cubes from the drawer. This guy can always pull out all sorts of things from drawers; if he could, Bologue would love to see how big it actually is.

"These are signal generators. They emit specific Ethereal Fluctuations, allowing us to pinpoint your location."

Bologue stepped forward to take these items, sharing one with Palmer.

"By the way, did you read those books carefully?" Lebius asked again.

"I did... but it didn't help. I'm a Condenser, not an Alchemist; how can I learn all that in such a short time?" Palmer complained.

"I read a portion. I didn't understand much either, but as long as I keep destroying, it should be fine, right?" Bologue said.

"That's roughly correct." Lebius nodded.

The primary task for the two is to expose the venue's location and destroy the Void Realm as much as possible.

Destroying the Void Realm sounds simple, but it's a technical task. To facilitate their actions, Lebius has brought the operation records of the Third Group for them to learn from the professionals' experience.

"When will the mission start?" Bologue asked.

"Not sure." Lebius shook his head, "No one knows when the Gray Trade Association will begin."

"But when they start the auction, the Keys of the Crooked Path in your hands will begin to agitate, reminding you to open the nearest door and head to the venue. That's when the mission begins," Lebius added.

"Okay, we'll maintain the Whistle communication at all times."

Bologue tightened his grip on the key, ready to head to the battlefield.

Lebius nodded, but when Bologue wasn't paying attention, he silently opened the drawer, glancing at the mask within.