Endless Debt

In the dim space, amidst the silence, a labyrinth of noise slowly rose, crimson sprouts pushing open the soil, prying apart rocks. They, like crazed weeds, crawled densely over every corner.

Gray stared long at Jia Meng's corpse. He had completed his revenge, yet there was no surge of joy inside him. His emotions had long turned as cold as metal, even the pain from his severed arm had dulled.

A slight prickling sensation came from his ankles — those crazed sprouts were trying to gnaw at Gray's flesh. Gray broke free from the bind, stamping down hard, grinding them into a mass of blood and filth, but soon new sprouts grew from beneath the bloodied soil.

"Milasha..."

Gray whispered softly, recalling his former self.

A newly enlisted member of the King's Secret Sword, he initially believed he could make a difference, yet ended up losing everything to betrayal. This all happened within less than half a year, but to Gray, this short time felt as long as a lifetime.

Gray once imagined his final battle with Jia Meng, expecting perilous risks, but clearly, someone else had severely injured Jia Meng ahead of time for him. Without that person, Gray had been prepared to pay with his life to attack Jia Meng.

In the end, he didn't manage to die, only losing an arm. But at this moment, Gray felt somewhat lost, as if he had lost his purpose, while the sharp pain in his severed arm gradually became clear, reminding him he was still alive.

He needed another driving gaze, a reason to continue living and moving forward.

"Shadow King..."

Gray whispered, his gaze moving toward the container about to be enveloped by flesh and blood.

He slowly raised the Silence Sword. Just as Gray prepared to cut through the flesh and take the container, a strange voice echoed.

"Gray, don't touch that thing."

Gray looked down and saw the sprouts turn to foul blood, reflecting a blood-red mirror in front of him, with his own reflection speaking.

"Doing that will affect the script," the voice carried a tone of laughter.

"Tyrant."

Gray recognized this frenzied will, a sinister force he'd been accompanied by all this time.

"Script?" Gray chuckled, "Who are you trying to drag into the Abyss now?"

"How could it be said to drag them into the Abyss? I'm merely giving them a little help on their way to realizing their wishes," the Tyrant replied, "The choice has always been theirs."

Gray fell silent, often feeling the mockery of fate after sobering up.

Jia Meng's betrayal, the help of the Delusional, the gifts from the Tyrant... It was like a mire pulling Gray deeper, as though he was wrong from the start.

"Tyrant, was my coming to the Great Rift, pursuing this revenge, also part of your plan?"

"How could it be? The choice has always been in your hands, hasn't it?"

The Tyrant's laughter was piercing.

"You had every opportunity, Gray.

You could fully recover from your injuries and leave Opus, returning to your homeland. You could have given up revenge and calmly accepted death on that stormy night. You see, you had countless choices, yet eventually, you chose this path.

It was you who drove yourself down this road."

The scarlet reflection became increasingly hideous and terrifying, while the Tyrant's words echoed like a curse.

"I just gave you a little help."

Gray took a deep breath. The Tyrant was right; Devils never lie. Their words and actions are always true, but like some vile curse, it all ultimately leads to tragedy.

"So are you now going to give someone else a little help?"

Staring at the container wrapped in flesh, Gray suddenly understood what the Tyrant meant by the script.

The Tyrant gave no direct response but instead let out an eerie laugh.

The Immortal Heart, which mesmerized and obsessed many, was in the Tyrant's hands, merely a piece to further the script. He, like a childish child, sat on high, treating everyone as toys, just to fulfill some meager pleasure of his own.

Devils were noble and mysterious, yet they would speak to you kindly and even drink with you. Gray understood that such esteemed status meant nothing to them.

Gray wanted to say something, but stopped himself. The Tyrant clearly knew what he wanted to ask, and the sinister voice arose again.

"Are you sure about this, Gray?"

The scarlet reflection questioned Gray, with ripples spreading through the blood, as the reflected image began to distort and deform, as though becoming some grotesque monster.

"You were ready to die but fortunately survived. You have already killed Jia Meng; you could stop here."

The Tyrant showed concern, advising him like a friend.

"Bring back Milasha's Secret Sword and Jia Meng's head, return to the Pillar of Royal Authority. Report everything about the King's Shield Guard to your king..."

The voice became obsessed.

"I can see such a future, Gray. You will be valued, continuously promoted, even inheriting a position..."

The beautiful dream shattered, and the Tyrant's tone became stern.

"But if you ask that question, you will take a different path."

Gray was momentarily lost in thought, seemingly drawn into that beautiful dream, yet another voice echoed incessantly within his heart.

"Should you stop here?"

"Leave with all your doubts, retreating timidly."

"You have nothing left to care about, so why not forge ahead fearlessly?"

Blood filled Gray's eyes, and he tightly grasped the Secret Sword in his hand, feeling a warm sensation emanating from it.

He still remembered that time; as a newcomer, he made many mistakes. Milasha didn't harshly judge him but comforted him instead.

"Everyone was a newcomer once; there's no need to blame yourself."

"But... is this okay?" Gray knew the King's Secret Sword was stern, and gentle Milasha seemed out of place in all this.

"There's nothing wrong with it. When I was a newcomer, I made mistakes too and was scolded to tears several times."

Milasha ruffled Gray's hair, showing enough patience for this newcomer.

"I thought it was awful, so I decided that if one day I started bringing newcomers, I wouldn't treat them like that."

Gray wanted to express his gratitude, but Milasha seemed to know what he was going to say and spoke first.

"No need to thank me. If you really want to express gratitude, be kind to the newcomers when you're mentoring them in the future."

Gray gazed at the crimson reflection, laughing at himself; indeed, no one can reject the Devil's words, even if aware of that dark fate beforehand.

"Who is the Shadow King?"

Gray asked.

The response to Gray was the Tyrant's wild laughter, and at the same time, the blood pool boiled. It was a small puddle of blood, yet it reverberated to another dimension of blood, with a large amount of blood surging until it soaked Gray's feet.

"Gray, this information comes at a price, a very steep price, one that even your soul cannot fill."

Amid the spread of the pool of blood appeared a monstrous creature entangled by countless threads, and a hundred crimson arms waving; its voice was like a thunderous roar.

"Do I need to surrender my soul?" Gray asked coldly.

"No, someday you'll willingly offer your soul to me, as an interesting wager."

The Tyrant broke through the boundary of reality and illusion, dressed in a meticulous black suit, standing on the crimson pool before Gray.

"Just a wager?" Gray shook his head, "I still don't understand you devils."

"There's no need to understand us," the Tyrant shook his head, asking in return, "Do you think devils have a stance?"

Gray was caught off guard, while the Tyrant continued his disturbing laughter.

"Do you think the Gray Trade Association represents my will? Or does the Putrid Sect represent her will? No, it was never like that. They are just toys we use for entertainment."

The Tyrant slowly opened his arms, as if to embrace Gray.

"None of that matters; what matters is value."

His hands rested on Gray's shoulders, and face to face. Gray tried to discern the Tyrant's appearance, but he could only see a head encased in countless cables. Between the gaps in the threads, crimson eyes occasionally opened.

"The Shadow King's name is..."

The Tyrant leaned in close, whispering softly in Gray's ear, revealing that name, which incites madness.

The moment the name echoed in Gray's ear, his soul seemed to detach from his body, his body stiffening like a stone sculpture, all the blood in his veins frozen, even his heart paused briefly.

He was unsure what feelings were coursing through him now, but his body trembled uncontrollably, whether from excitement or fear, a violent wave of emotions, which even induced a feeling of nausea as if he'd vomit out all the filth in his heart.

Gray's mind went blank, the name reverberating by his ear. He couldn't believe any of it and looked at the Tyrant before him, preparing to berate him loudly, when he remembered something.

The Devil never lies; every word and action is absolutely truthful.

It's all real.

The Shadow King is him, it's…

"Gray, your expression right now is superb."

The Tyrant's voice interrupted Gray's erratic thoughts, his wave of the hand revealing Jia Meng's battered corpse in the bloody pool, the body already stripped of most flesh, leaving just bare bones amidst the devouring roots of decay.

Gazing upon the ragged visage, the Tyrant murmured in pity, "So pitiful... It seems he was right, and you are the one thwarting everything — the true villain."

As the Tyrant spoke, he turned around, looking again at the dazed Gray with a smile.

"It's time to choose, Gray."

Gray's eyes gradually solidified, the Tyrant in them turning wickedly insane, embodying all the sins of the world.

"Will you kill the Shadow King, or fight for him?"