Chapter 518: Chapter 31: Angry Wind Pardon
"Is this secret power the next stage of the Summoning Hand?"
Geoffrey read the report written by Bologue, which was an explanation of his own secret power. However, no matter how detailed Bologue’s description was, it wasn’t as intuitive as a demonstration in actual combat.
So Geoffrey raised his head to look at the two people below the platform. In the wide space of the combat room, Bologue looked expressionlessly ahead, while his opponent appeared excited, stretching his muscles and occasionally casting provocative glances.
"Flame of the Cauldron... why did he choose such a strange name?" Geoffrey asked the person beside him.
"He said that when using secret energy to forge steel, he felt like a war blacksmith, wielding a red-hot iron sword to kill enemies, hence the name."
Lebius had already seen the report. As an expert, Bologue had even included the profound meaning of the name with meticulous detail, making Lebius feel amused and helpless at such excessive rigor.
"Why are you here as well?"
Lebius looked to the other side, where Belli watched the two below eagerly preparing to fight, accompanied by her assistant Aimou, and the inseparable Balder.
"Of course, it’s to record data. On one side there’s the power of Overlord Xilin, and on the other, the perfect path of the Clarks family... You want to know how they measure up too, right?"
Belli spoke with excitement, like a spectator watching a duel, craving for blood and death to stimulate dull nerves.
Lebius was silent for a moment; hosting this combat, he just wanted to observe firsthand how Bologue’s secret power performed in action, never having considered this aspect.
Belli’s words piqued the interest of several people. On one side was the Undead who had usurped the absolute power of the Kagader Empire, and on the other was the heir of one of the founding families of the Order Bureau, the Clarks family.
This sort of duel was endlessly fascinating, only Aimou appeared somewhat flustered, not understanding why they were engaged in battles again after the promotion ceremony had barely concluded.
Geoffrey said, "Palmer has no chance of winning. In a one-on-one situation of the same tier, few can defeat the Undead."
"I’m not expecting Palmer to win; I just hope he doesn’t lose too badly," Belli raised an eyebrow, "want to place a bet?"
Lebius had no interest in this, but Geoffrey’s eyes wandered at the mention of betting, and Belli knew she succeeded, nudging Aimou beside her with her elbow, "Want to join?"
Aimou, innocent and sincere, found it challenging to fit into these old foxes’ schemes, but she understood there would be a winner between Bologue and Palmer.
"I’m betting on Bologue."
Such matters weren’t worth hesitating over.
Below the platform, Bologue’s gaze shifted from the people above to focus on Palmer.
Bologue said, "I guess they’re betting on who between us will win."
"I think so too," Palmer took a deep breath, feeling inevitable pressure facing Bologue, "this makes us feel like warriors in the arena."
Bologue nodded, "At least we don’t have to fight to the death among us."
"Well... actually, not necessarily. After all, you’re the Undead. If you die, and I live, that’s still possible." Palmer maintained his humorous style even at times like this.
"Usually, I might agree with you, but not this time."
Bologue shook his head, warming up his hands.
Yesterday, he exerted great effort to escape from the Border Sanatorium. The situation was much as Bologue had imagined; these people thought he had mental illness, partly due to his suicide, and partly due to Palmer’s instigation.
Thanks to that bastard’s nonsense, Bologue completed several pages of psychological tests and was only released after confirming his temporary mental stability.
Bologue needed to vent his anger on Palmer, even though he’s his partner and roommate.
"Why did you commit suicide? You don’t seem like someone who would commit suicide on impulse just for fun."
Palmer knew Bologue too well, while others were unaware of this point, Bologue easily deceived them, only Palmer noticed and kept questioning him.
"If you win, I’ll tell you."
Bologue didn’t intend to tell Palmer about the astronaut or any related intelligence, nor did he plan to inform Lebius.
In Bologue’s understanding, the only person he could discuss this intelligence with was Deputy Director of the Order Bureau, now the Minister of External Affairs, Nesanel.
As a Seeker of Glory, Nesanel possessed sufficient power to handle any unforeseen events.
"Speaking of which, since you got promoted to Prayer Believer, you haven’t told me the nature of your secret energy after promotion, have you?"
Bologue probed Palmer, even during training, he was committed.
"Rather than explaining it, you can experience it yourself." Palmer slowly retreated, recalling his experience as a sparring partner for Bologue. After acquiring secret power, this guy pursued and tormented him, and now it was a chance for a counterattack.
Bologue flipped open his coat and took out a folding knife from the inner pocket. The metal extended bit by bit, the blade reflecting the distant image of Palmer.
Until now, Bologue still deeply misses his Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid. After losing this powerful alchemy armament, all he can use are the folding knife and the Shock Hammer.
Palmer also struck a pose, his hands reaching behind his back, gripping the cold metal like a taut arrow.
Almost at the same moment, a brilliant light burst forth from both of their eyes, and the Alchemy Matrix expanded, stirring up a turbulent ether.
Palmer swung his hands, releasing dozens of cold blade lights. Bologue barely caught sight of the flying knives thrown into the wind; they flashed and vanished, leaving Bologue unable to trace their path, only hearing the sharp whistling as they sliced through the gale.
Bologue’s body arched, the Ethereal Amplification enhancing him, and he surged forward several meters in an instant, cyan flames entwining the folding knife. Under Bologue’s reconstruction, the hollow gaps inside the folding knife were filled, making the blade a bit narrower.
The cyan flames journeyed with Bologue, like a shower of fire, leaving a trail of flames behind.
"Damn it!"
Palmer jumped back, already feeling intense pressure from Bologue. When Bologue brandished his knife and charged fiercely, it was like facing an enraged cyan tiger.
Even though he wasn’t wearing the Face of Horror, the dread he invoked still relentlessly assaulted Palmer. Could it be said, losing oneself in blood for so long that one becomes stained with the same aura?
"Keep your distance! Bologue!"
Under pressure, Palmer revealed the same feverish smile. As Bologue charged forward rapidly, he was unaware, but the next second he felt as if he’d plunged into a mire.
An overwhelming pressure came from all directions, squeezing his body, restraining his movements. Bologue found his breathing was becoming difficult, his lungs pressed with great force, nearly choking.
Bologue held his breath stubbornly, raising his head. Palmer was above him; as a Condenser, Palmer possessed a brief levitation ability, which was further enhanced when he became a Prayer Believer.
"This is part of the wind too!"
Palmer cheered as an intense buzzing rapidly approached Bologue, the bright blade lights mingled like a school of fish swimming through the wind, their scales shimmering.
Bologue attempted to move, but the gradually increasing pressure made him feel trapped in a cage.
Pressure, isn’t it?
Bologue faintly sensed the source of the pressure, having entered the range influenced by Palmer’s secret energy and a dense air pressure.
Cyan flames expanded and released, scorching the ground beneath, which began to collapse. Countless stones rose, orbiting Bologue and blocking the route of the flying knives, followed by relentless metal clashing.
After Palmer’s promotion, his secret energy was further intensified, allowing him not only to manipulate air currents but also to command air pressure, slowing his targets...
Not only slowing.
Palmer picked up a flying knife and hurled it at Bologue. Despite using Ethereal Amplification, the slender knife struggled to breach Bologue’s layered defenses.
But under Bologue’s gaze, the flying knife’s outline blurred. The next second, as if materializing, it appeared before Bologue’s eyes.
The sound of tearing slowly arrived as the stones shattered, countless fragments constructing a broken path, dust swirling.
This path was precisely the attack route of the flying knife.
A piercing screech of friction arose, Bologue raised his folding knife, clashing with the incoming blade, incessant sparks flying. Bologue felt he was wrestling with a brute beast, soon deflecting the knife, though the folding knife bore a deep scratch.
Palmer’s face showed a confident smile. Previously, he was at an absolute disadvantage against Bologue; now, he finally felt more assertive.
"How does it feel? Bologue."
Palmer’s arrogance was palpable.
Bologue nodded in acknowledgment, "A good application, but it doesn’t feel like something you could conceive. It’s a Clarks family technique, isn’t it?"
Palmer’s arrogance diminished partly; the advantage of coming from a prominent family was evident. The ancestors had already taken the trial-and-error, distilling numerous techniques.
Palmer didn’t need to develop secret energy himself. Once he acquired it, the knowledge learned in childhood at the Clarks could be applied.
Bologue roughly guessed the power of Palmer’s attack. Using the wind as a path, the air pressure propelled the flying knife, letting it release like a musket.
Now, this bastard was practically a human cannon.
While Bologue speculated, Palmer, like a conductor, elegantly waved his hand, sweeping before him, leaving behind flying knives upheld by the whirlwinds, cold metal reflecting the ether’s glow.
Secret Energy·Furious Wind Pardon.
Palmer raised his fist, seemingly striking the bullet’s primer, launching it with a yell in accompaniment.
"All guns blazing!"
The flying blade lights raced forward, nearly slicing through space like meteors. The time left for Bologue to react was brief, yet he faced the incoming rain of light with his usual composure.
Stepping forward, the intense cyan flames surged up, engulfing everything around.