Endless Debt-Chapter 983 - 69: The Road to Escape (Part 2)

After rolling through the thick smoke, Palmer nimbly maneuvered his way out. After so much misfortune, Palmer had become quite adept at escaping, but unfortunately, he had become a bit rusty at it, and that was Bologue’s fault.

With a warrior as fierce as Bologue around, Palmer almost always found himself in favorable situations. Even when things were tough, Bologue held the ground, and it had been a long time since Palmer had to flee so desperately.

"Well, sometimes you have to admit," Palmer continued talking to himself, "the gaps between people can be quite vast."

Bullets whizzed past Palmer’s side, leaving grazes of varying depth on his arms, waist, and thighs. Palmer gritted his teeth and continued sprinting.

Every member of the Clarks loathed confined spaces, not due to claustrophobia, but because of the instinctive alertness born from their powers.

The enclosed environment severely limited the airflow Palmer could command, thus restricting his abilities. If Palmer could reach the outside world, he could rely on the Power of Storm to fly for a short time and escape this damned place.

But the hope was slim.

A few Prayer Believers’ ether reactions appeared ahead of Palmer. The King’s Shield Guard was more familiar with the terrain of the Fog Abyss Fortress than Palmer, and he was trapped.

"Phew... this is deadly."

Palmer was panting heavily. Just as he bitterly complained about his bad luck, a terrifying ethereal fluctuation surged from the direction of the Stone Hall, and an invisible ethereal shock swept over the building with terrifying intensity, blanking everyone’s minds.

A powerful air current rushed through the corridor, whipping debris and iron fragments against Palmer’s face, bringing a faint sting.

"Seeker of Glory..."

Palmer whispered, gazing into the deep darkness behind him. The wind whistled in the building, creating eerie sounds that seemed like a creature in the dark had opened its mouth, thirsting for flesh.

Damn it, the Fog Abyss Fortress didn’t only have Defenders; there was also a Seeker of Glory.

Palmer felt his blood turn cold. He had left Bologue alone in such a dangerous place. Palmer wanted to turn back and find Bologue, but before he could take a step, he stopped.

What could he do if he went back? He was just a Prayer Believer, and a casual strike from a Seeker of Glory could kill him. If he went back, he might even become Bologue’s burden.

Not to mention... could he even break through the encirclement?

With these thoughts, clear footsteps approached from the darkness, and the King’s Shield Guard surrounded Palmer, their ether reactions of varying tiers rising.

"Clause one."

Palmer affirmed. He could guess what Bologue would do. Bologue wasn’t one to fall easily.

He just needed to do what was within his responsibility.

The glow of ether emerged in the darkness, and one figure after another became clear. Some lifted firearms, others drew blades, and mocking laughter echoed, ridiculing Palmer as a beast with nowhere to escape.

"It’s time to prove the Clarks’ glory."

Palmer thought, as Storm Feather split into two in his hands, and he dual-wielded daggers, striking an offensive pose.

The atmosphere was tense to the extreme. A flash of fire erupted, and the Shield Guards launched their assault first. Whistling flames burned toward Palmer.

To bolster his courage, Palmer roared loudly, only to be drowned out by an even louder roar.

A thunderous rumble came from the other end of the corridor, like a bulldozer approaching at high speed. Amidst screams, several Shield Guards were flung away by a tremendous force, and then a familiar, heavy giant shield rapidly enlarged in Palmer’s sight.

The giant shield was hurled over, crashing down in front of Palmer. A mass of bricks shattered into powder, blocking the raging flames and carving out a vacuum area.

"Hart!" Palmer exclaimed joyfully, "What are you doing here!"

According to Bologue’s plan, they were supposed to be outside the Fog Abyss Fortress to back them up.

"Adapting to circumstances!"

Hart shouted, swinging a heavy punch. A Shield Guard’s head caved in under his strike, and amidst the spilling blood, two more ether reactions rose.

Shelley spread out her perception as much as possible, monitoring all Shield Guards’ movements, while Kemp picked up the Ethereal Blade, advancing swiftly.

Professionals do professional work.

This was Bologue’s most frequent saying. At first, Palmer thought it was just a catchphrase Bologue used in role-playing, but now, Palmer loved that saying.

Hart’s surprise intervention greatly relieved Palmer’s pressure, and Kemp’s involvement turned the escape into a counterattack.

In the narrow space, field staff and Shield Guards clashed chaotically. Hart excelled in Ethereal Barrier and Ethereal Amplification. He held up the giant shield against the majority of the Shield Guards’ offensive, the Ethereal Barrier crackling with arcs and fissures.

When Hart was about to reach his limit, he would abandon defense and launch a swift offense, like a wild bull charging through the Shield Guards on his path, throwing powerful punches, or using the giant shield as a weapon to strike at the enemies.

No wonder he was the most seasoned field staff among them. Hart could both defend and attack. In no time, he was surrounded by several corpses and countless severed limbs. Blood soaked the gray-white uniform, and the scorching heat surged inside him.

Kemp asked, "Where’s Bologue?"

"He’s still inside," Palmer replied, pulling the trigger while retreating, "but don’t worry about him. He has a way to get out."