Hangover.

Bologue liked this word. It humorously described his state after resurrection in a very fitting way.

Just like the literal meaning, living in a delirium at the bar, then collapsing in some corner of the street. When you wake up, you complain about the body's pain and the brain's lethargy, and casually wonder where exactly you woke up.

Bologue looked around in confusion. This was a shadowy place, with the sound of wind clearly in his ears, yet his body didn't feel the flow of air, as if he was just a wall away from a storm.

He was in a loose pajama that someone had put on him, and there was a blanket underneath. It seemed like someone had prepared it specially to prevent him from freezing.

Bologue shook his head; the Undead like him weren't that fragile. Then he thought perhaps the other side did these unnecessary preparations to show their respect for him.

After all, he did fight bloodily for the Clarks. If they had tossed him aside like garbage, waiting for his resurrection... that would be reasonable, but something felt off.

Bologue felt a blockage in his throat, coughed heavily twice, and spat out a blood clot, feeling his chest lighten quite a bit for the moment.

What devilry is this…

Bologue recalled the events before his death, really didn't expect to run into such a thing on a trip. He began to suspect if he got caught up in Palmer's luck, should've known to split with him.

Stretching his body forcefully, Bologue slowly stood up, taking a simple look around, with spiral-stacked bookshelves seemingly having no end, and many treasures scattered loosely on the ground.

Golden light reflected on his face, and Bologue felt a slight sense of nobility. If he had rolled over before waking, he would have awoken on dozens of gold coins.

That actually sounds pretty nice, not many have such chances.

"How am I here?"

Bologue recognized this place, it was the Wind Cellar, filled with high concentration ether around the body, bringing Bologue a sense of power.

The relationship between Condensers and ether is like that of fish and sea, a filled ether environment always provides a sense of peace as if in a warm cradle.

Soon, Bologue probably guessed why he was here. A high concentration ether environment helps in his resurrection, and Fuen probably knew this, thus placing him in this important place.

Bologue took one last look at this mysterious place. Don't be fooled by its old, silent appearance; inside this folded Void Realm, many Elders lay in slumber, each possessing the power of a Defender.

Defender…

In the fight with Ralph, Bologue was nearly suppressed the entire time. Even if he took action, it was only by relying on the power of the Undying Body to barely hold through.

This situation was not unfamiliar. He had experienced it once during the skirmish with the Silver Knight. Having thought that after ascending to a Prayer Believer this situation would improve, he still found it difficult to resist the power of a Defender.

Bologue tightened the loose pajamas, the fabric felt very comfortable, presumably it was not cheap.

At that moment, Bologue found himself unexpectedly happy. Knowing he always woke up in that monotonous hospital, dressed in thin clothes, this time waking up, finally something changed.

"Wonder how it is outside."

Speaking, Bologue walked towards the Wind Cellar's exit. To stop Derby's advance, Bologue had nearly demolished all buildings around the Wind Cellar.

He might see his great masterpiece upon exiting, unsure if Fuen would claim compensation from him because of this, but he was also fighting for the Clarks after all.

No… something's not right.

The Night Race's raid was entirely a trap set by Fuen. This perfect scheme even tricked his own people, including Fuen's son, Palmer Clarks.

In other words, regardless of Ralph's betrayal or Derby's raid, all were within Fuen's calculations. So, does Bologue's participation count as messing things up?

For example, in Fuen's estimation, these buildings wouldn't have been destroyed like this at all…

Bologue was thinking, would the Order Bureau pay for the damage he caused, and also, Bologue personally felt really satisfied while destroying the buildings.

Exiting the Wind Cellar, the expected ruins didn't appear. The familiar corridor, the crimson carpet, windows opened one by one, flowers in the vase swaying with the wind…

Bologue's grand destruction seemed like a dream, and now that the dream has awoken, the building remained intact; Bologue couldn't even see any blood stains.

"Oh, you're awake, sir."

A stranger's voice sounded, and there stood a servant not far away, seemingly awaiting Bologue all along, smiling and saluting towards him.

"Y… hello."

Bologue realized that he still underestimated the Clarks' power, and the mysteries in his heart should be answered soon.

"The Patriarch is waiting for you."

The servant said, stepping aside and gesturing to lead Bologue forward.

Bologue nodded, glancing out the window, the shore washed clean, still blood-red as ever, with many bodies piled up waiting for disposal.

It was not a nightmare but something that truly happened. Bologue then turned his gaze to the ground beneath, and the vast Fortress of the Morning Wind.

Bologue suddenly questioned, "Is it the power of the Void Realm?"

In the Void Realm, architectural alternation is not surprising; Bologue had experienced it early on in the Cultivation Room. The mysterious edifice almost seemed to possess true life force, transforming its shape, wildly growing within overlapping spaces.

The servant nodded with a smile, offering no further explanation.

Under his guidance, Bologue saw many guards and personnel along the way. The usually quiet Fortress of the Morning Wind suddenly became crowded.

Some people also looked at Bologue along the way, pointing fingers at this guy casually wearing pajamas.

"Alright, the Patriarch is waiting for you inside."

The servant stopped before a great door, behind which was Fuen's office, deathly quiet with not a sound.

After thanking, Bologue pushed open the door. The glaring light behind the vast window blinds Bologue at first sight, unable to see Fuen clearly until his eyes adapted, revealing the busy guy at the desk.

Fuen did seem quite busy. His usual leisurely smile replaced by seriousness, a pair of brown glasses resting on his nose, reviewing numerous documents.

Upon seeing Bologue, Fuen took off his glasses and motioned for him to sit.

Silence lingered for a few seconds between them, then Fuen broke it.

"You must have many questions to ask, right?"

Bologue nodded but remained silent, not continuing to speak.

Silence persisted a while, Fuen showing a puzzled look, Bologue propped his feet up, only then noticing he hadn't worn shoes, having walked all the way barefoot, no wonder people looked at him like that.

"Wait a moment," Bologue pressed his temples, troubled, "There are so many questions, I don't even know where to start."

Bologue first inquired about his friends' condition, "How are the others?"

"Palmer and Vasilina are undergoing treatment. Vasilina is doing slightly better, but Palmer is still in a coma," Fuen replied. "Except for Ether depletion, Church is fine, Aimou, however…"

Fuen paused. For the Alchemy Puppet's peculiar existence, it surprised him greatly. "Hmm... she is self-healing."

"Self-healing?"

"Yes, she borrowed a few Alchemists from me, guiding them on how to repair herself. She's quite a capable girl, doing most of the work herself. Other Alchemists were more like apprentices, running errands for her."

Knowing everyone was generally alright, Bologue sighed in relief, then noticed the calendar on Fuen's desk and turned it over. According to the red circles on it, Bologue had been in a coma for about a day.

This resurrection time was within Bologue's calculation, considering he died multiple times in a short period, nearly exhausting all Ether.

Bologue said, "You seem prepared to explain all this."

Fuen maintained his kind smile as always.

"Of course."

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