Endless Debt

Countless cracks surrounded Palmer, and the blazing white light tracks extended like the silk threads woven by the goddess of fate. They started, extended, and finally intersected at one point.

On the crown of thorns in Palmer's hand.

"I... am I dying and hallucinating?"

Palmer looked at the crown of thorns in his hand, and then looked at the cracks of the shining light, the fragments of the world, peeping at the fate of others.

Just like the evil isomers of the devil, the parallel worlds are also the same. The same story is played out one after another, but there are slight deviations in some elements, but even so, they still converge on this common point, waiting for the successor, Palmer, to make the final decision.

Palmer swallowed his saliva. Until now, he still didn't know what happened between the devil and Blog, and why the ether world fell into such a weird anomaly.

But vaguely, Palmer understood that he had stood at the fork in the road of the world's fate, and he would decide who would win all this.

Decide by yourself? It sounds ridiculous.

Palmer has always been a person with no opinion... It can't be said that he has no opinion, but most of the time, he has entrusted his brain to others and is only responsible for executing orders.

Whatever the Order Bureau tells Palmer to do, he will do it. Whatever the Clerks family tells him to do, he will do it. Wherever Blogo goes, he will just follow behind him.

Palmer's life has always been like this. There are very few times when he can decide anything by himself.

Yes, it is true. Palmer can't even control his engagement.

Over time, Palmer has become accustomed to everything like this. Anyway, he is also a lazy and slack guy. Palmer is happy that someone can take the responsibility of making decisions for him.

But Palmer never thought that he, who has never had to make a choice, would have to make such a major decision today.

This looks ridiculous, like a fragmented dream, unbelievable.

"Why me?"

Palmer looked down at the crown of thorns in his hand and muttered to himself.

Waves of piercing pain came from Palmer's hands, and the thorns grew wildly, like black and red shackles, entangled his hands with the crown of thorns.

Palmer's eyes were a little blurred and trance, and then he affirmed himself.

"Of course it's me," after a brief soberness, a wicked smile appeared on Palmer's face, "I am one of the saviors, a hero of the world, and of course I am qualified to enjoy this power."

Palmer held up the crown of thorns, and the wildly growing thorns covered his whole body little by little, almost shaping him into a monster covered with spikes.

The evil and crazy power surged, but Palmer didn't notice it at all. He just stared at the crown of thorns, as if he could glimpse his magnificent palace on the mountain from the dark scarlet light.

The closer Palmer got to the crown, the clearer the magnificent palace became, and the melodious tunes of the choir became higher and higher.

In the golden palace, Palmer could see Wosilin waiting for him under the throne. In addition to her, Aimu, Bailey, Nathanil and others were also standing there, each with a smile on their faces, celebrating Palmer's greatness.

Palmer embraced them one by one with a crown of thorns, sharing their joy, but when it was all over, Palmer stopped in front of the throne, his face full of confusion.

Wosilin took his arm and asked with concern, "What's wrong? Palmer."

"Well... it seems something is missing."

Palmer looked back at the golden palace, trying to find the missing thing, but he could not find any trace of him.

"What's missing?" Woxilin didn't understand. "You have already enjoyed supreme power and eternal life. What else can be called missing in your life?"

"Yes... yes, I have obtained everything I can get. What else is missing? What else is not satisfied?"

Palmer nodded in a daze. With the help of Woxilin, he stepped onto the red carpeted stairs step by step and walked towards the highest throne.

In the grand hall, people's applause and singing continued, but those sounds were far away from Palmer's ears. All he could hear was his heavy footsteps and the repeated questions in his heart.

What exactly is missing?

Suddenly, Palmer's steps stopped, and a distant memory appeared in front of him. It was a living room full of all kinds of sundries, from movie tapes to record discs, heavy books and boxes of board games piled up one by one.

Palmer sat on the sofa in this crowded and narrow space. He laughed and pointed at the plot of the movie with the guy next to him.

"Where is Blogo?"

Palmer remembered the name that was about to be lost, and asked Wolsilin, "Where is Blogo?"

"Blogo?"

Wolsilin's face darkened when she heard the name, "Have you forgotten? He died in the final battle."

"He...he died? But isn't he an immortal?"

Palmer came back to his senses and his expression became angry. He couldn't accept that he had forgotten his partner. How could such an important thing disappear in his heart so lightly?

At this time, looking at this magnificent palace and the crown above his head, an even greater sense of shame rose from the bottom of Palmer's heart.

He understood that winning the final decisive battle was entirely dependent on Boluogo's sacrifice. Everything he was enjoying now was like stealing Boluogo's sacrifice.

Wosselin held Palmer's face with her hands and forced him to look at her.

She whispered, "Palmer, sometimes you don't have to lose anything to gain something."

As she said that, Woxilin looked at the throne that was only a few steps away, "Perhaps, you gain something first, and then you lose something."

"All of this is already close at hand, isn't it?"

Vosilin let go of Palmer and left all this to his own decision. Palmer stood in the middle of the stairs. He could not touch the throne when he went up, nor could he return to the earth when he went down.

"Boluogo is already dead. It's obviously unwise to give up everything for a dead man, isn't it?"

After a long silence, Palmer whispered to Vosilin, "I can commemorate him in many ways. One of our children will be named Bologo Klex, and I will give birth to him in Oath City Opos." I will create a golden sculpture for him in the center of the world. I will write his name into the textbooks of all countries. I will ask people all over the world to remember this name so that he will never be forgotten.”

Faced with Palmer's various promises, Vosilin just looked at him with a smile, neither approving nor vetoing them.

"I've done my best, haven't I?"

Palmer said again, "The living must continue to move forward in life, and they cannot be tripped to the ground by a dead man."

Wosilin smiled, everyone smiled, and everyone looked at Palmer. Whether he was defending himself or resenting something, everyone accepted and tolerated everything about him.

"You don't have any objections, right?" Palmer laughed to himself, "I am the king of the world, a supreme king, dying for a dead man and a long-destined past. It would be a bit too rude to be worried."

"Yes...that's it."

Palmer kept repeating that he was no longer talking about his thoughts to Wosselin and others. He was more like telling himself all this to convince himself and accept the established fact, so that he could make people happy. Accept this supreme thing without any psychological burden.

Move forward, keep moving forward, the supreme throne is right in front of you.

Palmer stepped forward and climbed the sacred stairs, but for some reason, there was no joy in his heart. Instead, he was filled with struggle and pain.

He didn't understand why, as if this supreme power represented endless temptation and danger. The power and eternity it whispered were like a sweet trap, tempting Palmer towards the dark abyss.

Palmer tried to resist this temptation with reason. He told himself that this was just a false promise and an evil trick.

But... but the devils are dead, who wants to lie to themselves?

Palmer couldn't figure it out. He felt that his thoughts were becoming more and more chaotic and confusing. He wanted to stop, but his body was uncontrollable and stubbornly continued to move forward. Palmer forced himself to look back. That strange force will become stronger.

It seemed to be able to see through Palmer's heart, accurately hitting his deepest desires and fears, showing him a future full of power and glory, and placing him in an irresistible dream.

No one can easily reject power and eternity.

Palmer's forehead was covered with cold sweat, and his heartbeat was as fast and powerful as a drum. He felt that his will was gradually collapsing, and the dark power was eroding his soul bit by bit.

He tried to find a ray of light, a ray of power that could guide Palmer out of the darkness.

No. Dark? There is no darkness, he is clearly heading towards a future full of glory.

Despair and helplessness, excitement and ecstasy, many complex and contradictory emotions roared and screamed in Palmer's heart. He felt like a traveler trying to survive in rough waves.

The cold sea water was hitting Palmer's body hard, consuming his physical strength and reason. Palmer felt that he was sliding into some kind of abyss...a bottomless abyss.

"Why resist? Palmer."

Palmer asked himself, "What's wrong with being the hero of the world and the eternal king? Why would you refuse?"

"You must be tired, Palmer."

Palmer's body began to tremble, and every step seemed extremely strenuous, as if he was carrying a huge burden.

"As long as you lower your head and obey it, you will no longer feel pain and fatigue, and at the same time, you will have everything the world desires."

Palmer persuades Palmer. Palmer doesn't understand why Palmer rejects Palmer. Palmer doesn't know what Palmer is missing.

Palmer, Palmer, Palmer and Palmer…

Vaguely, the hazy holy light fell from the end of the sky. It easily passed through the golden palace and landed on the throne. The god loomed in the light, smiling at Palmer and welcoming him to join. Among the gods, become the supreme existence.

Palmer suddenly stopped and froze in front of the throne. The God's smile remained the same, Wosillin and everyone else were smiling. This should have been a scene of joyful celebration, but inexplicably, Palmer felt Very sad.

sad.

The huge sadness was like a roaring wave, drowning Palmer and dragging him into the cold and dark seabed.

Palmer turned around with difficulty and asked Wosilin and everyone in a dry voice.

"Is this really what I want? To become a supreme king, overlooking the heaven and earth, controlling the fate of countless people, and transforming into an eternal existence."

Palmer was extremely sad, "My friend...my best friend died, and I was complacent about his death, enjoying everything he sacrificed in exchange for, and trying to rationalize it all."

"It's okay, Palmer. This shows that you are flesh and blood, and you are a person who can feel the joy and sorrow of others."

The same voice responded to Palmer. Looking down, he saw a mysterious being appearing on the long stairs. He was wearing dark robes and his complexion was extremely pale. His whole person looked like someone from the past. The black and white characters that come out of silent films are not stained with any color.

"So, can someone like me really become a so-called king?" Palmer asked the standing black and white figure, "What's more, do I really want to be a king?"

Palmer didn't understand, didn't understand, it was like it was forced on him.

"What is the use of my supreme power? To rule others? To torture others. I am not a psychopath. Or should I instill my own ideas into the world? This is even more ridiculous. I have no ideas. The only thing that counts is an idea. , or just want to find a place to lie down and spend your life peacefully.”

Palmer dragged himself forcefully towards the bottom of the stairs, towards the profound existence.

"As for what woman, I already have someone I love," Palmer poured out all his doubts wantonly, "Wealth? I am the heir of the Clerks family, I have enough wealth, not to mention, I I have almost no strong material desires, so what’s the point of wanting so much money?”

"Or, eternity?"

Palmer seemed to laugh in anger and whispered, "Rather than watching each friend leave, I would rather leave with everyone's laughter."

His voice rose and became angry, "The value of these things to me is not even as good as a VIP ticket to a concert!"

"But many people desire this, Palmer."

The deep being turned back and looked down at the people in the golden palace, looking at the countless souls in the vast world.

"They long for power, long for eternity, long for women, money and treasures, and long for the satisfaction of their most filthy and evil thoughts. For all this, they are willing to degenerate into abominable existences, and even their souls can be easily sacrificed. out."

Palmer angrily took off the crown on his head and slammed it towards the deep being, the crisp sound of the collision echoed.

"But that's their wish, not mine!"

Palmer's hazy consciousness woke up and became as firm as steel. He strode down the stairs without looking back.

"Instead of promising me this noble thing, why not give me my friends back!"

Palmer crossed over to the deep existence, and the strong will of death rolled in, but it still couldn't stop him for a moment. He walked towards the stairs, past Wosselin, past familiar figures one after another, and headed towards the direction where the light came in. Go.

He asked, "What are you going to do, Palmer?"

"Go save my friend," Palmer took a deep breath and replied with a stronger voice, "It's my turn to save him this time!"

Palmer disappeared into the light, and a deathly silence fell.

The God of Death silently watched the direction in which Palmer left. Not long after, he saluted the disappearing light, his voice filled with chills and a ray of laughter echoed in the silence.

"Palmer Clerks, Savior of mankind, all glory be to you."

…

Palmer opened his eyes and escaped from the weird hallucination. The crown in his hand was still shining, but it no longer looked like scarlet and dark. Even the thorns disappeared and turned back into Palmer. The first time I saw it, it looked like a branch.

"damn it!"

Palmer cursed and slammed the crown on the ice. After a crisp ringing sound, it fell next to Burlogo's body.

After taking a few hard breaths to calm down his emotions, Palmer awkwardly picked up the crown and put it on Bologna's head. It seemed that the size was not right, so Palmer put it on. Extremely laborious.

But in the end, Palmer crowned Burlogo in a very funny, even absurd way.

"Damn it, I'm a man who plans to retire at the age of thirty. This kind of fatal job should be left to professionals like you."

After putting on the crown, Palmer complained while trying to lift Bologna's frozen body, but Bologna's body was too heavy, and Palmer was too tired, so he just lifted it Halfway through, the two fell heavily into the snow dust.

"Ha ha……"

Palmer took a few deep breaths, chills churning in his lungs. He didn't know whether it was sadness or too much pain. His eyes couldn't help but shed tears, and then the tears froze on his face again.

"Damn, why is it so heavy?"

Palmer cursed and shook the armor on Boluogo's body, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake it at all.

"Damn it, damn it!"

Palmer felt that he had spent all his complaints in recent years on this moment. Now that he could no longer break off these armor plates, he could only struggle, like carrying a heavy sack, and held Bolog's feet with both hands. Hug him, lift his abdomen with your shoulders, and let his entire upper body hang behind you.

Palmer just carried Boluogo on his shoulders and moved forward in the vast wind and snow.

So, in another world, the afro-headed Palmer carried the bassist Bologo, and the two figures moved forward with difficulty.

"Hold on, Bologo, we will become big names and sing on a stage with thousands of people," the afro-headed Palmer kept telling, his voice choked, "It's okay, Bologo, you won't die. of."

He had a broken voice and made a bad joke, "You know, rock and roll will never die."

The white thread of fate passed through the afro and the bassist. It crossed one world after another and arrived at the desolate battlefield full of corpses and wars. The heavy rain had gone away, and pieces of debris were piled up on the muddy ground. Puddles.

The war horse Palmer whimpered, and used its head to support the knight Bologg who fell to the ground. It tried its best to put its head under the body of Knight Bologg, then stood up with all its strength, and actually rolled Knight Bologg on his back. got up.

A cheerful horse neighed.

The war horse Palmer picked up the knight Boluogo and limped towards the distance, facing the falling arrows.

The blazing white thread passed through the horses and knights, like an untraceable meteor. It fell into the dim and lightless world and landed on the earth that turned into scorched earth.

Scattered gunshots and explosions continued, and lingering dark clouds covered the sky. Many fighter jets broke through the clouds, throwing deadly weapons at the distant land. Then, a mushroom cloud shook the earth. Rising from the ground, the scorching flames were clearly visible hundreds of kilometers away.

In the roaring heat wave, the mechanical creature Palmer carried the flesh-and-blood Bologo and moved forward on this ruined land.

The power of the mechanical Palmer has reached its lowest point, and the transmission joints are also broken into pieces. It is like a sweeping robot that is about to fall on the road and cannot find its charging base. However, it still moves forward stubbornly, with the beeping of electronic sounds. The sound was endless, revealing binary code.

"110110100111011 100111000001011 101001110111011 100111100101111 110110100011011 110001000001000."

Another mushroom cloud rose not far away, and their figures looked particularly small under the dazzling bright light.

The thread of fate continues to move forward, moving forward unswervingly. It crosses one world after another and connects the fragmented pictures together.

In some worlds, both Palmer and Burlogo fell to the ground, lifeless. In other worlds, Burlogo lost an arm, and his remaining hand dragged Palmer. In other worlds, both Palmer and Burlogo are still alive, supporting each other and moving forward with difficulty.

In some tiny world, Palmer the squirrel opened the mouth of Borrogo the squirrel, stuffed the glowing chestnut into its cheek pouch, then bit the tail of Borrogo the squirrel and dragged it with great effort. Toward the treetops.

The thread of fate passes through thousands of worlds, different timelines, the same fate, the only will, and the same decision.

In the heavy wind and snow in the etheric realm, Palmer reluctantly tipped Bologo, changed into a relatively comfortable position and continued to move forward.

"You are the hero who saves the world, then I will be the hero's partner."

In the dead silence of the world, Palmer muttered, "We should be very popular, the kind that will be celebrated by thousands of people."

"Maybe Nathaniel will really build a sculpture for us. I hope they won't touch it. You know, it's really funny that a place like that is so shiny after being touched."

"Do you think there will be an anniversary? There should be. As for writing it into the textbook, I don't think it is necessary. It feels really weird to be taken so seriously by everyone when I am so careless."

"Hey, I hope those in the Immortal Club can keep our cups well, which can be regarded as a bit of proof that they remain in the world."

"I don't know if Wosilin will be sad... I hope she won't be sad for so long."

Gradually, Palmer's thoughts became lower and lower, his voice became smaller and smaller, his speaking speed became slower and slower, and his straight waist also bent down, almost falling down.

Palmer still held on, carrying his best friend on his shoulders like he was carrying the world.

The warm light shone in the wind and snow, and the crown on Bologg's head gradually loosened, but it did not fall to the ground, but after breaking away from Bologg's head, it floated quietly on his head. On the skull.

The pure white buds no longer have the sharp thorns, but grow sacred laurel leaves, wrapping all the goodness and turning into the crown of final guilt.

The cold and stiff body became warm and soft, the dead heartbeat rose and fell again, and the low sigh floated in the vast wind and snow.

Boluogo slowly opened his eyes, his pupils glowing with golden light.