Chapter 32 - Hesitant Crossroads

Chapter 32 - 16: Hesitant CrossroadsOubos, Great Rift.

This is a massive rift whose origin no one can truly explain, like a scar struck by the Celestial God, stretching across Oubos, sagging into a deep trench that divides the city into two vast areas. Besides the connected parts, they can only communicate with each other via several bridges spanning the rift.

There are many mysterious legends about it, but legends are just legends, nothing more. Nowadays, various companies have occupied the Great Rift. They have established numerous mines along the extending rift, incessantly excavating the Great Rift, causing the scar to slowly expand. The complex mine tunnels and extending rift make the internal environment of the Great Rift increasingly dangerous and complex.

Worse still, they also dump various industrial waste deep into the bottomless rift. Gradually, toxic gray fog spreads inside the rift. Sometimes, this gray fog erupts, turning into a gray tide that envelops the entire city, and this is known as the disaster called "Gray Tide Smog."

The city sounds utterly terrible, but perhaps because it is squeezed between two enormous forces, no matter how bad Opus gets, it continues to operate stably, up to today.

Bologue stepped off the tram, furrowed his brows suddenly, and gazed ahead. Not far away stood a warning sign, and behind the sign lay a grayish world. He had approached the Great Rift.

When the "Gray Tide Smog" breaks out, the poisonous smog penetrates every crevice, like a sandstorm stirred up by a fierce wind, swallowing the entire city. But the residents of Opus have long been accustomed to these. The buildings near the Great Rift all have additional sealing measures or air raid shelters for emergencies, and gas masks have also become daily necessities in this city.

When abnormality becomes daily routine, it holds no special significance anymore.

Sinister steel jungles loomed nearby, toxic gray mist sometimes cast out from the earth, quickly dispersing into the air, mingling with the gloomy sky.

The location where Bologue currently stands is only the peripheral region of the Great Rift. This area is occupied by industrial companies and impoverished people. One giant operational machine after another towers, crisscrossed cable cars span the sky like towering metal trees. Below are countless shabby houses, eerie-colored liquids flowing across the barren soil, gathering and pouring into sewers, destinations unknown.

Bologue could see that many of the impoverished wore worker's attire and walked towards the constructed cable car station. Everyone's figure was blurry; beneath the hazy smog, only shallow shadows were left.

This scene is common within the Great Rift. Poor people can only reside beside the Great Rift, and to make money, most would directly become the workers of the Great Rift. Similarly, there are those foreigners who have come from afar. They also dive into this, as the harsh environment of the Great Rift, when compared to their hometown, undoubtedly allows them to earn far more money.

Bologue paused for a moment; despite having Undying Body, inhaling toxic gas resulted in an unbearable, persistent burning sensation. He put on a gas mask, his view obscured by its thick lenses.

Striding forward into that gray world, converging with those advancing figures. No one spoke; the surrounding silence was terrifying, leaving only the deep sound from breathing valves intersecting together, akin to a group of ghosts crawling up from the grave.

The current view was relatively clear. Amidst the obscured gray, Bologue could see many silhouettes in varying shades of color, rising densely along the horizon. As he drew closer, numerous gray-white buildings emerged before his eyes; the roads beneath his feet were muddy, mixed with unknown liquids.

Like an abandoned dead city, yet many people still thrived here. Everyone on the street wore gas masks similar to Bologue, advancing silently, leaving only indifference in the air.

Others not only wore gas masks but also donned waterproof suits. These should be workers venturing into the depths of the rift. In the deep of the rift, there wasn't just high concentration of toxic gray mist, but also industrial wastewater dripping from uncertain sources. Such unknown liquids often proved more deadly than the gray mist.

The further forward he went, the more chaotic the view became. Gone was the daylight; only dim gray mist remained all around. But very soon, bright lights started appearing, hanging high to guide those lost in the mist in their path, then the roaring machinery slowly became audible.

Bologue accelerated his pace. Though he had not visited the Great Rift many times, he wasn't entirely ignorant of this place.

Soon, he saw rows of fences, rusty iron bars hung with prominent warning signs. Standing beside them, Bologue looked ahead. Before long, the roaring machinery sounds grew clearer, as if those massive objects akin to mountains were right in front.

A strong airflow surged from beneath the fence, one wave after another, pouring through blade-filled pipes, stirring a gust, casting toxic fumes into the sky. But quickly, they settled again, forming a semi-arch gray dome over the Great Rift.

As the air current erupted, the view gradually became clearer. Bologue saw the rift akin to an Abyss emerging from the mist. Platforms were built along its edge, rusty fences circled one after another, countless figures moving amidst long corridors and cables.

"Exhaust port number three is about to open, please avoid!"

The screeching sound mingled with electrical noise broadcasted from a loudspeaker. Shortly after, the rushing water sound came from beneath the gray mist.

Bologue looked down, the inner walls of the rift were covered with man-made platforms. The aerial corridors extended to distances beyond Bologue's sight; cable cars slowly passed by, laden with the same gray ghosts.

The long boots clanged on the metal floor, one team after another walked past him, carrying mining tools on their backs, boarding the large elevator leading to the depths of the rift, like sinking into the deep sea, gradually merging into the mist.

The clamor of steel, endless broadcasts, and the occasional sound of sirens, for a moment Bologue felt like he had entered another world, a cold, silent world where there was no conversation, only slowly dissipating fog, and beneath the respirator valve, the whimpering was like the cries of someone drowning.

This is the Great Rift. Bologue walked down the stairs and saw huge mechanical arms rising from the fog below, taut cables stretching, uncertain of what they were supporting beneath.

The immense canyon before him is the main body of the Great Rift; it extends outwards with numerous small rifts, where people are active deep within. Gradually, this place became the gray area of Opus, where various criminal activities are common. The city government tried to govern the area, but they couldn't even control the companies occupying the rift alone, let alone those shadowy vermin lurking in the darkness.

But the Great Rift is not entirely chaotic, such as the mining area occupied by companies; it's considered safe. These ruthless guys never allow anyone to affect their profits, not even criminal gangs. Therefore, crime syndicates surviving in the Great Rift wisely avoid interfering in company territories.

And so, inexplicably, the Great Rift gradually developed its own ecosystem.

"Norm, Norm... where are you?"

Bologue muttered, his voice transformed into meaningless whispers through the respirator valve, like a demon whispering in the dark.

Surveying around, Bologue continued descending the long ladder along the canyon's outer wall. Below, the Sea of Mist roiled, emitting faint glimmers. Bologue's destination was deep within this Sea of Mist, the place known as the Wandering Intersection.

It was an abandoned mine, connected to several other rifts; many travelers pass through, and slowly, people inhabited it, naming it the Wandering Intersection.

Initially, some workers used discarded materials from the mine to construct platforms and buildings hanging on the cliff face. Over time, more people joined in, gradually expanding its size, becoming the most populated area in the Great Rift besides company-managed mining zones.

Now, the Wandering Intersection is the primary gray area within the Great Rift, a mix of all sorts, with Norm's pharmacy located there.

The road reached its end; Bologue stood before an elevator shaft. After waiting for a while, a raspy grinding sound emerged, and the rust-covered elevator cage rose. The iron gate opened, and several dust-covered miners stepped out.

With respirator masks covering their faces, Bologue brushed past them, entered the cage, pressed the button, and after a few seconds, the cage descended, slowly sinking into the thick fog.

It felt like diving into the deep sea. Bologue stood in the diving bell while waves of fog seeped through the crevices. He felt uneasy, his muscles tense, eyes vigilant beneath the lens, observing his surroundings.

The Wandering Intersection is vast, so much so that some once considered it a new district. For a long time, the citizens of Opus couldn't understand why a place like the Wandering Intersection would exist. Even as a gray zone, what interests maintain its existence? Why do so many risk danger to enter it?

Bologue used to not understand either, but after joining the Order Bureau, he somewhat grasped the reasons.

With the Order Bureau's control, the Demons and their adversaries wanting a place of freedom were left with only the Great Rift wrapped in gray mist. Like banished vermin rat swarms, only this dark and narrow crevice could accommodate their existence.

The clanging of metal rang out, the elevator cage reached the end. The iron door opened, and Bologue stepped again onto the dimly lit path. From now on, he had to remain extremely vigilant; no one knew whether behind those respirator masks lay human or demon.

Raising his wrist slightly, Bologue felt a chill. A folding knife was strapped to his wrist, ready to flick out and grasp, then slash with a mere exertion of force.

Emerging from the darkness, his view expanded. Bologue looked afar, where the twisted corridor extended, seeing dazzling lights penetrating through the mist.

The twisted, bizarre architecture seemed alive, growing wildly along the steep cliff face, entwined and overlapped like a mass of overgrown seaweed, bloated and hanging on the hard rock. Steel cables and aerial walkways connected them, with numerous scaffolds visible on the periphery. Following the sound of hammering echoes, pieces of steel plates were hoisted up, reinforcing the bloated cluster of buildings.

Towers rose from the cluster, like sun-loving plants. Below numerous neon signs could be seen, though obscured by the fog, Bologue couldn't discern what they said. Further down, along narrow roads, rows of pipes poured waste water, turning into a downpour, cascading deeper into the rift.

"Wandering Intersection."

Bologue softly said its name, the entire Wandering Intersection seemed like a fortress suspended in the air. At its base was an enormous archway from which cable cars slowly moved outwards, traversing fixed cables, linking to different intersections.

Without pausing long, Bologue headed toward the gently swaying aerial corridor, advancing towards the Wandering Intersection.

These are the main routes into the Wandering Intersection. Upon ascending the aerial corridor, the surrounding crowd visibly increased. Everyone remained silent, bearing different intentions as they advanced towards this strange and twisted fortress district.