THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 719: Shadow Sect vs the High Demons (1)
Previously on THE VILLAIN'S POV...
This was not the work of Nameless.
This was Frey—and Frey alone.
Observing from a distance, Nameless narrowed his gaze with every strike of the blade.
“How peculiar… He claimed to be weak, yet he is suddenly executing my technique with near-perfect mastery.”
Frey was far from ordinary.
Initially, he could only reclaim 30% of his power through the ability Nameless had imparted to him.
However, the tide shifted during the heat of battle.
“Right now… he is recovering over 90% of the power spent on every attack he delivers.”
It was as if he had learned—no, mastered—this technique centuries ago.
For the first time, Nameless felt genuine admiration for the young man known as Frey Starlight.
Utilizing that recovery, Frey was able to unleash Nameless Judgement without end, though his physical form was barely enduring the brutal recoil.
The pain must have been agonizing… yet Frey bore it without a single flinch.
“Frey Starlight… you are not weak.”
Nameless muttered softly before falling into silence, watching Frey’s final, desperate rampage.
Frey’s frenzied assault persisted even longer.
Though only a few minutes passed, to those watching, it felt like an eternal nightmare.
The destruction wrought by Frey’s onslaught wiped a massive territory off the map. In its place remained a gargantuan crater, carved deep into the earth like a fallen meteor’s mark.
For a brief moment, it appeared as though Frey would never cease his swinging.
Eventually, however, he came to a halt.
It was not a choice; his body simply gave out.
“Huff… huff… huff…”
Frey struggled for air, his breathing shallow and ragged.
He stood there motionless, his arms hanging limply at his sides like dead weight.
Dark Sister, now shrouded in the essence of Balerion, slipped from his numb fingers and clattered weakly against the shattered earth.
Frey fought just to stay upright. All sensation in his arms had vanished.
They were destroyed—utterly ruined.
Even his natural regeneration was insufficient; the damage surpassed anything he had ever endured.
He no longer possessed the strength to grip his sword.
Even the cycling of his aura failed him; his reserves were completely spent.
One could say he had sacrificed everything.
Yet, Frey refused to surrender.
Because when he forced his head up…
He realized he wasn't the only survivor still standing.
He saw his foes.
Zibar…
And his father.
Both remained on their feet.
Zibar was in a wretched state; Katarina’s once-magnificent armor was splintered in various spots, and dark demonic blood pooled heavily on the ground.
And then there was Abraham Starlight…
His torso was ripped open by long, shimmering gashes, each one bleeding pure white starlight instead of crimson.
Aura drifted around him like shimmering dust in the wind.
They were critically wounded.
They had been pushed to offer up everything they possessed.
But they were still standing.
That reality alone drove the exhausted Frey to lean down, reaching desperately for his discarded blade…
Reaching for Dark Sister.
His hand shook as it moved forward…
But his fingers refused to close around the hilt.
“I… I have to keep fighting…”
Frey ground the words out through gritted teeth, attempting once more to pick up the sword.
Just as he finally managed to make contact—
A dark hand gripped his shoulder firmly.
Before he could even blink, a burst of agony surged through him as Katarina’s sword drove straight through his chest.
“You pushed your luck too far this time, Frey Starlight,” Zibar snarled, yanking the blade out and shoving Frey aside as blood soaked the soil.
“I’ll admit I didn't give you enough credit… but this fight is over.”
Zibar stepped toward him, seizing Frey by his long white hair to force his head up.
“You have nothing left to give. Look over there.”
He pointed toward Abraham, who was slowly approaching them.
“Your father is still here… still our faithful hound. A dog that will hunt down every last human.”
Zibar smirked, tapping his own chest.
“And I… I am still standing. I will not fall. Do you understand what that implies?”
He leaned in close to Frey’s ear, whispering.
“Everything you attempted… was for nothing.”
The words resonated deep within Frey, wounding him more deeply than any physical strike.
Battling the darkness of unconsciousness, Frey forced himself to stay awake.
“I… must keep fighting…”
He tried to move again and again…
But his physical form no longer followed his will.
“You won't fight anymore. You will do nothing at all. I won't permit it.”
Zibar balled his fist…
And punched it straight through Frey’s chest.
His arm erupted from Frey’s back in a gruesome spray of gore.
“You are nothing, Frey Starlight… absolutely nothing.”
Blood surged from Frey’s mouth until he began to choke.
This entire scene unfolded right before Ada Starlight’s eyes…
Who watched from behind the protective aura barrier.
Her gaze was hollow—lifeless.
Hope had already abandoned her after seeing her father turn against her brother…
And now, her brother was on the verge of death.
Her deadened eyes wept until the tears ran dry.
She pleaded with the device to help Frey…
But no matter how hard she tried, it remained unresponsive.
It felt… like the end of all things.
But deep within Frey’s failing body…
It was not over yet.
Nameless remained there, silently observing the carnage.
He watched for a long time before looking down at his own hands…
At the emotions that had bled into him…
Rotting him to his very core.
He tightened his fists and walked toward the campfire residing in Frey’s mind.
“You’ve tainted me with your feelings, Frey Starlight… so what more damage could you possibly cause?”
Nameless stepped forward…
Toward the flickering embers inside Frey.
His eyes sparked with light.
“Switch with me… Frey Starlight.”
Nameless was prepared to return to the fray.
Ready to inhabit Frey’s body.
Ready to slaughter the demon…
And liberate Abraham Starlight.
It appeared the masked king had weighed this decision for a long time…
And had finally made his peace with it, prepared to gamble everything.
Nameless was heartbeats away from seizing control…
From initiating the nightmare that Zibar and every foe present would endure.
But at the final second…
He paused.
He stopped because he felt a presence…
Something that everyone else felt too, causing them to turn their heads in unison.
There, at the boundary of the crater of ruin…
A new figure stepped onto the field of battle.
A presence that caused a wide grin to spread across Zibar’s face.
“At last…”
He had finally shown himself.
Descending from above, those frigid, blue glass-like eyes looked down upon the scene.
He pulled back his hood… exposing his face and shock of blue hair.
It was none other than…
The Engineer.
Gehrman.