THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 814 Imitation (1)

In the barren wastelands and ruins across the continent shattered by the colossal clash between Frey and Thanatos, this realm still reeled from the devastating aftermath.

The once-mighty continent lay fragmented into countless drifting islands.

Cold currents from the Demonic Sea surged between them, mingled with an boundless expanse of azure flames.

Black lightning storms continued thundering through the skies, while howling gales refused to subside.

High above this breathtaking scene of apocalyptic fury, an elderly man's form gradually coalesced—arriving in the disaster's wake to behold the chaos with his own gaze.

He was Maskith, the venerable elder holding the rank of Duke.

Maskith appeared wholly unremarkable.

No radiant armor clad his frame.

No horrifying weapon hung at his side.

His aura felt utterly commonplace, his garb nothing but a faded, threadbare robe of great length.

His snow-white beard hung thick and ponderous over his chest, with locks trailing down to his abdomen.

His eyes alone held abyssal depths—gaze piercing sights hidden from all others.

"I see that Nameless' manipulation of life and death remains as formidable as ever," Maskith uttered while descending leisurely.

Invisible to nearly everyone, the fading traces of Nameless' Life and Death formation—which had engulfed Thanatos' soul—stood starkly clear to him.

"It is weaker than the one he wielded in his prime… but it is still sufficient to imprison the soul of a creature as powerful as Thanatos."

"Remarkable."

Maskith looked delighted by the discovery—perhaps even faintly thrilled.

After all, how many entities across this boundless cosmos could challenge him in shattering the laws of life and death?

The answer rang clear.

No one ... except Nameless.

The enigmatic masked warrior who had ascended to his own heights in far shorter span.

Though both had transcended boundaries along identical paths, true insight into each other's powers had always eluded them.

Maskith could never duplicate Nameless' command over souls or his revival arts.

Nameless likewise failed to wield the Law of Life and Death as Maskith commanded it.

"Each of us holds our unique insight… our distinct way of bending this world's laws."

"Our paths never intersected before, which kept us from clashing."

"But will they now?"

Maskith brimmed with near-anticipation.

A uncommon yearning awakened inside him.

The yearning for battle.

Uncommon indeed—for he was a sage, not a fighter.

Maskith had immersed himself in scrutinizing the Life and Death formation Nameless abandoned, dissecting it to unearth its mysteries.

Yet abruptly, he ceased.

His features settled back into their habitual stately calm as he pivoted toward a dim recess atop the levitating island underfoot.

"Reveal yourself."

"There is no point hiding in the shadows before me."

Maskith intoned with profound timbre.

His vision pierced the veil the darkness wove.

"As expected of the great Duke," a woman's voice resounded from the void.

"These shadows mean nothing to your gaze."

From the enveloping murk, Vayne advanced, stepping forth from obscurity to stand exposed before Maskith.

Maskith regarded her in silence for an instant before replying evenly.

"My eyes do not merely pierce shadows."

"I can also clearly discern your tainted soul…"

"…Wesker."

Maskith pronounced the name.

In that instant, Vayne's countenance—Wesker's in truth—warped gradually into a sinister grin.

"What's this, old man?" Wesker bellowed in laughter as shadowy energy erupted around him.

"You saw through my disguise with just a single glance?"

His enveloping aura loomed vast and oppressive.

Yet Maskith ignored it entirely.

Not a single strand of hair upon him so much as twitched.

"I have always wondered why the Great King keeps someone like you so close despite your peril," Wesker mused.

"Does he find you… interesting?"

"Or does he simply keep you nearby so he can watch you at all times—lest you unleash catastrophe?"

"Do not attempt to understand me… or your king, boy."

"You are still too green to contend at this tier."

Maskith drew nearer to Wesker amid his words.

"But I will admit it."

"You possess potential."

"You managed to break the Law of Life and Death…"

"…barely."

Wesker let out a soft chuckle.

"Since those words come from the Lord of Life and Death himself…"

"I suppose I'll take them as praise."

"Do not be pleased," Maskith countered, his eyes flaring with violet radiance to unveil Wesker's hidden truths.

He perceived it plainly.

The warped essence of his soul.

And Vayne's soul, caged deep within.

"A power that lets you take over other beings…"

"Guaranteeing your endurance by shifting between bodies."

"However…"

"That power fails against individuals with abilities that resist it."

15:34

"It also doesn't affect those who have mastered the peak of the Law of Life and Death."

"And it's ineffective versus beings whose strength surpasses a specific limit."

"Take, for instance…"

"…the Demon King."

After delivering these words, Maskith released a faint sigh.

"From every angle, your power remains flawed."

"Wesker… I recognize your wisdom."

"Should Nameless's vessel be your goal, let me give you some counsel."

"Choose a different mark."

"Death awaits if you step into his soul's territory."

"I have nothing to say regarding that," Wesker answered steadily, showing no sign of disturbance.

"I already have my own plans."

"But I appreciate the advice."

Maskith fixed his gaze on him in quiet for an instant, then gently shut his eyes and faced elsewhere.

"Get to the point. Why did you come?"

"I know you didn't trail me here without cause."

"My temperament is favorable today, so I'll hear you out briefly."

"I appreciate that." Wesker gave a thankful nod prior to stating his intent.

"My purpose here is straightforward."

"I accidentally caught your talk with Amon before…"

"And it sparked my interest."

"Eavesdropping, huh?" Maskith responded flatly.

"You really match the vile demon from the tales."

"I apologize for that," he uttered—a mere verbal formality, devoid of any real regret.

This served as nothing but a courteous gesture toward the one facing him.

Afterward, Wesker disclosed the true matter he sought to address.