THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 822 War is a game (1)

It was an ordinary day… a day much like any other. The sky above was overcast, its grayness heavy, as if it were in mourning. The fractured moon had disappeared behind the clouds, its faint light utterly consumed. It was a morning in the heart of autumn—cold, and suffocating with an unusual, oppressive stillness. And yet—despite its ordinary appearance… it was anything but.

"Today… is the most crucial day in the history of mankind," these words were declared by Abraham Starlight, the man now leading humanity. Standing at the forefront of the last army mankind would ever muster, with two radiant swords gripped in his hands… the Star of the Starlight family had taken command of them all. His eyes blazed with a brilliant white glow, his expression unyieldingly firm. He had returned only recently—and somehow, he now stood as the supreme leader of all humanity.

Every soldier of the Empire was present, at full combat readiness. Alongside them were the Ultras who had defected, choosing to fight at their side—led by the notorious Mergo the Drunkard. Though they were united in this fight now, the deep divide between the Empire and Mergo's Ultras was still unmistakable. Hatred does not fade so easily. But on this day's battle… it stood above all past grudges. If any resentment lingered… it could be settled tomorrow. That is—if any of them lived to see it.

That was the prevailing thought among them all. The ground beneath their feet… once belonged to the Ultras Continent. This very land, chosen once again, to host the great war. How had the army arrived here? The answer was remarkably simple: Frey Starlight. From a great distance, he had bent the fabric of space itself—transporting tens of thousands of soldiers across continents in mere seconds. Effortlessly. Without even appearing before them. And yet… they had all felt him. Felt his immense presence. An aura so vast… it defied all comprehension. The army advanced with slow, measured steps. They did not run. They did not shout. They did nothing unnecessary. They simply walked—following Abraham. They knew the enemy would come to them. There was no need for haste. The human champions were strategically scattered throughout the ranks. As SSS-rank warriors, they bore the immense responsibility of facing the most arduous battles. Though this was not the largest army in history—it was unquestionably the strongest humanity had ever assembled. The sheer pressure emanating from their combined auras alone… was overwhelming.

Their steady advance did not go unnoticed. From high above… eyes belonging to the strongest warriors on their side observed them. Upon a magnificent golden platform, formed from pure aura—stood four towering figures. Each of them, individually, possessed the power to shake the very heavens. The third of the Shadow Sect—Fulghor the Planet, who sustained the platform itself. The Pantheon Emperor, son of the great dragon, Midir—Kalameet. The mightiest bearer of human light—Snow Lionheart, also revered as the Pure Vessel. And at their very center—the one orchestrating this entire conflict: Frey Starlight. These four were akin to weapons of mass destruction. The chosen generals for this war… destined to face the most formidable enemies the opposing side could offer. There had originally been five… but the fifth now stood below, leading the grand army. As for Gehrman, the blue-eyed engineer—he was conspicuously absent. His current whereabouts… remained unknown.

The army continued its determined advance. And high above them—the golden platform drifted silently through the sky, concealed by Fulghor's formidable power and Frey's expertly placed aura-sealing barriers. Their faces were set with grim determination… the faces of soldiers ready to sacrifice their lives if necessary. For the coming battle… would be anything but easy. Throughout their march—not a single word was spoken. Until—their expressions suddenly darkened in unison. "What in the blazes… is this filthy surge of aura?" Kalameet tightly clenched his spear as he spoke. The others felt it too. A terrifying flood of dark, demonic aura—vast beyond all measure. "They're here," Frey stated calmly. His Void eyes lit up. He perceived them before anyone else. He understood the origin of that overwhelming darkness. Though his expression remained composed… his aura stirred subtly, betraying a fleeting hint of anger. Their enemies had far surpassed all expectations. They had done something… that no one had anticipated.

Below—Abraham Starlight frowned deeply as he too sensed the monstrous surge of aura. The enemy had not yet revealed themselves… but he gathered power in his throat and let out a mighty roar. "Prepare yourselves!!" "Prepare for battle!!!" His voice thundered like a violent storm—shaking the very air, reverberating through every single soldier. That single command… was enough to make them comprehend the dire gravity of what awaited them. They instantly readied themselves… even though the enemy remained far beyond their sight. Because from the moment that order was given… it was merely a matter of time. At first—the soldiers observed what appeared to be distant mountains on the horizon. They had noticed them since their arrival… black ridges stretching endlessly across the vast distance. But slowly…

The truth began to dawn on them.

"…Those aren't mountains," one soldier whispered.

And he was not the only one who realized it.

"They're not mountains… they're the enemy."

Eyes widened.

Hearts began to pound violently in every chest.

Before them surged a horrifying tide of monsters, rushing forward with a single purpose—to tear them apart.

Their aura was terrifying.

But what was truly horrifying… was something else entirely.

Not their aura.

Not even their grotesque forms, as though they had crawled straight out of hell.

It was their numbers.

They were many.

Far too many.

So countless that, from a distance, they resembled mountains... piling over one another in a relentless mass.

There were demons—a full army from Helmond. Thousands upon thousands.

There were puppets—machines crafted by the Hollow, Simon Manos.

An entire legion of them.

And worst of all…

those darkened abominations, cloaked entirely in black.

There was no trace of the Ultras.

In their place stood savage creatures of immense power... each radiating crushing pressure.

The weakest among them had surpassed SS rank.

The strongest…

were nearing the realm of SSS.

Monsters twisted by the Demon Seed.

Countless demons.

Endless mechanical constructs.

Together—

they formed a force that far exceeded a million.

The disparity in numbers was overwhelming.

In comparison…

humanity looked insignificant before that advancing tide of death.

"This is insane…"

"…Are we supposed to fight that?"

Some trembled.

Others laughed, madness creeping into their expressions.

Yet unexpectedly—

many remained steady, unmoving despite the apocalyptic sight before them.

"Do not falter! No one said this would be easy!"

Nova Starlight roared, the founder of the Starlight family, his voice followed by the other human champions.

"The enemy is the elite of the demons—our final adversary! This is the least we should expect from them!"

"Stand together! Fight with everything you have! And we will lead the way!"

The heroes did their best to hold morale—

yet even they understood the gravity of the situation.

Against an army like that…

survival itself would be a miracle.

Victory was a distant dream.

And still—

there was no choice but to fight.