THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 823 War is a game (2)

The monstrous wave surged nearer. The initial confrontation was on the verge of eruption. High above—contrary to the established strategy—one of the four designated champions for the final engagement initiated their action prematurely. Snow Lionheart gripped Vermithor in his right hand… and Slytherin, the blade acquired from Nito, in his left. His form transformed into its battle state as he prepared to descend. However, this unilateral decision did not sit well with his companions. "Where do you think you're going?! Get back here—your moment has not yet arrived!" Kalameet exclaimed, his irritation evident as Snow deviated from formation. Snow offered no glance in his direction. "I am going. Against such numbers… they will not survive." His assertion held a degree of truth. Yet, Kalameet remained unconvinced. He disapproved of Snow's rapid capitulation to pressure—to the extent that he nearly intervened personally. It was then that Frey raised a hand, halting Kalameet. "Go," Frey stated calmly. "But conserve your strength. The true conflict has yet to commence." Frey supported Snow's action. Snow offered a subtle smile and a nod. "I do not require your instruction on that matter." With that declaration, he propelled himself forward… a streak of light carving through the heavens. But rather than descending—he ascended. Higher and ever higher—until he reached the void of space. Beneath him, the Earth lay spread out in its entirety. Snow raised the Slytherin blade aloft. An immense surge of Light Soul aura flowed into it… and then he swung. A colossal arc of light cleaved the void, descending toward the battleground. Slytherin's inherent ability amplifies power with increased distance… and Snow had maximized this differential. The consequence… was devastating. Down below—the demonic horde was perilously close to the human lines. The clash was mere moments away. These were demons. Ultras corrupted by the Demon Seed. A truly grotesque, nightmarish spectacle. Dark entities swarming the land… as if the abyss itself had spilled forth onto the world. They stretched endlessly across the horizon. It was as though sheer darkness had enveloped the globe. Then—before the opposing forces could collide—a beam of radiant light pierced the cloud cover. It descended like a decree from the heavens. A massive column of purifying light impacted the demonic army with terrifying accuracy. That light… became a beacon of hope. It ignited a spark within the hearts of the humans. They grasped onto it with desperate instinct… as if it were their sole remaining possession. Subsequent columns followed—striking various points, fracturing the enemy formations. The overwhelming radiance of the light obliterated countless foes in mere instants. Although the demons continued their advance—that potent display served as a stark reminder to humanity: They were not without recourse. And so… the human legion charged forward. Spearheaded by Abraham—whose blade was the first to taste demonic blood that fateful day. They plunged headlong into the enemy ranks… their triumphant roars echoing across the battlefield. They transformed into instruments of war—driven by a singular imperative: to slay. The initial engagement… was catastrophic. The altered Ultras decimated many amongst them… and only a select few could even withstand those abominations. Yet, in retribution—Abraham alone felled as many as those monsters. Wielding twin blades of pure light, he traversed the demonic ranks like a phantom, utterly unfazed by being surrounded. His sweeping attacks encompassed a vast area, annihilating anything that dared approach. The human champions emulated his ferocity. Flames erupted. Light surged forth. Ice and a myriad of elements clashed ferociously against the encroaching darkness. From above, Snow continued to unleash torrents of light upon the demonic legions, endeavoring to deplete their numbers as significantly as possible. But their sheer multitude had long since defied all projections. They continued to pour in from the distance… as if the entirety of Helmond had been unleashed. They numbered not merely a million. They were tens of millions. And still… their numbers grew. "They are endless…" Snow’s grip tightened on his blade, his aura output escalating sharply as he unleashed even more destructive assaults, annihilating demons from the sky. In the interim—Frey and his companions observed the unfolding battle from a distance. Kalameet, in particular, displayed evident displeasure with Snow's premature involvement. "Why did you permit him to depart?" he demanded. "If we all act on impulse, it will only court disaster." Gesturing downwards, Kalameet voiced his words with barely restrained anger. "My dragon kings are positioned down there. Even without that boy of light… I am confident they would have held their ground." He had a valid point. Fulghor remained silent—but his tacit agreement was palpable. Frey, however, possessed a different understanding. "The enemy employs Demon Seeds," he stated concisely. Kalameet’s brow furrowed, clearly unfamiliar with the term. This prompted Frey to provide further explanation. "They empower the creatures below with fragments of the upper echelons' might. The sheer quantity of them… suggests their architect is likely in close proximity." A subtle hint of anger surfaced in Frey's tone, despite his efforts to maintain composure."That means Maskith is here." These words shifted everything. "Maskith? You mean that ancient monster of greed?" Kalameet uttered, his expression taking on a darker hue. "He is one of the Dukes of Hell," Fulghor added. "It is said his power rivals even the strongest among them—Gael." Kalameet's frown grew deeper. "I have never encountered him… but my father once crossed paths with him." He paused. "And he always refused to speak of it. The only thing he ever imparted to me… was to flee if I ever laid eyes upon him." Fulghor narrowed his gaze. For Midir—the foremost among the Seven Great Powers—to utter such a statement… it only amplified the dread associated with Maskith's name. "If Maskith is truly present, then our entire plan crumbles to dust," Frey declared. "In that scenario, he becomes the primary threat, superseding Amon." His fist slowly clenched. "If he is present… we must force him onto the battlefield with utmost haste." A brief silence ensued. "Because I cannot contend with both of them simultaneously." At this very moment— Kalameet grasped a chilling realization. "…You don't mean." "You deployed that boy of light as a lure… to draw him out?" Frey offered no verbal reply. Yet, his silence served as a definitive confirmation. As the fierce battle continued, Frey's Void eyes relentlessly scoured the surroundings... seeking any sign of Amon… and Maskith. Amon alone was already a profound concern— especially considering his world-shattering capabilities. Now… Maskith had entered the fray as well. At that instant, Nameless's voice resonated within Frey's consciousness. "Avoid engaging them both concurrently, at all costs. You cannot face them together." He continued his counsel: "Utilize those present to hold one of them at bay while you focus on the other. That represents your optimal strategy." A fleeting pause— then, colder words followed: "Should all other options falter… and you find yourself compelled to face both… I shall intervene." Nameless acutely understood the peril posed by Maskith— one of the most formidable manipulators of life and death. "…Very well. I shall manage it." Frey responded with composed assurance, his Void eyes blazing with increased intensity. "All that is required… is for me to locate them." Externally, he maintained an aura of tranquility. But every fiber of his being was taut—poised for an immediate assault. His mind was a tempest of conflicting thoughts. 'Where have you gone, Amon…' He yearned to find him without delay— and bring his existence to a definitive end. With his current level of strength, Frey harbored unwavering confidence. Certain of his ability to vanquish him... regardless of any world-breaking abilities he might possess. Yet, Amon remained elusive. And thus, Frey was compelled to await his appearance. Kalameet and Fulghor found themselves in a similar predicament. Fulghor had set his sights on the third-ranked individual—Vayne . Kalameet's designated role was to confront the Duke of Hell, the assassin known as Vex. As for Snow— his intended opponent was the remaining Duke. Which, it now turned out, was none other than Maskith himself. The carefully orchestrated balance… was already precariously tilted. It appeared these climactic confrontations would not commence anytime soon. Below… the war between the armies continued unabated, with no high-ranking figures from the demonic forces making an appearance. Abraham fought with relentless ferocity, felling vast numbers with each passing minute. Snow provided aerial support. Humanity, united as a whole, fought with every ounce of their being. Elite students stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the soldiers— participating in the bloody struggle. Some demonstrated exceptional prowess. Others… faltered. But on the whole— they gave their absolute all. As was fitting for humanity's ultimate conflict. This was the night of the Shattering... a night no being would ever forget. ... ...  ... A.N : Greetings, everyone. It has been some time. I wished to convey my return and offer an explanation for my recent absences. This has already been discussed on the novel's Discord server, so some of you may be aware of the circumstances… However, I will briefly touch upon it here as well. Some time ago, I was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor located in a rather unusual area of my body—my bladder. Fortunately, its detection was extremely early, significantly increasing my chances of a full recovery. Despite this positive outlook, the diagnosis took a substantial mental toll on me… and this is the primary reason for my intermittent presence. Approximately two weeks ago, I underwent a procedure to eradicate the tumor, as it was described to me. (It was not conventional surgery—they inserted a tube through… well, perhaps it's best not to delve into the graphic specifics.) Essentially, the tumor was dissolved or broken down. I'm uncertain of the exact medical terminology, but overall, the experience was not painful. However, I did experience certain side effects in the days following, largely attributed to the anesthesia. The headaches were so severe that at times, I could barely manage to hold my phone.

Although the process concluded successfully, the complete eradication of the tumor remains unconfirmed. I am adhering to a prescribed treatment regimen, and medical professionals are optimistic about its total disappearance. Should this prove insufficient, a repeat of the aforementioned procedure might be necessary... and if that also proves futile, chemotherapy would then be the subsequent course of action. I sincerely hope such drastic measures are avoided.

Despite these circumstances, my current condition is stable, and I believe the time is appropriate to resume my writing following this period of recuperation. Consequently, new installments for both of my novels are anticipated in the near future.

Prioritize your well-being, particularly your health, and I eagerly anticipate our reunion in the forthcoming chapters.