THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 843 The Price of Salvation

The masked warrior parried, dodged, and forcefully broke through the onslaught. His blades etched Agaroth's armor repeatedly, seizing the initiative and reclaiming dominance in the art of swordsmanship. The key to this resurgence lay within the King's Domain. Unable to match the King's transformed state, Nameless completely reshaped the Domain, compelling it to adapt to Agaroth's new form. In mere seconds, he reconstructed his world-shattering capability. This was the pivotal shift, the reason for his altered aura. It was a perilous gamble, one that risked his very life and the battle's outcome. Would he fall before the Domain's adaptation was complete, or would it succeed first? Nameless chose to place his faith in his own power, the strength he had painstakingly forged from nothing. The consequence? A complete reversal of the battle's momentum. Agaroth's blades could no longer inflict harm, forcing the King onto the defensive. Nameless' swords danced through the void, painting a breathtaking spectacle of violet flames, desolate gray destruction, and an oppressive dark aura. He appeared as an artist, daring to present his creation before the nightmare that was Agaroth. For a fleeting moment, the King was taken aback. In the next instant, that surprise blossomed into sheer delight. His smile widened, his power surged, and dark aura intensified. His strikes grew more devastating, each blow pulverizing and obliterating vast swathes of the ground below until the very land vanished, leaving the two combatants to fight in open space. They wounded each other, again and again. Every strike found its mark, every injury materialized and then vanished instantly. Yet, what truly elevated this battle to the extraordinary was this: Nameless had reached him, matching the King and erasing the disparity through absolute control. It was a level of mastery that transcended all known limits, a plane no other had ever attained. They clashed relentlessly, grinding against each other until even the void itself seemed to writhe and tremble. Each impact drew blood, each exchange fractured both flesh and force, yet neither combatant yielded. Violet flames met roaring darkness in a cataclysmic burst that burned akin to the birth of a dying star. Far removed from all else, in an obscure celestial corner, their unseen battle raged. No eyes observed; no being was even aware of their existence. Blow after blow, attack after attack, an unending chain of destruction that stubbornly refused to break. Nameless' blades relentlessly pierced Agaroth's defenses, cutting, carving, and wounding—performing every action that should have been sufficient. However, the King remained standing, and with each passing second, his power only escalated. He possessed reservoirs of strength yet untapped, far more than he had already revealed. Endless horrors still lay dormant within him, yet his adversary kept pace, enduring, resisting, and surviving. Their confrontation seemed to echo an ancient conflict, a clash that had transpired eons ago between these very same individuals. That resonant echo traveled, deep and distant, eventually reaching Frey. Standing once more within the oppressive darkness, he observed Nameless fighting in his stead—the being who had undertaken the task Frey had failed to accomplish. Frey had been defeated. He had surrendered. After witnessing Agaroth's brutal slaughter of everyone, after being effortlessly vanquished himself, he had collapsed. He no longer possessed the strength to rise. How could he possibly contend against an existence that no one could conceivably overcome? Yet, Nameless stood firm. Nameless fought on. He bore the immense burden of saving countless souls, despite owing them nothing. He persevered against the Demon King, even when faced with the certainty of defeat, believing that somewhere within the crucible of the battle itself, a path to victory must exist. It was an absurd, impossible notion, and yet he endured Agaroth's relentless assaults, deflected his spectral copies, withstood his world-annihilating attacks, and even persevered against the form the King had specifically engineered to conquer him. His survival stemmed from one singular quality: sheer perseverance. If any individual deserved the title of a true warrior, it was undoubtedly that masked man. Frey now understood this truth. Nevertheless, even with all that unwavering perseverance, victory remained a distant, unattainable goal. Nameless battled against the very fabric of time itself. With every passing moment, with every breath drawn, he desperately sought a way—a single avenue that could possibly overturn the impossible odds. His perseverance alone could not vanquish the King, but it achieved something far more profound. It allowed the other half of his being to reawaken. Life flickered back into Frey's eyes. His hand clenched tightly, his eyes squeezed shut for a moment before snapping open anew, blazing with an unprecedented resolve. "Nameless…" he uttered, speaking the name of the man without a name. His voice pierced the distance and reached his counterpart. "Burn it." "Burn my soul… and transform it into the fire that will empower you." His words reverberated through the spiritual realm, reaching Nameless, who froze in bewildered shock. "I refuse." The response came instantaneous. But Frey would not accept this refusal. "No… you do not have the right to refuse." "You know it yourself." "No matter how much you push my physical limits… you will not defeat him."

Frey inclined his head. The echoes of the recent battle still resonated deep within his soul.

"I am... different."

"There is something residing within me... a power that once enabled the creation of a monstrosity like Agaroth."

"It's a strength I cannot access on my own, no matter the extent of my efforts."

His gaze lifted.

"However, you... might possess the key."

"You are not like me."

"Therefore, I implore you: burn it."

"Incinerate my soul... and utilize its essence to confront him."

A subtle smile graced his lips.

"I am confident in your ability to succeed."

"No... it is a task only you can accomplish."

A profound silence descended.

Only the distant clang of swords remained audible.

Nameless remained quiet.

Hesitation had taken hold of him.

A peculiar bitterness tightened its grip around his chest, stirring within him.

He had undergone a transformation.

Emotions had taken root within him.

And now, they burdened him more heavily than ever before.

"Do you truly comprehend the consequences should your soul be consumed by flame?"

"Do you grasp the implications of such an act for yourself?!"

His grip on his swords intensified.

His voice now carried an unfamiliar resonance...

Pain.

Yet, Frey maintained his composure.

He responded with unwavering steadiness.

"Yes."

"I understand."

"To achieve this, I must embrace death."

He turned with a slow, deliberate motion.

His gaze swept over the sea of blood, once his entire world—

now utterly consumed by an encroaching darkness.

All had crumbled...

Save for a solitary location.

The very spot where the blade had been plunged—

where the path had been forged.

"But my life holds no significance."

"The path is paramount."

Frey offered a faint smile.

"If my demise can serve as the means to pave the way, then I shall not falter."

"Not even for the briefest moment."

"For I know... you shall traverse that path."

"Our endeavor was not solitary."

"We forged it together."

He raised his head, his posture resolute.

His expression was devoid of fear.

It conveyed only complete acceptance.

"Burn it."

"Incinerate it... and transmute its ashes into the power you require."

"The path that we, together, have created."

The price was straightforward.

The end of one life.

And the enduring anguish of another.

Frey was destined to perish...

his soul transforming into a blazing inferno to illuminate the way forward.

And Nameless would bear the brunt of the suffering...

compelled to draw strength from it and evolve.

A solitary tear escaped Frey's right eye.

Mirrored by another falling from Nameless' left.

Frey brought his blood-stained hands together before his face.

His body erupted into flames—

Violet fire ignited with fierce intensity.

And upon his countenance...

There was an aura of profound peace.

His soul ignited.

And with it... his entire existence.

In that pivotal instant, Nameless relinquished all restraint.

Shattering his facade of calm, his eyes blazed with an overwhelming torrent of grief and fury.

He let out a roar.

A deep, resounding cry that reverberated through the very fabric of existence itself...

a lament of such profound agony and wrath... that a tremor ran through the King's very being.

The entity confronting him had transformed.

Nameless was no longer the man he once was.

The masked warrior ascended into the void, raising his blade towards the celestial expanse.

And then—power surged forth.

An immense, overwhelming force cascaded, flooding the cosmos above...

engulfing all beneath its colossal weight.

Agaroth's eyes widened.

Something within him pulsed erratically.

From Nameless' blade, a monumental power erupted... manifesting as a consuming violet star that expanded across the universe.

It devoured all in its path.

It engulfed the Demon King.

Agaroth was utterly annihilated within its brilliant radiance...

reduced to nothingness by its awe-inspiring magnitude.

And in that precise moment...

The King experienced a sensation entirely new to him.

For the first time in his existence...

Agaroth felt the chilling touch of threat.

He experienced fear.

He was assailed by unease... and uncertainty...

as he confronted a power that left him uncertain of his survival.

These were novel sensations.

Alien and unfamiliar.

Born from a truth previously unknown to him—

that he had approached the precipice of death more closely than ever before.

The Demon King ceased holding back.

For the first time, he unleashed his power without reservation—

directing the full might of his being against Nameless' devastating assault.

Amidst the savage, echoing cry of the masked warrior...

and the unbridled fury of the King's response...

This agonizing, cataclysmic confrontation...

Finally reached its momentous conclusion.