THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 855 The Truth Behind Everything (2)

Even the past iteration of Nameless wasn't spared from this mental agony... his circumstances were considerably worse.

He possessed no knowledge of Abraham, and Frey appeared to him as merely an unfamiliar face with a striking resemblance.

The past Nameless drew nearer, his hand clutching his chest as his heart hammered wildly, overcome by emotions surging within him for the first time.

He ripped off his metallic mask, discarding it carelessly... revealing a countenance almost identical to Frey's.

Then, he extended his hand towards the man and the youth... attempting to make contact.

But, at the very last second, he halted.

A voice resonated—deep... profound... directly within his very soul.

"Cease. Do not lay a hand on them... should you do so, you shall be banished from this realm."

Her voice was gentle... almost tender... yet possessed a chilling quality, strangely familiar at the same time.

A woman, capable of evoking such an overwhelming torrent of feelings... with nothing more than her vocal tones.

Frey and Nameless—both past and present—raised their heads in unison as she materialized above them.

She descended with tranquil grace along a spiraling staircase, her delicate hand caressing the gilded banister.

Her attire was a black gown that seemed imbued with life... flowing around her as if woven from shadows themselves.

A dark, gossamer veil obscured a portion of her locks, while the remainder cascaded freely.

Hair as dark as the deepest night... skin as pale as freshly fallen snow... and eyes entirely black—utterly devoid of any white.

Just like the Frey and Abraham seated below.

She was undeniably beautiful.

Cold.

Familiar.

And profoundly terrifying.

Within Frey's chest and mind, a tempest erupted, making it a struggle to sustain her gaze for even the briefest moments.

Even the past Nameless... despite his formidable presence... bowed his head, unable to withstand the intensity of her stare.

"Who... are you?" he inquired, his voice betraying a tremor utterly alien to his experience.

"You already comprehend my identity," she responded, continuing her descent until she stood before them.

"You have merely... forgotten."

"I... do not grasp..." the past Nameless retreated a step, seeking to put distance between them.

For every fiber of his being screamed at him... to keep his distance.

A sensation previously unknown to him.

Fear.

"Do not flee," she stated softly. "You fled from me once before... do not repeat that mistake."

She extended her hand.

For an ephemeral instant, she seemed distant.

And then...

Her hand came to rest gently against his cheek.

Without any awareness of how it transpired, he found himself standing directly before her.

The spatial gap between them evaporated entirely...

Even the Void itself could not fathom the mechanism of this shift.

Her icy hand made contact with his skin.

And her eyes—resembling infinite, black abysses—seemed to consume every facet of his existence.

"I... do not understand..." Nameless whispered, his voice quivering.

"Naturally, you do not, my dear child..." she replied in a hushed tone.

"You are naught but a fractured being... a shattered existence."

She withdrew her hand slowly... with tenderness.

Then, she pointed... her slender digit directing his attention to the tome that Frey's alternate self had previously touched.

"Should you seek comprehension... should you crave the truth... then proceed. Imprint your touch upon that book, the one penned by your own hand."

"Therein... you shall comprehend all."

Her pronouncements held an otherworldly enchantment—rendering Nameless incapable of even contemplating defiance.

He stabilized himself, offered a curt nod... and then commenced his advance, each step fraught with palpable tension, moving towards the younger man, the elder figure... and the enigmatic book.

Behind him, the present iterations of Frey and Nameless remained positioned before the woman, their gazes stealing furtive glances in her direction—only to be cast down moments later, unable to endure her piercing stare.

"Regain your composure, Frey," Nameless advised, his hand clenching into a fist, the sheer strain rendering his knuckles stark white.

"Calm yourself!" he reiterated, his voice escalating in volume, as Frey, standing beside him, trembled uncontrollably, the veins in his bloodshot eyes pulsing visibly.

"How can you possibly expect me to calm down?!" Frey retorted, his voice cracking with emotion.

"How in the blazes am I supposed to maintain my composure?!"

He forced himself to meet her gaze... again and again... disregarding the oppressive force that compelled everyone else to avert their eyes.

But Frey, inexplicably, defied even that constraint.

"Why... why in the hell does she resemble that?"

An uncontainable inferno ignited within him—fierce and untamed.

"Why... does she bear such an uncanny likeness to her...?"

His eyes welled with yearning... and something profoundly heavier.

She was distinct... the entity before him now felt beyond his grasp.

Yet, this disparity resided solely in her presence... her aura.

Her face—her very features...

They were identical.

"Why... does she look so much like my mother?"

"Why... does she resemble the mother I lost... so very long ago?"

Frey crumpled to the ground.

His heart thundered erratically, his thoughts in even greater disarray.

This is an impossibility... These are Nameless's recollections... events that transpired millennia ago... long before my own existence... before she even drew breath. It cannot be her... it must be someone else.

Clutching his chest, Frey vehemently denied the unfolding reality.

Nameless extended a hand towards him... only to halt midway.

He too sensed it... the same tempest that Frey was engulfed by—and for the very first time, Nameless felt a flicker of hesitation.

While the Nameless of the past moved towards the book, the present Frey and Nameless remained rooted to their spot... brought low before the woman who was the spitting image of his mother.

Frey compelled himself to stand once more, his hand clutching his chest, forcing himself to look at her again...

And then he froze.

Nameless did the exact same.

The reason? The woman... was looking directly at him.

Her gaze was fixed upon Frey.

A sharp agony lanced through Nameless's head as he fought to grasp the unfolding situation.

'This is merely a memory… we are but spectators… could this be a mere coincidence?'

'Did she simply glance downwards… and Frey happened to be within her line of sight?'

'No…'

Nameless dismissed the thought instantly.

Her eyes were unequivocally fixed on him... on Frey.

It felt as though she held a message she yearned to convey.

Ultimately, however… she averted her gaze, directing her attention back to the Nameless of the past without uttering a single sound.

That instant only amplified the enigma… and the underlying disquiet.

Yet, none of it held any real significance.

For the most critical moment was imminent.

Nameless… laid his hand upon the book.

And that was it...

The pivotal juncture.

The instant that fractured everything… and subsequently rewrote the fabric of reality.

His touch lingered for mere seconds.

Yet, within that brief span… he witnessed revelations that profoundly shook his very being.

Visions—an endless cascade of scenes—far exceeding what any single mind should bear.

Knowledge... truths no entity was ever meant to carry.

The experience lasted only fleeting moments.

But it was sufficient… to shatter something deep within him.