THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 860 Grace (2)

"Farewell… my comrade."

It was a gentle parting… one that brought solace to the devastated spirit of old Shiva, who had already wept all her tears.

"Thank you… thank you…" she murmured repeatedly.

Frey offered her a soft pat on the back before taking her hand.

"Accompany me… and stand with me in battle once more, Shiva of Thorns. Our conflict has not yet reached its conclusion."

Responding to his summons, Shiva dried her eyes and bowed with firm resolve… a posture befitting a seasoned warrior of old.

"I shall follow you until my last dying breath, my sovereign!"

"I have no doubt you will."

Hand in hand, they proceeded through the passageway, departing from the necropolis together.

Frey maintained a deliberate, unhurried pace, making no effort to accelerate his movement or employ teleportation.

It was as if… the very passage of time held no dominion over his current state.

This unusual approach caused Shiva a sense of unease.

However, she refrained from questioning him—she sensed that her sovereign harbored his own strategic objectives.

And indeed, her intuition proved correct.

Frey was still in the process of stabilizing his very being… painstakingly reconstructing his Aetheric power from its foundational elements.

Merely by observing their measured progress, Shiva discerned their intended destination.

Their path was set towards the war-torn plains of Londor…

The very location where Alexander Ryback was engaged in a ferocious duel with Maskith, their clash reverberating through the earth itself.

"Should we not hasten our journey to Earth… the domain of the Demon King?"

She inquired, driven purely by curiosity—fully aware that Earth now represented the paramount theater of war.

But Frey merely inclined his head in a negative gesture.

"There is no necessity for haste. Agaroth would not presume to confront me in his present condition."

"He comprehends… that the likelihood of his defeat is overwhelmingly high."

A chilling cold entered his voice… brimming with lethal intent, a stark contrast to the gentle warmth he had exhibited moments before.

"Now that my power has been restored, he is no longer tethered to Hellmond. Our prior engagement severely depleted him… and facing me now would be tantamount to self-annihilation. He has already retreated. By the time we arrive on Earth… he will have vanished."

He raised his hand slightly, asserting his absolute mastery over the cycles of life and death.

"They remain within my reach. My current capabilities are sufficient to restore them all."

"The conflict on Earth has reached its resolution."

"All that remains is… to author its concluding chapter… and bestow upon humanity the liberation they so richly deserve after their prolonged suffering."

He paused.

"…But prior to that."

His violet irises deepened in hue, shifting slowly… ominously.

"We shall first address the lingering chaos here on Londor."

With these pronouncements, Frey and Shiva pressed onward… advancing towards the very heart of the conflict that had already reached its crescendo.

…

…

…

—Londor, vicinity of the ancient crypt—

Coincident with Gehrman's entry into the burial site, Alexander Ryback had assumed the mantle of defending against their pursuers single-handedly.

He dispatched the assassin Vex with swift finality, overcame Wesker… even after the latter had commandeered Vayne's form and wielded the potent power of the King's Shadow.

And now… only a solitary adversary remained.

The elder.

Maskith.

Who stood unmoving before him… observing with an intense, calculating gaze.

"Warrior of the Shadow Sect… what is it that you strive to safeguard?"

The old man's voice resonated calmly as he floated suspended above Alexander Ryback's head.

"Who do you envision emerging from within that sepulchre? Your cherished sovereign?

Or that mortal you subjected to such torment? …Or perhaps something entirely different?"

"Silence yourself and engage me, elder. I possess no explanations for individuals of your ilk!"

Alexander’s response manifested through sheer aggression.

He annihilated the intervening distance in less than a heartbeat, his fist already a blur in motion…

a strike imbued with destructive potential, unleashing yet another cataclysmic aura manifestation.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

A resplendent luminescence enveloped all surroundings.

Maskith absorbed the assault directly, struck by a man who had dedicated his entire existence to the pinnacle of martial discipline… and nothing else.

At the critical juncture, the elder manifested numerous protective layers, stacking them meticulously between himself and the incoming force.

They crumbled instantaneously.

The sheer explosive energy breached every defensive stratum, propelling Maskith hundreds of meters before he managed to regain equilibrium in mid-air.

"…The manipulation of existence and demise…"

Maskith raised his staff once more, observing Alexander prepare for a renewed assault, charging forward.

"Formation of a Thousand Souls."

With a singular, sweeping gesture, the very fabric of the battlefield contorted…

and Alexander suddenly found himself ensnared within a vast, tenebrous consecrated zone.

A multitude of a thousand tormented spirits materialized.

They converged upon him with terrifying speed, emitting anguished cries—desperate, broken, consumed by malevolent fury…

impacting his form relentlessly, one after another.

Each spectral entity disintegrated upon impact, carrying within its essence an immense concentration of potent aura…

sufficient to obliterate anything situated in its destructive trajectory.

Maskith unleashed them all in a singular, overwhelming wave.

A thousand simultaneous initiations of destruction.

The resultant cataclysm dwarfed even the blinding effulgence of Alexander's preceding strikes, manifesting as a colossal, abyssal outburst…

a technique befitting a combatant positioned at the absolute zenith of SSS rank…

a definitive maneuver designed for the immediate cessation of hostilities.

Yet, Maskith's gaze sharpened perceptibly.

From the very core of the cataclysmic tempest… Alexander Ryback emerged.

Utterly unharmed.

His obsidian metallic physique remained pristine—untouched, unblemished… not even the slightest mark marred its surface.

A monstrous grimace contorted his features, his unwavering eyes fixed upon Maskith as a furious killing intent surged within him like a tempest.

"What… was that supposed to mean, you damned old fool?"

The second pillar of the Shadow Sect gritted his teeth, his fist clenching as he once again lunged forward with ferocious intensity.

"You dare call that an attack?!"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

A brilliant light exploded once more as Alexander unleashed another punch…

but this time, his assault did not cease.

He struck again.

And then again.

And once more.

His fists became a blur, hammering the very air with terrifying velocity…

unleashing hundreds of detonations in the span of mere seconds.

From a distance, Wesker observed, his expression taut with apprehension as the sky itself seemed to vanish, consumed by those explosive blows.

Each impact radiated a destructive quantity of aura…

an offensive maneuver that, had he been caught within its expanse, would have obliterated him from existence.

Yet, Maskith managed to withstand it.

He extricated himself from the impact zone, shrouded within a dark, protective cocoon that shielded him from the ceaseless onslaught.

"You truly are a tenacious one… I'll grant you that."

Raising his staff once more, Maskith prepared his next offensive.

"Let's examine just how much you can endure."

With a solitary sweep of his staff, he now channeled his entire might…

conjuring a colossal spectral female figure that blotted out the heavens.

Her mere presence seemed to suffocate the atmosphere.

An immense pressure descended, radiating an unfathomable power.

Alexander Ryback showed no hesitation.

He propelled himself directly towards the apparition, enveloped in a blazing torrent of raw force—

confronting her head-on without a hint of apprehension.

And in the subsequent moment…

their forces collided.

A world-shattering impact ensued,

signaling the commencement of a conflict the likes of which the planet Londor had not witnessed for an immeasurable duration.