THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 902: Writer’s Blood
Previously on THE VILLAIN'S POV...
The training hall within the dark castle was vast enough to contain a small war.
Its black walls rose like part of an ancient mountain, covered in faint violet runes that prevented destruction from escaping beyond their boundaries.
The floor was forged from a dark metal that reflected no light, yet it was filled with countless scars, as though every strike that had landed upon it had left behind a silent confession to the strength of those who once stood there.
At the center of that hall stood Abraham Starlight.
He no longer looked as he once had.
His black hair had grown longer, and his eyes carried a sharp gleam that had never existed before. His body was no longer that of a man worn down by years and regret, but of a warrior who had returned from death with something inside him deeper than life itself.
In both hands, he carried twin swords of light.
They were pure, razor-sharp, glowing as though they were fragments of a miniature sun. And with every breath he took, the aura of Ignition stacked upon his body layer after layer, until the air around him began trembling as though the heat of an entire star had been forced inside human flesh.
Opposite him stood Frey.
Peak of Night covered his entire body, blacker than the first darkness born before light itself.
Resting calmly in his hand was Sovereignty of Shadows, held with a terrifying stillness, as though it were not merely a weapon, but an extension of its wielder’s will.
Frey was not even in a true combat stance.
He stood motionless, his violet eyes calm behind the slits of his mask, watching his father the way a master watched a disciple approaching the edge of something dangerous.
"One more time, Father."
He spoke quietly.
Abraham gave no verbal reply.
He vanished.
The ground beneath his feet exploded as his body shot forward at a horrifying speed, leaving behind a trail of white light and golden flames. His twin swords descended upon Frey from two different angles, one aimed at his throat, the other at his chest, a synchronized assault capable of tearing apart most SSS-ranked fighters before they even realized they had been attacked.
Yet Frey slowly raised Sovereignty of Shadow sword
Only a single metallic ring echoed.
Klaaaaaaaaaang!
Both strikes stopped midair.
Frey had not moved an inch. His black blade intercepted both swords at the perfect angle, as though the attack had never surprised him in the first place.
Abraham clenched his teeth as the aura within his body erupted once more.
"Second Ignition."
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
In a single instant, his power multiplied to an absurd degree. The heat radiating from him devoured the air itself, while the light surrounding his swords became increasingly savage, until the entire hall resembled the heart of a sacred storm.
Yet his body did not collapse.
He did not burn from the inside as any human body should have.
Through his skin, between his muscles and veins, thin streams of reddish-gray energy flowed continuously, rebuilding what burned before it could collapse, stitching together what tore apart before it could fall.
Positive Ether worked endlessly inside him, keeping his body alive despite the suicidal pressure he had unleashed upon himself.
Frey saw it clearly.
"Good. You’re not keeping your body alive with aura."
He spoke while brushing aside one of Abraham’s strikes with the side of his blade.
"You’re using Positive Ether."
Abraham stepped forward before attacking even more violently.
"I know that."
His voice was tense as he unleashed dozens of consecutive strikes upon Frey.
"But I can’t feel myself controlling it. It moves on its own whenever my body gets close to breaking apart."
Frey avoided a strike aimed at his head, then shifted his body slightly, allowing another attack to slide across Peak of Night without leaving behind anything more than a white spark.
"That’s because you still treat it as a survival instinct rather than a conscious force."
Frey raised his left hand, and a black spear formed between his fingers, long and slender, dark shadow lightning crackling around it.
"Shadow bolt Spear."
He thrust it forward without any killing intent, yet the sheer speed alone was enough to make Abraham’s eyes widen.
Abraham crossed both swords before his chest and received the attack head-on.
Black lightning exploded outward.
Abraham was blown back dozens of meters.
Yet before touching the ground, he planted his feet firmly, carving two long trenches across the dark metal floor. Positive Ether surged through him once again, sealing the cracks that had formed along his forearms.
"Ether is not aura."
Frey lowered the spear slightly.
"Aura is the power of life. It is the blood flowing through the world itself, moving the body and granting things the strength to endure and fight."
The Shadow Lightning Spear vanished from his grasp, replaced by an enormous dark axe with a broad head whose edge devoured the surrounding light.
"But Ether... is what builds the body before life even begins beating inside it."
Frey held the axe with one hand.
"It is divided into two sides."
A dark aura rose around the weapon.
"Negative... for destruction, erasure, death."
Then soft reddish-gray energy appeared around his other hand, warm and calm.
"And Positive... for creation, construction, life."
Abraham stared at his son’s hands, trying to follow the difference between both forces, yet confusion clearly appeared in his eyes.
"So I possess both?"
"Yes."
Frey answered simply.
"Because you’re a Writer, even if you still don’t remember it yet."
Abraham’s face stiffened.
Then He charged again.
This time, his attack was no longer blind force alone. He tried focusing on the Ether flowing inside his body, tried grasping it the same way he grasped his twin swords, forcing it to obey his will rather than his instincts.
But the opposite happened.
The reddish-gray energy exploded chaotically, reinforcing his body far beyond what he intended and propelling him forward faster than he could calculate.
He reached Frey at a horrifying speed, but his balance faltered for a fraction of a second.
And that was enough.
Frey moved.
He deliberately avoided using the sharp edge of his blade. Instead, he struck Abraham’s shoulder with the flat side of Sovereignty of Shadows before twisting his body and delivering a measured kick to his chest.
Even so, Abraham crashed violently across the floor, rolling several times before driving one of his swords into the ground to stop himself.
"Don’t chase it."
Frey spoke calmly.
"Don’t pursue Ether the same way you pursue aura. Aura responds to determination ... pressure . Ether requires imagination."
Abraham slowly rose to his feet, breathing heavily.
"Picture what you want to build. Don’t merely ask your body to survive. Tell it how to survive."
Abraham fell silent for a moment.
Then he closed his eyes.
The Ignition surrounding him calmed slightly, though it did not disappear. Instead, the reddish-gray energy began moving more steadily around his chest and arms, like thin threads stitching his body together from the inside.
His eyes suddenly opened.
And he lunged forward.
This time, he was far more stable.
He attacked with both swords simultaneously, a vertical slash followed by a horizontal one, before twisting his body and unleashing an arc of sacred light that tore apart the ground on its way toward Frey.
Frey smiled behind his mask.
"That’s much better."
He raised his hand.
A dark axe materialized before him.
"Requiem."
The axe devoured the power of the light arc instead of blocking it directly. For a brief instant, the weapon trembled in Frey’s grasp, as though something sleeping deep within it had begun to awaken.
Then he swung it.
The stored force erupted all at once, not directly at Abraham, but beside him. The black explosion shattered part of the floor and unleashed a massive shockwave that forced Abraham backward despite his defense.
"This weapon stores the force it receives... then releases it in a single burst."
Frey rested the axe over his shoulder.
"Useful against people who think overwhelming offense alone is enough to win a battle."
Abraham laughed despite his exhaustion.
"Was that aimed at me?"
"A little."
Frey answered with a quiet laugh of his own.
Requiem vanished from his hand, while Sovereignty of Shadows emerged once more from the darkness.
"But your progress is real. A few months ago, Ignition would’ve destroyed you. Now you’re using Positive Ether to avoid collapse."
"Only avoid it?"
Abraham asked.
"For now, yes."
Frey walked toward him with calm steps.
"If you truly learn to control it, you won’t merely delay collapse. You’ll prevent it entirely.
You’ll consciously rebuild your body while fighting. At that point, Ignition won’t just be a reckless gamble anymore... it’ll become a weapon you can push far beyond its current limits."
If Abraham mastered Ignition completely, he would become capable of continuously stacking it further and further, gaining vastly greater power in the process.
Silence filled the hall for several moments.
Then Abraham dismissed his twin swords of light, while the Ignition surrounding his body gradually faded away. Exhaustion was obvious on his face, yet his eyes remained sharp.
"So I still have a long way to go."
"There’s no need to worry."
Frey spoke calmly.
"You weren’t called a miracle for nothing."
"You still have enough time."
Abraham looked at him deeply.
"Is that why we still haven’t entered the continent?"
Frey did not answer immediately.
He took several steps back before allowing Sovereignty of Shadows to disappear into the darkness. Peak of Night still covered his body, yet now it seemed less oppressive, as though the battle had truly ended.
"Partially."
He finally answered.
"You need to reclaim your identity as a Writer, and that won’t happen here. The mysterious continent is the only place capable of pushing you toward that stage."
"But the time hasn’t come yet."
"It hasn’t."
Frey confirmed.