THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 927: Against Destiny
Previously on THE VILLAIN'S POV...
Frey had uncovered the true horror hidden within the Oracle’s prophecy.
Agaroth had never been its central figure.
He was merely a secondary variable—one the Writers had chosen to deal with immediately, despite the danger he might pose in the future.
After all, Agaroth was still weak in that era.
His threat could be erased long before it ever had the chance to bloom.
Odin, however...
Was an entirely different matter.
The Pale Devastation was not an existence that could be dealt with so easily.
The Oracle had foreseen his return.
Yet there was no conceivable way to prevent it.
The Writers did not even know how he could possibly return after meeting his end during the First War between the Writers and the Lords of Mist.
"For now... I believe the Council intends to keep Odin’s return a secret for as long as possible."
Lea quietly explained the current situation.
"There is no benefit in revealing it."
"It would only spread panic."
Frey fell into deep thought.
"My mother..."
"The First Writer."
"What did she say after hearing the prophecy?"
Curiosity filled his voice.
He wanted to know what conclusion Clea had reached after learning that Odin would return.
Lea remained silent for several seconds, carefully searching through the countless memories and prophecies filling her mind.
Eventually...
She found the one she was looking for.
"The Writers who accompanied her were terrified the moment they heard the name of the Pale Devastation."
"But the First Writer didn’t show the slightest reaction."
"She simply requested every detail... then left."
A faint smile appeared on Frey’s lips.
"As expected of her."
"Her nerves are made of steel."
As he considered the matter, Frey began predicting what his mother would do if Odin truly returned.
"If she has no way to prevent his return... then confronting him will be the only option."
That was the conclusion he reached.
Lea quietly nodded.
"The First Writer... Clea... is the strongest Writer in history."
"She is even stronger than the Seven Heroes who fought the Pale Devastation in the past."
"And we still possess the strongest weapon... the Instrument of Creation."
"That should be enough."
Lea spoke as though she were trying to convince herself.
She was not necessarily wrong.
Yet Frey found her optimism excessive.
The Instrument of Creation was indeed an unparalleled weapon.
Its power had continued growing throughout countless generations, and it had already been used against Odin once before.
It resembled a magnificent scepter.
Within it rested the immense aether left behind by every ancient First Writer, together with the power of their Runes.
Whenever a First Writer reached the end of their life...
They entrusted all of their remaining aether to the Instrument of Creation.
It was a weapon capable of manipulating reality itself.
Changing concepts.
Overturning the impossible.
Even without it...
Clea herself was already unimaginably powerful.
She might not even need the weapon at all.
"But..."
Frey suddenly murmured.
"If Agaroth and Odin appeared within the same prophecy..."
A thought slowly formed in his mind.
"Doesn’t that mean..."
"He eventually succeeds in leaving the Land of Survival?"
Lea nodded.
"If he clashed with the Pale Devastation inside the prophecy... then yes."
"That proves he succeeds."
"But..."
Her expression gradually darkened.
"That isn’t something that should ever happen."
Her eyes trembled as the vision resurfaced in her mind.
"He was just as terrifying as the Pale Devastation when I saw him."
"That wasn’t the Agaroth I know."
"That wasn’t the being you created with your own hands, Frey."
"It was something... entirely different."
"A creature so dark..."
"Its shadow was vast enough to swallow entire worlds."
As Lea described what she had witnessed, Frey simply listened in silence.
Never before had a written being succeeded in escaping the world created by its Writer.
Such a thing was considered impossible.
Yet according to the prophecy...
The impossible would one day become reality.
The goal he and Agaroth had pursued for so long was no longer beyond their reach.
He refused to abandon everything they had fought for.
Not even because of a prophecy.
He understood all too well that Agaroth might never move forward again if things remained as they were.
"Lea."
Frey’s voice turned solemn.
"Look into my future."
She stared at him in astonishment.
"But, Frey..."
"You know that’s forbidden."
She spoke in a flustered whisper, glancing nervously around to make sure no one else could hear them.
Her Rune of Foresight was unimaginably powerful.
Its accuracy bordered on the absolute.
Because of that, countless people longed to learn their own futures through her.
Unlike the spontaneous prophecies that came to her naturally...
Lea could deliberately grant a vision to anyone she touched, provided they requested it.
Whether someone wished to know whom they would marry...
How they would die...
Their future...
Their present...
Anything.
Her power could reveal it.
But such knowledge had the potential to disrupt the destinies of countless people.
For that reason...
Personal visions requested from the Oracle had been strictly forbidden.
"It’s alright, Lea."
"I have no intention of interfering with causality."
"I only want to confirm something."
"Confirm... what exactly?"
Lea asked.
Frey answered without hesitation.
"I want to know the fate of my world."
"The Land of Survival."
It was an unusual request.
One that left even Lea visibly surprised.
Never before had anyone asked the Oracle to reveal the future of their own world.
Since the Land of Survival had been created by Frey himself...
Such a request was theoretically possible through him.
Lea did not seem opposed.
The problem was...
Granting it was anything but simple.
"I cannot allow something like that."
A calm voice suddenly echoed through the garden.
"You should know that... son of Clea."
A faint pressure descended from nowhere.
Both Frey and Lea immediately turned toward its source.
Frey instantly sensed two additional presences nearby.
His final conversation with Lea had been overheard from beginning to end.
"Masdor."
A broad smile spread across Frey’s face.
"It seems we’ll be starting the duel you asked for a little earlier than expected."
He calmly assumed a fighting stance.
Masdor frowned.
He clearly hadn’t expected Frey to go this far.
"You truly intend to do this?"
He let out a weary sigh before signaling the other two Writers to step forward.
"Even if you are that woman’s son..."
"You cannot defeat the three of us alone."
Frey now stood surrounded by three of the strongest Writers alive.
One of them...
A former First Writer.
Yet not once did he appear intimidated by the pressure they radiated.
"We won’t know unless we try."
Aether surged through his body.
At the same time...
An overwhelming torrent of aura erupted around him.
Across from him, Masdor and the other two Writers prepared themselves as well.
"I know the Council won’t show you any mercy this time."
Masdor offered one final warning.
He still hoped Frey would abandon this madness.
Frey merely nodded.
"I know."
Then he turned toward Lea.
The meaningful look he gave her caused the Oracle to hesitate.
She seemed conflicted.
But after several long seconds...
She reluctantly nodded and stepped away.
The sight visibly relieved Masdor and the other two Writers.
Until that moment, they had feared she might choose Frey’s side.
The battle began immediately.
Three against one.
Without the slightest hesitation, the former First Writer and his companions launched the first attack.
Each of them possessed extraordinary strength.
Each wielded an exceptionally powerful Rune.
Especially Masdor...
Whose Rune belonged to the same supreme class as Frey’s own.
And yet...
The instant they entered Frey’s range—
The moment they crossed a certain distance—
All three were struck simultaneously.
None of them understood what had happened.
An invisible force had slammed into them before they could even defend themselves.
Only after blood spilled from their bodies did reality finally sink in.
The man standing before them...
Was Clea’s son.
The only Writer ever acknowledged as capable of succeeding her.
Remembering that truth...
The three of them abandoned every trace of restraint.
And thus, a brutal battle erupted between the elite of the Writers.
A battle fought far beyond the eyes of the world.
The battle between them lasted barely ten minutes.
Very few ever learned that it had taken place.
The entire incident was deliberately covered up.
One thing, however, was certain.
Frey lost that battle.
In the end, he surrendered, allowing Masdor and the others to escort him away from the Oracle’s sanctuary.
Lea remained silent until the very end.
Frey had lost.
But...
Had he truly?
Audrey only learned of the incident afterward.
She visited Frey while he was being held within the Council for what he had done.
Frey never denied it.
He openly admitted his defeat.
Yet when Clea later questioned Masdor about what had actually transpired, the former First Writer’s reaction was... strangely unsettling.
According to him...
For the entire ten-minute battle, Frey had remained in complete control.
Only at the very end...
He had surrendered of his own accord.
Why?
Why had he suddenly abandoned the fight after holding the advantage from beginning to end?
Masdor never found the answer.
The outcome left him deeply dissatisfied.
More than that...
It humiliated him.
The expression on his face that day was so unforgettable that Audrey remembered it with perfect clarity even years later.
Frey’s actions had always been difficult to understand.
This was merely another one of those moments.
His imprisonment did not last long.
Since he had surrendered willingly, the Council eventually released him.
Although he was permanently forbidden from seeing the Oracle again, he at least regained his freedom to move as he pleased.
And the very first thing he did...
Was return to his own world.
As always.
To everyone watching... He looked like a man beyond saving.