THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 694: Nameless Paths

She was gone, lost to them despite her SSS-rank status.

Now, Adyr was on the verge of being lost as well.

In the coming conflicts, a combatant of Adyr’s caliber was indispensable.

Frey would not permit such a loss.

Expanding his spatial formation, he moved to encompass Adyr within its reach.

"You’re coming with me. No matter what it takes."

In an instant, Adyr vanished, pulled to safety.

Frey was left standing alone amidst a grim landscape of shadows and corpses.

Fresh blood seeped from beneath his mask.

The sheer strain of maintaining his ability was nearly breaking him.

Yet, the lingering aura of that crimson butterfly—the warmth she had once bestowed upon him—remained his sole source of strength.

Wesker materialized in a flash, his hand lunging forward to deliver a killing blow.

Before the strike could connect, Frey discharged a surge of violet spatial force, repelling Wesker and warping the very fabric of space between them.

"Wesker... no. Aegon."

Frey’s voice shuddered with suppressed rage, violet light shimmering in his gaze.

"No more schemes from the shadows. I see you clearly this time. You stand before me... You are my enemy."

"From this point forward... This is a war between humans and demons. Between me and you."

"Only one of us will walk away alive."

The reality surrounding Frey began to distort.

"Whether it’s me... or Nameless himself... You will die on this earth. The same earth you toyed with for years—the same earth whose people you spat on."

"Know this, Wesker... here, before your wretched king’s eyes... YOU. WILL. FALL."

Following those final words, Frey vanished entirely.

He left behind the massive armies of the Ultras and Wesker, who remained suspended silently above the ravaged battlefield.

The clash between the Empire and the Ultras had reached its conclusion.

While the Ultras had successfully driven the Empire from their borders, they had failed to wipe them out.

The implication was clear: the war was far from over.

It was a staggering revelation that the Fourth Seat had been unable to bring the conflict to an end.

Despite this, Wesker appeared unperturbed.

"Follower of Nameless... Gehrman taught you well."

His gaze fell upon the mangled remains of Adyr’s destroyed vessel.

"He managed to wound me, this time."

He had suspected that the legendary heroes of old were lurking in the shadows.

However, he hadn't anticipated that one of Nameless’s primary pillars would manifest here.

Though the world hadn't seen them in centuries, their names were still spoken of in legends:

Number 1: Gehrman, the Perfect VesselNumber 2: Alexander Rybak, Master of Martial ArtsNumber 3: Fulghor, the Living PlanetNumber 4: Adyr, the Shadow Executor

Every one of them had disappeared, save for Gehrman.

Yet Adyr had emerged once more, leaving the battlefield shaken.

Furthermore, both Frey and Snow had surpassed every possible projection of their power.

Wesker was no longer the sole player manipulating the board.

The Blue-Eyed One remained a terrifying variable.

"Well... this is not entirely disappointing."

Wesker began a slow descent toward the ground.

Upon landing, his demonic visage dissolved, replaced by the all-too-familiar features of Aegon Valerion.

"Everything remains within expectations."

Still wearing Aegon's face, Wesker addressed the Ultras.

From this moment on, the nature of the war would shift from a battle of nations to a direct struggle between humanity and demons, along with their respective disciples.

In such a conflict, Gehrman’s intervention would be limited.

His vessel had already deteriorated past the point of restoration, providing Wesker with a significant tactical advantage.

Another nightmare was already approaching.

Ripping through the dimensions as he plummeted at a violent speed, Zibar was returning to the fray.

Donning the Great Katarina Armor, this was no mere projection, but his physical body.

For the first time in known history, two Upper Demons walked the Earth simultaneously.

This signaled that the upcoming slaughter would be more horrific than anything previously witnessed.

---...---

Across the globe, deep within the Eastern Nightmare Lands, the massive Shadow Sect was buzzing with an energy it hadn't felt in ages.

A sanctuary that had sat hollow and silent for generations was finally teeming with life once more.

Through Frey's intervention, thousands had been spared from the slaughter and the total ruin of Caelid.

However, the price of survival was grim.

Of the 150,000 who had set out to fight for the Empire, only four thousand remained.

The loss of 146,000 lives was staggering.

The Empire had initially deployed one hundred thousand troops, later bolstered by fifty thousand reinforcements under Aegon's command.

No one could have predicted such a catastrophic reduction in their ranks.

This tally didn't even account for the myriad of civilians who lost their lives during the Church Massacre.

In just a few months, the body count had reached millions, with many more teetering on the brink of extinction.

Frey was the last individual to be warped into the Shadow Sect. The moment he arrived, his mind gave way, and he fell unconscious.

His physical form had been strained far beyond its natural limits.

A heavy shroud of silence and hopelessness hung over the Sect.

The Empire was nearly decimated, and the status of its remaining lands was a mystery, as the demon invasion had spread there as well.

Yet, one truth was evident to everyone: a world-altering battle had occurred.

The heroes of the past were rising again.

This marked the painful transition from one human era to the next.

While the elite gathered around the fallen Frey, others wandered through the Sect’s massive, ancient halls.

Waiting there in the shadows was a group of humans who had operated in secret for centuries: The Readers.

These forgotten observers of the world now stood in quiet expectation.

They watched Frey closely as he lay oblivious on the cold floor.

A single crimson butterfly fluttered through the air, circling his body with a soft grace.

Sno was the only person capable of seeing her clearly.

He made no move to interfere. He recognized her.

A sense of relief—and perhaps joy—washed over him to see that even a small fragment of her essence had endured.

As he observed the butterfly resting on Frey’s chest, he began to connect the dots.

Could it be possible? Was Frey the person Audrey had spent her life searching for?

The realization was haunting.

He realized he knew far less about Frey than he had assumed.

His true power, his hidden origins, his ultimate destiny, and his bond with that woman—it was all shrouded in mystery.

If the human race hoped to survive the approaching darkness, they would need to uncover every hidden truth.

For the war on the horizon promised to be the most brutal of all.