THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 713: Until the Last Breath Between Us (2)

The mask fell away, revealing his features.

For the very first time, Frey’s gaze locked onto his—and in that heartbeat, his feverish, turbulent thoughts were scrubbed completely blank.

"H–huh?"

An involuntary gasp escaped Frey’s lips. He felt the blood in his veins turn to fire as every nerve ending in his body screamed in unison.

The sight was ruinous.

His eyes were fixed, unable to turn away. His cognitive functions stalled. Even the simple act of drawing breath became a struggle.

Frey was paralyzed by the sheer impact of the revelation... and moments later, the man was noticed by Ada as well.

She clamped her hands over her mouth, her vision blurring as tears began to spill.

"F–Father...?" she breathed out in a fragile whisper.

Nearby, Zibar and Gepetto broke into a synchronized, derisive cackle.

Frey remained rooted to the spot, his eyes wide with a shock that bordered on insanity.

Because the figure standing before him... was Abraham Starlight.

He was the father whose image Frey had examined a thousand times in photographs. The man whose entire life story Frey had once experienced through memories.

"A fake?" Frey stammered, his legs giving way as he took an unintentional step back.

An imitation. A clone. A mere hallucination.

These were the desperate excuses Frey’s mind conjured. He simply could not accept that this person was truly his father—the man who had perished years ago.

However, that denial lasted only seconds before he realized his error.

With his heightened senses sharper than they had ever been, he could perceive the truth. He felt Abraham’s aura—a physical form constructed entirely from pure energy.

Frey understood his father’s unique, limit-breaking technique better than anyone else. He was aware of how Abraham had once shattered every internal pathway in his body, converting his very existence into a vessel of unrestricted power.

The Absolute Manipulateur...

In all the world, only one man had ever commanded such a force.

Frey observed the vacant, hollow darkness in Abraham’s eyes and the stony, lifeless expression on his face. Slowly, Frey shifted his gaze toward the 13th-ranked demon—Gepetto.

The necromancer who manipulated the deceased. The one who transformed corpses into mindless thralls designed solely for slaughter.

In that instant, the horrific reality became clear to Frey.

"Father..." he choked out, his voice fracturing with emotion.

"The father who struggled for my sake... the father who gave his life to protect me..."

Abraham Starlight had dedicated his entire existence to his kin. He had endured the trials of two different worlds and suffered without end, finally dying to ensure the safety of the son he loved.

And now... his remains had been defiled by a wretched demon.

The atmosphere thickened with killing intent. The earth began to vibrate, and the heavens seemed to darken in anticipation of the coming storm.

"GEPETTO!!!!!!"

Frey’s roar shook the air. The Black Hole Aura erupted from his frame with unprecedented violence, surging upward like a dark pillar Piercing the sky.

The sheer force of the pressure sent Ada tumbling away, her body slamming into the debris and sustaining numerous cuts. But Frey noticed none of it.

His blood-red eyes were locked onto the monsters standing before him.

He was consumed by a fury unlike anything he had ever known. His fists were clenched so tight that his fingernails sliced into his palms, and his lips cracked as he bit down until he drew blood.

Zibar stepped forward, the Catarina Blade held ready, his arrogant smirk never wavering.

"It begins."

The demon prepared for combat... but Frey turned a gaze of such incandescent rage toward him that his eyes seemed to glow crimson.

"Zibar... you have committed a fatal error. A mistake so catastrophic that you cannot even fathom the price you will pay..."

His voice was bone-chillingly cold as he dropped into a fighting stance.

"I am going to slaughter you right here... You and that disgusting demon you dragged along with you!"

His wrath echoed across the field of battle, and Zibar answered with a roar of his own.

"Then come and TRY!!"

BOOOOOOOOM!!!!

Simultaneously, Frey and Zibar lunged forward, the ground beneath them disintegrating. Their forms collided with cataclysmic strength, sending out waves of destructive aura.

The Black Hole Aura of Frey smashed against Zibar’s wall of darkness. The Catarina Blade clashed with the Dark Sister, creating a blinding shower of sparks and lethal intent.

The war was on.

"I see you’ve gained more power since our last encounter," Zibar remarked, offering a mocking compliment before further increasing the torrent of aura pouring from his body.

"But it’s still nowhere near enough!"

"Shut your damn mouth."

Frey countered instantly, his blade cutting through the air with the same lethal grace Nameless once displayed. The sheer momentum of the blow caught Zibar off guard, driving him back until his heels dug into the earth in a desperate bid for stability.

"Impressive," Zibar grunted, glancing up just in time to parry Frey’s subsequent overhead strike.

BOOOOM!!!

Frey brought his sword down with crushing weight, which Zibar managed to intercept. The resulting pressure buried both combatants deep into the soil, leveling everything in their vicinity.

It was clear that the devastation of this fight would dwarf their previous duel many times over. However, this time, the engagement was not a fair one-on-one.

As Frey attempted to press his advantage against the Rank 10 Demon, a lightning-fast strike lunged at him from the flank. Frey barely managed to deflect the blow, which sent him skidding back, but his new adversary gave him no respite, pursuing him with blinding speed.

There stood Abraham, wielding a blade of concentrated, brilliant light, attacking his own flesh and blood. Under Frey’s horrified gaze—realizing he was forced to battle his own father—Abraham’s sword sliced through Frey’s defenses, taking advantage of his momentary hesitation.

Frey leaped back at the last second to create distance. A jagged wound had been torn across his shoulder, yet he paid no mind to the blood or the pain as the injury began to knit itself back together instantly.

Yet, a different kind of torment was visible on his face—the agony of being forced to draw his weapon against the man who raised him.

"Father... why does this life continue to plague us, whether it is you or me? Even at the very end?"

Frey’s voice was thick with sorrow as he parried Abraham’s radiant blade.

"After the end... after death itself, shouldn’t you have found peace? Don’t you deserve some form of salvation after all that misery?"

After everything Abraham had endured, surely he was entitled to a dignified rest? He was. Yet the demons had desecrated his corpse, converting him into a mere tool of war. That fact alone made Frey’s blood boil.

He was quickly cornered again as Zibar joined the fray, attacking from the opposite side. The fight shifted into a two-on-one struggle. Both opponents were clearly more powerful than Frey, who only managed to hold his ground through the sheer potency of his unique abilities.

Frey threw himself into the savage exchange, investing every fiber of his being and every ounce of his hatred into every swing. But the tide of battle was not easily turned.

The wrath of Frey Starlight alone was insufficient to rewrite this destiny. But... what of his other half’s fury?

In the heat of the conflict, amidst the swirling chaos, the silhouette of a masked man flickered briefly behind Frey. Then, without warning, Frey released a burst of aura so powerful it knocked both Zibar and Abraham back.

In that moment, the voice of Nameless resonated within his consciousness once more. But this time, the King’s tone was not its usual frigid self. It carried a heavy, unfamiliar weight.

Nameless was truly incensed.

"Frey... from this point on, you will obey my every instruction. In this fight, you shall not move... you shall not even breathe... unless I give the word."

Nameless spoke with a seething, quiet rage. It was as if Frey’s own fury had bled into him, confirming Nameless’s suspicion that Frey’s influence was affecting him and that their connection had deepened significantly.

But Nameless didn't linger on that thought. His anger demanded a single outcome: the total annihilation of the wretches before them.

Frey understood perfectly. Nameless felt the same hatred and shared the same objective. He reached for Nameless’s mask and pressed it onto his face.

Frey remained in command—there was no soul-swap—and yet, the moment the mask touched his skin, he was transformed.

The change was so profound that Zibar’s confident smirk vanished, replaced by a look of grim seriousness.

On one side stood Zibar and Abraham Starlight. On the other stood Frey Starlight—the masked Frey—with the towering shadow of Nameless looming behind him.

In a sense, the battle had become a two-on-two. One thing was certain: this confrontation would only conclude when one side was dead.