The Villain's PoV - Chapter 290

Chapter 290: The Lord of Graves (2)
The fog had thickened so much, it completely blinded them. They could barely breathe through the weight of the corrupted aura pressing down from every direction.

Every step stirred the stench of rot and decay—an unbearable odor that clung to their lungs and minds like poison.

Frey tried not to ask the question.

But he couldn’t stop himself.

“What exactly are we walking on?”

Driven by a surge of curiosity, Frey slowly leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the blood-slick ground beneath them.

With the help of his Hawk Eyes, everything came into sharp focus—and his face darkened with every passing second.

That wasn’t just some slimy terrain.

The solid black earth was still there underneath…

What they were walking on… was flesh and blood.

The tension spiked violently when he realized it.

They were treading over corpses.

Thousands—no, far more than that.

Twisted, mutilated bodies had been laid across the ground like some grotesque carpet.

They were skinned, featureless… just raw muscle and hints of mouths and eyes that had once belonged to living beings.

The red fog, the wandering beasts, the absolute silence ..

Frey couldn’t help but wonder.

Had they stepped into a nightmare crafted to resemble hell itself?

Because it certainly felt like it.

Luckily, the three of them were used to blood. If not, they might’ve broken long ago.

But even they were starting to reach their limit.

“What the hell happened here…?” Snow muttered, his voice shaky as he took in the most horrifying sight of his life.

“A massacre…”

That was the only word that fit.

A grotesque genocide, where creatures that once lived in peace were torn apart, mutilated beyond recognition.

Words could no longer express what they saw.

The only thing they could do now—was get out.

They pushed forward…

And then, things got worse.

Frey suddenly froze—something was clinging to his leg.

Panicked, he looked down and saw a pair of hands gripping his ankle.

The corpse beneath him let out a soft, broken moan.

He tried to kick it off instinctively .. but everything spiraled into madness the moment all the corpses beneath them began to twitch.

Weapons drawn, hearts racing, they braced for the assault.

But the attack never came.

Instead, the corpses began to crawl… trying to flee.

“Mercy…”

The word came from every direction.

“Mercy… please… have mercy.”

They were begging.

“Have mercy upon us”

These things—these skinned, broken bodies—were pleading for their lives.

Frey immediately dropped to one knee, grabbing the one that had held onto him, desperate for answers amid the chaos.

“What happened here?!”

The corpse trembled, voice raw and low.

“Oh, oh .. you…help me. He is…the hideous, Aah, Have mercy..Have mercy upon us… H-he… the Great Evil… the Nightmare… the Beast of Beasts… he did this to us…”

Whoever this was—whatever he had endured—Frey could feel the agony radiating from his voice alone.

“Mercy… mercy…”

The cries grew louder. Louder than ever. The dead were awake, scrambling in terror, dragging what was left of their bodies away like insects.

A moment ago, there had been silence.

Now, it was madness.

He’d mentioned a great evil.

“Who?!” Frey shouted. “Who did this?!”

What could have possibly caused such a massacre?

The answer came with a name that turned his blood cold.

“The Lord of Graves…”

Him again.

Frey cursed under his breath as the screams around them intensified.

The corpse in his arms began sobbing … wet, choking cries that turned to blood.

“We waited… waited for so long… for his return… but he never came back.”

The corpse grieved aloud.

“So many of us chose to fight rather than wait… but all that awaited us… was something worse than death…”

Frey could barely hear him anymore. Between the screams, the reeking air, and Ghost and Snow yelling at him to move, everything blurred.

“Who did you wait for?!”

He shouted with all he had.

“Our king…”

The corpse replied.

“But he never came. We should have never left the Crownlands… It was the only haven, the only place safe from the Lord of Graves…”

And then—

As if summoned by his name ..

A pressure swept through the land.

A monstrous aura, unlike anything Frey—or even Snow—had ever felt before.

A suffocating force that stole the air from their lungs.

“…Too late.”

The corpse whispered.

“He’s already here.”

Those words hit like a falling star.

The pressure rose … overwhelming, inescapable.

Something was coming.

Something terrifying.

“FREY!!”

Snow and Ghost shouted in unison, panic lacing their voices as they prepared to flee.

But the presence …they couldn’t outrun it.

“FREY!!!”

They called again.

“SHUT UP!!”

Frey roared back, face twisted with rage and something deeper—something primal.

With both hands, he drew his blades.

Blood surged.

Aura exploded.

He entered his full ascension—activating every ounce of power he had left.

Channeling the ocean of aura within him, Frey stood firm as the earth beneath them began to tremble.

He was close.

Time was running out.

Without hesitation, Frey shouted at Snow and Ghost, ordering them to use the latter’s ability and retreat into his shadow.

Given the terror of the moment, neither of them argued.

As they vanished into the darkness, Frey clenched his teeth, bracing himself for what was coming. His worst fear had come true—the enemy he never wanted to face was approaching fast.

There was only one option left…

Run.

Lowering his stance like a sprinter at the starting line, Frey focused all the aura in his body into his legs. With a roar:

“Ignition!!!”

This time, he didn’t ignite his blades—but his legs.

The ground shattered beneath him as a massive explosion of violet aura launched Frey Starlight like a missile through the air.

The spot where he’d stood moments ago turned into a crater of pure devastation. The moaning corpses were obliterated in an instant.

As for Frey… he was nowhere near the impact site anymore.

With his legs nearly destroyed, blood dripping like water from pulverized muscle, Frey rocketed through the landscape, tearing through stone, terrain—even mountain ridges—until he finally crashed down, far, far away.

Collapsed on the ground, his breathing labored, Frey’s feet were nothing more than a mangled, bloody mess.

But his face didn’t relax for even a second—because that monstrous aura… it was still coming.

Whatever that thing was, it hadn’t stopped hunting them.

Snow and Ghost emerged from the shadow immediately.

The sight of Frey horrified them—but they didn’t have the luxury to react.

Snow grabbed both of them, summoning every ounce of power he had left.

“Void Step!!”

Activating his strongest ability ..

Snow vanished, then reappeared, then vanished again in rapid succession, teleporting them as far away as he could, again and again.

“Void Step!!”

How many kilometers had they crossed?

He didn’t know.

He only knew one thing:

He couldn’t stop.

The pressure behind them made his heart feel like it would burst. A sensation he hadn’t felt in a long, long time ..

Fear.

A fear deeper than anything he had ever known.

A monster among monsters.

“Void Step!!”

Over and over, Snow pushed further, farther, faster—refusing to look back.

Because if he did… he might’ve seen the land itself turn black behind them, as death spread and consumed all life in its path.

“Void Ste—”

Snow halted mid-step.

Frey and Ghost froze with him.

Beads of sweat rolled down their skin. Their bodies wouldn’t move.

The suffocating aura was gone…

But the dread—it had never been greater.

Because beneath their feet, a massive shadow began to swell and stretch.

The shadow of something standing right behind them.

-Thump-

-Thump-

-Thump-

Their heartbeats became the only sound in their ears.

With excruciating hesitation, they slowly turned their heads—

—and heard it.

A sharp, piercing hiss.

What stood behind them defied reason itself.

Shrouded in a cloak of corrupted aura, with a face like a skeletal mask carved from bone, its hollow eye sockets glowed with crimson light.

He had come.

The last being they wanted to meet.

The air itself froze as the creature slowly extended his hand toward them.

None of them could move.

Even Frey, barely holding himself together, felt his mind slip at the sight.

Rank Six of the demon’s upper Seats…

The Lord of Graves… Asmodeus.