The Villain's PoV - Chapter 292

Chapter 292: A Blade in the Blood
The nightmare beasts surged past Asmodeus and continued straight through the barrier, as if it wasn’t even there.

The Lord of Graves vanished among the monstrous tide.

And Frey and his companions understood the scale of the disaster the moment they saw that army pouring in toward them.

They were in the thousands.

They had survived the ultimate nightmare…

Only to find another waiting for them.

Ghost immediately stepped forward while Snow grabbed Vermethor, channeling as much holy energy as he could in a desperate attempt to heal Frey’s legs.

Ghost extended his hands, manipulating the void using his full power.

“space cleave!”

Unleashing the same strange force from before, Ghost tore through space and time, trying to wipe out the oncoming horde.

His strike was strong enough to cut down even the most durable of them—but in the face of an army that size, it was barely a scratch.

Ghost repeated the technique again and again.

But reality hit hard.

Even though he succeeded in killing some, the blood gushing from his eyes and nose was a brutal reminder ..

He wasn’t strong enough to wield that power freely.

Meanwhile, after tending to Frey’s legs, Snow looked up at the rapidly approaching army, his mind racing for a way to survive.

‘Should I use the Void Step?’

He considered it.

But he quickly realized it was a bad idea. He didn’t have enough aura left.

And as if reading his thoughts—

Frey placed a hand on Snow’s shoulder, glowing with a deep violet light.

In the next moment, an overwhelming surge of aura poured into Snow’s body.

“Don’t hesitate. We have to survive. No matter what it takes!”

Drawing both Balerion and the Dark Sister, Frey stood tall as Snow nodded in response.

They knew now that escape wasn’t an option. Those monsters would chase them to the ends of the world if they had to.

And so, Frey and Snow charged forward, unleashing their full power in a desperate attempt to survive.

Within seconds, the clash began.

The Champion of the Victoriad and the Hero of the Church .. the finest of the new human generation .. dived into the heart of the monstrous tide, tearing through them like madmen.

Frey unleashed wave after wave of dark aura, while Snow unleashed every elemental technique in his arsenal.

They shone brightly.

But their light dimmed slowly amidst the endless swarm.

At some point—coated in blood and filth—they could no longer tell what their blades were cutting.

They simply struck at anything that came close.

As for Ghost, he fought to support them with everything he had.

Swinging his sword left and right ..

Frey turned suddenly, sensing something touch his back.

But he stopped—just in time—before cutting down the figure behind him.

It was Snow, now standing back-to-back with him.

They had nearly struck each other down… but froze instead, bloodied and breathless, as they realized the full extent of the disaster.

They were completely surrounded.

From the east and the west. From the north and the south.

From every direction ..

Nightmare beasts.

An unending horde of them.

Their eyes met. Frey and Snow exchanged a silent nod.

All Frey wanted to say in that moment was one word:

“Sorry…”

Not sorry for his own fate, but for leading Snow and Ghost into a death trap they never should’ve walked into.

But Snow’s eyes understood. He didn’t blame him. Men are responsible for their own choices—and Snow had come of his own free will, not anyone else’s.

If he were to blame anyone…

He would blame himself .. for his weakness, and his powerlessness.

“If we get another life… let’s try to do better.”

With a bloody smile, Snow spoke what he believed would be his final words ..bracing for the end

But the end he was waiting for never came.

Instead, something entirely different did.

A sharp screech. The sound of metal grinding against metal.

It tore through the battlefield like a blade through silence.

And once more .. time itself seemed to freeze.

A savage storm descended, and blood exploded everywhere, raining down like a crimson flood.

Clean.

So clean.

That was all Frey and the others could think when they saw the nightmare creatures sliced to pieces—cut with terrifying precision.

Blue slashes of destructive aura, shaped like arcs, swept through the battlefield, turning the horde into shredded meat.

The strikes hit only what needed to be struck, never touching Frey and his companions at the center of it all.

Blood rained over their heads, soaking them until they looked like corpses themselves.

But their eyes—still very much alive—searched for the source of that stunning assault.

And soon, they found their answer.

From within the sea of blood and corpses, with slow, deliberate steps…

An old man approached.

Bent over with age, wearing an old black suit—still immaculately clean, a sharp contrast to the filth around him.

He held a katana in one hand, and a cane in the other. His wrinkled face rose to meet them.

Frey, without even thinking, ran toward him .. staggering through the pool of blood.

Snow and Ghost were stunned…

“Another human?”

But Frey recognized him.

His father had once met four individuals from the Shadow Sect.

A man with a spear. A dark-skinned woman. A strange child who floated in the air…

And a hunched old man.

The one standing before him now—was the fourth.

Frey rushed through the bloody lake. But as the danger faded, so did his adrenaline.

Pain rushed back in. The searing agony of torn muscles and shattered legs overwhelmed him.

He collapsed before the old man’s feet, bloodied even more than before.

But the old man didn’t step back.

Instead, he stepped forward.

Frey, shaking from everything he had endured, clung to the man’s coat—staining it with his blood.

Barely able to speak, he looked up at the elder and pleaded.

“Please…”

He clutched him tightly, afraid he might vanish.

The old man gently ran his hand over Frey’s body, searching for his face.

That’s when Frey realized…

“He can’t see…”

The powerful old man was blind.

He had lost his sight long ago.

Frey asked him ..

“What do you want from me?”

Why had the system forced him through this journey?

“What the hell was I supposed to find in this pit of hell?!”

He demanded answers, desperate and angry.

But the old man only continued to trace Frey’s face .. before offering a calm, deep smile.

A smile of peace.

As if a great burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders.

He said nothing.

Instead, he simply pointed behind him.

He had given Frey his answer.

“There?”

If you want your answers… then go there.

The old man, who had just displayed power on par with the SSS-rank, had completed his mission.

Frey still clung to him, trying to extract more—more answers to the questions tormenting him.

Who is the Engineer?

Who were those four?

What happened more than 300 years ago?

But the old man said nothing.

He simply patted Frey’s shoulder.

Then gently helped him to his feet.

As if to say … don’t fall. Keep going.

The old man’s smile was the last thing Frey saw…

Before he vanished.

Like he had never been there at all.

But the sea of blood, and the carefully dissected remains of the nightmare beasts, proved otherwise.

Standing in that ocean of carnage, Frey and the others finally understood.

They had found their next destination.