Later, news of Frey’s battle against Thanatos spread far and wide.
Gehrman had intentionally made sure of that.
Soon everyone knew that Frey Starlight had defeated one of the peak warriors, which caused an enormous uproar.
Especially among the Black Knights, the group that claimed to follow him.
It could be said that their activity had grown more violent than ever after their idol achieved such a feat.
An enormous number of soldiers joined their ranks.
In fact, the Black Knights organization had effectively become the dominant force within the army inside the walls of the Shadow Sect.
Overnight, Frey had become something greater than a hero.
He had become something else entirely.
The closest way to describe it would be something akin to a religious sect.
A sect revolving around one single man.
Their presence created tension among those who did not belong to them because of their aggressive actions.
Yet the leaders said nothing.
They took no action against them.
Which amounted to a silent approval that legitimized their existence.
The number of humans left in the world had become dangerously small.
So small that they could almost be considered an endangered species.
If they survived the coming war...
Then these few survivors would be the ones who wrote history.
And perhaps the name that would appear most often within those records...
Would be Frey Starlight.
...
...
...
The human side experienced busy days.
Preparations for the final battle were proceeding at full speed.
Given the weight of the powerful figures present among them, the leaders had begun seriously considering taking the offensive.
They even discussed launching a single overwhelming strike that would end everything in one blow.
The number of SSS-rank warriors on their side was higher.
They did not lack individual power either—with figures such as Fulghor, Kalameet, Snow, and especially Frey.
As the days passed one after another, however ...
Unlike the active human side—
The demons remained quiet.
All their movements were carried out in silence.
And their supreme commander, the Host of Nightmares, Amon, said very little about the recent events.
Seated atop a towering dark spire—the highest point on the continent of the Ultras—he remained still, quietly observing the crimson sky of sunset.
His long black hair drifted in the wind.
His mask rested beside him.
He was not wearing it this time.
His crimson eyes occasionally glowed faintly, and it seemed as though many thoughts weighed upon his mind.
He sat alone in his solitude, seemingly enjoying it.
Until another figure arrived and interrupted him.
"I see you haven’t abandoned this habit of yours, boy. It brings back memories."
A heavy voice came from behind him.
An old man whose presence carried the weight of a distant past.
He was elderly, with a long white beard and hair turned pale with age.
His face bore deep wrinkles.
He wore nothing but a long black robe.
He approached while stroking his beard, casually referring to Amon as a boy.
But Amon was not offended.
Instead, he smiled calmly.
"So you have come... my lord."
He addressed him respectfully, which caused the old man to smile in return.
"You never abandoned your manners, even though you’ve grown so much."
"You truly are different from the other demons."
"Not at all."
"This is simply the proper way to address a man who lived in a time older even than the King himself..."
"...Lord Maskith."
One of the Dukes of Hell summoned for the coming war against the Shadow Sect had arrived.
The mysterious Maskith.
He had come quietly.
Without fanfare.
For a moment, the two of them simply gazed at the sky of Earth.
One seated.
The other standing beside him.
That moment brought memories rushing back—back to the time when Amon had been nothing more than a frail child.
"Back then, I was nothing more than a lab rat thrown into your experiments," Amon said lightly. "And yet here we are now... a High Demon and a Great Duke."
"Times have changed quite a bit," Maskith replied without altering his expression. "Or rather... you have."
Amon smiled widely, recalling those distant days.
"I never expected you to come," he said with curiosity. "Do you truly intend to fight in the coming battle?"
"If I must, yes," the old man answered calmly, his eyes fixed on Amon.
"I will only fight under one condition—your defeat. If you lose, I will take over the matter myself."
Amon burst into loud laughter.
"So in other words... you will never fight," he said with a grin. "Because I will not lose."
Maskith studied him carefully.
"From what you’re saying... you intend to use that ability?"
Amon nodded.
"Yes. My enemies grow stronger with every passing second... and I don’t believe I can win with my own strength alone."
"I see..." Maskith closed his eyes briefly.
"What a pity then."
"This beautiful sky will not last... if you do."
With that, Maskith turned and began to leave.
"You’re departing so quickly?" Amon asked, turning toward him.
Maskith raised a hand in a casual wave.
"Yes. I will merely observe from the shadows."
"I came today only because I wished to see you again after all these years."
Amon watched him silently for a moment before asking a question that had lingered in his mind.
"By the way, my lord... if you and I fought right now, who do you think would win?"
He asked with a smile.
Maskith stopped and turned back toward him.
"Have you grown arrogant just because you’ve gained a little strength?" the old man said flatly.
"I could still deal with ten of you with ease, boy."
Then he turned again and continued walking away.
"But that would be a different story if you decided to use that forbidden ability of yours."
"No one could defeat you if you did."
Amon smiled but said nothing as Maskith disappeared completely from sight.
The Eleventh High Demon rose to his feet and placed his mask over his face.
"My brother Crimson... I wonder how you are faring."
"Are you fighting? Are you winning?"
"I’m almost finished here... but I’m a little sorry."
"Because even if I win..."
"I will not be able to join you. That ability will exhaust me completely."
"That is truly unfortunate... I had always wanted to fight by your side."
Amon then looked down toward the land below—where the Ultras once lived.
Or rather... what remained of them.
The war had not been going in his favor.
Nito had lost ... and been captured.
Beatrice had died.
A portion of the Ultras had rebelled and joined the Shadow Sect.
The Top Ten High Demons were no longer untouchable.
They were being defeated.
Killed.
Captured.
"I suppose I’ll have to clean up this mess myself."
Slowly, Amon’s body vanished from the tower’s peak.
"I will erase them... just as I erased the others."
His goal was simple.
To annihilate the enemy completely—
All except Frey Starlight, whom he had been ordered to bring back to Helmond.
Once that was accomplished...
His mission would be complete.
And the conflict on Planet Earth would end forever.
Days remaining until the Shattering: 45.