Snow did not respond with words.
Only with steel.
In an instant—
a massive arc of Light Soul energy tore through space,
swallowing Maskith whole.
The Vermithor blazed brilliantly as Snow surged forward .
his blade aimed straight for the old man’s neck.
"So you’re the one behind the Devil’s Seed..."
"The one responsible for all that suffering—!"
His voice thundered with fury.
"There is no place for something like you in this world!"
"You are nothing but a vile existence that brings misery to all life!"
SLAAASH!!
The strike fell.
Clean.
Decisive.
—But stopped.
No.
Caught.
Snow’s eyes widened slowly.
Maskith’s withered hand had seized the blade.
Barehanded.
Effortlessly gripping the edge of Vermithor.
Unharmed.
Untouched.
The previous attack had done nothing.
Not even a mark.
Maskith looked at him.
In his eyes there was no anger.
No disdain.
No recognition.
Only one thing.
Boredom.
"Lord of Light..."
He chuckled softly.
"I won’t argue with you."
"You see yourself as the righteous hero..."
"And me as the corrupt villain."
"But you are ignorant."
"You fail to grasp the truth of this world... and the nature of the beings that inhabit it."
With a sudden motion, Maskith yanked Vermithor toward himself—
dragging Snow along with it against his will.
In the same instant, Maskith leaned in ...
his voice dropping to a whisper at Snow’s ear.
"You... and every insignificant creature in this world..."
"...are nothing more than figures written by a single man’s pen."
"Existences that can be replaced at any moment."
"So tell me... what reason is there not to kill such beings?"
He tapped his staff.
And Snow was sent flying backward—
barely managing to steady himself, shock etched across his face.
"You... what the hell does that even mean?!"
"The meaning is obvious. It requires no explanation."
Maskith chuckled mockingly.
"All you need to understand, Lord of Light... is that you are insignificant."
"Replaceable. At any time."
His eyes.
His posture.
Even the cadence of his voice—
everything affirmed the same truth.
He was not lying.
To him—
all life was disposable.
That realization stirred something within Snow.
Confusion.
Rage.
And a creeping unease.
Without warning ...
Snow ignited Pureflame, merging it with the Light Soul.
The result—
was a surge of power beyond anything he had unleashed before.
An overwhelming eruption of aura—
one that transcended conventional limits.
"Combining two world-breaking abilities..."
Maskith’s tone carried mild interest.
"I see... so you’ve reached this level."
In response—
a calm, gray aura began to envelop his body.
"Come."
"I’ll entertain you for a while."
Despite the monstrous power before him—
Maskith showed no surprise.
No concern.
As if this ...
was entirely within expectation.
He prepared to receive the attack—
but what came...
was not from Snow.
At the final instant ... he moved his staff rose swiftly—
intercepting a descending blade.
A black blade.
Terrifying.
Relentless.
It carried within it the crushing density of a black hole—
and the searing fury of blazing soulfire.
The collision—
was violent.
So violent that Maskith was forced back dozens of meters against his will.
His eyes narrowed ...
fixing on the newcomer.
And unlike before—
this time, there was recognition.
"Frey Starlight..."
"We finally meet."
Maskith smiled.
Frey stood before him—
positioned between Maskith and Snow.
His expression was cold.
Unreadable.
"Duke of Hell, Maskith."
"I didn’t expect you to be the first to fall to my blade today..."
"...but I’m pleased with this outcome."
There was no mistaking it ...
his voice carried pure hostility.
His body ignited with a terrifying force.
A suffocating pressure spread outward—
as killing intent bled into the space between them.
"The truth is..."
"I’ve wanted to kill you with these hands for a very long time."
Frey vanished.
No transition.
No trace.
He simply ceased to exist ...
and reappeared in the same instant.
The Dark Sister warped under the sheer destructive force coursing through it—
as Frey brought it down directly upon Maskith’s head.
Maskith closed his eyes.
Slowly.
The space around him trembled ...
an invisible distortion intercepting the strike.
A barrier.
Unseen—
yet absolute.
The Dark Sister halted before it could touch him.
But Frey did not stop.
His aura surged multiplying in intensity.
The pressure increased forcing both the barrier and Maskith downward .
plummeting toward the earth.
Maskith reacted instantly.
A single tap of his staff .
and an unseen wave of force erupted outward,
slamming into Frey and driving him back.
"Easy now, Frey."
"I have no intention of fighting you."
"I see."
"Then disappear... and spare me the trouble." Frey responded instantly—
unleashing a beam of pure darkness.
Maskith raised another unseen barrier ...
deflecting the attack effortlessly.
At the same time—
Snow moved.
Striking from the opposite side.
"Don’t forget—your other opponent is still here!"
BOOOOOOOOM!!
Light and darkness collided ..
engulfing Maskith completely.
An overwhelming torrent of energy—
more than enough to annihilate anything caught within it.
And yet Maskith walked out of it.
Unharmed.
Not a single mark on his body.
His gaze remained fixed on Frey.
The same faint smile still lingered on his lips.
"Frey Starlight..."
"You don’t have time to waste here."
"I am not your opponent."
He raised a finger—
pointing downward.
"You should look below... before it’s too late."
Frey hesitated.
Only for a moment.
There was something strange in Maskith’s tone ... something deliberate.
Still—
he complied.
His Void Eyes activated—
piercing through space.
And then—
his pupils widened.
Slowly.
"So that’s your plan..."
"You cowardly bastards."
Darkness erupted from his body ...
dense.
Threatening.
"It won’t take me more than a few minutes."
"So stay right where you are, old man..."
"...you’re next."
With that ... he vanished.
Gone.
Leaving only Snow and Maskith behind in the silent void.
Maskith exhaled softly ... almost in relief.
Then turned his attention back to Snow.
"What a terrifying young man..."
"Now then, Lord of Light..."
"Where were we?"
Snow didn’t understand.
Not yet.
But Frey—
had seen everything.
Clearly.
Through the Void eyes.
The enemy he had been waiting for—
had not appeared on the battlefield.
Not on the Ultras Continent.
But somewhere else entirely.
Before the gates of the Shadow Sect ...
stood a man.
A white mask.
Long black hair.
Crimson eyes.
There was something noble about him ...
something... beyond ordinary existence.
Amon.
He had arrived at the Shadow Sect.