The masked warrior deflected, evaded, and broke through.
His swords carved across Agaroth’s armor again and again.
He seized control.
Reclaiming dominance in swordsmanship.
How?
The answer lay within the King’s Domain.
Unable to keep up with the King’s transformed state, Nameless reshaped the Domain entirely ...
Forcing it to focus on adapting to Agaroth’s new form.
Within seconds ...
He rebuilt his world-breaking ability.
That was the shift.
That was why his aura had changed.
It was a gamble.
A gamble with his life... and the outcome of the entire battle.
Would he fall before the Domain completed its adaptation?
Or would it succeed first?
Nameless chose to believe.
He believed in his power.
The power he forged from nothing.
And the result—
Was a complete reversal of the battle’s tide.
The blades could no longer wound him.
Agaroth was forced onto the defensive.
Nameless’ swords danced through space.
Painting a masterpiece of violet flame, gray destruction, and dark aura.
He looked like an artist ...
Daring to present his work before a nightmare named Agaroth.
For a moment—
The King was surprised.
And in the next—
That surprise turned into joy.
His smile widened.
His power rose.
Dark aura surged.
His strikes grew heavier.
Each blow shattered and erased vast portions of the ground beneath them.
Until the land itself disappeared—
And the two fought in open space.
They wounded each other.
Again.
And again.
Each strike landed.
Each injury formed ...
And healed instantly.
But what made this battle truly extraordinary ...
Was this:
Nameless had reached him.
He had matched the King.
Erased the difference—
Through absolute control.
A level of mastery beyond limits.
A level no one else had ever reached.
They clashed without pause, grinding against each other until even the void seemed to tremble.
Each strike drew blood, each exchange shattered flesh and force alike.
Yet neither fell.
Violet flames collided with raging darkness, and the clash between them burned like the birth of a dying star.
Far from everything, in a forgotten corner of the universe, they fought unseen.
No eyes bore witness. No being even knew they existed there.
Blow after blow, attack after attack ...
an endless chain of destruction that refused to break.
Nameless’ blades tore through Agaroth’s armor, cutting, carving, wounding ...
doing everything that should have been enough.
But the King remained standing.
And with every passing second... his power only grew.
He still had more.
Far more.
Endless horrors remained within him, yet his opponent kept pace—
endured, resisted, survived.
It was a battle that echoed something ancient.
A clash that had once taken place long ago between the same two beings.
That echo traveled—deep, distant—
until it reached Frey.
Standing once more within the darkness, he watched Nameless fight in his place.
The being who had taken upon himself the task Frey had failed to complete.
Frey had lost.
He had surrendered.
After watching Agaroth slaughter everyone... after being defeated without effort...
he had fallen.
And he no longer had the strength to stand.
How could he ...
against an existence no one could even dream of defeating?
Yet Nameless stood.
Nameless fought.
He carried the burden of saving countless souls—
despite owing them nothing.
He endured against the Demon King.
Even knowing victory was impossible...
he kept fighting, believing that somewhere within the battle itself—there had to be a path.
It was absurd. Impossible.
And yet he survived Agaroth’s assaults.
Deflected his copies.
Withstood his world-breaking attacks.
Even endured the form the King had created specifically to defeat him.
He endured through one thing ...
Perseverance.
And if there was anyone worthy of being called a true warrior...
It was that masked man.
Frey knew that now.
Yet even so—
even with all that perseverance—
Victory remained distant.
Untouchable.
Nameless fought against time itself.
Every moment, every breath, he searched for a way—
a single path that could overturn the impossible.
His perseverance could not defeat the King.
But it did something else.
It allowed the other half of himself... to rise again.
Life returned to Frey’s eyes.
His hand clenched.
His eyes shut tightly ...
Then opened once more, burning with a resolve unlike anything before.
"Nameless..."
He spoke the name of the man without a name.
And his voice reached him.
"Burn it."
"Burn my soul... and turn it into fire that will give you strength."
His words echoed through the spiritual world.
And they reached Nameless ...
Who froze in shock.
"I refuse."
The answer came instantly.
But Frey did not accept it.
"No... you don’t get to refuse."
"You know it yourself."
"No matter how far you push my body... you won’t defeat him."
Frey lowered his head slightly.
The echoes of battle continued to reverberate within his soul.
"I’m... different."
"There’s something inside me... something that once allowed me to create a monster like Agaroth."
"A power I cannot draw out on my own... no matter how hard I try."
He lifted his gaze.
"But you... might be able to."
"You’re not like me."
"So burn it."
"Burn my soul... and use it to fight him."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I know you can do it."
"No... you’re the only one who can."
Silence fell.
Nothing remained ...
except the distant sound of clashing blades.
Nameless said nothing.
Because he hesitated.
Because something within him... a strange bitterness—tightened around his chest.
He had changed.
He had gained emotions.
And now they weighed on him... heavier than ever before.
"Do you even understand... what will happen if your soul burns?"
"Do you understand what that means for you?!"
His grip tightened around his swords.
His voice carried something unfamiliar ...
Pain.
But Frey remained calm.
And answered in a steady tone.
"Yes."
"I understand."
"To do this... I have to die."
He turned slowly.
Looking toward the sea of blood that had once been his world—
Now collapsed entirely into darkness.
Everything had fallen...
Except for one place.
The place where the blade had been driven—
where the path had been carved.
"But my life doesn’t matter."
"The path does."
Frey smiled faintly.
"If my death is enough to pave the way... then I won’t hesitate."
"Not even for a second."
"Because I know... you’ll walk that path."
"We didn’t carve it alone."
"We carved it together."
He raised his head high.
His expression carried no fear.
Only absolute acceptance.
"Burn it."
"Burn it... and turn its ashes into the power you need."
"The path we created... together."
The cost was simple.
The death of one man.
And the suffering of another.
Frey would die ...
his soul turned into raging fire to guide the way forward.
And Nameless would bear the pain ...
forced to grow stronger through it.
From Frey’s right eye... a tear fell.
From Nameless’ left... another mirrored it.
Frey brought his blood-soaked hands together before his face.
His body ignited—
Violet flames roaring to life.
And on his face...
There was peace.
His soul burned.
And with it ... His entire world.
In that moment, Nameless abandoned all restraint.
His calm shattered completely, his eyes igniting with overwhelming grief and fury.
He roared.
A deep, thunderous scream that shook the very fabric of the universe ...
a cry of pain and wrath so profound... that something within the King’s chest trembled.
The being standing before him had changed.
Nameless was no longer the same man.
The masked warrior rose into the void, lifting his blade toward the heavens.
And then—power surged.
A vast, overwhelming force poured forth, flooding the cosmos above them...
drowning everything beneath its weight.
Agaroth’s eyes widened.
Something inside him... pulsed violently.
From Nameless’ blade, an immense power erupted ... taking form as a devouring violet star that spread across the universe itself.
It swallowed everything.
It swallowed the Demon King.
Agaroth vanished entirely within its radiance ...
reduced to nothing before its overwhelming grandeur.
And in that moment...
The King felt something he had never experienced before.
For the first time in his existence ...
Agaroth felt threatened.
He felt fear.
He felt unease... uncertainty...
As he faced something he could not be sure he would survive.
These were new emotions.
Foreign. Unfamiliar.
Born from a truth he had never known—
that he had come closer to death than ever before.
The Demon King no longer held back.
For the first time, he abandoned all restraint—
unleashing the entirety of his power against Nameless’ attack.
Between the savage, echoing howl of the masked warrior...
and the full might of the King unleashed in response ...
This bitter, catastrophic battle...
Finally reached its end.