The old man found himself staring at a colossal wave of blue fire ...
so vast it dwarfed mountains—so overwhelming that, for a brief moment... he froze.
He did not move.
But at the last possible instant, a colossal shadow surged upward from the ground—
rising like a towering pillar between him and the incoming beam.
Alexander’s attack collided with it, scattering in all directions in a violent burst of energy.
The shadow was damaged ... but it held.
Alexander frowned immediately, turning his gaze toward the one who intervened—
only to see Vayne returning to the battlefield, her body fully restored.
"What are you doing, you senile old fool?! Were you just going to let him kill you?!"
At the sharp, furious voice ...Wesker’s voice, through Vayne’s body ...
Maskith glanced at him with mild annoyance.
"And who said that strike would have killed me, boy?"
His tone remained calm, almost dismissive, as he continued watching the remnants of the shattered phantom.
"All I realized... is how fragile that imitation truly was. A worthless mockery."
"What the hell are you even talking about?" Wesker snapped, clearly done with Maskith’s cryptic nonsense.
Meanwhile, Alexander Rybak stood amidst rising smoke and dark blue flames, his presence turning increasingly violent.
"Then just die."
Dozens of blazing spheres formed around him ...
and in rapid succession, he punched them one after another, unleashing a barrage of roaring aura beams.
Wesker responded instantly, expanding the King’s Shadow across a vast area ...
intercepting the incoming blasts.
Blue flames and abyssal shadows collided violently, devouring each other in a relentless storm.
Alexander burst forward through the chaos, targeting Maskith directly—recognizing him as the greater threat.
But Maskith tapped the air with his staff, and dark aura surged forth, shaping itself into a raging dragon.
The beast lunged, jaws wide, intent on swallowing Alexander whole.
Alexander ignited his fist and shattered its head instantly, piercing through it without slowing ...
only to find Maskith waiting inside, hidden within the dragon’s body.
Before he could react, the old man placed his hand upon Alexander’s chest.
In that instant ...
Dark energy exploded through Alexander’s body from within, black flames bursting out from his back.
The attack bypassed his exterior, striking his core directly .
The pain was immense—but Alexander endured it.
And countered.
Grabbing Maskith’s arm, he locked him in place
"At this distance... you won’t escape!"
With one hand restraining him and the other igniting once more, Alexander prepared to crush his head ...
but Maskith reacted faster.
He severed his own arm without hesitation, freeing himself instantly and retreating.
Then, with his remaining hand, he formed a strange seal in the air.
A massive dark spear materialized from nothingness ...
slamming into Alexander and sending him crashing toward the ground.
"Do not underestimate me, boy... I have lived far longer than you."
In less than a second, Maskith regenerated his lost arm.
At the same time, Wesker seized the opportunity ... his shadow tendrils surging forward toward Alexander’s impact point.
But Alexander detonated his aura, dispersing the shadows instantly, and shot back into the sky.
"You say you’ve lived longer than me, huh? Maybe you have..."
His iron body expanded slightly as he launched himself forward once again.
"Maybe you’ve lived longer... but you’ve never spent as much time as I have—
forging this power, perfecting these martial arts!"
His fist crashed forward, forcing Maskith to block with difficulty.
Wesker joined in again ... but Alexander deflected the shadows with ease, enduring everything thrown at him.
Despite his massive frame, his movements were fluid ... precise.
Every strike. Every punch. Every kick.
Perfect.
Not even a single percent of error.
No wasted motion.
No wasted effort.
Every one of his decisions was flawless—perfectly optimized for whatever situation his enemies forced upon him.
That explosive fist was no ordinary technique... and Maskith had realized it.
’How long... how many years... did this man devote to forging that fist?’
He wondered with genuine curiosity, silently acknowledging the superiority of his opponent’s martial prowess.
To the point where he could fight both him and Wesker simultaneously... and survive.
No ... more than that. He was winning.
And the reason lay not only in his technique... but in the second anomaly that defined Alexander ...
that strange metallic body of his.
Its durability was beyond reason, enduring all of their attacks without sustaining even the slightest damage.
Alexander Rybak’s body had been forged by Nameless in the distant past ...
designed to be the absolute pinnacle of durability, a living armor that no one could break.
And that... had created a true monster.
Alexander had refined that body to its utmost limits through countless years of relentless training,
guarding the tomb with nothing but discipline and war.
The result... was a monster that stunned everyone—his allies included.
Even Gehrman himself had been astonished by his growth.
Surrounded by Maskith’s darkness and Wesker’s shadows, Alexander endured it all.
His fist shattered a high-ranking demon and pierced through the defenses of a great Hell Duke.
He beat them down, blasted them away, and carved the battlefield with their bodies.
He was like a war machine that never stopped ...
a machine neither the demon nor the old man could find a way to counter.
Overwhelming defense. Explosive offense.
He was the perfect fighter.
Wesker considered using the Eye of the King... but quickly abandoned the thought.
Even if time stopped, even if he could attack freely—
that body would not break.
Not even the King’s Shadow had been able to damage it.
Even Maskith himself was struggling, and the shadow of defeat began to loom.
’Are we... really going to lose... to the Second of the Shadow Sect?!’
Wesker’s mind nearly snapped at the realization ...
that the Shadow Sect had been hiding such a monstrous existence all this time.
But unlike him, Maskith remained calm to the very end...
and that, more than anything, unsettled Alexander.
After clashing with him for so long, Alexander had realized ...
the old man before him was a true monster at the peak of SSS, just like himself.
And despite everything he had shown... his instincts told him the man was still holding something back.
And that instinct... was correct.
"I will admit it, Shadow Sect warrior... your martial arts are truly extraordinary."
Maskith spoke suddenly, even as he endured another strike from the monster before him.
"To surpass even my manipulation of aura... that is no small feat."
"As expected of the material world... its creatures are the strongest among all the worlds of the Writers."
His words came out of nowhere—cryptic, unsettling ..
enough to make Alexander sharpen his guard.
He was winning.
Dominating even.
And because of that... Maskith had been cornered.
"You’ve forced my hand."
Slowly, the old man raised his arm once more.
Alexander stepped back immediately, reinforcing the aura around his body in preparation.
Wesker was out of the fight for now, heavily damaged from the last clash ...
leaving Maskith as the sole threat.
Once he blocked whatever came next...
Alexander intended to unleash everything he had in one final attack—to end it all.
And he was more than capable of doing so.
He could kill Maskith.
But Maskith had no intention of allowing that to happen.
Time seemed to slow.
Alexander saw it ...
a strange power gathering around the old man’s hand.
A gray energy... wrapped in a dark aura.
It carried no pressure. No weight. Nothing threatening.
And yet...
That insignificant power achieved what no other attack had managed.
"Aether: Negative Energy."
From Maskith’s hand, a simple gray beam shot forth ...
striking Alexander’s indestructible body... and piercing through it effortlessly.
A hole was carved into his chest.
And then... another through his back.
Before the stunned eyes of Alexander and Wesker ... Maskith had done the impossible.
He had bypassed Alexander’s absolute defense.
’Aether is divided into two aspects...
positive energy, which creates life and grants unimaginable power...’
’And negative energy... which brings death—erasing all that lives, granting destructive force beyond measure.’
With cold eyes, Maskith spoke as Alexander clutched the massive wound in his chest, struggling to remain standing.
"As one of the Servants... I can wield negative energy.
Only to a limited degree... but more than enough to deal with someone like you."
"You’ve lost, Shadow Sect warrior...
you lost the moment you made me your enemy."
As the power of Aether manifested fully ...
Maskith turned the tables.
And Alexander Rybak... found himself in a situation no one would envy.