Despite feeling fully capable of continuing the fight,
Alexander obeyed without hesitation, bowing deeply.
"As you command!"
With absolute submission, he withdrew immediately ...
heading toward Shiva, who had already entered the battlefield.
’Come, Alexander. I’ll restore your aura.’
Her voice echoed in his mind, and he nodded, moving to her at once.
Though Frey had healed his body completely,
he had not restored his aura ... Aether could not create it.
As Alexander retreated, Frey turned toward Maskith... and Wesker.
"So... servant of the First Writer..." he said coldly,
before shifting his gaze to the demon beside him.
"And you... Fourth-Rank Demon—Wesker."
Wesker’s expression twisted the moment he heard his name ...
realizing Frey saw him clearly.
"Come at me. Both of you."
It was Frey’s voice.
The same young man Wesker had once tormented endlessly.
The same—without a doubt.
And yet... the weight behind his words had changed entirely.
The being before him...
was no longer something he could understand.
Maskith froze in place.
Wesker, however, attacked immediately—
unleashing his shadows at full power.
Everything he had. His full aura. His peak control.
A dark tidal wave surged forward ...
a devouring abyss aimed to swallow Frey whole.
Frey did not move.
He didn’t even attempt to defend.
The wave stopped before him... then dissolved completely ...
circling around his body in a perfect arc.
It completed a full rotation ...
Then reformed... and surged back toward Wesker.
The demon stood stunned—
his own attack reflected back at him... without Frey lifting a single finger.
Wesker forced himself to respond, pouring everything he had into blocking it ...
triggering a massive, ear-splitting explosion.
He survived.
But the moment the blast faded ...
Frey was already in front of him.
Staring through the hawk-like slits of his mask.
Wesker felt it immediately.
That bitterness. That fear.
The same feeling he had only ever known...
when standing before a single being.
He tried to deny it.
But every attempt led him to the same conclusion.
Those eyes...
And the pressure behind them...
Were identical... to what he felt in the presence of Agaroth.
"Wesker... how many times have we cursed each other by now?"
Frey spoke calmly, his voice low and steady. Wesker didn’t answer ... he attacked instead.
But every strike dissolved the moment it neared Frey’s body, as though reality itself rejected him.
Even his fist failed to reach him... Vayne’s hardened arm disintegrating the instant it entered Frey’s domain.
"Your existence disgusts me, Wesker... it offends my very sight ...
especially when I remember that it was my mother who brought creatures like you into being."
"What the hell are you talking about?!" Wesker snapped, fury rising.
"You don’t need to understand. There’s no value in it for you.
You won’t be seeing the light again."
Frey’s voice turned colder—darker—
as he raised his hand and seized Wesker’s face, moving for the first time since entering the battlefield.
At that very moment, Maskith struck from behind ...
forming that same dark gray Aether, attempting to catch Frey off guard with the very attack that pierced Alexander before.
But the moment he tried to release it...
The Aether exploded in his own hands.
It spiraled out of control violently ...
and in an instant, both of Maskith’s arms vanished, erased from existence as blood poured from what remained.
Only then did Maskith realize ..
Frey had interfered with his Aether... from a distance, without even turning to look at him.
"Don’t bother," Frey said, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.
"You already know servants can’t compete with Writers."
"Stay where you are. Don’t move. I’ll deal with you... soon."
His gaze returned to Wesker.
"And now... step out. Stop hiding behind your sister’s disgusting face."
In less than a second, Frey’s hand pierced through Vayne’s chest—
then withdrew just as quickly.
A dark flame erupted from within her body,
taking shape twisting ... until it became the form of a grotesque demon spirit.
Three eyes. Horns tearing through its skull.
Wesker’s soul.
Frey discarded Vayne’s body without care, letting it fall into the distance ...
his full attention now fixed on the demon before him.
Wesker trembled, terror overtaking him as he realized ...
he had been dragged out... effortlessly.
Left with no options, he activated his final card.
His soul ignited—then slipped through Frey’s arm, invading his body.
Possession.
The ability he had spent countless years refining.
"Maskith!!!" Wesker roared, desperation filling his voice.
"Use your control over life and death—help me bind him!!"
This was their plan.
With Maskith’s power rivaling Nameless in manipulating life and death,
Wesker intended to seize Frey’s body.
But no matter how many times he called—
Maskith didn’t move.
He simply stood there... watching.
Fear, raw and unmistakable, etched across his face.
"Damn you, old bastard!!"
Forced to act alone, Wesker unleashed his technique inside Frey’s inner world ...
dark chains erupting around Frey, binding him completely.
Wesker stood before him, reaching out—attempting to take control.
Then ...
Everything flipped.
In the next instant, Wesker found himself bound ...
while Frey stood before him, completely free.
"...What?" Wesker gasped, staring at the chains—his chains—wrapped around him.
Frey laughed softly.
"So this is it? Your grand plan, Wesker?"
Mocking him, Frey removed his mask—
revealing violet eyes filled with cold, merciless killing intent.
"Did you really think you could steal my body... with something so pathetic?"
"You’re trying to play with life and death...
against the one who granted life to this entire world?"
His laughter grew louder.
"Even with Maskith’s help... the outcome would’ve been the same."
With every word Frey spoke, the chains tightened around Wesker.
The demon struggled violently ... panic consuming him completely.
"You’ve always clung to life like a parasite, Wesker...
You fear it, don’t you?"
"You fear death... so much that you created this ability—
to flee into other bodies whenever it comes for you."
Frey’s smile widened slowly as he raised his hand.
"But don’t worry... I won’t kill you."
"Death is a mercy you don’t deserve."
"You’ll live, Wesker...
you’ll live inside me... as your soul burns to ash."
"And that ash... will become power. Power I’ll use to crush my enemies."
Wesker trembled, every part of him breaking down ...
Frey’s expression now nothing short of a nightmare.
As if the roles had reversed ...
as if he had become human... and the one before him, the true demon.
"Burn. Suffer. For whatever time you have left,
Fourth-Rank Demon."
"This is the last time we curse each other...
and the last time I ever see your wretched face."
"Disappear... and fade into oblivion."
With a single motion, Frey cast Wesker’s soul away ...
sending it spiraling into the abyss.
Deeper.
And deeper.
Until it reached the depths...
Where another soul already burned.
The soul of Thanatos—
A soul that had suffered so long...
its owner had lost his mind long ago.
Wesker stared at him in terror—afraid, broken, reduced to something he had never been before.
Here, in the depths of darkness, he could do nothing.
Here... he learned the true meaning of helplessness.
He trembled again and again until suddenly, without warning...
A raging inferno erupted from within him.
His soul ignited, burning slowly ...
and with it came unbearable agony.
Pain so overwhelming it drove him mad.
He screamed. And screamed.
He begged. He groveled. He pleaded for mercy.
But in those depths... his voice reached no one.
Nothing remained ...
only eternal torment... until he faded from existence.
And in that moment... Wesker understood.
This was the end.
The Fourth-Rank Demon was erased—
his existence completely extinguished.
Frey ended him without hesitation.