Then, without pause, he turned toward the old man—Maskith—
and drifted toward him in slow, deliberate silence.
Maskith saw him coming...
yet did not move.
Until Frey stood directly before him.
"What will you do now, Maskith?"
Frey’s voice whispered beside his ear ..
sending a cold shiver through every fiber of his being.
"Aether won’t work against me. Your control is far inferior."
"Aura won’t save you either—you’re even worse at it."
Frey leaned closer, his face nearly brushing Maskith’s ear.
"So what now? How will you survive? Show me... I’m curious."
In that moment ...
Maskith moved.
The old man dropped to his knees, bowing his head in complete submission.
"The great heir... descendant of the First Writer... creator of this world...
forgive my insolence—pardon the sins committed by these hands!"
He begged for mercy ...
while Frey stared down at him with the same unfeeling coldness.
"What exactly are you doing?" Frey asked flatly.
"Do you think this pathetic apology means anything?"
Maskith raised his head slightly, still kneeling.
"I was never your enemy, my lord.
You are the heir of the one I serve and revere... but forgive me ...
I had to be certain you had truly returned. That is why I attacked."
"Everything I’ve done... was for your return—for your liberation from this world."
His voice carried absolute respect.
Frey looked down at him in silence... then spoke.
"I see... so it was you.
The one who left those ancient traces for me ...
the second servant my mother sent, alongside Audrey."
"That is correct!" Maskith replied firmly, relief flickering across his face.
But that relief...
Vanished instantly.
Frey removed his mask ...
leaning closer, revealing that same chilling smile.
"And? Does that change anything?"
"...Excuse me?" Maskith froze, stunned.
Frey chuckled softly.
"Did you think I wouldn’t kill you... just because of that?"
"In the end, you serve my mother—not me.
Your loyalty belongs to her."
"So why... would I let you live?"
Maskith froze completely, unable to respond—his voice faltering.
"My lord... how could I ever harm you? You are her heir—"
"But you would," Frey cut in coldly.
"If she ordered it. Wouldn’t you?"
"My lady would never—!" Maskith began—
"Enough."
Frey silenced him instantly.
"Spare me your meaningless words. They mean nothing to me."
His eyes glowed with a terrifying intensity as he leaned closer.
"Give me a guarantee. A real one.
Something that ensures your loyalty... to the very end."
"Or I end your life here."
"I... I..." Maskith trembled violently.
"I don’t know... my lord... I truly don’t—"
"Oh? You don’t?"
Frey’s smile widened.
"Then let’s do this instead."
A wet, tearing sound echoed ...
Flesh was pierced.
Blood spilled.
Frey’s hand sank deep into Maskith’s chest.
Then—
From within, positive Aether surged—
that crimson-tinged gray energy enveloping his heart.
Frey tore it out...
and held it before his face.
Smiling.
A cruel, bloodstained smile.
"I can preserve your heart with Aether.
Keep you alive... indefinitely."
"And just as easily... I can end you."
He held the heart closer.
"All I need to do... is crush it."
"This is a proper guarantee."
Maskith stood frozen ... listening in fear.
His life was now in Frey’s grasp.
All it would take ...
was a shift from positive energy... to negative.
And his heart would vanish.
So would he.
"Will you betray her?" Maskith asked, voice trembling.
"Betray the Great Mother?"
"Betray my mother?" Frey frowned.
"Are you insane?"
"How could I ever turn against her?
My love for her... surpasses everything."
He paused ... then smiled faintly, stepping back.
"But... a son may rebel from time to time..."
"...before returning home in the end."
He placed his mask back on.
Then gestured.
"Come."
"It’s time to settle everything... on Earth."
Maskith hesitated only for a moment—
before rising... and following.
His call was directed at Alexander and Shiva, who had witnessed everything ...
standing in stunned silence before the transformed presence of their king.
He was no longer the cold warrior they once knew...
he had become something far more terrifying.
A kind of terror that transcended reason—
as though the world itself had begun to move to his rhythm alone.
And their next destination... was Earth.
With effortless ease, Frey tore open a rift in space and time,
carving a path back to the planet.
He stepped through ... followed by his subordinates... and Maskith ...
leaving Londor behind.
But just before vanishing, he turned his head slightly ...
his gaze fixed on a distant point.
"Every living being is free to choose their path...
but some paths are far darker than others."
"My path is one of shadow and ruin...
tell me... can you walk it?"
With those words, he disappeared—
his presence erased from Londor entirely.
Silence fell.
A heavy stillness reclaimed the battlefield—
lingering for a time...
Until a hand emerged from the rubble.
A trembling hand.
It belonged to a battered, broken demoness...
one who had endured horrors beyond measure.
Vayne crawled forward, her body shattered, barely holding together ...
fighting desperately to survive.
Her face twisted with fear... and burning rage.
"He didn’t kill me... he didn’t..." she whispered, her voice shaking.
"He’s a monster... but a fool! He left me with just enough strength to live!"
She staggered, struggling to move.
"That damned Wesker... I should’ve killed him myself!
How dare he... how dare he do this to me!!"
Her teeth clenched, fury boiling within her—
swearing to return stronger than ever.
But that resolve...
Was crushed instantly.
Shadows burst from beneath her ...
impaling her body like countless black stakes.
They pierced through every inch of her flesh.
Vayne gasped in agony, her bloodshot eyes darting wildly ...
searching for the source.
And then ... She saw her.
Another demoness stood before her.
Long white hair. Twin dark horns.
A flowing black dress that trailed across the ground like living shadow.
"Frey Starlight..." she spoke softly, her voice calm.
"You are the strangest man I’ve ever met... I can no longer understand you at all."
She smiled.
"But you left this gift for me...
so despite everything you claim... you do care. Don’t you?"
"Y-you... what are you doing...?" Vayne stammered, panic rising ...
her eyes locking onto Sansa’s twisted smile.
Sansa said nothing.
The shadows around her trembled ...
then surged forward, tearing Vayne apart.
They twisted... split open... becoming ravenous mouths ...
devouring the Third-Rank demon piece by piece.
Her blood flowed ...
straight into Sansa.
Sansa lifted her gaze toward the distant horizon,
her dark eyes flickering faintly.
"If I am to walk the same path as him...
then I have no choice but to follow it."
"The path of devouring."
The only path...
that would allow a being like her to endure such darkness.
To bear the darkness ...
one must descend into something even deeper.
And so, Sansa made her choice.
To devour her own kind ...
beginning with a Third-Rank demon.
Vayne’s screams didn’t last long.
She was consumed completely.
As silence returned, Sansa closed her eyes...
letting herself sink into her own shadow.
Black veins pulsed beneath her pale skin, glowing faintly.
And then She vanished.
As though she had never existed in Londor at all.