Before Agaroth, Sieghart felt as though he were facing a creature dragged forth from the depths of a nightmare itself.
A man born from the abyss of hell to bring despair... a black hole that devoured hope and transformed it into absolute hopelessness.
The Eternal Death Tempest unleashed from Sieghart’s blade had struck its target. He was certain of it. The wound Nameless had inflicted upon the Demon King had widened violently, torn open far further than before.
And yet, the King of Demons showed no concern for his injuries—nor for the sword buried deep within his chest.
Instead, he swallowed both the blade and its wielder alike, driven by greed to claim every ounce of his power.
The sword sank deeper... and Sieghart’s arms were dragged in with it, his entire body nearly following after.
Before him, Agaroth’s smile widened, revealing a demonic visage no sane creature could gaze upon for long without losing its mind.
But Sieghart’s nerves were forged from iron.
Gathering the last of his strength, green blazing aura erupted around him and condensed into a pure sword of energy.
He clenched it between his teeth with everything he had left... and without hesitation—
He brought it down.
Cleanly severing both of his arms.
Thus freeing himself.
Sieghart immediately leapt backward, torrents of blood exploding from the stumps of his severed limbs.
The human warrior barely managed to stop the bleeding.
Meanwhile, his arms and sword disappeared forever into Agaroth’s abyssal body.
The Demon King chuckled softly, thoroughly entertained by what his opponent had done.
"Still struggling to survive until the very end... Is your life truly that precious to you?"
Sieghart laughed weakly in response.
"I know I’ll die someday. Unlike you, I’m not some cursed abomination to whom death means nothing."
"But..."
He forced himself upright, smiling despite the horrifying figure standing before him.
"If I’m going to die, then I’d rather die surrounded by beautiful women... lying in a warm bed while watching my legacy flourish before my eyes."
"That’s how I want to die... not by being devoured by some hideous monster."
Sieghart spoke his mind without hesitation, despite his pitiful state—his limbs severed, his face pale as death itself.
"You truly do have remarkable nerves. I’ll give you that," Agaroth replied, genuinely impressed by the man’s composure before the strongest creature in the world.
"Hahaha... your praise means nothing to me."
Sieghart collapsed onto his knees, breathing with extreme difficulty.
"Don’t pretend to be strong. That last attack drained every bit of aura you had left... am I wrong?"
Agaroth approached slowly, rendering Sieghart’s desperate act meaningless—nothing more than a delay of the inevitable.
"Sieghart... human warrior..."
"The world you live in is ruled by power alone."
Within the King’s palm, a black spear formed from shadow and flame.
Gripping it casually, he drove it through Sieghart’s back just as the warrior attempted to rise again.
A painful groan escaped Sieghart despite his efforts to suppress it.
His long green hair spilled across his face, and his handsome features grew increasingly lifeless.
"Trying to survive against an opponent vastly stronger than you holds no meaning. Your life is already in my hands."
"I can kill you."
Agaroth created another spear and drove it through Sieghart’s left thigh.
Then another through the right.
"Or I can keep you alive... and prolong your suffering. Just as I am doing now."
Another spear pierced Sieghart’s body.
Each strike was placed with perfect precision, carefully avoiding fatal damage every single time.
"You do not possess the freedom to choose how you die," Agaroth said coldly before sitting atop a nearby boulder, utterly unconcerned with the ruined battlefield around him.
"You possess nothing at all."
Meanwhile, waves of agony surged through Sieghart’s entire body.
"Why... why didn’t you kill me?" he asked with difficulty, unable to understand Agaroth’s intentions.
The spears had turned him into something akin to a living pincushion. They sent icy pain through his spine... yet none of them killed him.
Instead, they maintained him precisely at the boundary between life and death.
Agaroth turned his lone remaining eye toward him briefly before looking ahead once more.
"There is no reason for keeping you alive. It is merely a whim."
"Even if I kill both you and the dying Great One over there... I still won’t be able to leave this planet."
Tilting his head toward the sky, he realized the task was nearly complete.
Every living being on Earth had already been slaughtered. Only Sieghart and the Great One remained alive.
Alongside the surviving Ultras and demons.
As for those who had gone to Londor—
Gehrman was already dead, erased completely from existence.
And Frey...
His case was far more complicated.
Because according to Amon’s Balance ability, both he and Nameless were considered dead.
Or rather... that was the conclusion the power itself had reached.
Which meant Agaroth could not pursue them.
’The girl carrying the King’s Shadow was never on this planet to begin with...’
Agaroth recalled Sansa.
He had once searched for her while attempting to pressure Frey. Killing her before his eyes had been something he genuinely desired... but her absence had spared her from death.
Since he could not chase them down, Agaroth simply chose to wait for their return instead.
He was absolutely certain Frey would not die.
No—
It was impossible for him to die.
’Writers are different. Even if he dies within this world... he remains alive so long as his true body exists in the Aether Realm.’
Frey had already died several times since entering his world... and each time, he returned.
Broken. Distorted. Scarred.
But he always returned.
His latest form had been Frey Starlight.
Before that, Nameless.
And long before either of them... he had appeared under countless other identities lost to history itself.
He always returned.
But never completely.
Every time, he came back distorted... fractured into something incomplete.
That was why Agaroth had never devoured him.
Why he had allowed him to continue living, again and again.
The Demon King stood there in silence, gazing into the distance with terrifying dignity despite the countless massacres and horrors he had wrought.
He had slaughtered innumerable living beings without the slightest hesitation.
His chest remained split open, a glowing abyss shining from within, while one of his eyes had been carved apart by the wound as well... yet none of it seemed to bother him in the slightest.
Staring at him, the dying Sieghart found himself strangely curious about this dark creature before him.
"Demon King..." he called out weakly.
"What do those eyes of yours see?"
Agaroth turned toward the insignificant man he had spared merely on a whim.
And now, of all things... he was asking him such a question.
"You wish to know what these eyes see?" Agaroth smiled.
"All I see are tedious, insignificant creatures. A tiny world. A sky whose ceiling hangs far too low to possess any true height."
"A vast universe... yet one that feels unbearably narrow to me."
"A world full of life and movement... and yet dead and empty in my eyes."
"There is nothing I have ever despised more than belonging to this world..."
"...a world that has become my prison."
Agaroth slowly clenched his fist.
A monstrous hand capable of crushing everything in existence itself.
"All of you believe I am merely imprisoned within Hellmond because of Nameless’ seal."
"But you are all ignorant."
He exhaled slowly, revealing dark emotions that made Sieghart avert his gaze unconsciously.
"My true chains..."
"...extend far beyond Helmond."
What Agaroth had just said was bizarre. Fascinating.
Sieghart felt his curiosity deepen despite himself.
"I don’t understand... What exactly are you talking about?"
What prison?
What chains could possibly bind a monster like him?
Agaroth smiled at Sieghart.
"Do you truly wish to know, human Sieghart?"