"Attack me. All of you. If any one of you manages to land even a single blow upon me, I will guarantee your freedom and leave every one of you unharmed."
Frey’s voice reached the ears of every Upper Demon gathered before him. They stood facing him, tension clearly written across every expression.
"We have no need of your pity, Nameless. We still possess our pride, and we shall never bow to you."
Izalith stepped forward.
The great Blood Witch stood at the head of the demonic ranks with unwavering courage, despite fully understanding the immense gulf that separated her from the man before her.
Yet she showed no intention of retreating.
"If death is my fate today, then I welcome it. At the very least, I will die fighting."
The Blood Witch’s resolve eased some of the pressure Frey’s existence had imposed upon the demons. Many who had considered fleeing now found themselves willing to fight.
"I see that many of you are prepared to die before me, and that is precisely what I would rather avoid."
Frey laughed quietly, entirely unaffected by the overwhelming killing intent directed toward him.
His Void Eyes perceived everything across the battlefield, including Great Earth and Maskith, both of whom had concealed their presence completely. One merely observed, while the other continued carrying out his task.
’My current objective is simply to buy enough time for Great Earth to finish his preparations.’
’Until then, I must stall without killing them.’
While Frey considered his next move, the demons did the same, preparing themselves to oppose him and survive.
Although Asmodeus possessed the highest rank among them, it was clearly Izalith, the Seventh Upper Rank, who had assumed command.
Alongside her stood Yosefka, making three Soul Bearers in total.
Death. Blood. And the Demonic Soul.
Izalith extended her hand, and a crimson staff formed within her grasp. At the same time, her body blazed with the pressure of an SSS-ranked aura.
With a single motion of her staff, an enormous flood of blood erupted outward.
A sea of crimson surrounded them, sealing the battlefield inside a gigantic cocoon of blood.
Frey calmly watched the walls rise, observing them close off the surrounding space.
"Are you attempting to cut off my escape?"
A hint of disappointment appeared beneath his mask.
"If that was your intention, then it was an incredibly foolish move."
His violet eyes slowly rose.
"Because from where I stand, all of you have merely trapped yourselves in here with me."
No answer came.
Instead, Asmodeus attacked.
The Sixth Upper Rank materialized from nothingness behind Frey. Dark aura exploded outward, swallowing Frey’s body and trapping him inside a vast cloud filled with the Aura of Death.
The power of Death Soul could steal life itself.
It was poison to all living things.
Yet Frey made no attempt to defend himself.
He did not move.
Around his body flowed a gray power streaked with crimson.
That force protected him completely, preventing the Aura of Death from affecting him.
Frey extended his hand and grasped part of the death cloud above his palm.
The dark aura attempted to invade his arm, yet it could not penetrate the gray force surrounding him.
A slight smile appeared.
"My power possesses the advantage."
His voice carried genuine satisfaction.
The clash between Positive Aether, which gave life, and Death Aura, which stole it away, had produced a clear victor.
Aether.
For Frey, this was extremely reassuring.
After all, Aether was the greatest weapon against the Aura of the Lords of Mist.
Returning his attention to reality, Frey extended his hand and caught the enormous blood spear Izalith had launched toward him.
Despite its tremendous speed and terrifying sharpness, he halted it against his palm before casually brushing it aside.
Asmodeus increased the pressure of his aura.
Ancient, incomprehensible words escaped the dead demon’s skeletal mouth as he continued flooding the battlefield with Death Aura. The cloud expanded until it became enormous.
Meanwhile, Izalith finally released her full power.
Taking advantage of Asmodeus restraining Frey, she began forming her strongest technique.
Within moments, Blood Soul aura gathered into a gigantic crimson tree.
Its branches resembled monstrous tendrils covered with jagged mouths, like colossal worms and serpents.
The amount of aura Izalith poured into the spell was extraordinary, far surpassing what one would normally expect from an SSS-ranked existence.
The branches descended.
Every blood serpent lunged toward Frey simultaneously, seeking to devour him within the sea of death.
Frey raised his hand in response.
His Aether expanded several meters around him, becoming a shield.
The blood serpents exploded one after another the instant they touched his aura, collapsing into ordinary droplets that scattered through the air.
Izalith’s overwhelming attack failed to inflict the slightest injury.
Yet she never stopped.
She continued attacking without hesitation, pouring out her aura relentlessly.
The Blood Tree shone brighter.
Its branches became stronger.
Standing atop the giant tree, her crimson eyes watched Frey nervously, occasionally turning to inspect what lay behind her.
’Nothing we use affects him... and yet, for some reason, he only defends.’
Her thoughts accelerated alongside the frantic beating of her heart.
Izalith was not a fool.
She understood perfectly that the difference in strength between them and their opponent was immense.
Facing Frey felt frighteningly similar to facing Demon King Agaroth himself.
He gave them the same sensation.
The same despair.
If he truly wished it, killing them should have been effortless.
Yet he had not attacked even once.
That confused Izalith more than anything.
’Is he looking down on us?’
’Or is he planning something?’
She could not understand.
Although surviving this long should have brought her hope, it only increased her anxiety.
Because the man before her seemed as though he were preparing to open the gates of hell itself.
The gray power surrounding him was unlike anything she had witnessed throughout her long life.
From the perspective of the demons, Frey was terrifying.
Meanwhile, from Frey’s own perspective, the matter was far simpler.
He had never intended to attack.
He did not wish to kill any of them.
’Killing the demons would return the Aether used to create them to my mother, increasing her strength and making her even more difficult to deal with.’
’Therefore, I cannot kill any of them for now.’
Frey manipulated his Aether, deliberately deciding to rely solely upon it during this battle instead of using aura.
He wanted to improve his control.
To become accustomed to it.
Unlike the First Author, whose Aether returned to her whenever one of her creations died, Frey could not do the same. He was forced to place his Mark of Life and Death upon living beings if he wished to reclaim their power.
’When creatures of Land of Survival die, the world itself recovers that power, creates new life from it, and keeps that energy circulating within the world rather than returning it to me.’
’That is why I cannot directly reclaim my own Aether.’
’Unlike me, the creatures created by my mother are intruders within this world.’
’When they die, Land of Survival does not recognize them as its own. It treats them as outsiders, causing the Aether used to create them to return directly to where it came from.’
The demons were foreign beings.
They did not belong to Land of Survival.
The moment they died, their power would return directly to Clea.
For that reason, Frey could not kill them.
Instead, he intended to make use of them in a far more valuable way.
Since the battle began, he had not moved a single step.
His eyes calmly observed the battlefield.
"It seems they are preparing to do something soon."
From what he had observed, Frey realized that the attacks launched by Asmodeus and Izalith were nothing more than an attempt to stall for time.
He had willingly granted them that time himself.
And out of sheer curiosity, he chose to wait a little longer and see what exactly they had prepared for him.
With every passing second, Izalith intensified her assault, while Asmodeus did the same.
A crimson tide raged before him.
A deadly sea of black mist surged behind him.
The powers of Blood and Death had both been pushed to their utmost limits, creating a breathtaking spectacle of red and black that dominated the battlefield.
Yet at the center of that magnificent storm stood a single patch of gray.
Small.Quiet and utterly immovable.
It eclipsed the majesty of both souls with absurd ease.
"Compared to him... this blood feels insignificant."
Frey slowly closed his eyes.
For a brief moment, the crimson assault reminded him of an old face, one he had long since buried beneath countless years.
A memory.
A shadow from the distant past.
"The power of Souls declines dramatically when wielded by someone other than their original bearer."
His voice was calm.
"I already knew that, but the difference is far greater than I expected."
His patience had begun to wear thin.
His opponents had failed to show him anything particularly interesting, and he had already started considering ending the battle quickly and subduing them without taking their lives.
That intention, however, changed.
For the first time since the battle had begun, the pressure surrounding him shifted.
A powerful aura suddenly began to swell.
Turning his head slightly, Frey realized that the source of the pressure lay beyond the walls of blood Izalith had created.
Those crimson barriers had never been intended as a prison.
They were merely a curtain.
A veil concealing something hidden behind them.
Feeling that growing pressure, the corners of Frey’s lips slowly rose.
His violet eyes narrowed with genuine interest.
"I can feel something demonic approaching."