THE VILLAIN'S POV

In the heart of the Ultras continent—at the crown of its wastes ..

a lone man moved like a shadow, slipping past whatever lay within.

Rain, rare upon that barren land, began to pour in sheets.

As the cold drops struck his skin, Frey Starlight felt something ominous drawing near.

"How much farther?" he called out, voice low but firm.

"You're very close ..just a few kilometers west and you'll be there," Seris answered at once.

"Copy."

He accelerated. With the others still far out, he would be the first to reach the place where their allies had vanished. At his current speed, every second ate distance.

"Be careful, Frey. There's a high chance whatever's waiting is a trap," Seris warned.

"It's fine. I'll handle it."

The rain intensified with each stride ..and with it, the malignant pressure pressing on Frey's heart.

"I've sent Snow Lionheart the coordinates as well, but he'll be delayed ..ran into some obstacles. The main force is moving toward you now," Seris went on, unusually tense.

Frey stayed silent.

"Be careful, Frey… be… ca .."

Her voice began to break, as if something were jamming the signal.

"Seris? What is it? Can you hear me?"

"F… re…y… wa—…re…fu—…"

The sound cut in and out—and then died entirely.

The crystal went dark. Frey tossed it aside.

"Let's see what's waiting for me this time."

He slammed a foot down, launched forward, and the promised place rushed up to meet him. Step by step, he drew closer—until, with Seris gone, only the drumming rain filled his ears.

His task was simple: find the teams led by Ellen White and Frost Monlight. Seventy people in all ..not few, not many.

After a hard run, he stopped. In the middle of the desolation rose a crooked range of stone, and at its foot gaped the mouth of a vast cavern.

A cave. If they were anywhere, it would be inside.

He flared his aura, sweeping the ground before him, searching for an enemy. Nothing. No trace. Even stretching his reach to the limits, he felt no one.

So he stepped in.

In seconds, the dark swallowed him.

Silence. Only the rain behind him, a distant hiss.

As he advanced, his eyes adapted; with Hawk's Eye, the blackness gave way to detail ..and then he saw what he had not expected.

The cavern was enormous. And full.

Full of bodies.

Some he did not recognize at all. Others were unmistakable ..faces he had seen only hours ago in the glow of a campfire, voices that had traded easy words with him.

They were mangled, slaughtered with grotesque cruelty: limbs severed, torsos crushed, features carved away. Blood soaked the stone.

Frey's expression did not change. Death did not surprise him anymore. He walked on.

Deeper in, the tunnel ended ..and he understood what had happened to the missing.

Before him hung a familiar corpse.

He had been stabbed to death, his face defaced beyond recognition. Whoever had done this had done it thoroughly.

Frost Monlight was there, dead and ruined. His great spear, the Rimeshard, had been taken from him and used to impale him—his body displayed on it like a warning.

Beside him slumped a girl he knew as well, propped against the wall. All her limbs had been cut away. Her eyes had been gouged .. dried rivers of blood stained her cheeks—and her throat was destroyed, her voice forever silenced.

Her white hair was now a muddy, dark red. She had been dead for some time.

Ellen White.

Frey stood looking at them for a heartbeat. Then he let out a low, heavy laugh.

"How strange," he murmured. "How absurd."

You speak with someone one day ..and the next you find them like this.

Death was closer than anyone realized.

As he stood before the bodies, a voice rose out of the dark behind him ..one he had not sensed until the very last instant, his instincts exploding in warning.

"You're laughing, Frey Starlight. That's disappointing. I thought I did excellent work here."

The voice was thick, grating.

Its owner was tall, broad-shouldered ..four horns arcing from his skull.

A ruined grin split a warped face; amethyst eyes burned with a predatory light beneath a black, flame-like cloak of aura.

"Zibar," Frey whispered, turning to face the demon head-on.

"Are you the one who did this?"

"Do you see anyone else here?" Zibar shot back with a mocking laugh.

"I see… then it's time for the likes of you to join this war," Frey said, voice cold as he advanced on careful feet.

Zibar shook his head. "Not 'the likes of us'—just me. I disobeyed orders, as you can see."

"Understood," Frey replied curtly, and Zibar studied him with interest.

"Hm… calmer than I expected. Tell me, Frey Starlight .. weren't those worthless gnats your comrades?"

"They were."

"Feel nothing about the way they died? Like this? They screamed a lot when I played with them .. especially that short girl.

Her voice was so annoying I had to shred her throat to shut her up. As for the boy beside her… brave enough at first—but the moment his spear couldn't scratch me, he crumpled. Hilarious, really. I could hardly stop myself .. hahaha!"

Frey cut him off. "Save the provocation. Their lives don't mean much. They went to war and died in battle because they were weak. That's all."

Zibar paused, then chuckled. "I see. Perhaps I should've targeted others—those closer to you. But I'm no expert in such games. That's Wesker's specialty."

"Enough talk. You're here to fight, aren't you?" Frey's patience thinned.

"I'm here to kill you."

"Good. Then let's change the place .. I've no desire to fight you here."

"Inside, outside .. makes no difference. The ending's the same. But have it your way, hee-hee… lead on, Frey Starlight."

Zibar followed as Frey turned and left the cave. The demon strolled behind him, amused, while Frey clenched his fists to keep himself steady.

For all his composure, his heart hammered in his chest. How could it not, when his opponent was Zibar .. tenth-rank high demon ..

a monster bearing one of Agaroth's own abilities?

With a sidelong glance, Frey measured him. He hadn't sensed Zibar before, but now that the demon had revealed himself, the pressure of his aura was unmistakable .. though weaker than when they'd first crossed paths at the start of the war.

Matching what he felt with what he knew of the High Demons, Frey concluded this was perhaps 50 to 60 percent of the main body's power.

Half strength or not, that half was terrifying .. far beyond the likes of Joseph Blattier.

"Don't overthink it, Frey Starlight," Zibar said, clearly savoring Frey's calculations. "Thinking won't help you."

They stepped out into the open. Rain hammered the barren plain as they faced each other.

"Fight with everything you've got," Zibar said, folding his arms. "Show me everything. Try to live to the end .. and show me what you're really made of. If you don't, I'll be disappointed."

Frey drew Balerion and Dark Sister.