THE VILLAIN'S POV

Chapter 343: The Devil’s Bargain (2)

“Seventeen years ago, the War of Light ended with Abraham Starlight’s victory over his opponent—the immortal human demon, Dragoth.”

“But contrary to what everyone believed, Dragoth… the only man who ever stood on equal ground with Abraham… didn’t die. He is still alive.”

Dragoth, the former wielder of the Moonlight Sword, and the once-king of the Ultras.

“No one in the Empire—not even my father, Maekar—could kill him once the truth was discovered. So they locked him away in a secret prison, sealed with four keys.”

Now, those keys had been brought together.. for the first time.

“All that’s left… is for you to play your part.”

What Aegon had just revealed were secrets known only to a select few. Even the lords who had been entrusted with safeguarding the keys had no idea that the monster they were guarding… was Dragoth himself.

Dragoth was unique .. unlike the current leader of the Ultras, the Rank 19 demon Astaroth, Dragoth was human…

A human from the Ultras—born in filth like the rest of them—climbed his way through mountains of corpses and death until he reached the peak. He became the only contractor in history to break free from his demonic pact and completely liberate himself from the demons’ control.

He was a symbol within the Ultras continent. No one ever truly accepted the notion that he had died at the hands of Abraham Starlight.

That’s why the old ones—like Gavid Lindman—could never let go of the possibility that he might still be alive.

“You really are a strange one, Rogue Prince.”

Mergo cut in, his eyes fixed on Aegon and the keys in his hand.

“I know we’re making a deal here, and you’ve held up your end of it… but I don’t get it. Aren’t you taking a huge risk?”

“Oh? And how exactly am I risking anything?”

Aegon didn’t flinch. He met Mergo’s approach without a hint of hesitation.

“For example, don’t you think I could simply take those keys from you and call off this entire thing?”

Faced with two Lords of the Ultras and their followers—what could one prince do?

How would he respond to such a threat?

Aegon didn’t show the slightest concern. He leaned on one hand, still smiling calmly at them.

“Go ahead and try. You’ll find out soon enough.”

That reply made Mergo burst into laughter, unable to hold it back. Gavid Lindman, meanwhile, simply observed from the shadows as Aegon—speaking from atop a pile of corpses—continued to look down on them with composed arrogance.

“Fascinating… truly fascinating, Rogue Prince.”

Mergo, for the first time in years, felt something he hadn’t felt in ages—ignorance.

What did this strange prince possess that allowed him to remain so confident in front of two Lords who could kill him in a single blow?

What kind of plan… what kind of leverage gave him the right to act this high and mighty?

That was when Mergo noticed it.

In that dark place, beneath the moonlit sky, the moon cast its light directly upon Aegon’s figure sitting atop the corpses.

His thin, lean frame cast a giant shadow—so massive it encompassed both Mergo and Gavid beneath it.

What he said might’ve sounded like empty bravado… yet no one dared to test it.

“We’ll hold up our end of the deal.”

This time it was Gavid who spoke, his tone cold and steady.

“Glad to hear it.”

Aegon nodded with satisfaction, tossing the keys toward Gavid, who caught them effortlessly.

“Gavid Lindman. Your blade will be the one to sever this thread of fate and open a new path. There’s no turning back now.”

“…”

Gavid said nothing. He simply turned and began walking away, the others following him—including Leonides. Only Mergo remained a while longer near Aegon.

“So? How does it feel, Prince, now that everything has gone exactly according to plan?”

Aegon shrugged, unconcerned.

“I don’t feel anything in particular.”

As if this outcome had been inevitable from the start.

Failure had never been a consideration.

From the very beginning, Aegon had known everything would fall into place.

Mergo found himself growing more and more curious about the prince.

This level of confidence… just what is he hiding beneath his sleeve?

For now, the Lord of the Hollow Swarm decided to stay close, if only to uncover the secret behind the mask worn by Aegon Valerion.

“But I do wonder… will you really be able to fulfill your end of the deal?”

This was a perfectly balanced exchange. Aegon gave them the key to unleash a monster on the level of Dragoth.

In return, what he wanted was something of equal weight—and Mergo wasn’t worried about that.

“No need to worry. Lindman and I will handle it.”

As he spoke, Mergo pulled out his flask and attempted to take a swig—only to find it empty.

“…Ran out. Did I say we would handle it? I meant Lindman will handle it.”

As always, Mergo wasted no time shifting the responsibility the moment he got the chance.

“Are you sure? He’ll die if he goes alone.”

“Hmmm… you’re probably right. But who knows? Lindman’s actually serious this time.”

“Then I look forward to your performance.”

Aegon leapt down from the corpse mound, ready to leave now that his work was done.

His last words felt like a farewell—but Mergo stopped him one last time.

“You’re awfully greedy, Rogue Prince. Your ambition reaches the heavens. Wasn’t the Empire enough for you?”

Mergo never expected an answer to that final question. He had asked it purely out of mischief…

But the prince turned toward him, his smile fading as if he’d just heard one of the dumbest questions imaginable.

“What’s so special about ambition that makes me crave something as trivial as Earth? That’s not ambition. It’s simply… inevitable. That’s all there is to it.”

Leaving Mergo stunned by the unexpected response, Aegon finally departed, setting off in search of the remaining elite students.

“This land is more cursed than I thought…”

Mergo muttered before vanishing into the shadows himself.

That day, in the desolate lands of the Nightmare—

One of the most diabolical deals in the Empire’s history was struck.

A pact whose shadow would stretch deep into the future…

…

…

…

Since the random teleportation, days passed—one after the other—each bringing new shifts and unknowns.

The elite students scattered in every direction, some searching for their comrades, others choosing to move alone, desperate to survive in their own way.

Among them, on a rainy night, Frey finally reached one of the cities nestled within the forsaken plains.

He already knew how the Ultras lived—divided into two castes.

The Highbloods, the elite of the second generation who had successfully integrated demon blood, made up less than 10%. They lived in great cities, more advanced and prosperous than even the Empire itself.

The rest… the Lowbloods—those who failed to assimilate the demon blood—were left to rot, either as mutated creatures or as outcast humans stripped of dignity and basic rights.

Now, standing before the gates of one such forsaken city, Frey had spent the last few days searching for his lost classmates.

And now, frozen at the entrance, unable to tear his gaze from the sight before him, he simply lowered his head beneath the hood of his cloak… and entered.

“You’ve done well to survive this long…”

Calmly, he walked deeper into the heart of the city—built of stone and brick, nothing more.

Frey leapt from rooftop to rooftop, his movements catching the attention of the townspeople below as he soared silently overhead.

Eventually, he reached the city’s center.

Standing atop a slightly taller building, he looked down with chilling indifference. Then, when he’d seen enough—he summoned his swords.

Frey felt nothing as he stared, yet for some reason… the image burned itself into his memory.

Severed heads… mounted on pikes above the gate like grotesque works of art.

Their bodies had likely been devoured from the neck down.

The heads alone were displayed at the entrance—a proud trophy for this savage city.

“Jan Dover and Kyle Walker.”

That was their names.

Foolish lackeys of Feyreth, ones Frey hadn’t even realized were still alive.

Now, he knew for certain..they weren’t.

He scoffed as his skin began to crack, violet aura surging violently from within.

“Eaten alive…”

They were nothing but disposable pawns for a third-rate villain once—but in the end, they were still just kids. Unlucky children caught in the chaos of a protagonist’s destructive path.

“I can’t change anything… but at the very least, I can send the bastards who did this to hell.”

Without an ounce of mercy…

The violet aura detonated, consuming the city in a single sweep—erasing it from existence.

The colossal beam of aura tore into the sky, ripping everything below into oblivion… including the heads of the dead Jan and Kyle.

“Ignition.”

That was the last word the city’s inhabitants ever heard ..

Before the world was swallowed by darkness.

Remaining Elite Students: 18

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