Chapter 664: The Blood of the Fifth

Mergo vanished with Maria and Lawrence, leaving Frey and Snow behind.

As soon as the Ultras’ party disappeared, the place fell quiet and empty again.

Staring at the spot where the old drunk had faded, both men kept silent for a while—until Snow scratched his hair, realizing something important.

"Did we... come all this way for nothing?"

He glanced at Frey, who sighed, unable to deny it.

"I guess we did."

An alliance with Mergo and his people would’ve been good for them. If they’d gained allies inside the Ultras, it could’ve strengthened their hand .. a first-ever pact between the Empire and the Ultras, uniting all human power.

It would have been ideal: humanity under one banner against the demons, as should have happened long ago.

But, as usual, both sides failed to agree, and no alliance was made.

"At least we got something out of it," Frey said. "If we win the next battle he mentioned, he and his organization will follow us of their own accord." He was thinking of the wager he’d made with Mergo.

Snow looked doubtful.

"I’m not inclined to take his word for it. In the first place, if we do win, won’t most of his organization be wiped out in the fighting anyway?"

"Most likely..."

Leaving the meeting site, Frey and Snow moved off, putting enemy territory behind them.

"Look on the bright side .. we at least learned they intend to end the war in the next battle," Frey went on.

"That’s probably why they tried to finish us with their last strike. I can say clearly that someone like Gavid Lindemann was serious about it, at least."

Unlike Gavid, many others weren’t .. and that was why the perfect trap the Ultras prepared felt more like theater than an extermination.

"If all the Ultras’ forces were there, it means the other fronts are empty now. No reason for the Empire to keep its lines split."

From here on, the forces would regroup and move as one—what was left of the Empire’s army.

When the war began, they’d had more than a hundred thousand soldiers. Frey wondered:

"How many are still alive, I wonder..."

Though the war’s events had raced by, they’d been packed with life-and-death battles and mass slaughters.

"Not many... I’d say," Snow answered. "At best, maybe a quarter—maybe less."

With their numbers bleeding out and the alliance chance gone, it seemed they’d have to rely on themselves again—just as always.

"It’s fine," Snow said. "Even if we have to fight alone—we’ll win, no matter what. You and I."

Frey nodded with a small smile.

"Yeah. As long as we fight together, we don’t lose. Let’s win this war, brother."

As they withdrew, Frey didn’t use long-range teleportation, giving the two of them a stretch of time away from the others to talk through what had to be done next.

They were the only two who could stand if an SSS-class enemy appeared; the only two who knew much about the world’s hidden truths and what lay above. There were things only they could discuss.

And, ironically, neither of them was a normal human: one a Light-bearer in human blood, the other a body remade beyond human limits.

Even so, they had become humanity’s last hope .. and now they were on the verge of the final clash that would decide the war against the Ultras.

Without their knowing, the countdown was nearly over .. for a war that had dragged on too long and needed an end.

...

...

...

Far from Frey and Snow ..

Back among the Ultras, Mergo and the others reappeared from the void after their withdrawal.

Lawrence, as always, stared blankly, caring little and understanding less. Maria stayed composed, her face unchanged—as if she’d expected this outcome.

Mergo, on the other hand, looked uncharacteristically annoyed. He lifted his bottle for a swig and found it empty.

"Damn it... I’m out."

It was a familiar reaction whenever the old man ran dry.

"Forget the drink," Maria said. "The alliance you wanted with Frey Starlight failed."

Mergo waved her off, turning his back.

"Yeah, yeah... They’re itching to fight and throw their lives away, and I can’t talk them down."

Between Frey, who wanted to fight to the death, and Mergo, who preferred submission to save what could be saved, their aims simply didn’t match.

"Frey Starlight and Snow Lionheart have no idea what they’re walking into," Mergo muttered, kicking a stone aside.

"They haven’t seen what I’ve seen, or witnessed what I’ve witnessed."

Fighting always sounded glorious .. fighting for freedom, to break the demons’ grip. But those were rosy dreams.

"The world we live in is only a fragment of something far larger .. its bounds unknown, its ceiling unseen. And even in that ignorance, they mean to fight."

"It’s like challenging the heavens and expecting to win."

He looked up at the sky .. at the split moon Frey Starlight had carved himself.

"They’re strong .. truly strong. But compared to the horrors of Helmond... what do they hope to accomplish?"

Frey Starlight had barely scraped victory against a Zibar clone at half strength. Snow Lionheart hadn’t even been able to touch Geppetto .. he’d lost immediately to one of the corpses under Geppetto’s control.

In that case... what comes next?

"What if the Tenth Seat himself shows up? Worse .. what if the enemy is a demon even stronger than the Tenth?"

Mergo’s mouth tightened into a hard line.

"The Fourth of the High Ranks, for example?"

Against an opponent like that... what exactly did Frey Starlight hope to achieve?

"You’re right," Maria said—and then added, "But he did win, didn’t he?"

Mergo turned to her.

"What?"

"He won .. against the Tenth’s clone. And even Snow Lionheart, though he lost, survived."

Her crimson eyes gleamed.

"They’re evolving at a terrifying pace. What they’ve already done is what we used to call impossible."

"But they did it—and they still want to fight."

"Maria..." Mergo murmured, a faint scowl touching his face. "Don’t tell me they’ve gotten to you. What, do you want to fight now?"

He almost lost his voice for a moment.

"Have you forgotten who we’re up against? They’re beings you can’t escape .. not even after death!"

At that, Maria’s expression shifted, barely. Her skin looked even paler than usual—as if it belonged to a corpse, not the living.

"I know exactly who we’re up against," she said, tilting the brim of her hat back over her white hair. "And I’ve never forgotten what they can do."

"But for now, I want to keep watching a little longer—see with my own eyes how far those two can go."

Frey and Snow... Were they the answer?

Were they the ones who would achieve what the ancients could not?

It was hard to say .. but the next battle would be enough to give an answer and finally set the record straight.

Those were Maria’s thoughts—thoughts Mergo clearly disliked. He turned to leave.

"Do as you please. But do me a favor and brief the rest of Black Order .. I’ve no desire to lecture them."

Maria nodded, then asked, "Where are you going?"

"To get my drink, of course. I can’t live without it."

Mergo walked away.

Maria watched him for a time.

"Your drink..."

That bottle he always carried.

"That isn’t wine... is it?"

Though Mergo had already gone some distance, his sharpened senses picked up her words. He didn’t turn, and he didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

Slowly, the whites of his eyes darkened—black creeping in until no white remained.

"Yes... yes, Maria..."

He whispered once he was far enough away.

"It was never wine."

It was something else entirely.

Clutching his head, Mergo sighed, raised the bottle, and slashed a deep cut across his own skin.

Blood poured into the bottle, filling it.

Mergo was drinking his own blood—through a ritual no one else understood.

Only he knew why.

"If I don’t drink... these damned voices won’t stop pounding in my skull..."

Voices. Echoes. Black hands reaching for him from far away, trying to pull him back.

Mergo—Lord of the Dark Hive.

Half human, half demon.

By all accounts ordinary; despite his strength, he’d never stood out.

But that wasn’t true. Contrary to his words and the role he pretended to play—Mergo had always been exceptional. More than any other half-demon.

Why?

The reason was simple.

"Mergo."

The old man heard a deep voice crash through him like thunder—heard it alone. He scowled, showing a rare flash of anger.

"How long do you plan to run from your fate... Mergo?"

The echo returned. Mergo drank his blood in greedy gulps, trying to drown it out.

"You can’t run. My blood flows in your veins."

The voice repeated itself, again and again, and Mergo kept drinking without pause.

"Mergo!"

This time the roar hit so hard Mergo sprang to his feet, his body trembling.

He started to hallucinate .. a demonic haze taking shape, with eyes burning a baleful red.

A light that struck fear into the old drunk’s heart.

"Marvas..." Mergo breathed the name, stepping backward.

"Father."

Whispering that shocking word, he tore the Ushigatana free and slashed the phantom with fury.

"Leave me alone, damn you!"

A savage cut ripped the ground apart.

Mergo shuddered, then collapsed, raising the bottle again to gulp more of his own blood, driving the vision away.

"I... have to resist," he muttered under his breath, before staggering off.

He had lived long and seen much.

And so he knew better than anyone: fighting demons was futile.

He had seen their power for himself.

Mergo .. half demon, half human.

A human mother. A demonic father.

And that father, shockingly... was Marvas, fifth among the High Ranks .. whose echo was beginning to spread across the earth.