Chapter 666: The Nightmare (2)

"Nameless? That’s impossible..." Marvas almost sprang from his seat.

"I’m well aware of what’s happening on the human world," he went on. "I’ve already heard a look-alike has appeared there .. but there’s a world of difference between Nameless and that greenhorn."

He was speaking of Frey, of course.

"Nameless was one of a kind .. a strange, affectless creature who devoted his entire existence to knowledge and training, reaching tiers of power no one but he and the King ever touched. His sword was a reaper’s scythe, and fighting him was pure hell—so much so that even the High Seats fled his path."

Glimmers of a distant past flickered through Marvas’s mind. He was one of the oldest demons; he had seen much—and Nameless’s rise was one of those things.

"Against an enemy like that... all I have is fear .. and respect. Are you telling me he’s returned?"

Izalith nodded. "He has. I can confirm it."

"Truly...?"

Marvas covered his face with one hand, trying to process it. "I watched the King kill him with my own eyes."

"As did I," Izalith replied. "But as you know, certain beings toy with life and death. You can’t judge them by common measures."

She relayed the full report Beatrice had sent her, each detail deepening Marvas’s shock.

"So... that human you believe is Nameless defeated a half-strength copy of Zibar?"

Izalith inclined her head. "That’s right."

"I see..."

Silence lingered while Marvas connected the threads. At last he understood why Wesker had shut himself in on Earth all this time—all for the sake of a single human. A human who might harbor the power of a being that once crossed blades as an equal with his King.

"While I was busy with wars and conquests, that damned Wesker had his eyes on something else entirely..."

Irritated, Marvas clicked his tongue. Since the King’s seclusion .. and the First Seat’s as well, with the Second and Third refusing leadership ..

Wesker had been Marvas’s direct rival for command. But it was never a fair contest: Wesker possessed the King’s Eye, which handed him advantage after advantage, always a step ahead. Marvas bore the King’s Dark Soul .. among the mightiest Soul’s in existence .. but its use was largely confined to the battlefield.

One on one, Marvas was sure he could beat Wesker; even so, Agaroth had set Wesker above him in the order, power aside. It had always gnawed at the oldest demon .. a quiet insult he dared not contest. The King’s word was absolute; beyond reverence, they had only fear and total obedience for Agaroth.

While Marvas weighed his next move regarding the now-sensitive "humans," Amon’s voice cut through the hall again:

"The Second High Seat has arrived .. Lord Agares!"

All eyes turned to the monster stepping into the light .. Marvas’s most of all, narrowing with a tangle of feelings.

"Agares..."

The Second, a demon as tall as Marvas, with cool blue hair and pale skin like Vain’s. His frame wasn’t massive, but everyone knew that unassuming body was the toughest in the room. Marvas knew it better than most: in the far past, Agares had challenged him for his rank. Marvas had been superior then—yet he lost, badly, and surrendered his seat.

The Second bore the King’s Hardness—his flesh akin to Agaroth’s own durability—making him a monster of overwhelming physical might. Even the First, Crimson, lagged in that regard and relied on the Blood Armor to compensate.

"I didn’t expect he’d really come," Izalith murmured, studying him from afar. "He vanished after losing to Midir, the Dragon God .. the first of the Seven Great Powers. Looks like that defeat cut deep... but here he is again."

Even so, Agares looked anything but pleased; his mood was foul, like he was ready to tear someone apart at once.

Long ago he had confronted Medir of the Pantheon .. and suffered a crushing defeat. Two things made it humiliating. First, he lost a contest of endurance and toughness .. his own specialty .. against the Pantheon’s strongest.

Second, it hadn’t even been a true one-on-one. Agares had intervened to save the Ninth High Seat, Nito, who’d fallen into Medir’s hands.

Nito was no demon; he, too, was of the Pantheon. He betrayed them, long ago, revealing their weakness to Agaroth. Nito had been very strong .. the Pantheon boasts the Dragon God, Midir, and beneath him stand two Dragon Emperors. Nito was one of them.

Because he wasn’t a demon, Agaroth granted him the Light-Soul, which vaulted his power even higher. Even so, Medir utterly destroyed him .. and even with Agares’s aid they couldn’t prevail .. cementing the Dragon God’s fearsome repute. Without the King or the First moving, the Pantheon would remain unshaken.

"Nito’s over there," Izalith added, amused. "He hasn’t said a word .. and he’s avoiding Agares as much as he can. How deliciously awkward."

The relationships between the High Demons were... strange.

They never truly looked like allies .. more like a collection of monsters forced to coexist by power and circumstance.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that this gathering contained some of the most terrifying entities to ever exist in this world.

"Seeing Agares here only confirms it .. the Nightmare will bring something earth-shaking this time," Marvas muttered, anticipating the moment the First would arrive and reveal the reason for summoning them all... and what kind of news could be important enough to gather every High Seat.

"It seems there’s still some time before that," Izalith noted. "I doubt Crimson will appear until every ranked seat is present."

"I suppose you’re right."

"In the meantime," Izalith said, a sly curve at her lips, "why don’t we talk about you a little, Lord Marvas?"

The Fifth’s crimson eyes flicked toward her in suspicion.

"I’ve heard," she went on, "that you still haven’t surpassed your training phase. Could it be that you’ve reached your limit?"

Marvas’s expression darkened instantly.

"Careful, Izalith. I enjoy our conversations—but know your boundaries."

"Ah... forgive me," she said lightly, realizing how much that subject irritated him.

Marvas—the oldest of all demons—had remained trapped in the same stage for ages.

The Fifth Stage of the SSS-class.

The Curse of Immortality.

A mysterious realm few ever reached. But once mastered and surpassed, the reward was immense: a body overflowing with endless power and eternal life. Flesh that no longer aged, a form preserved forever at its peak, strength that defied decay itself.

The Fifth Stage had always been the wall. Only Vain and Agares had broken through to the Sixth. And Crimson ..the First .. had pierced the Seventh.

No one else had gone beyond the Fifth.

Among them, Marvas had lingered there the longest.

Wesker too was at that same stage—but the difference between them was vast.

The Fourth wasn’t even trying in earnest; he was too consumed by his schemes and twisted plans. Yet he’d reached the same height as Marvas, who had devoted his entire existence to battle and training.

For a moment, it seemed Marvas was stronger than Wesker. But anyone perceptive enough knew the truth:

if Wesker ever tried in earnest truly tried .. his power would even eclipse his sister Vain’s.

"Well, Lord Marvas," Izalith continued, tone silky, "the reason I brought this up—despite knowing how rude it sounds—is that I might have found a way to help you break through."

That made Marvas raise an eyebrow.

"Oh? And what trick do you think you’ve discovered?"

A method to transcend the wall?

She was claiming something he’d sought for centuries. The idea irritated him, yet he knew the Blood Witch didn’t speak without reason.

"The method," she said smoothly, "is to challenge the law of life and death itself. Anyone who understands those laws .. and learns to command them .. will never struggle to transcend this phase."

Marvas frowned. "And how, exactly, do you expect me to ’challenge life and death’? Even the King doesn’t fully command those laws."

"That’s simple."

Izalith leaned in, whispering near his ear.

"You don’t have to do it yourself. You just need help from someone who already has... and as it happens, we have just the right being for that."

At her words, Marvas’s eyes lit up.

"Masquith..."

"Exactly."

Izalith nodded, pleased.

Masquith ..a strange entity of unknown origin, one Agaroth was fond of conversing with. The King had given him a place in Helmond, making him one of the Dukes of Hell.

Masquith was eccentric, the one who had invented the Demon Seed .. an experiment that defied the laws of life and death themselves.

With his help, Marvas might indeed be able to break through. That was the possibility Izalith hinted at.

"I don’t understand," Marvas said warily. "Why tell me this, when you serve Wesker?"

Izalith chuckled softly.

"Regardless of our differences, we’re still on the same side .. don’t forget that. Making you stronger benefits us all in the coming wars."

She smiled, then added, her eyes glinting with amusement,

"Besides... it’ll make things far more interesting this way."

Her last words revealed her true intent far more than the first.

The Blood Witch was as twisted as her pupil .. perhaps even worse.

Wesker currently had every advantage, especially after uncovering the truth about Nameless and weaving his web among the ever-evolving humans.

Compared to him, Marvas seemed to be falling behind.

So she decided to give him a push .. to keep the balance.

And she seemed to be enjoying every second of it.