THE VILLAIN'S POV

Chapter 920: An Eccentric Author (3)

Audrey could never look at the First Writer for long.

She turned away almost instinctively, directing her attention toward the person nearest to her instead.

"Ark..."

"Why do you always pretend to be hostile toward Frey..."

"...when your real feelings are nothing like that?"

Arlecchino released a long sigh.

"Audrey..."

"You’re probably the only attendant in existence bold enough to speak to a Writer so directly."

He slowly descended until he stood before her.

His crimson eyes glowed faintly.

"And the worst part..."

"...is that I can’t even bring myself to punish you for it."

"There’s no point pretending to be strict."

Audrey smiled faintly.

"I know you too well."

"So does Frey."

She turned toward Frey, who was already nearing the Council.

"That’s why he never takes your words seriously."

"He understands you completely."

Ark was Frey’s younger brother.

Although Audrey was nothing more than an attendant, she had grown up alongside both of them.

Over the years, she had become something akin to a sister, despite sharing no blood with either.

"I don’t hate him."

"That’s true."

Arlecchino’s gaze shifted toward the Council.

"Yet every word I said to him..."

"...I meant."

His eyes settled upon Clea in particular as she began criticizing Frey despite his extraordinary achievement of killing one of the veteran Lords of Mist.

Even such a remarkable victory had failed to spare him from reprimand.

What made it stranger still was the identity of the person criticizing him.

Clea herself.

The other elite Writers held an entirely different opinion.

Most had intended to praise Frey.

That was precisely why they looked so surprised when Clea began rebuking him instead.

Unlike them...

Ark understood perfectly why.

"Frey is the most talented among us."

"He was born with gifts that neither Seth nor I ever possessed."

"He’s a genuine genius."

"Perceptive."

"And fully aware of everything around him."

Ark slowly tightened his fist.

Audrey could sense genuine frustration within him.

Alongside it...

There was a faint trace of jealousy.

"And yet..."

"He refuses to reach his true potential."

"He rejects the destiny waiting for him..."

"...and chooses instead to live inside an illusion of his own making."

"If he truly wanted to, he would’ve defeated Queem with ease."

"He could’ve chosen a far better path."

"Instead..."

"He wasted his aether on meaningless things."

"He saved me."

Audrey interrupted him.

A hint of bitterness crossed her face.

The true reason Frey’s aether had been exhausted wasn’t Queem.

It was because he had fought the vast majority of the Creatures of Mist himself in order to save the attendants.

Every Creature of Mist was powerful.

Each one stood on equal footing with an attendant.

In other words...

Even the weakest among them belonged to the early stages of the SSS Rank.

The strongest were already approaching its peak.

That alone demonstrated how terrifying the Aether World truly was.

Its weakest elites...

Were already SSS.

There existed no one beneath that level among the supreme powers of that world.

Not the Writers.

Nor the Creatures of Mist.

Before confronting Queem, Frey had already slaughtered hundreds of those monsters.

By the time he reached the Lord of Mist, his strength had already been severely depleted.

Had he ignored everyone else and challenged Queem from the very beginning...

The battle would’ve been far easier.

But many attendants would’ve died instead.

That single decision earned him criticism.

He endured every word of reproach from Clea before finally being allowed to leave...

After his standing among the Writers had once again fallen.

Audrey departed alongside him.

She had been ordered by Clea to remain at Frey’s side at all times.

"So..."

She clasped her hands behind her back as they walked together.

"What rank are you now?"

In response, Frey pulled out a badge bearing a two-digit number and looked at it with a self-mocking smile.

"At this rate, I’ll soon become an attendant myself."

His rank among the Writers had fallen remarkably low, greatly limiting the authority he possessed.

"An attendant? The First Writer’s son, reduced to an attendant?" Audrey stifled a laugh. "With that regal appearance of yours, the title doesn’t suit you at all."

Frey smiled faintly upon hearing her words.

"If ranks were decided by appearance, you wouldn’t be an attendant either, Audrey. You look far more like a noble than I do."

What Frey said was no exaggeration.

Audrey truly did resemble a princess.

He had no hidden intentions behind the remark, but the faint blush that touched Audrey’s face made it clear that she had taken it as a compliment.

Although Frey noticed, he did not bother correcting her.

Following the Battle of the Crimson Field, neither Frey nor Audrey had any immediate obligations.

Out of curiosity, and partly to keep the conversation going, Audrey asked, "What are you going to do now?"

Frey kept his eyes ahead as he answered.

"I’ll do some writing."

"Again..." Audrey complained softly. "So you’re going to spend your time with him."

Frey nodded.

Audrey made no attempt to dissuade him.

Although she wanted to keep him away from the library, she had never once overstepped the boundaries of her position as a mere attendant, even though she knew Frey would not have minded.

"Would you like to come with me?" Frey asked with sincere intentions. "The two of you haven’t seen each other in a long time."

Audrey rejected the invitation immediately.

"No... I’m not ready to face him again."

She appeared slightly unsettled, but Frey did not pry.

He simply accepted her answer without question.

"I see. Then I’ll see you later. This is where we part ways for now."

They had already reached the library.

Audrey bid him farewell, and Frey entered alone.

She remained outside, watching him from a distance until he reached his desk, opened his book, and began turning its pages.

Then his body froze, and his consciousness drifted far away.

"Frey was deeply devoted to writing," Audrey narrated. "So much so that he spent an extraordinary amount of time inside his own world—more than he ever spent in the real one."

"And because of that, a complicated relationship began to form between him and that... man."

As Audrey’s words echoed, Frey’s entrance into his world unfolded alongside them.

His feet touched the soil of the Land of Survival, where someone was already waiting for him.

A tall man stood there, surrounded by an imposing presence.

His crimson eyes were dark and intimidating, yet his features appeared calm—noble, even, if one were to describe them honestly.

He seemed genuinely pleased to see Frey.

The faint smile on his face proved as much.

"You’ve finally returned," the man greeted him in a deep voice.

Frey nodded as his feet settled upon the world he had woven with his own hands.

"Yes, Agaroth."

In a place devoid of all life, where no one existed but the two of them, Frey and Agaroth met once again.