THE VILLAIN'S POV

Chapter 923: The Oracle and the Prophecy (3)

"One step... before the first turning point arrived," Audrey narrated, believing that everything had truly begun from that moment.

Just as Frey and Agaroth were on the verge of succeeding, the two of them were interrupted.

It was one of the quiet nights within the Land of Survival.

Frey and Agaroth were still carrying out their suicidal plan, with Frey assaulting him using an immense amount of aether.

Then Frey suddenly stopped.

A terrifying pressure descended from nowhere, freezing him where he stood.

Agaroth fared even worse.

He could barely remain conscious.

"I see you are still running from reality, hiding inside your little world... Frey."

Her cold voice sent a shiver down Frey’s spine.

He slowly turned toward her.

"Mother..."

His voice was faint as he stared at the First Writer.

Clea’s presence was overwhelmingly heavy.

She was a woman Frey loved deeply.

And feared just as much.

"Why are you here?"

As he asked the question, his eyes shifted toward Agaroth, who was barely capable of enduring her presence.

"I see fear in your eyes."

Clea approached Frey slowly.

"Concern... for a creature formed from the ink of your words."

"I already knew of your strange attachment to this little world of yours."

"But I never imagined you would become bold enough to try making a being like this similar to us."

Frey’s expression stiffened the moment he heard those final words.

’She knows...’

Shock swept through him.

He could not understand how his mother had discovered what he was doing.

This world belonged entirely to him.

There should have been no way for Clea to observe him—or to enter the Land of Survival—without Frey noticing.

Clea saw his confusion clearly and finally offered him some reassurance.

"Do not worry."

"I did not come here to kill him."

"If that had been my intention, he would already be dead."

Her gaze shifted toward Agaroth.

His body had begun bleeding beneath the sheer pressure of her presence, and shock was plainly visible on his face.

"Then why are you here?"

Frey asked, determined to learn the reason behind Clea’s arrival.

She gave him exactly what he wanted.

"The Oracle has brought a new prophecy."

Then she raised one finger and pointed toward Agaroth.

"A prophecy concerning him."

Frey’s eyes widened as though lightning had struck him directly.

"A prophecy... from Lea?"

He hesitated, falling silent as he tried to process what he had just heard.

The Oracle...

Lea.

The other girl who had grown up beside him in the distant past.

She had been born with the power that made her the Oracle.

There were countless World breaking abilities capable of seeing the future or predicting it with remarkable accuracy. Yet whenever such abilities collided, the future itself could change.

Some beings could not be predicted at all due to the sheer force of their destiny.

Clea was the clearest example.

So was Odin, the Pale Devastation.

But the Oracle was different.

She possessed a Rune that made her visions terrifyingly precise.

One hundred percent accurate.

Her prophecies had become one of the Writers’ most valuable weapons, allowing them to avoid the worst possible outcomes before they ever came to pass.

And now, among everyone else...

The Oracle had seen something concerning Agaroth.

"Lea... the Oracle."

Frey spoke cautiously.

"What did she foresee?"

"She warned us that Agaroth must not become any stronger than he already is."

Clea’s voice remained cold and unwavering.

"If he does, he will become a great threat in the future... a catastrophe equal to the Lords of Mist."

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

Frey’s reaction was immediate and violent.

He stared at his mother, then at Agaroth standing behind him, before turning back toward her once more.

He tried to deny it.

He tried to say something—anything—but failed to form even a single sentence.

The Oracle’s visions had never been wrong.

"Agaroth... a catastrophe?"

Frey gritted his teeth, but his mother continued pressing him.

"He is a creature made by your hands. That means the responsibility of dealing with him belongs to you."

"This is your world."

Clea’s dark, space-like eyes appeared even blacker that day as she presented him with a choice.

"Either stop giving him aether and strip him of the ability to grow stronger..."

"Or kill him now."

Neither choice was truly a choice.

The first would force Agaroth to abandon the only goal he had ever chosen for himself, which would be little different from death.

The second meant death in the most literal sense.

Frey could not bring himself to choose either.

When Clea saw him hesitate, she took another step forward.

"Do not pretend that you care about him, Frey."

"And do not assume I am unaware of the truth."

A faint smile appeared on her face, carrying an unmistakable trace of pride in her son.

"You see him as nothing more than a weapon. You intend to use him against the Lords of Mist, do you not?"

"You created him to serve as their counter."

"That is why you are so desperate to bring him into the Aether World, and why you continue helping him in this manner."

Clea’s gaze never left Frey.

"You may try to deny it, but you see him as nothing more than a tool."

Every word reached Agaroth.

He was the one most shaken by what he heard.

With great difficulty, he raised his head against the crushing pressure and stared at Frey through those dark crimson eyes, a storm of emotions raging within them.

"You assume whatever suits you."

Frey faced his mother directly.

"Do you truly want me to become like you that badly?"

"Then deny it."

Clea’s response was immediate.

Frey fell silent.

Lying to his mother was impossible.

As that silence continued, Clea pressed him further, forcing him toward a decision.

Then the third person standing between them finally spoke.

Agaroth gathered everything he had left merely to force out a few words.

"I will stop..."

His voice was strained, while blood poured from his eyes and mouth.

"I will seal my power and halt my growth."

He looked toward Frey and Clea with a dark, terrifying gaze.

"Agaroth..."

Frey turned toward him, bitterness plain on his face.

Agaroth was being forced to sacrifice everything he had built and return to the very beginning.

Yet at the very least...

He had chosen his fate himself.

He had refused to allow someone else to decide it for him, even as humiliation and bitterness consumed him more deeply than ever before.

Because of a single prophecy, everything had shattered.

And from that moment onward...

Another, far darker path slowly began to take shape.