THE VILLAIN'S POV

Chapter 613: War of Schism (1)

On the eve of the most decisive battle in the history of the Lightbearers and the demons, the Pure Vessel visited Audrey in the Valley of the End.

Many years had passed since their last meeting, but they were beings who lived for a very long time; the passage of years left little mark on them. Their conversation flowed as easily as if only a few days had gone by since they had lived together with Orsted, who had left them long ago.

That day, the great Pure Vessel revealed his weakness to the only person he had ever been able to open his heart to.

“I feel as if fate itself is steering me toward that battle… I don’t think I’ll prevail there, Audrey. In this war—this confrontation—will you help me?”

Asking for her aid—Audrey was likely the only one the Pure Vessel could ever bring himself to ask. Perhaps it was one of the cracks that had formed after years of feigning perfection before the Lightbearers and the other Vessels.

Audrey had once been called the Legendary Vessel, and it wouldn’t be wrong to say that, alongside the Pure Vessel, she was among the strongest Lightbearers in history.

She was the only one the Pure Vessel could go to for help; he felt that if they fought together, anything might be possible. In those brief moments, he seemed more like the Snow she had known than the great Pure Vessel the world revered.

Audrey didn’t answer him at once. She fell silent, lost in thought.

The Demon King, Agaroth.

She had never crossed blades with him, and she knew little of his true strength, but the rumors and tales about him were terrifying. Without a doubt, he was a dreadful being standing at the summit of power. Likewise, the current Pure Vessel was the pinnacle of what her kind could achieve—strong enough to have slain the then–Second Seat among the demons with little difficulty.

Yet despite his strength, he had come to ask for help, confessing his unease about the fateful battle awaiting him.

In that fleeting moment in the Valley of the End, Audrey drew something from within her garments.

It was the first time the Pure Vessel had seen the fragile keepsake she had hidden and cared for over so many years: a locket of tarnished gold, timeworn and scored with scratches and cracks. On its battered surface, a simple inscription was engraved:

“My Family… My Everything.”

She opened the locket and looked at what lay inside.

A tattered photograph, as if taken ages—ages—ago.

In it were three people: an older man, a smiling young man, and, beside him, a girl sitting on a wooden chair wearing the same bright smile.

That lone picture meant the world to Audrey; it was her only tether to the distant memories that had driven her all this time.

The Pure Vessel watched her in silence.

His senses were preternatural; even as Audrey tried to keep it hidden, he could make out the photograph clearly. Its faces were indistinct, but none of them were Lightbearers. Even so, Audrey, standing before him, resembled the girl in the photograph to a striking degree—which was, of course, strange.

He almost spoke, then stopped, a faint smile touching his lips.

One look at Audrey’s face told him what her answer would be.

“It seems you’ve already made your choice,” the Pure Vessel said.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, a pained look crossing her face.

He saw no need for an apology.

He mattered to her—of that he had no doubt—but the person she had been searching for mattered even more. She had finally found a thread that might lead her to him; she wouldn’t let that chance slip away.

The Pure Vessel understood. Even turned away, he bore her no resentment.

Knowing the coming battle might be his last, he spent that night speaking with Audrey—the only friend he counted alongside Orsted. Out of simple curiosity, he asked what sort of person the man was whom she had pursued across the vastness of the cosmos for so long.

Her answer was vague, but she said he was someone very important—not only to her, but to many others as well.

When she spoke of him, Audrey became someone else—far from her usual cool composure.

The Pure Vessel truly wished he could meet that man someday. But somewhere deep inside, he knew he likely never would.

And so they talked a while longer, until the sun cast its first pale light across the sky and another day began.

Audrey set out on her final journey, intending to find that person at last, to end the long, grueling search.

As for the Pure Vessel, he took his leave and walked toward the fateful war that awaited him.

They parted again, as if they had never met at all.

Then came the great war that history would later record—the War of Schism.

A decisive clash between the demons and a coalition of many races, it was the first time four of the Seven Great Powers fought side by side.

There was the Pure Vessel, ranked first among them that day;

the King of the Ghouls, who wielded a strange golden shield that granted him tremendous might;

with them, Kalman the First, then hailed as the greatest swordsman in the world;

and Rhaenys, the most powerful sorceress of all, famed for her overwhelming presence on the battlefield.

Each came bearing the full might of their people—the Lightbearers and their power that countered the demons, and the Pure Vessel’s own Light Soul blazing at the forefront.

With the Lucarians—wielding superior sorcery and spells of mass destruction—the Ghouls, with their overwhelming physical might and terrifying regeneration, and Kalman the First’s hybrid race, unmatched in close-quarters combat and fearsome sword arts…

All of them stood against Agaroth, the Demon King; his Ten High Seats; and the Duchy of Hell that marched with him.

For a moment, the advantage seemed to lie entirely with the allied races: four of the Great Powers were present, and their armies were terrifying—enough to end any civilization, no matter its strength.

But reality was nothing like what anyone imagined. In that war, the world learned the true horror of the demons—especially the Ten High Seats that Agaroth himself had forged.

The battle was a living hell, a nightmare made real.

Every one of the Seven Great Powers present fought savagely with all they had; their peoples held nothing back. Yet on that battlefield ..fought across the surface of a dead planet ..what awaited them was only despair.

They held fast at first, but as the Great Powers fell one after another, the balance tipped cruelly toward the demons.