Novel Full Chapter 835 The Meaning of Terror (1)
Chapter 835 The Meaning of Terror (1)
Somewhere on Earth, in a random region where Frey had been hurled by Agaroth, a dark cocoon formed ... sealing his body within. He had forced a breakthrough, pushed to the next stage under the crushing pressure of the Demon King.
Agaroth stood before it, waiting patiently. Yet his patience lasted only seconds, as the cocoon burst open and Frey lunged out—gray energy blazing around him, far denser than before.
Frey struck with everything he had, his blade colliding with Agaroth amidst a storm of fused, world-breaking power. The force alone could shake existence itself—yet the Demon King did not move.
Not even slightly.
With one hand wrapped in viscous black flames, Agaroth stopped the blade effortlessly. His voice echoed beside Frey's ears, clear and heavy.
"This isn't enough. Show me more."
Frey ignored him completely, focusing only on his sword. Against Agaroth, thought itself was meaningless ... it brought nothing but despair, nothing but the crushing awareness of the gap between them.
So he abandoned it.
He became a weapon—nothing more than a killing machine that existed solely to fight. It was the only way he could stand before the Demon King, and Agaroth understood that perfectly.
And so, he played along.
After reaching the fourth phase of SSS, Frey's power surged immensely. Under normal circumstances, such growth would have been overwhelming—yet before Agaroth, it was insignificant.
Frey swung relentlessly, without pause. Unknowingly, he began using the fused world-breaking energy continuously, until it started replacing the black-hole aura within his very body.
The Absolute Manipulator reacted instantly, trying to assimilate the new forces. It reshaped Frey's body, enhancing his strength and speed, adapting him to withstand that monstrous power.
His Kratt body responded flawlessly.
Meanwhile, black-hole aura and Soulfire burned at their peak, fueling the gray energy. With it, Frey unleashed strike after strike, each swing capable of erasing continents.
Yet something was wrong.
When his attacks struck Agaroth, they didn't damage him. They didn't even need to be blocked ... they simply vanished, the moment they touched his body.
As if swallowed whole.
Like a black hole dragging them into oblivion.
Again and again, Frey unleashed waves of gray energy that could eclipse the sky—only for them to be devoured instantly. Nothing remained.
What is this body…?
What is he made of…?
Is he even alive…?
The questions echoed deep within Frey's subconscious, growing louder with each passing second. The closer he got, the more lost he became.
And the worst part—
This monster was supposedly his creation.
Agaroth had said it. Others had confirmed it. Yet Frey refused to believe it—he could only doubt. How could he have created something like this?
Who in this world could?
Agaroth stopped everything, yet Frey didn't stop. He lunged again, his attacks growing more desperate, more violent, more relentless.
This time, the flames around the Demon King flared.
The strange aura surrounding him—like a living cloak—expanded, swelling endlessly until it drowned Frey's gray energy entirely. That overwhelming power became nothing more than a faint speck within a boundless darkness.
And once again—
Frey was sent flying.
The battlefield shattered beneath them, forcing a shift to another location. Yet as always, Agaroth was already there, waiting for him.
Ready.
But this time—
He was interrupted.
Agaroth slowly lifted his gaze toward the sky above, now completely golden. His voice came out low, yet it echoed across the entire planet.
"Warrior of the Shadow Sect… withdraw."
"I will kill you. But not yet."
"Cherish the few minutes I've granted you… and do not interrupt my amusement."
It was a warning.
One that was ignored.
From the heavens, Fulghor descended—his four hooves striking the sky, his eyes blazing behind his helmet. His presence shook the world.
"I choose death!!"
His roar erupted like a cataclysm.
He released everything ... one hundred percent of his aura, a reserve equal to an entire planet. This was the condition required to unleash his ultimate technique.
"Triple Judgment Spear!!!"
A blinding golden light consumed the world as Fulghor transformed into something akin to a burning sun—an overwhelming mass of divine golden fire.
No one could look at him.
No one—
Except Agaroth.
With his crimson eyes, the Demon King stared directly, unfazed. Above the Earth, three colossal entities formed—beings of pure gold and flame.
They walked on four legs, resembling massive beasts like Fulghor himself—but far greater. Each one was the size of a moon.
The three beasts united their power and struck simultaneously, targeting the Demon King with absolute precision.
The Triple Judgment Spear ...
Fulghor's ultimate creation, forged over countless years. A unique ability that could strike only a single target.
And so, despite the unimaginable explosion that tore apart vast portions of the planet ... Only one being was harmed.
The Demon King.
No one else.
Even though—
The planet itself did not survive the impact.
The shock that followed .. Was beyond anything.
Beyond all limits.
A massive crater tore through the Earth, leaving the planet itself deformed, its oval shape broken, a significant portion of its mass simply gone.
The echo of destruction spread across the world, reaching every living being without exception. The ancient human heroes shielded the soldiers beside them, while the Shadow Sect deflected the aftermath, protecting what remained of humanity.
Yet beyond that… the tremors of devastation consumed everything.
Vayne… or rather, Wesker, stared from afar at that final, insane strike, fear evident in his eyes. He understood clearly—had he taken that blow, he would most likely have died.
"This attack itself is a world-breaking strike… which means the Eye of the King likely cannot nullify it…" he muttered.
And so, even for the Demon King, using such a method was not an option. Though Wesker still doubted this, knowing that Agaroth's Eye of the King far surpassed his own, but it ultimately did not matter.
Because Agaroth had no need for it in the first place.
At the very center of destruction, where the damage had reached its peak, the Demon King stood. Unmoved, his body radiating a dense, oppressive dark aura, a wide smile drawn across his face.
"That was a good strike," he said, genuinely praising Fulghor, before raising his hand and fusing five world-breaking abilities at once.
"Accept this as a reward for your effort."
From the palm of his hand, a dark energy formed, expanding in less than a second until it completely swallowed Fulghor's blazing sun.
Fulghor hovered in the sky, staring at that aura with his eyes wide open.
"The amount of aura he used… it exceeds one hundred percent of my reserves?" he whispered, unable to believe it.
He had always known the Demon King possessed greater reserves, but never imagined the gap to be this overwhelming. Agaroth's counterattack carried power that surpassed him entirely, yet he showed no sign of exhaustion.
The King's attack, a fusion of five world-breaking abilities, devoured the Triple Judgment Spear completely—along with Fulghor himself—in a tragic display of the vast difference between them.
The golden aura didn't last even ten seconds before being completely swallowed.
At the very last moment, the Shadow Sect warrior escaped death, burning through everything he had just to deflect the attack, not even block it.
That alone cost him dearly—an arm, a large portion of his body, half his face, and all of his aura.
And so Fulghor fell, like a meteor crashing into Earth, his power completely gone.
Agaroth paid him no attention. He simply turned, smiling, toward Frey, who had already launched another attack.