At present, Sansa’s strength rivaled that of a high-tier SS+ rank fighter.
And after mastering her ability, one could argue she had reached the peak of that tier.
But now that she’d absorbed all the Seed had to offer...
There was nothing left to awaken.
In other words ..her path ended here.
’Stronger battles await us... against monsters far more powerful ..like those of the Upper Seats, who have begun to emerge.
When that time comes... I won’t be able to offer you much at my current level, Frey.’
Sansa was being completely honest—at least when it came to him.
She had no one else to confide in about these fears.
Ever since she sensed their enemies approaching for the first time...
She knew just how terrifyingly powerful they were.
And when the time came, Frey would be the one forced to face them alone.
If he did, he would die.
Sansa couldn’t bear that thought.
But the weak had no right to choose in the world they lived in...
Frey understood her feelings perfectly.
She had slammed against her limit.
’Just my opinion, Sansa... but I think you’re underestimating yourself—and what you’re really capable of.’
’You have a body far beyond human. A monstrous strength at your fingertips.
That foundation alone puts your starting point lightyears ahead of people like me.’
While others had to claw their way up from the bottom...
She had been catapulted straight to SS rank, all because of the Seed.
Even Frey, with all the absurd tools he had access to, had to climb rank by rank, enduring endless suffering.
His current strength was the result of pushing himself through external means.
His base was still S-rank.
But Sansa’s foundation had started at SS.
’The truth is, you’ve just gotten used to things being easy.
To surpass SS+... it’s something most believe impossible.
Breaking beyond that? That’s on you ..and what your hands will carve. Not the Seed.’
If Sansa wanted to grow stronger...
There was only one path left:
’You’ll have to live as a demon... and walk the demonic path.’
Become a monster that feeds on life and kills to survive.
A path not unlike Frey’s path of blood.
’To be honest... I’m not sure I’m even qualified to be giving you this advice.
I’m not a normal human either, and my power... it’s just the result of the chaos inside this body.’
But in the end, their truth was the same:
If they wanted overwhelming power, they had to become monsters worthy of it.
Whether it was the Path of Blood...which turned one into a slaughterer drunk on carnage...
Or the Demonic Path ..which forced its bearer to devour life and bring death wherever they went...
They all led to the same end.
Preparing for the battles ahead, both Frey and Sansa fell silent for the rest of the journey,
Each sinking into their own world.
Far from Frey and his vanguard, who had borne the brunt of the war so far...
There remained a portion of the army that had yet to engage in battle ..those stationed at the rear under the command of the elderly Iris Sunlight.
In the previous campaign, over half the troops had been deployed to the front lines, leaving around 20,000 men behind. They were designated as the support force, meant to intervene only in case of emergency ..far removed from the chaos at the front.
Their swords remained spotless, never once tainted with blood. Perhaps that was why they grew lax, lounging around the camp as if they weren’t part of a war to begin with.
At the edge of the camp, four middle-aged soldiers sat playing cards, wasting the hours in idleness.
"I wonder how long this war will last... I miss my kids and my wife," one of them sighed as he played his hand.
"Huh? Complaining already? Ha! We haven’t even fought, and you’re ready to go home?" another laughed, pointing out the obvious—that they’d yet to bloody their hands.
"I get it, but we’ll definitely win! The enemy’s suffered massive losses and been pushed back onto their own land. It’s only a matter of time before the vanguard brings us good news."
"So what you’re saying is, you want to win this war without actually fighting in it? You’re an optimist, man! Hahaha."
Round after round, they played cards in a corner of the camp, utterly detached from the fact that they were soldiers, deep in enemy territory.
"But I have to admit... maybe it’s naïve, but it would be nice to win this war without having to stain our hands."
"It’s fine. We’ve got heroes who’ll win glory for us... like Frey Starlight."
One of the soldiers scratched his nose, recalling that lone youth’s feats.
"That monster won’t stop until he’s slaughtered every last Ultra. I still get chills when I remember those mountains of corpses."
"To be honest... he scares me."
The mention of Frey brought back grim memories ..of hills of bodies, of lakes of blood. None of them had ever seen that much death in one place before.
"Alright, alright. Enough with the bad vibes. Let’s just be grateful he’s on our side."
"You’re right. Thank the gods...he’s an ally."
For a moment... they imagined it ..the possibility of that monster being their enemy.
The thought alone was so terrifying they quickly changed the subject, doing their best to forget him.
The war was going well for the Empire, and hope began to creep into the soldiers’ hearts.
Hope that they might make it back home alive.
The four soldiers continued their game until the sun dipped below the horizon and night began to fall.
At that point, one of them stood up.
"Where are you off to?" one of the others asked, prompting a groan from the man.
"Where do you think? To take a piss."
He grumbled as he walked away from the group, heading toward a dead forest nearby.
It was a field of rotting trees, their trunks split and their bark faded to a lifeless gray.
The place looked like it belonged in a horror film—but to the soldier, it was simply a convenient spot to relieve himself.
And that’s exactly what he did, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers.
"Aaah... finally, I feel alive again."
He sighed with strange satisfaction ..until he heard footsteps behind him.
Still, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Instead, he turned slightly, glancing over his right shoulder.
"What? You need to piss too?" he joked, assuming it was one of his comrades.
But he couldn’t see the man’s face at all—the stranger wore a mask.
A mask that became the last thing the soldier ever saw, just before his head was severed from his shoulders.
The masked figure didn’t linger. He strode toward the camp, step by step, his eyes glowing crimson.
Back then, the imperial soldiers had no idea what kind of storm was about to hit them.