THE VILLAIN'S POV

The chaos of war—death, blood, and despair.

Experiences most people never face in their lifetime, yet the Elite Class lived through them that night.

Amid the desolate sands of the Ultras Desert, those students—barely of age—fought for their lives.

With the clash of blades, the tearing of flesh and bone, and the constant tension of battle, the pressure weighed heavily on them all.

Frey, who single-handedly took on dozens of enemies at once, found himself wondering—

“Can I save everyone?”

But he quickly answered himself …

“Of course not.”

The idea of a hero saving everyone was far from realistic—especially when the odds were stacked against them from the very beginning.

Besides, Frey never considered himself a hero.

All he wished for, amid the heart of this chaos, was for the few he truly acknowledged in his world to survive.

Surrounded completely by enemies, he lost sight of his companions. His full focus was on the monstrous beings relentlessly trying to end him.

For a fleeting moment, Frey imagined stumbling across the mutilated corpse of one of his friends. Rage boiled within him as the ceaseless wave of enemies obscured his vision and blocked his path.

The only thing that reminded him he wasn’t alone was the surging auras erupting all around the battlefield.

Minutes passed in a blur. And for the first time, Frey’s worst fears… did not come true.

Despite the encirclement, the Elite Class endured.

Frey and Snow tore through enemy lines from both flanks, while Daemon and Danzo, clad in reinforced armor, stood unscathed.

Together, the four of them completely secured the eastern front, allowing the rear line to finally breathe and focus on the enemies ahead.

Meanwhile, Ghost moved silently through the battlefield, his deadly strikes sending more Ultras into their graves.

“Are we… winning?”

Frey wondered as he finally caught his breath.

In the distance, he caught sight of a blazing spectacle—Phoenix Sunlight’s fireworks on the far side of the battlefield.

Lord Sunlight did not hesitate to incinerate his foes alive, claiming the largest kill count that day. Behind him, everyone fulfilled their role flawlessly, despite the overwhelming pressure.

Sansa Valerion unleashed her shadows, covering a wide area with inky tendrils that shredded anyone who came close.

Near her, Seris Moonlight conjured dozens of ice spears and blades—deadly at long range. But that wasn’t all.

The Moonlight heiress dazzled when a crystalline ice armor formed around her lithe frame—covering key points of her body, giving her the appearance of an icy ninja.

Wielding twin blades, Seris closed the distance and sliced through enemies with lethal precision, compensating for any weakness in her ranged attacks.

The ice aura not only fortified her defense but drastically enhanced her speed.

“Incredible…”

Sansa stared in awe, stunned by the elegance and brutality of Seris’ technique.

“She matched the durability of Daemon and Danzo’s armor… with just her own power.”

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Seris Moonlight had pioneered a new combat style for Wave Controllers.

Sansa couldn’t help but admire her. But without realizing it, she let her guard down.

And in battle, carelessness is deadly.

She didn’t sense the mutated human lunging at her from behind.

Like a rabid zombie, he snarled and bared his filthy teeth, aiming for her neck.

Sansa stepped back in panic, far too late to retaliate. All she could do was raise her arm in defense.

Moments later, the creature’s fangs sank deep into her skin—ripping flesh and spilling a flood of blood.

Pain surged through her as she stared at the vicious bite mark along her elbow. Her retreat only invited more enemies, surrounding her in a tightening ring.

Slash!

The whistling wind saved her—a single strike beheading the monsters in an instant.

“Are you alright?!”

Adriana appeared, clutching her wind-infused spear, worry etched on her face.

Sansa stood quickly, forcibly sealing her wound.

“No need to worry.”

With a flick of her hand, the shadow tendrils surged again—stronger, deadlier.

“I’ll slaughter every last one of them.”

The black serpents slithered and lunged like massive vipers, reducing anything within their range to shredded limbs.

The assault shook the battlefield—but it wasn’t enough.

Then she stepped in.

The Ultras never saw it coming. Arrows struck their skulls with pinpoint precision, ending them before they could even react.

“Don’t forget about me, scum.”

Perched on a high ridge with a full view of the battlefield, Lara Croft—granddaughter of the former headmaster—was in her element.

She loosed arrow after arrow with terrifying speed, mowing down hordes of mutants with ruthless efficiency.

Sansa was caught off guard when her wound began healing on its own—bathed in a gentle green light that had appeared from nowhere, wrapping around her body.

Tracing the source of this pure, radiant energy, she spotted Saint Candidate Emilia Atarax stationed in the rear, behind both Lara and the Sunlight twins.

Emilia’s light didn’t just reach Sansa. It swept over every member of the Elite Class in the vicinity, restoring vitality and clarity to their minds and bodies, allowing them to fight with renewed strength.

The nearby presence of Dawn and Ragna contributed as well.

The Elite Class had never trained to fight as a coordinated unit. Their formation was scattered, and Phoenix had failed to establish any real structure.

But their individual power was more than enough to reverse the tide. Even when facing a massive army numbering in the thousands, their quality far outmatched the enemy’s quantity.

What began as a desperate struggle for survival turned into a complete annihilation of the Ultrares, who fell one by one.

And after exactly four hours—four excruciating hours that felt like an entire day—it was over.

The cawing of crows filled the air as they descended, feasting on the rotting corpses.

The battlefield was thick with the stench of blood, scorched flesh, sweat, and decay.

The scent filled their lungs.

They had won.

But none of their faces reflected joy, or even relief.

Only exhaustion. And a bitter, hollow emptiness.

“Is everyone okay?” Phoenix asked. He still looked as composed as he had at the start. Truthfully, it wouldn’t be wrong to say he had handled half the battle by himself.

The Elite Class students gathered around him, some staggering, others more steady.

Snow was the one to speak.

“We’re fine. We survived.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Phoenix let out a quiet breath. As the young lord of the Sunlight family, he had reached SS rank at an exceptionally young age. But he was used to fighting alone and had little experience in leading others.

In that regard, his failure to manage the flow of battle was glaring.

Fortunately, the raw strength of the strongest students had been enough to carry them through.

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