Nameless Death POV
They escaped without fanfare.
One moment they were gone from the ruins of the Site, and the next, they stood under a sky littered with endless stars.
The ground beneath them was soft and pale white sand stretching across the horizon.
All around, shattered remnants of massive white pillars lay half-buried like the bones of some long-dead titan.
Nameless Death glanced around. His gaze swept the ruins once, then twice.
He frowned.
This place…. felt familiar.
Then, a phrase surfaced in his mind.
[Sky Barrier]
His brow twitched.
He didn’t know why the name came to him, or from where.
No matter how much he tried to pull the memory forward, it slipped through his fingers.
Eventually, he gave up trying to remember and instead looked around more carefully.
“This place…” he murmured. “So this is why Barbatos never found it even after searching for decades.”
“Yes. This location is a Space-Time Prison. But this isn’t my base, if that’s what you’re thinking. I have quite a few Spec-Time Prisons on the Site.
“I move through them when travelling, which is why my movements can’t be detected.” Berserker chuckled beside him.
Nameless gave him a look but said nothing.
“And if you’re already this surprised,” Berserker continued with a half-grin, “you should—”
A sound interrupted him.
Crack.
Both of them froze.
They turned their heads in unison.
Their eyes locked onto a specific point in the air not far from where they stood.
A thin fracture had appeared, running diagonally through space itself.
The crack pulsed faintly with white light and slowly began to widen.
Berserker’s face shifted.
“What…?”
He couldn’t believe it.
Nameless Death narrowed his eyes.
Space-Time Prisons didn’t exist in space or time. Locating them, let alone forcibly entering them should be impossible.
Which why both of them couldn’t believe what happened.
Through the growing crack, a figure stepped into the prison.
Barbatos.
His foot hit the white sand with a dull thud.
The moment contact was made, an overwhelming force erupted from his body.
Death and shadow poured out in an instant, manifesting as shockwaves laced with red and black lightning.
The air split around him, the ground trembled beneath his presence.
“I apologize for entering like this,” Barbatos said, calmly. His tone was even, but the threat underneath was unmistakable. “But I need the two of you to come back. The Prince still wants to speak with you.”
Nameless and Berserker stood on high alert.
Neither moved, but their auras began to ripple subtly.
Barbatos’ words weren’t a request. They were a command dressed in civility.
Nameless clenched his jaw.
Dammit.
Could he win?
He was strong, overwhelmingly so.
He was confident enough to say only Stage 4 Blessed Ones or Loved Ones could stand a chance against him.
Blessed Ones and Loved Ones could borrow strength of Supremes, but even they couldn’t guarantee victory against Nameless Death.
But Barbatos wasn’t Stage 4.
He was Stage 5.
And worse—
He’s Rank 2 Grim Reaper… and the only one who’s completed three Shadow Trials.
Even completing one Shadow Trial was nigh-impossible.
Barbatos had completed three. He was the only one who had ever done so.
‘I’ll buy time. You find a way to escape,’ Nameless said telepathically to Berserker.
‘No. I want to fight him,’ Berserker replied, his body already twitching with the urge to move.
‘If we don’t leave now, I’ll never get the chance to create my Path,’ Nameless snapped back. ‘Tell me—do you want to fight him now? Or fight me later, when I’ve finished creating my Path?’
There was silence. Then Berserker clicked his tongue in frustration.
‘Fine. Buy me thirty seconds.’
Nameless almost grimaced.
Thirty seconds?
It was an absurd request.
At their level, a true exchange at full power could involve more than quadrillions of attacks all within a single heartbeat.
Berserker might as well have asked him to defeat Barbatos outright.
But there was no other way.
Nameless took a slow breath, then stepped forward, speaking aloud now.
“Thanks for waiting while we talked,” he said to Barbatos.
His tone was calm, almost casual.
He had no doubt Barbatos knew they’d been communicating telepathically. The fact he hadn’t interrupted only confirmed it.
Barbatos offered a faint nod.
“It’s the least I can do, considering I entered someone else’s home uninvited.”
“Oh? Then allow me to ask something before we start fighting.” Nameless stopped a few paces ahead, arms loose at his sides. “How did you enter this place?”
“I found the Space-Time Prisons on this planet a few weeks ago, and began investigating them. That research is what delayed my return to your battle with Supreme of Void. When I finally arrived, I learned the Supreme of Void had used one of the prisons to escape.”
He stepped forward once.
“So I followed.”
Nameless didn’t answer right away.
The explanation made no sense.
Space-Time Prisons didn’t exist in space, or in time.
They were folded dimensions, hidden between material universe and a conceptual void.
How could a Stage 5 Grim Reaper find one, let alone force his way in?
Then again, this was Barbatos.
The Grim Reaper who had walked through three Shadow Trials and survived.
Normal logic didn’t apply to him anymore.
“Thanks for the answer,” Nameless muttered.
Not that it helped. If Barbatos could enter a sealed place like this, then there wasn’t any safe location left.
“Now. If you would please return to the Prince. He’s… upset.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Nine orbs appeared behind Nameless Death’s back.
They hovered in a slow circle, glowing faintly.
Threads of time curled through them. Each orb stored a compressed world.
Nameless spoke quietly.
[The World]
The orbs pulsed as the Worlds of Time were deployed.
Air twisted, bending reality into loops of causality.
The white sand beneath his feet froze mid-fall, locked in place by temporal dilation.
Above him, the sky shimmered, the stars flickering erratically as if their light had been disrupted.
Nameless Death didn’t hesitate.
Thousands of techniques activated in succession, each multiplying his speed by tens of times.
His body blurred, then vanished.
From a distance, it would seem as if he simply teleported.
But this was no trick of light.
He had genuinely compressed time around his body and rushed forward, blade arcing toward Barbatos’ neck.
The True Death Sword’s edge glinted in the starlight.
But Barbatos didn’t move or block. Instead, he spoke calmly.
“I apologize for this in advance.”
His voice cut through the distorted time.
“There is still a possibility that you are the Second Prince. That is why I did not attack, even after receiving the First Prince’s order.”
Nameless Death’s hair stood on back.
How was Barbatos speaking so clearly?
His body should have been frozen in time, or at least slowed to a crawl.
Nameless had bent time around himself so aggressively that his soul and body were being torn apart, even though he was using countless defense techniques.
And yet, Barbatos’ voice carried through it all easily.
“…however,” Barbatos continued, “if you wish to fight, then please be prepared to die.”
Nameless Death’s instincts screamed.
A dangerous attack was coming.
His limbs slowed.
The air became heavy.
It was as though he had waded into a swamp.
Every motion dragged with it the weight of iron chains.
Nameless Death clenched his jaw, and tried to increase the pace of his sword swing. But just as—
His mind blanked.
No pain. No sound. Just darkness.
And then—
“Wake up!”
A voice pierced the fog.
Nameless Death gasped, drawing a ragged breath. His chest heaved. He was on his knees, the world spinning.
“How long are you planning to stand there?!” Berserker shouted beside him, his tone sharp. “Snap out of it!”
Nameless Death’s hand shot up to his neck.
Cold sweat ran down his back. He stared at his trembling fingers.
‘I was killed…’
There was no mistaking it.
It wasn’t a near-death sensation, or a future vision.
His body remembered being sliced apart in a single motion, even if his mind didn’t remember anything of the sort happening.
He was only alive because of his ability to revive.
“What kind of attack was that…” he muttered.
He turned his gaze toward Barbatos.
The Grim Reaper now stood a few steps away, holding a massive black scythe in one hand.
The blade shimmered faintly, exuding the death into the air.
“Please don’t underestimate Stage 5. The difference between Stage 4 and 5 isn’t just raw power, or speed. It’s something else entirely.
“There is no be embarrassed that you are going to lose.
“Instead of being shaken, please take think of this as a lesson,” Barbatos said. “This is the power of a Stage 5.”
Nameless Death said nothing.
There was nothing to say.
Barbatos raised his scythe, and brought it down.
The sky trembled.
A dome of black and red erupted from the ground like a storm.
Death and shadow surged out in every direction, and a shockwave of pressure followed it.
The white sand exploded into the air, blinding sight and numbing senses. Even Berserker staggered, raising his arm to shield himself.
Barbatos exhaled.
He expected Nameless Death to die easily again.
But…
‘What?’
Barbatos didn’t feel any foreign death that should’ve appeared after Nameless Death died.
‘He survived?’
‘That shouldn’t be possible.’
His attack was something only Stage 5 could counter, or block.
“Cough! Cough!”
Nameless Death’s figure became visible through the dust.
“Thanks… for the lesson…”
He had lost his hand, and the skin all over his body had ruptured. His soul was one step away from shattering.
But…
“You stopped my attack.”
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