Across the vast battlefield, the overwhelming formation of aura covered everything.
For miles, countless souls trembled under the echo of that magnificent violet aura.
"Nameless's manipulation of space allows him to teleport anywhere in this world… so long as nothing interferes."
If Nameless himself were here, he could have evacuated the entire Imperial army in an instant.
But Frey was far from Nameless.
He was barely maintaining the formation.
The teleportation was slow, painfully slow—forcing everyone to defend him with their lives until he finished saving as many as possible.
Imperial warriors disappeared one after another, their forms swallowed by the violet light as Frey shifted them directly into the Shadow Sect.
In those frantic, desperate moments, Frey felt his mind being torn apart.
As if a massive blade had been driven into his skull, carving through his thoughts and ripping him open from within.
But he endured.
He kept going.
He didn't even know why.
