THE VILLAIN'S POV

Chapter 566: Shadow Unbound “Keep searching! There’s no way they’ve gotten far!” one of the Church’s followers shouted, torch in hand as he prowled for those who had dared trespass upon his sacred ground. “They’re strong—but remember, you don’t have to defeat them. All you need to do is reveal their location, and our dear Bishop will handle the rest!” “Dying to fulfill the Lord of Light’s will is a great honor few truly grasp. There is no end more glorious than this! Our enemies will writhe in hell, while we are reborn—stronger, purer! That is the destiny we seek!” “Do not fear death! Death is the beginning, not the end!”

Among the swarms of the Church’s faithful flooding the forest were many who kept spewing such speeches—people of high rank within the Church.

Their words inflamed their followers, stoking them to a fever pitch, indifferent to death.

Their enemies were no ordinary foes: Frey Starlight, Snow Lionheart… and the enigmatic prince, Aegon.

It was obvious this trio could slaughter them with ease—yet the Church’s followers didn’t care. So long as they could contribute even a little to bringing them down, they didn’t mind dying for such a cause.

Hidden among the trees as rain began to fall from nowhere .. a strange rain, not made of water, but of holy power ..

Frey and the others watched in silence. “They’ve been brainwashed,” Aegon said, recognizing the signs of manipulation. “These Church followers are the product of ceaseless indoctrination and deceit by the High Bishop and his circle. They planted extremist ideas in their minds and made them believe their cause is the truest—so much so that they don’t mind dying.”

Manipulating people in the name of religion .. it was a terrifying way to breed fanatics. “They mean to kill us .. even with their hero standing here,” Aegon said, glancing at Snow, bearer of Vermithor .. in other words, the one chosen by the Lord of Light.

But his word no longer held any weight. “Since they claim to receive revelation from the Lord of Light, they have no need of me. I don’t think they’ll go so far as to kill me, but they likely won’t listen to me anymore—not when I oppose direct orders they believe came straight from the Lord they worship and love.”

In short, there was no way to turn the Church’s followers into allies—especially those in Noctherra, the secret stronghold of the Lord of Light’s faithful. “Our priorities now: find Blattier… confirm he’s the one controlling those angels… and look for Saint Uriel. If Aegon’s assumption is right, they may sacrifice her to summon something far more sinister.”

Sitting on the ground as the sacred rain soaked him, Frey set the Nameless mask on his face, hiding his skin. “The best way to operate now is to split up and search. The two of you are strong enough to handle yourselves. The moment either of you finds any lead to our targets, send a signal and we regroup immediately.”

That was the plan Frey laid out. “Not a bad idea,” Aegon said in agreement. He preferred working alone anyway; it was the best way to set the traps he liked to prepare in advance.

Snow didn’t comment; instead he studied Frey, who sat before him—something about him suggested he was hiding something up his sleeves.

Aegon agreed at once and moved to depart. “I’ll push deeper north. The rest is yours,” he said with a smile before cloaking himself in the glow of lightning and darting away. “The totem will lose effect soon, so move now and mask your presence as much as possible—or you’ll draw the angel,” Aegon warned one last time, then vanished among the grasses and trees.

Snow and Frey remained.

Frey sat fitting the Nameless mask, and Snow stood behind him.

Snow wanted to ask, but he didn’t press since Frey hadn’t spoken of it. “I’ll head west… Frey, don’t overdo it or try to shoulder this alone. Remember—I’m on your side,” he said, his eyes gleaming gold.

Frey gave a curt nod. “I know. And I truly appreciate it. Be careful out there.”

Snow nodded back, wrapped himself in aura, and sped off.

Frey was finally alone.

The moment Snow and Aegon were far enough, he pulled back his sleeves and bared his skin—revealing what he’d been hiding.

From beneath his pale flesh, lines of black crept forth—like filthy worms of shadow.

Frey felt his body changing by the moment; his power had grown anything but stable. “I need to hurry and purge this damned shadow.” Rising to his feet again, he kept his face hidden behind the Nameless mask.

That mask always helped him keep his power in check—and his nerves under control. “It’s been a while since I last explored that Library… I suppose I’ll have to visit it soon.”

Within the depths of the Nameless mask lay thousands of strange books, waiting for him to leaf through them all.

And the Blood Path forced him to kill without pause if he wished to grow stronger faster… “I can’t enter the Library right now. Dealing with the Church and the shadow takes priority. But at the very least… I can increase my power without restraint—by killing as many of the Lord of Light’s devotees as possible.”

He had sent Snow and Aegon in different directions, urging them to conserve strength and hunt for clues leading to Blattier.

It was the best plan, truly—but Frey had never intended to follow it. “I can’t let Wesker’s shadow shackle me. If I want to rise to a level where I can defeat my enemies, I need to kill far more… many more.”

And the Church would be the new prey.

Most of the Church’s followers were merely ordinary people—misled and manipulated until their faith blinded them.

You could say the vast majority hadn’t done anything that merited death. They were victims.

And Frey knew all of this already—yet he intended to kill them anyway. “Everyone in this life has the freedom to choose. Yes, you were manipulated—deceived by others—but in the end, you chose this path all the same.” “You chose to worship the Lord of Light and obey His orders—no matter how extreme or senseless—so far that you’re ready to die for Him.”

From the brush, Frey stepped out before a group of Church followers, who screamed the instant they saw him.

But Frey walked toward them calmly, unfazed by the weapons leveled at him. “You’ve chosen—now face the consequences of your choice.”

Slash!!

With a single sweep of his sword, Frey sent a colossal arc of aura that swept through the dozens before him, severing every head before they even realized what had happened. “He’s here! The intruder is—arghhh!” one of the Church’s followers screamed—only for Frey to take his head as well. “You believed what you chose to believe—and here you are, losing your lives to my blade, one after another.”

Slash!!

Upon Noctherra’s sacred ground, blood spilled and the dead fell one after the other. “This life is anything but fair… Had you crossed paths with a virtuous hero, perhaps you might have been saved.”

The plan had been to find Blattier, defeat him, strip the Church of its angels—then withdraw.

A plan meant to spare the Church’s followers who had nothing to do with this… mere weaklings whose existence was as good as nothing. “Unfortunately… I’m no hero.”

Hand stained with their blood, Frey cut them down one after another.

And little by little, that familiar feeling returned— the feel of blood slick across his body, his muscles boiling with the heat of war and death…

That feeling was what made Frey kill more—and proof that he was growing stronger.

The Blood Path drove him forward, pushing him to higher tiers he needed to reach as fast as possible.

No sooner had the battle begun than Frey had killed many of them, and chaos followed in his wake— chaos that drew the celestial creature that had been circling the region from the start.

Above his head, the War Angel appeared once more, shaking the land with the pressure of her aura.

The instant she caught sight of Frey, she opened her mouth—and the roaring beam of aura poured forth, annihilating everything in its path.

But that overwhelming strike touched nothing but earth and the corpses Frey had left behind.

Using his teleportation ability, he vanished and slipped the attack with ease—then reappeared elsewhere among the Church’s ranks, tearing through them as if nothing had happened.

Screams rose everywhere, and the dead dropped one by one.

The angel pursued Frey at once, attacking him again—but each time she targeted him, he disappeared, only to reappear farther away to reap more followers.

It repeated several times. In a short span, hundreds died, and the Church stood powerless to halt a single man. “The angel is strong. That blast of hers can kill even those at SS+.”

Slash!!

Ripping through more and more bodies, Frey kept one eye on the angel wheeling overhead. “She may be strong—but she’s simple. One attack in her entire arsenal, and she’s forced to recharge after every shot… like a machine.”

Fighting her was annoying all the same; her holy barrier was hard to pierce.

But avoiding her was child’s play for someone like Frey, who could teleport instantaneously. “Keep spewing your filth at me as much as you like—you’ll touch nothing but a mirage.” “By day’s end, nothing around you will remain but the dead. Then the one who sent you will learn who he’s dealing with.”

Frey could more than handle the angel—even defeat her—but he saw no need. It would only drain him pointlessly.

Killing the Church’s followers, on the other hand, fed his strength ..and that was exactly what he welcomed more than anything.

As the fight dragged on, the Church’s followers began to understand .. to understand what the Ultras had suffered since the war began.

They began to grasp who the Black Death was, and why he’d been given that name.

Frey Starlight—the man who had borne most of the war against the Ultras alone and made them taste endless ruin— now turned his blade on the very ones who had chosen to follow the Lord of Light.

Minutes earlier, they had been ready to face death itself to fulfill their god’s command.

But now … face-to-face with the man drowning them in his viscous killing intent .. one after another, many of them broke into screams and fled, turning their backs on the figure whose face a black mask rendered all the more terrifying.

Their blessed angel, in whom they had placed such faith, was of no use against this monster; he toyed with her with ease, as if she were nothing but a child’s plaything.

One after another, the Church’s followers ran. “Stop! How dare you flee before the enemy?!” one of the bishops bellowed, furious.

He was supposed to command them and keep them on the field .. but he had lost control completely.

He tried to halt them—but only seconds passed before his head toppled from his shoulders as well. “What—?” he managed, staring at Frey who had appeared before him. It was the last word he spoke—and Frey’s visage was the last sight he saw in life.

The Church’s followers scattered in panic, and Frey walked after them. “That’s right… run. Run back the way you came.”

Step by measured step, he followed, teleporting whenever the angel tried to strike him down.

Amid the followers’ screams and the thunder of the angel’s bombardments,

Frey walked calmly through the chaos, violet light blazing in his eyes—fixed upon his victims, the ones whose blood he meant to spill. “Run—and show me the path to the place where your leaders are hiding,” Frey said, a terrifying smile forming beneath the mask… a sadistic, blood-soaked smile of a man who relished the kill. “In this way, I’ll be able to kill you all.”

The hunt had only just begun—and a massacre was about to unfold.