THE VILLAIN'S POV

Chapter 563: Behind the Holy Veil

The Holy Island – Sicily

The stronghold of the followers of the Lord of Light—supposedly their blessed paradise. And yet, somehow, it lay empty.

Upon that land, cut off from the rest of the world, three men wandered alone among the corpses of both angels and humans alike.

Hours had passed since their arrival, yet Frey and his companions found no trace of Joseph Blattier, the one they had come searching for, nor of Uriel Platini, who was supposed to be nearby.

As they scoured shrines and churches scattered across the island, silence hung heavy between them. The reason was simple: what had transpired earlier between Frey and the prince.

Snow Lionheart, using his sword, searched for clues that might lead them to unravel the mystery at hand. But even the Vermithor offered him no direction.

Meanwhile, Frey released his full aura, expanding it to envelop the entire island in search of answers of his own.

The sheer magnitude of energy radiating from his body sent chills down Snow’s spine, even after all he had been through.

“Even though my strength has grown tremendously thanks to the demonic path, I still can’t perceive him…” Snow sighed as he approached Frey.

The latter opened his eyes the moment his friend neared.

“Ah—sorry. Did I interrupt you?” Snow asked apologetically, but Frey shook his head.

“Not at all. I was simply growing tired of searching for clues in this wretched place.”

He exhaled, scanning the ruined sanctuaries before them.

“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack… except in our case, it’s a whole island of hay.”

Despite pushing his senses to the very limit, despite casting his aura over every inch of this land, Frey could not detect a single trace of the church’s followers.

It was as though they had vanished from the world entirely.

“We had planned to strike swiftly and retreat, using the element of surprise. But that chance is gone,” Snow said, seating himself beside Frey on the roof of one of the island’s grander shrines.

“After the angelic assault earlier, it’s all but certain they know we’re here. Meaning that even if we do find them, they’ll be ready for us.”

Frey nodded grimly. It was the obvious conclusion.

“There’s something ominous about this island… something foreboding,” Frey muttered, recalling the sacrificed saint he had witnessed.

“They’re sacrificing their own to grasp at greater power… they went so far as to slaughter an awakened of rank SS+. I can no longer make sense of what the church is trying to achieve.”

He was sincere. Even the novel he had once written offered him no clues now. In his original story, the church had been little more than a nuisance—a force Snow was meant to dispatch without much difficulty.

But this church—the real one—was nothing like that. Frey had abandoned all thought of relying on the novel he once authored. He no longer saw himself as the creator of this world at all.

“Aegon said there’s some riddle we must solve if we hope to find Platier…” Snow said, his gaze drifting toward the prince, who wandered some distance away, conducting his own search in his own peculiar way.

Snow’s expression grew complicated, clouded with suspicion. Frey noticed it immediately.

“Sorry… I suppose what happened earlier left you unsettled.”

“Well… I’d be lying if I said it didn’t.”

Leaning back, Snow replayed the scene in his mind.

“First you tried to kill him—and I could clearly tell you were serious. The killing intent radiating from you wasn’t something anyone could mistake. But then, at the very last moment, you stopped. It was as if something held you back… something that made you strike a deal with Aegon instead.”

From Snow’s perspective, watching from the sidelines, he hadn’t been able to catch what Aegon had whispered. He had no way of knowing the true reason Frey stayed his hand.

To him, it looked like some strange power had frozen Frey in place. And then, bafflingly, Frey had entered into some kind of agreement with the prince immediately afterward.

Snow couldn’t make sense of it. So, for now, he chose to focus on the matter at hand, setting the enigma of Aegon aside.

“Tell me, Snow—what do you think is the best way to deal with Aegon?” Frey asked, his voice calm but edged with weight.

Snow remained silent for a few seconds, pondering before answering.

“Honestly? I think following a man like that will only lead to disaster. I don’t believe in the shallow notions of good and evil, so I won’t say Aegon is simply ‘evil’ and must be killed. But without question, he’s someone who deserves punishment—and someone we must be wary of.”

He recalled everything Aegon had revealed… most of all, his use of Dragoth in his schemes. That revelation had shaken him.

And yet, he didn’t believe Aegon deserved death. For all his disdain for the prince, Snow acknowledged his cunning. Aegon Valerion was capable of much—and if he was on their side, he could be a devastating weapon in this war, tilting the scales against any foe.

That was why Snow hadn’t supported Frey when he attempted to kill him—but he hadn’t intervened to stop him either.

In other words, he chose neutrality in the matter. As long as Aegon fought on their side, Snow would let him live—though he must face consequences. Whatever form that punishment took, it wouldn’t extend to execution.

Frey, listening, nodded slowly.

“Your reasoning isn’t wrong… but it isn’t right either.” His eyes hardened as he stared toward where Aegon wandered.

“Aegon Valerion could be a tremendous asset in this war. But there’s no guarantee he’ll always be on our side. He only ever acts for his own gain. He’s an unpredictable variable… one better off dead before he can keep playing the game.”

Frey chuckled bitterly, spreading his arms.

“But as you can see, killing him has become… difficult. That bastard utterly defeated me.”

He laughed again, standing up from where he sat.

The truth was simple: the thought of Aegon consumed him. It hadn’t left his mind once in the hours since their clash.

For now, he had accepted Aegon’s offer.he had agreed to fight alongside him. But it was compulsion, not choice.

Killing Aegon now could lead to disasters beyond reckoning.

At worst, it might draw out the being who had gifted Aegon his true name. At best, perhaps Aegon had obtained it by some other means.

For example, just like the Mist Stalker did in the past… when it used his memories against him.

Perhaps the prince possessed a method or an artifact that allowed him to read minds… but that possibility was slim.

Either way… the risk was too great.

Between the risk of killing Aegon and provoking whatever he was hiding, or going with the flow and waiting… Frey chose the latter.

It was vexing—his enemies had begun to multiply far too much lately: the Ultras, the High Demons that had recently appeared…

The Church, shrouded in mystery, and now Aegon, with whatever secrets he concealed.

It felt as if Frey was now cornered from all sides… even the Empire’s side could no longer be trusted because of the prince.

“Let’s move,” Frey said before leaping down from the top of the mausoleum, with Snow following right after him.

“To where?!”

“Where do you think? To the place where the Church’s bastards are hiding,” Frey replied, his gaze fixed on that waterfall which split the heavens and descended to nourish this land with blessings.

“When I once covered this island with my aura, I could sense every little thing happening here… nothing could escape my eyes.”

“But that waterfall was the exception. No matter how I tried to pierce it with my aura, it was as if some force repelled me. You know what that means, don’t you?” Frey asked, while Snow grasped the implication.

“That waterfall is the key…”

“Most likely.”

With Frey’s SSS-class aura and heightened senses, finding the path wasn’t difficult.

“Chances are, the Church never expected to face someone like me.”

After all, no human alive was known to possess an SSS-class aura. The Church would never have imagined that Frey was the exception.

“Let’s drag that damned prince and head to the waterfall… it’s time to solve this mystery.”

And so, the three of them found the first clue leading to the place they had been seeking.

—

It took only a few minutes for Frey and Snow to regroup with Aegon, and together they made their way toward the waterfall.

As they approached, the three were awestruck by the bizarre sight… a waterfall descending straight from the heavens.

“This is definitely not something man-made…” Snow said, and Frey agreed.

“You’re probably right.”

Aegon was the first to advance, placing his hand upon the waterfall, attempting to push through… yet his hand halted before crossing to the other side.

“These are no ordinary waters—they are brimming with divine power.”

They appeared like ordinary water, but the truth was vastly different from what the eye perceived.

The moment Frey and Snow approached, they both realized the prince had spoken the truth.

The amount of holy energy those waters emitted was immense—so immense that it surpassed even what Snow’s sacred blade, Vermithor, had unleashed.

“This is incredible. It looks like a normal waterfall at first glance… but in truth, it’s a current of divine energy so dense that it has taken the form of water,” the prince said, delighted with his discovery.

“That would explain why this island overflows with such pure aura…”

The holy island of Sicilia was described as a paradise on earth, blessed with endless riches and abundance. No place was more sanctified than this.

And the reason was none other than the waterfall itself, which nourished and healed the land endlessly with its divine energy.

This realization made them all ponder the same question…

“Where in the hell is all this holy power coming from?”

A waterfall that poured out aura ceaselessly for years… what was its true source? And what kind of aura was this, never once depleted over all these years?

The answer was a riddle that baffled them, but solving it wasn’t their priority.

At the same time, all three tried to cross the waterfall—but the waters were like a wall, denying passage.

“Looks like we’re in the right place…” Aegon said with a smile, while Frey drew the Dark Sister.

“This waterfall is more like a barrier… or to be precise, a gate. It conceals whatever lies on the other side.”

They could have simply gone around it, but the waterfall wasn’t hiding what lay behind—it concealed something entirely different.

“There must be some mechanism to pass through,” Aegon said, pointing out the obvious.

“That’s true, but we don’t have time to figure out that mechanism.”

Gathering dark aura around his blade and amplifying it with the Dark Sister, Frey readied himself to strike.

“It’ll be easier to carve open the path by force.”

Channeling his sword, Frey intended to tear the way open himself, letting the aura of darkness invade the waterfall.