Chapter 516: Scars Beneath the Halo (2)

Iris chuckled, tugging his beard.

Unfortunately for him—Frey wasn’t wrong.

Had Frey actually chosen to escape, it would’ve taken the combined force of all commanders to even try to bring him back.

Iris still remembered the trial where he once defended Frey.

Even back then, he knew that Abraham Starlight’s son would eventually become the beast the Empire would depend on for its future wars.

His prediction had come true ..with terrifying accuracy.

Frey’s growth had far surpassed all expectations.

A monster with incomprehensible abilities... and the Empire’s deepest secret: his ability to break past the limits of talent itself.

"To be honest with you," Iris finally said, "I came here because I don’t want you to return to that cell."

"I’m listening," Frey replied, still wearing that unreadable expression..as if he had already anticipated the course of the conversation.

At that moment, Iris was convinced—the leader was far worse than his squad.

"I just finished meeting your team... those who survived your madness and suicidal charge."

"And?" Frey asked, prompting him.

"They’re all lunatics," Iris sighed. "I don’t know what kind of brainwashing spell you’ve cast on them, but they all want to fight by your side again."

He gave Frey a meaningful smile before adding,

"All of them... except Uriel Platini."

Upon hearing that, Frey instinctively narrowed his eyes.

Uriel—the one who may hold the key to freeing him from his curse—no longer wished to stand by his side.

"I understand my squad’s stance," Frey said. "Now I’d like to know mine. What’s going to happen to me?"

Dodging the subject of Uriel entirely, Frey pushed for the real reason behind Iris’s visit.

"Obviously, you’ll continue to fight in this war. You’re a force too valuable to lose... but from now on, you’ll fight as a soldier.. not a commander."

"You’ll be assigned to another leader’s unit and will be expected to follow their orders. Your squad members will join you .. but only because they personally requested it. Sounds fair enough, doesn’t it?"

Iris laughed.

But Frey was puzzled by how lenient it all sounded. Stripping him of a meaningless title was the only punishment?

"Fine... As long as I’m on the frontlines, I have no complaints."

"Good. Just don’t go off charging alone again."

Frey nodded, and together, they began their walk back toward the camp.

Along the way, they continued to discuss the current state of things, and what direction the war was likely to take next.

"So?" Frey eventually asked. "Who’s the commander I’m being assigned under?"

"You’ll find out soon enough once we arrive."

"Always the fan of surprises, aren’t you?"

"Aren’t you good with surprises, Frey Starlight?"

Iris grinned slyly.

As for Frey, his expression darkened slightly.

"My history with her is... rather grim."

All his life, every surprise he’d ever encountered had been either a near-death experience or the death of someone close to him.

There had never been another outcome.

"No need for all that gloom—and don’t belittle yourself, Frey Starlight. You are the main reason for our overwhelming victory thus far."

The current kill ratio stood at one to six—possibly seven—in the Empire’s favor against the Ultras.

Their side had gained a tremendous advantage, and it was all thanks to Frey’s efforts.

"This is just the beginning. What we’ve achieved so far... it’s only a single victory."

Frey’s point was clear. Even though he had slaughtered countless enemies and defeated many of their strongest warriors...

He hadn’t truly landed a major blow yet. Aside from Gvardiol.. whose death was still uncertain ..he hadn’t claimed a single "big fish."

"Even if it’s only one victory... it will serve as our foundation. I’m grateful for what you’ve accomplished, Frey Starlight. But I hope you don’t grow too used to blood and killing. Above all else, remember that you’re human—don’t lose yourself."

The advice made Frey smile involuntarily.

A bitter smile.

It was good advice ..truly ,But Frey no longer had the luxury of following it.

The path he walked was soaked in blood, and it would force him to kill again and again regardless of what he wanted.

At the end of that path... Frey had no idea what he would become.

"I appreciate the advice, old man. I’d love to follow it... once this war is over."

The War of Shadows had only just begun.

And both Frey and Iris knew that all too well.

Their journey back to the camp was completely silent afterward, each of them drowning in their own thoughts.

One was an old man burdened with the weight of tens of thousands of lives.

The other, a young man whose shoulders carried enough pressure to crush the will of even the strongest men alive.

...

...

...

That night passed without incident.

And the next morning...

The camp was alive with activity. Some soldiers were training rigorously. Others were catching up on sleep. Still others were huddled in groups, mapping out every possible detail and plan.

Among them all...

The future saint, Uriel Platini, had remained isolated inside her modest tent.

She had placed a holy barrier around her space, keeping others from getting close—so no one dared disturb her.

She sat quietly on a wooden chair beside her bed, getting dressed in silence.

Her beautiful blue eyes ..despite herself—kept flickering toward specific parts of her exposed skin.

Scars. Ugly, painful scars.

Carved deep into her flesh, like the marks of a cursed dagger dipped in blood.

They hurt her terribly... filled her with self-disgust... and brought with them an unbearable itch, like a never-ending rash from some cursed affliction.

Uriel had grown used to the pain.

She never spoke of it. Never complained. She had long since accepted her fate.

But even so... just for a fleeting moment...

She let herself believe in miracles.

Miracles that might rewrite fate itself.

And that miracle had a name—Frey Starlight.

She had hoped for more time.

But it seemed that time had run out.

Without warning, someone else stepped into her sacred barrier—as if it weren’t even there.

From outside the tent, a woman entered.

A woman who understood her pain far too well.

Saint Eurasha.

"Milady..."

Uriel quickly pulled her clothes on and stood to greet her.

Eurasha approached in silence, lifting a gentle hand to comb through Uriel’s soft, golden hair.

Her face was calm. Composed.

But little by little... her mask began to crack.

The two of them looked so alike .. so much so that strangers often mistook them for sisters.

Between them, there was no need for secrets.

That’s why...

Eurasha finally broke down in her successor’s arms.

"I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, dear Uriel..."

She wept in Uriel’s embrace.

Gone was the quiet, revered saint the world knew.

What stood there now was just a girl—crushed by the weight of it all.

Eurasha was still young. Not yet thirty.

She had always carried herself with a maturity far beyond her age.

But not now.

Not like this.

"I’m sorry... I’ve reached my limit. I can’t endure this anymore. I can’t carry this curse any longer..."

She kept apologizing, again and again, to Uriel .. who said nothing.

She just stood there, frozen, trying to process it all.

"I wanted to give you more time. I truly did. But I..."

Eurasha broke into sobs again.

But Uriel stopped her.

"It’s alright, Milady. I understand."

With a pained smile... she said the words.

"I’m grateful for all the time you gave me. It was far more than I ever deserved."

Uriel said it to comfort Eurasha... and herself.

And in that moment, she understood ..

The time had come.

The Saint must now face her destiny.