Chapter 559: Defiance in the Abyss (1)
Dawn broke over the Sacred Island as usual—the land hailed as paradise itself.
Normally, it would have marked the beginning of yet another blessed day upon holy soil.
But today was different.
Frey Starlight.
Snow Lionheart.
And Aegon Valerion.
Three men had trespassed upon hallowed ground, planting their feet upon forbidden earth. After discovering the horrific fate of Saint Yorasha, they were met with flocks of angels, descending from the skies, intent on ending their lives.
"Ten Thousand Steps of Shadow: Supreme art — Echo of the Abyss!"
"One Sword: Supreme art — Infernal Ascension"
In perfect unison, both Frey and Snow unleashed wide-scale destructive techniques, their pillars of aura blazing into the heavens, eradicating dozens of angels in one strike.
The two soared at impossible speeds, trailing afterimages of pure aura behind them as they tore through angel after angel.
The spectacle was dazzling, overwhelming, and though they were outnumbered beyond reason, the battlefield belonged wholly to them.
Aegon, meanwhile, concerned himself only with those that dared to approach him.
Wielding a golden sword of at least grade A, he conjured streams of black lightning with effortless precision, dispatching the few that drew near—leaving the vast majority to Frey and Snow.
While they fought above, the prince arranged the bodies of Saint Yorasha and the eight candidates neatly side by side, dragging the slain angels he had cut down and setting them beside the corpses. His eyes studied every detail.
Upon closer inspection—after tearing most of the garments from the saintesses—Aegon found dozens of bloody carvings and glyphs etched into their very flesh, bringing a blissful smile to his lips.
"Exactly as I suspected... Cursed rituals were performed here."
The deafening roars of explosions shook the shrine as Frey and Snow unleashed chaos above, but Aegon ignored the carnage, fascinated by the corpses before him.
Examining the angels’ remains, he discovered the very same bloody markings carved into their flesh and throughout the shrine’s foundations.
"It seems to be a mechanism of sorts... This language, these runes—they are not of human origin. There is no such tongue in this world."
In other words ..
"This power stems from an entirely different race. Just as demonic power and contracts flow from demons, these symbols bind humanity to something else entirely."
And it was not difficult for Aegon to guess the source.
After all, the Church had never hidden the name of the being they worshiped.
"The Lord of Light, isn’t it?" Aegon muttered, seated among the desecrated corpses of girls and shattered angels littering the marble floor like fallen insects.
"But tell me... are such pitiful creations truly the handiwork of a being revered as a god?"
The Lord of Light was a force beyond comprehension—yet the Church’s methods? They were pathetic in comparison.
Blood-carved symbols, sacrifices of the living ..all to spawn weapons like these angels, the majority of whom were nothing but weaklings.
"Did they truly sacrifice Saint Yorasha—an SS+—for something so trivial?"
It would have made sense if only the candidates had been offered up.
But the saint herself?
And stranger still, the way Yorasha’s youthful beauty had been reduced to the shriveled husk of an old crone...
"This is a riddle indeed. One I could solve easily if I brought out my favorite tool... but—"
Aegon tilted his head upward, his eyes locking on Frey Starlight.
Even while battling countless angels, leaving a storm of violet trails in the sky, Frey’s gaze never once strayed from him.
"...Too early to reveal it here. For now, I’ll play by their rules."
Kicking aside the body of a broken angel, the prince rose and returned to the fray.
Whether by chance or design, the angels were converging on him.
It almost seemed as though Frey had let them slip past on purpose, for with his power, eliminating them would have been no challenge at all.
Ordinary angels, as far as Frey had gauged, barely reached rank A in strength.
Formidable as soldiers—capable of overwhelming much of the Empire or the Ultras armies ..
but against the true elite? Against SS and beyond?
They were nothing.
Which explained why Snow and Frey were cutting through them with ease.
But what of Aegon?
The last time his combat ability had been measured, he was only at rank A-.
By raw power alone, he was beneath them all.
Now, surrounded by dozens, this should have been his death.
Yet the prince’s composure never wavered—not even once.
At that instant, when the angels encircled him ..for just one heartbeat ..
a strange pressure rippled outward.
A chilling bite of frost ran down both Frey’s and Snow’s spines.
They could not explain it, nor trace it ..
but it was Aegon. They were certain.
From his blade, countless serpents of crimson-black lightning slithered across the edge, and with peerless precision, he cut into the angels’ bodies, rending them apart one after another.
His power was not flashy.
Not overwhelming.
But it was absolute.
Dark crimson lightning—quiet, deadly—yet strong enough to cleave apart beings of rank A with ease.
The angels retaliated, firing volleys that engulfed the sky in roaring explosions.
But from the smoke and ruin, the prince strode out unharmed. His armor glowed with golden inscriptions, casting an aura-barrier that turned aside every strike.
"Apologies," he said coolly, brushing dust from his shoulder.
"But this armor renders me untouchable to anything below rank S."
"In other words..."
"You have no way of hurting me."
Slash!!
With effortless precision, the black lightning carved through his enemies, ripping them apart. Within minutes, the battle was over—hundreds of angels lay dead at the feet of Frey and his companions.
Descending from the skies, Frey and Snow regrouped with Aegon, who had remained by the corpses.
Aegon glanced once more at the bodies, but it was Snow who spoke first.
"You held your ground well back there. I didn’t know you had that kind of strength."
It was the first time Snow had seen a glimpse of the prince’s true combat style.
He looked almost ordinary—wielding his dark lightning and shield with calm efficiency. Nothing about it seemed remarkable... and yet, Snow couldn’t shake the strange sensation that had struck him for that single moment when Aegon revealed his power.
Their eyes met. Aegon seemed ready to share something, but Frey cut in sharply with the question that had been gnawing at him.
"Aegon... where did you get that power?"
The prince blinked in mild surprise, then smiled.
"Clarify—are you referring to the shield? Or something else?"
Feigning ignorance, but Frey pressed harder.
"I mean that lightning you wield." Frey’s voice was firm, forcing Snow to frown.
"Isn’t that just the highest form of lightning? Look, I can use it too."
Snow casually formed a black spark in his right hand, as if it were nothing.
But Frey shook his head.
"No. This is different. What you showed us wasn’t the highest form of lightning. It was something else entirely."
A deep violet gleam flickered in Frey’s eyes as he stared at Aegon.
"No human alive has sharper senses than I do. You might fool others, but not me, Aegon. That power you’re using... it doesn’t belong to you."
In an instant, Frey vanished and reappeared directly before the prince, seizing his arm in a crushing grip.
Aegon had no chance to resist. With ease, Frey tore away the gauntlet on his right arm, revealing what he had already suspected.
At first, Snow didn’t understand. But when he saw the markings, his eyes widened.
"Those are...!" Snow gasped.
Aegon’s arm was covered in jet-black tattoos, swirling across his skin like chains.
"These aren’t tattoos," Frey muttered, his expression darkening.
"This is a contract. A demonic contract."
It was unmistakable. Every demonic contractor bore the same kind of mark—the same as those of the Ultras.
And now it was revealed: the crown prince of the Empire, its supreme commander, and future emperor... was bound by a demon’s pact.
That alone was grounds for immediate execution ..stripped of his titles, his achievements, and branded a traitor.
But instead of panic, Aegon merely sighed in irritation, releasing a surge of lightning that forced Frey’s hand off his arm.