That was what allowed him to gather fifteen civilizations under his banner ...
and exterminate twenty others in less than six months.
The moment he gave them the right to speak, Alexander Rybak was the first to step forward.
He had been the second-ranked member of the sect for a very long time.
And after Gehrman’s death, many of the old members had begun seeing him as the man directly beneath Frey.
Even though Frey himself kept his father, Abraham, closer to him—
alongside Maskith.
"Forgive me for asking, but I need to understand something..."
"It has been six months since the sect was rebuilt, and since then, all we have done is wage wars and recruit soldiers."
"I thought we would head for the mysterious continent immediately. That is where the Demon King and most of our true enemies are."
What Alexander wished to ask about was simple—
when would they finally go to the continent where the greatest battles were taking place, the battles that would decide the fate of the world itself?
Compared to what was happening there, the wars waged by the Shadow Sect felt meaningless.
Frey answered without hesitation.
"There is no point in going unless our victory is guaranteed, Alexander."
he said, gazing forward as though he could clearly see that strange continent from where he sat.
"That land most of you long to enter is far different from what you imagine."
"It is a land of opportunity, yes. There is no doubt about that. The fate of anyone who enters it can change overnight, either for better or worse."
"But it hides horrors beyond anything your minds can comprehend."
Frey’s tone changed when he mentioned the final point.
The mysterious continent originally belonged to the Ethereal World.
Entering it was, in practice, the same as stepping into the true world beyond reality itself—
leaving behind the shell of the material world.
And with that, one would become free from the restraints of the Book.
That was what the Demon King, Agaroth, desired more than anything.
But freedom also meant something else—
they would be forced to face beings from an entirely different world.
A world overflowing with strange existences no material creature could truly understand.
"The continent hides countless horrors. Demon King Agaroth is there."
"And at this very moment, two other beings just as dangerous are there as well."
"Going now would change nothing."
Frey’s words made them realize they would not be entering the continent anytime soon.
For a longer period, they would continue fighting within the material world instead.
Frey’s actions were not without purpose.
Nor was he ever worried about arriving too late.
He had already explained to all of them that the continent was surrounded by an incredibly complex formation of intertwined labyrinths.
Passing through all of them would require at least a year.
Even the Demon King himself was no exception.
The labyrinths had been designed specifically to delay them as much as possible.
And the First Writer herself had built them that way.
In other words—
"No one has entered the true continent yet."
"They are all trapped inside an endless labyrinth. Nothing more."
That was the primary reason Frey did not fear arriving late.
The secrets of the mysterious continent would not reveal themselves for at least another year.
And most of those who entered it did not know that—
including the Demon King himself.
That answer satisfied Alexander’s curiosity, and he lowered his head slightly in understanding.
The second-ranked member of the Shadow Sect had already reached the peak of his strength after spending years doing nothing but training.
At this point, he desired only one thing—
battle against opponents equal or superior to himself.
That was one of the reasons behind his growing impatience.
Among all the wars the sect had waged recently, there had not been a single enemy capable of enduring against him.
As a result, the only people who could still challenge him were his fellow members of the sect.
And sparring against them was nothing like real battle—
nothing like risking his life.
After Alexander Rybak finished speaking, another member of the sect stepped forward.
This time, it was a woman.
A completely new face who had joined only recently.
And she was certainly no ordinary being.
She resembled a machine more than a living creature.
Her skin was unnaturally pale, almost metallic in appearance.
Her height matched that of women from Earth, yet everything about her looked strangely different.
Her eyes were entirely black, liquid-like in form.
Some of that darkness extended beneath her eyes and across her cheeks, making it look as though black tears had dried upon her face long ago.
She looked distorted.
The back of her head was completely open, revealing no brain within—
only strange cables hanging like hair.
A faint smile appeared on Frey’s face when he saw her step forward to speak.
"North, then? Of course."
"Come forward and say what you wish."
He gave her permission.
She bowed lightly before stepping ahead.
Every gaze inside the hall shifted toward her.
North was special.
Among all fifteen races that had recently joined them, she alone had managed to obtain a leadership position within the sect.
Her abilities were unique—
different from almost anything the others had ever seen.
North stood before Frey and spoke for the first time.
Her voice was perfectly mechanical.
So artificial it barely sounded real.
"My lord, I heard you possess greater control over life and death than anyone else in this world."
Frey nodded.
"That is correct."
After receiving confirmation, North fell silent for a few seconds, organizing her thoughts before continuing.
"Although we have won most of the wars we fought... many among us still died in battle."
"Can you not revive them all using your powers?"
It was a logical question.
If Frey truly possessed the power to resurrect anyone, then he would effectively command an immortal army capable of returning endlessly from death.
Yet he had never revived any of those who died in the wars.
He simply allowed them to perish permanently.
That fact had confused North.
It had once confused the older leaders of the Shadow Sect as well.
But unlike her, they already knew the answer.
So Frey explained without hesitation.
"I cannot revive the dead soldiers of the Shadow Sect."
"That is impossible."
he said, before correcting himself.
"To be precise... I cannot revive those who carry the mark."
"That is the condition required for the activation of the gift I granted them."
Frey was capable of resurrecting the dead by imprisoning their souls and creating new vessels for them to inhabit.
And now, after recovering his Ethereal powers, those vessels had become perfect.
However—
he could no longer revive those carrying the Gift of Life and Death.
That was the price required for him to obtain the souls of the slain and manipulate the laws of life and death.
Anyone bearing the gift had their soul completely bound, just like the dead.
Their souls became fuel—
fuel that increased Frey’s strength.
Naturally, Frey did not mention that final part.
He merely explained why he could not resurrect them.
In the end...
the soldiers of the Shadow Sect were destined to suffer the same fate as the countless people they killed with their own hands.
On the surface, it was said that he had gathered fifteen civilizations and destroyed twenty others.
But the truth was far darker.
He had cursed thirty-five civilizations—
turning them all into souls he could burn whenever he wished to feed his ever-growing power.
That was the reason behind Abraham’s constant frown.
And the reason behind Maskith’s overwhelming satisfaction.
Because the truth was simple—
Frey was leading them down an entirely new path.
A path of death and blood.