THE VILLAIN'S POV

Chapter 510: The Nameless Slaughterfield (1)

The Imperial forces had dispersed in an orderly formation across enemy territory, following the plans their commanders had meticulously crafted after much thought and preparation.

The Empire’s vanguard was divided into multiple units .. each penetrating deep into enemy territory while the main army advanced slowly behind them, maintaining its full strength.

There were many vanguard units, each led by a commander strong enough to withstand whatever the enemy might throw their way.

One of those commanders was Snow Lionheart, the Church’s chosen hero.

Following orders with unwavering discipline, Snow led his unit forward at a steady pace, clearing the path for those behind him.

In the first days of the campaign, he and his companions faced countless brutal battles against the enemy’s forces—monstrous legions that deployed Nightmare creatures.

But they held their ground thanks to the overwhelming strength within their ranks .. particularly the saintess Yurasha, who had reached SS+ rank.

Many elite students had also been assigned to Snow’s unit, including familiar names like the witch Selena and the swordsman Dawn Polaris.

It was their first real war .. but they endured impressively well.

Despite suffering casualties due to inexperience, things were going relatively well. At least, until everything began to change.

Just one week into the campaign, Snow and his unit noticed something deeply unnatural.

Despite their continued advance, the enemy never attacked.

At first, they assumed it was a psychological tactic .. an attempt by the Ultras to wear them down through suspense and tension.

And that’s precisely what happened.

The Empire’s forces began moving forward on edge, unaware of when or where an attack might come.

Days passed. But what they feared… never came.

The Ultras never confronted them. It was as if they had vanished from the map entirely.

The Empire’s scouts often found clear traces on the ground .. proof that enemy armies had indeed been there. Yet for reasons unknown, the Ultras had changed course, deliberately avoiding contact.

It was baffling. And so Snow attempted to communicate with the other vanguard units, only to discover they were experiencing the exact same phenomenon.

“What the hell is going on?”

Tension spread through the soldiers’ camps. Confusion reigned.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a war? Aren’t we on enemy soil?

Then where is the enemy?”

Those were the questions on everyone’s lips.

The Empire remained stationary for several days. But given the bizarre circumstances, high command finally ordered the forces to continue deeper into enemy territory.

It was risky .. dangerous even to venture that far into a vast unknown. They lacked the numbers to cover such a wide area, which meant the risk of being surrounded by enemy forces was high.

Still, the Empire had no choice but to trust their mages to detect danger in time—and press forward.

And so…

The scattered units regrouped and advanced together.

Trying to uncover the mystery.

Eventually, after a long and exhausting march, they began to notice the signs—

Signs of battle.

No .. signs of massacre.

The land had been dyed crimson. Souls extinguished. Monsters slaughtered.

Before them were the remnants of a brutal war they were meant to fight.

But someone else had fought it first.

“What kind of battle happened here?”

One soldier asked, stunned by the scale of destruction that had torn through the landscape.

Especially the massive sword marks carved into the earth .. as if an ancient giant had unleashed its wrath and scarred the world in its fury.

The corpses weren’t hard to identify. They belonged to Ultras… and to the Nightmare beasts.

And just as they were making sense of the scene, a report came in from the Empire’s scouts:

“Sir… we found freshly-dug graves near the battlefield. We believe they belong to our own soldiers.”

The report spread. It was relayed from one commander to another until every soldier knew what had happened.

Among all the Empire’s forces, there was one unit that had not been with the others.

One unit had fought the battle that left behind this trail of carnage.

And so, the Imperial army pressed onward, haunted by the sights they’d witnessed.

They thought they had seen everything.

But just hours later, they realized how wrong they were.

As they advanced, they stumbled upon another battlefield.

Another repeat of the same scene.

Hundreds of corpses. Torn ligaments. Severed heads. Burnt bodies. Crushed bones. Every possible kind of mutilation lay scattered across the earth.

“They fought again here… won… and kept moving forward.”

The conclusion wasn’t hard to reach, given the number of enemy corpses compared to the soldier graves left behind.

By now, the truth was no longer a secret.

They all knew which unit was responsible:

Frey Starlight’s.

He had ignored all orders, cut off communications completely, and charged headfirst into enemy lines alone.

He didn’t rely on clever tricks.

He didn’t need tactical maneuvers.

He fought from the front .. with steel, fire, and overwhelming power.

For the days that followed, they tried to catch up with him. But the deeper they advanced, the more they stumbled upon signs…

Signs of a real war.

In just a matter of days, Frey and his team had plunged into hell itself—outnumbered, alone… but they won. Every time.

They buried their dead.

And they kept moving forward.

At first, the imperial soldiers hadn’t paid much attention to the first battlefield they discovered. Despite how gruesome and terrifying it was, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. After all, most of them had experienced something similar in the early days of the campaign.

But then came the second scene… and the third… and the fourth…

As the blood-soaked sights continued to repeat themselves, silence fell upon the soldiers. Their mouths closed shut. Their faces darkened. And finally, they began to understand.

They had run with all their might, for days…

But they never caught up with Frey and his group. All they found was blood and death in his wake.

It seemed like that would be the only thing awaiting them for the days to come. But in the end… Frey and his group were still human.

And humans have limits.

No matter how strong they were, they would eventually be forced to stop ..and that’s exactly what happened.

The Ultras had cornered Frey Starlight’s squad, surrounding them from every direction.

The enemy’s spears were pointed at their throats, and there was no escape.

Outnumbered, exhausted from the relentless battles they’d already endured, many of Frey’s soldiers had lost the will to fight. Their morale had been shattered before their bodies even gave out.

The Ultras besieged them again and again, day after day.

They launched constant attacks against Frey’s group—but no matter what the Ultras tried…

They couldn’t break them.

At that exact moment, Frey and his few remained bore the full weight of the war alone, enduring the onslaught with nothing but sheer force of will.

Then, the Imperial army finally arrived. They reached the place where Frey and his companions had made their stand.

The morning sun of the twenty-first day crept slowly across the sky… revealing everything.

Thousands of Imperial soldiers reached the battlefield at last.

But despite their numbers and valor, not a single one of them uttered a word.

They stood there in stunned silence, as if they’d forgotten how to breathe .. let alone speak.

And their eyes… they couldn’t look away from the nightmare that unfolded before them.

If the previous battlefields had been terrifying, then this… this was hell incarnate.

At first, from a distance, they thought they were looking at mountains.

But as they drew closer… they realized the truth.

What they saw were corpses ..stacked atop one another ..forming hills that threatened to pierce the heavens themselves.

All around, walls had been built from severed limbs and torn flesh… scattered skulls littered the ground like gravel.

The blood was so thick that it had turned into a lake, swallowing their feet.

The blood-mist was so dense that even seeing became a struggle.

Before such a horrific sight, many of the soldiers collapsed on the spot. Some vomited. Others turned away, unable to look any longer.

Even the toughest among them—Phoenix Sunlight, Snow Lionheart…

Even veterans of war, like Bloodmader…

Their faces all darkened as one.

It was in that moment they finally understood.

Why the Ultras had suddenly disappeared…

Why they hadn’t been attacked at all in the past days…

The Ultras had taken heavy losses—so heavy, in fact, that they had been forced to send their entire vanguard to stop Frey and his team.

As a result, this war was no longer one between the Empire and the Ultras…

It had become a war between a single squad and an entire continent.

Many of them were confident in their strength… in their abilities…

But none of them could picture themselves surviving what Frey Starlight’s squad had endured.

Surrounded by tens of thousands of enemies, cut off for days on end, assaulted day and night by monsters and men alike…

Could they have endured it?

The answer was obvious.

For a long, long while, the soldiers stood still, unable to approach the graveyard of corpses before them.

For death itself lingered there.

And then… it happened.

A shift.

From amidst the mountains of death, a small group of people emerged.

Only a handful remained—so few they could be counted on one hand.

And among them… their leader.

At first glance, he looked pitiful.

Wearing a strange black mask, a dented, broken armor, and a torn, tattered cloak…

His body was drenched in blood—so much that his once-white hair had turned crimson.

But despite his miserable appearance…

Dread seized the hearts of all who dared look his way.

His aura… his presence alone made their bodies tremble where they stood.

A murderous, clinging aura crept over their skin .. slow and suffocating.

And they finally realized…

He hadn’t just survived.

He had endured. He had conquered.

He had become death itself.

Somehow, everyone understood it .. he was the one responsible for the bloodstained painting behind him.

As he approached, all the legion commanders stepped forward, surrounding him as they quietly placed him under arrest, dragging him away without a word.

As for his remaining comrades, they received medical treatment and the care they deserved after all they had endured.

Frey did not resist. He simply obeyed orders. And though he was arrested, he was never treated as a prisoner.

Despite disobeying orders and leading his squad into what was essentially a death march, he was also the hero who bore the horrors of war in everyone else’s stead.

Before a presence like his, no one truly knew how to treat him.

He didn’t look like a hero. He looked like an executioner—a reaper sent to carry out divine judgment.

The Ultras were monstrous, bloodthirsty beasts that ravaged the land… and to deal with them, the Empire birthed monsters of its own.

This was Frey Starlight.

And the battlefield in front of them was proof enough.

Later, that place was named The Nameless Slaughterfield.

A place where rivers of blood were formed… where bodies piled high enough to reach the heavens.