THE VILLAIN'S POV

Chapter 593: Chronicles of the Lost Truth (2)

A Saint was never meant to fight on the frontlines—her role was support. Close combat was never her domain.

But Liora disregarded such logic entirely.

She was far too fast for him to react. In an instant, her right hand pressed against his chest, unleashing a strange force that surged violently through his body.

”Joseph Blattier,” she said softly, her tone carrying a divine weight, ”this power was never yours to begin with. You are nothing but a usurper who stole strength by sacrificing countless innocent souls—souls that never belonged to you.”

”For that reason, I must set them free... to grant them the salvation and freedom you so cruelly stole.”

At her words, Blattier felt something within him tear apart.

And then—without warning—his back exploded, spewing forth thousands... no, millions of radiant motes of light that burst free from his body at the first chance they had.

The bishop screamed in agony, his very essence cracking and collapsing.

”You may not realize it yet,” Liora declared, her voice calm but merciless, ”but you have already lost.”

Blattier tried to respond, tried to muster strength—but his power had collapsed, fleeing from him under the Saint’s assault.

”Arrogance blinded you. Your newfound strength swelled your pride so greatly that you dared call yourself a god. But the truth is clear: you are nothing but a thief. A usurper. And even with all you’ve stolen, your might isn’t enough to cover a single corner of this vast universe.”

Liora pressed her hand harder against his chest. The flood of souls poured from him faster and faster, shredding him from within as his screams echoed powerlessly across the sky.

In desperation, Blattier tried to invoke the blood runes carved into his flesh—his last resort to bind the souls to his body before they escaped entirely.

But Liora had already seen through him. With a single gesture, she purified the markings, erasing them instantly and stripping him of even that final chance.

”The path you chose—the sacrifice of others to empower yourself—is nothing but a vile, demonic road. It bears no relation to the Lord of Light or His kind, not even in the faintest shadow. Joseph Blattier, perhaps you thought you were the manipulator, pulling the strings of others. But in the end... you, too, were nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game.”

”And the very runes etched upon your body stand as proof of that.”

From the beginning, these practices were never of the Lightbearers, nor of the Lord of Light. They were foreign, demonic rites, insidiously planted within the Church long ago.

Roots of corruption ran too deep, poisoning the Church until it birthed today’s catastrophe—a calamity that nearly erased the new generation of heroes, and would have, had the Saint not broken her chains and returned.

Blattier himself was nothing but a product of that corruption. A victim, as much as he was its monster.

Liora knew this. And for that reason, she resolved to end it swiftly.

”This would have been a harder fight had you mastered your stolen strength, had you faced me in your prime. But your battle with Frey Starlight drained you. You have nothing left to give.”

”As easily as you gained this power, so too do you now lose it. These innocent souls were waiting for their first chance to escape you. And that chance is now.”

As his body convulsed and tore, as the radiant lights poured out in an unstoppable tide, the Saint pressed down one final time—ending the battle that had dragged on far too long.

”Divine Lament: Dirge of the Saint.”

With her final hymn, her power surged through his body. In moments, the bishop’s form shattered utterly.

The Tower of God crumbled into dust, scattered upon the wind.

Liora stood there, suspended in the heavens, as millions of radiant lights rose around her—souls that had finally been released, freed from torment and captivity.

Amid the majestic sight that lit the world in gold, she smiled gently, lifting her head toward the sky.

”...I broke the vow.”

In the end, she had stepped forth before her time, unable to remain bound by her silent oath. For years she had endured, watching but never acting. But when the new generation of heroes were on the brink of death, she shattered her chains and returned once more to the world.

”And so, I shall be the first to leave... after you, Kazis.”

The words carried from her lips with a bittersweet smile as she descended, returning to the sacred temple beneath the World Tree—the one place left untouched by the ruinous battle.

There, beside Uriel, lay Snow and Frey, sprawled in pools of their own blood, deep wounds carved across their chests.

Liora’s golden light had drawn their bodies back to Uriel, who tried desperately to heal them. But no matter how hard she tried, she could do nothing.

All she saw when she looked upon them were corpses—lifeless husks.

That dreadful truth kept her from even registering the majestic sight of the freed souls ascending into the sky. Her world was collapsing before her eyes.

But Liora reassured her, descending gently from the heavens.

”Do not fear. They will not die.”

As if those were the very words she had been waiting for, Uriel turned toward her with trembling eyes.

”Can you save them?!”

The Saint nodded, and Uriel’s eyes lit with desperate hope. She fell to her knees before Liora, bowing until her head touched the ground.

”Please... I beg of you... save them... please!”

Liora lifted her at once, pulling her back to her feet.

”There is no need to bow your head, dear child. I would have saved them regardless.”

Her smile was soft, her voice warm, as she stepped toward the two fallen warriors.

”Their wounds are mortal to ordinary men. But they are no ordinary men. Frey Starlight possesses a strange body, one that adapts to every torment he endures. And Snow Lionheart was never truly human to begin with. With a little aid from my sacred light... they will endure.”

She released her golden aura, wrapping their broken forms in brilliance. The golden light filled the holes in their chests, mended their shattered bodies, and began stitching closed the wounds that had nearly ended them.

From behind, Uriel watched in awe. She had never seen such sacred power before.

Ordinarily, holy light glowed green. But Liora’s was golden—purer, stronger, far beyond anything Uriel herself possessed.

The sight convinced her without doubt that this woman before her was beyond comprehension.

It did not take long. Their bodies were healed. Only their spirits remained to awaken.

The speed and precision of the miracle was but a glimpse of what Liora had been in her prime—on the battlefield, where she once fought behind the First Hero, Kazis Valerion, and the great houses’ champions.

Back then, none had feared injury. With her at their side, wounds vanished in an instant.

They had even said the Dawn Saint could steal souls back from death itself, so long as she reached them in time.

Before such a figure, Uriel could feel nothing but gratitude—and awe.

When she saw Frey and Snow restored, Uriel bowed once more, thanking the Saint from the depths of her heart.

But Liora stopped her once more.