THE VILLAIN'S POV

Whether it was the Ultras or the Empire...

The two continents had entered a crucial era in their centuries-long history.

After a string of earth-shattering events .. ranging from the brutal battle in which the Ultras emerged victorious at the Bay of Shezclar, to the resurgence of the ancient order that had clawed its way out from the grave to rule once again—everything began to fall, like dominoes, each piece larger and heavier than the last.

A single act of abduction had been enough to turn the entire world upside down.

The future was now shrouded in fog, and no one could predict what was to come.

But one thing was certain:

Nothing would ever be the same again.

...

...

...

—The Holy Island of Sicily—

A paradise for the Church's faithful and worshippers of the Lord of Light.

A blessed land, nourished by a heavenly blue waterfall that descended from the skies, sustaining all life within.

The Holy Island was akin to a piece of heaven granted solely to the true believers. The Church forbade ordinary people from entering.

In this way, the land had remained serene and sacred for generations.

But that peace shattered today.

The ground trembled violently, and the Church's followers stood paralyzed, unable to do anything as they witnessed a nightmare unfold before their eyes.

BOOM!!

A deafening explosion echoed as the main gate of the Grand Cathedral was obliterated, and someone emerged from the rubble.

The Church's High Bishop, Joseph Blatter, coughed violently as he struggled to stand, barely managing to stay upright.

He felt the warm stream of blood running down his lips—internal damage from a single strike delivered by the man who had descended upon the island from nowhere...

"Sir Alon…"

Blatter uttered the name of the one responsible for his state—Sir Alon, the old man walking slowly toward him, leaning on an ancient wooden cane.

Behind him stood Oliver Khan and the servant Gas, who had accompanied him.

Surrounded by archbishops, priests, and every follower of the Church, all stood frozen in place—crushed beneath the overwhelming aura of Sir Alon, forced to witness the scene with bloodshot eyes.

"I thought I'd once drawn the line for you, Blatter."

With a sudden kick too fast for even a Bishop of SS rank to perceive, Blatter was sent crashing into the adjacent wall, shattering it from the sheer force.

"You've isolated yourself on this island, scheming against your own kind... poisoning their minds under the name of your cursed Lord..."

Blatter spat out more blood, forcing himself to his feet again.

"We are the Church... the devout followers of the Lord of Light. We've lived our lives according to His will. No one has the right to question that—not even you, Iron Emperor. The Lord of Light is our only leader."

Trying to maintain his composure before his disciples, Joseph Blatter cursed Alon from the depths of his soul.

'So he was alive… hiding all this time.'

This was the true reason the Church had refrained from acting openly against the Empire—they feared the return of this man.

And Blatter wouldn't be surprised if he was the reason the Lord of Light had ordered House Valerion's extermination before that of the Ultras.

Sir Alon—the Iron Emperor—gritted his teeth, enraged by what he heard. He let out a thunderous roar that shattered every stained-glass window in the cathedral, rupturing the eardrums of all present.

"The Lord of Light!!"

Losing control of his fury and surging aura, Sir Alon forced most of the gathered crowd to their knees from sheer pressure.

"When your so-called Lord chose a champion, remind me—what was his name?"

Grabbing Blatter by the throat, Alon spat venomous words at his face and the faces of every priest watching.

"Valerion! Kazes Valerion!"

Sir Alon's hand, much like his son's, was a weapon of destruction. With a single motion, he hurled Blatter across the air, smashing him into his followers—who barely managed to catch his broken body.

"From the beginning, you built this cursed faith out of nothing. Even your 'Lord' never chose a single one of you."

"My foolish son might not have seen the rot festering beneath your blood-stained robe, but I can see it at a glance... Blatter."

"Clinging to your hollow creed, you've used the name of your false god to do as you please... upon lands built by men, lived upon by men, and bled for by men!!"

Sir Alon erupted with power, no longer able—or willing—to restrain himself.

Not after witnessing what the Empire had become.

"You claim to be the devout followers of the Lord of Light... then where is He?!"

BOOOOM!!!

The ancient cathedral, built ages ago, crumbled under the pressure of a single man.

"Here I stand, destroying everything you've ever built. If your Lord exists—why doesn't he strike me down?!"

"I'll tell you why—because this Lord of Light is nothing but a mirage. A convenient illusion you've used to blind your flock and the world around you."

Deliberately provoking them, Sir Alon forced the clergy to scream as they tried to break his aura—calling him a heretic.

But the Iron Emperor remained untouched.

He simply raised his aura higher still, crushing them back to the ground with divine wrath.

"The only ruler over this land…"

"Is me, and no one else!!!"

Gripping the bishop before his own followers, Sir Alon dragged Joseph Blatter behind him as he departed, flanked by Oliver Khan and Gas.

"From this moment on, the Church will act under my command. You won't hide away on your cursed island any longer… Not while I still draw breath."

"You have no right!" Blatter shouted, only to receive a crushing punch from Sir Alon that forced him into silence.

"I have every right. It's either that… or you die here."

Imposing his authority and his system—

Taking the Church's highest authority as his prisoner—

Sir Alon departed the Holy Island, leaving behind only ruin in his wake.

Following the Iron Emperor, Oliver Khan could do nothing but marvel at the sight.

"In a single day… he took over the entire Church."

The old man moved with terrifying speed when it came to ruling the Empire.

Without even turning his head, Sir Alon spoke to Oliver while continuing to walk, having already chosen his next target.

"You said in your report that House Starlight is the only one still retaining its full strength, didn't you?"

Oliver nodded instantly.

"Yes. When the Empire launched its sudden war, they were the only ones who refused to join the offensive—because their current Lord forbade it."

"Excellent. Then prepare that Lord for me. Immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Oliver rushed off to carry out the orders.

The Masked Man, despite his own rank, now found himself simply following the lead of the Iron Emperor—awoken at last from his long slumber.

He had wanted to charge into battle earlier, to help rescue the princess. But the current Lord of House Starlight had stopped him convincing him to wait.

Oliver no longer knew how things would unfold from here on out. But one thing he was certain of:

Their only remaining hope now… was Sir Alon.