The holy island of Noctera lay in ruins. Everyone upon it had perished after the last battle between Frey and his companions and Blattier.
That sacred island ..meant to be a heaven on earth ..had become nothing but a stretch of rubble and wreckage.
Yet across that vast expanse, one place stood untouched by the fighting: the golden World Tree, which had served as a shield for everything beneath it.
The World Tree blazed brighter than ever, having taken the promised hero, Snow Lionheart, into itself.
The rush of aura was majestic—so much so that Frey couldn’t help but be impressed. Gold flooded everything, the World Tree like a sun that banished the darkness.
Saint of Dawn, Liora, together with Uriel, guided the hero and made the rite possible. Uriel’s role was largely secondary—Liora carried most of the weight—but it was a valuable experience for the new saint, and Liora deliberately kept her close.
After several long minutes, Liora withdrew, and Uriel followed. The Tree’s radiance still shone, but it had clearly steadied; it was stable now—proof the process had taken.
"Our work ends here. The rest is in the hero’s hands," Liora said, lifting her face to the World Tree’s boughs that blotted out the sky.
Frey, who had stayed back until then, stepped forward once the saints were done. He was surprised—it had taken far less time than he’d expected.
"Is it really over that quickly? I thought it would take at least a few hours."
Liora shook her head lightly.
"The rite isn’t complicated. It would have failed with anyone but Snow Lionheart. But because he is the chosen one, success was inevitable. The Lord of Light will never turn him away; He will always open the door for him."
Turning once more toward the Tree, Liora spoke with quiet gravity.
"He was destined from the start to surpass us all. Snow Lionheart may lack the confidence fitting his station, but once he grasps the full extent of his potential, he’ll become something else entirely."
Earlier, Snow had looked down on himself before Liora—chiding her for laying her responsibilities on him and the new generation. He saw himself as beneath her. But Liora knew part of the truth, and she knew that wasn’t so.
Whether he would realize that potential and break past his present state—or fail and keep falling—now depended entirely on him. There was nothing more the saint could do.
As the three of them stood before the World Tree, Frey noticed something odd that had held his attention for a while. His senses, sharpened by an SSS-class aura, caught what others would miss.
"Saint Liora, forgive the question... but are those barriers your work?"
They weren’t obvious; few could have perceived them. But the area around them was encircled by a colossal ward that sealed it off from the world—an SSS-class barrier.
At his question, Liora smiled faintly and nodded.
"Your senses are impressive, Frey Starlight. As you said, I’m shrouding this place from the outside world. No one must discover what’s happening here." Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novel✦fire.net
With her appearance, and with Snow Lionheart’s choosing of his path underway, Liora made sure to hide everything as best she could, buying time for Snow and the others.
"Our task here is finished, so I’d like to use this chance to pass on what I can to you, Uriel Platini. Come with me, please." Liora didn’t waste a moment. She turned to Uriel as soon as Snow’s rite was secured.
Uriel had been pondering how to grow stronger; she met Liora’s request with bright resolve and nodded.
"Very good. Then I’ll leave guarding this place to you, Frey Starlight."
Leaving Frey behind, Liora and Uriel headed elsewhere.
Frey sat cross-legged on the ground before the golden World Tree. There was nothing for him to do but sit, staring up at that nonhuman titan of wood and light.
With the shadow creeping through his body, he couldn’t train. The usual methods no longer worked, and the Blood Path he had taken demanded killing to advance.
In other words, while Snow sought a noble road to power and Uriel received Liora’s guidance toward the same, Frey had nothing to do but wait.
"Heh... this place is far too bright for me."
The feeling was strange—a sense of not belonging, like an intruder who shouldn’t be here at all.
Frey didn’t understand why he felt that way, as though Noctera itself rejected his presence. He’d been too busy fighting to heed it before, but now, with the battle over, the awareness settled in.
He drew out the Nameless mask and studied the metal face he’d taken to wearing so often of late.
"When I think about it... Snow and I are very alike—and nothing alike."
Frey, bound to Nameless in one way or another. Snow Lionheart, who had drawn the Lord of Light’s gaze. Two roads that looked similar from afar.
But one path was dark, choked with curses. The other shone with blessing.
Two faces of a single coin—each looking in the opposite direction.
And now, the promised hero, Snow Lionheart, was about to find his road at last.
Inside the golden World Tree, Snow Lionheart stumbled through an expanse so vast it felt like another world altogether—a realm flooded with light, steeped in a strange familiarity that made him feel, for once, like he belonged.
The instant he entered, Snow was forced into the War King Form, golden runes swarming across his body faster and more fiercely than ever before.
"As if every particle of me is reacting to this place..." Snow said, staring into the boundless white ahead as he fought to steady himself—to keep his power from slipping out of his control.
Within seconds, light gathered around him and took the shape of a faceless white wraith.
It was the same wraith that had appeared to him whenever his power surged... the same presence he’d sensed on the day the sacred sword Vermithor chose him as hero.
The wraith had always been silent, unreachable. But this time was different.
Little by little, golden force converged upon the phantom, and familiar sigils formed across its body—golden runes, brighter and more potent than ever, unmistakably akin to Snow’s War King Form, as though this were its fully evolved state.
As the final sigils locked into place, the wraith’s features came into focus.
Golden eyes appeared first—large, keen, and blazing with a radiance that sent a shiver through Snow. Then, slowly, the rest of the face: nose, mouth, skin... followed by that distinctive white hair. A half-golden, half-black mantle settled over a body that now possessed solid form.
The white wraith had become a man—his presence so imposing that Snow Lionheart found himself speechless.
The man spoke first, a gentle smile touching his lips.
"At last we meet, Lord Vessel."
Those were the first words from the apparition—addressing Snow with a strange title he did not understand.
"You... the Lord of Light..." Snow managed, struggling to grasp that the figure before him was the very being whose name so many humans had invoked—yet whom none had been granted to meet.