Mythris's teleportation formation dissolved, leaving Henry alone in a strange, bone-chilling, icy landscape. The wind howled through cracks in the jagged, bare rocks, carrying tiny snowflakes that stung his face.

In front of him was a small village's edge. Its low, dark wooden houses were almost completely covered by a thick blanket of white snow, with only crooked chimneys sticking out, from which no smoke rose. A little farther away, faintly visible through the pervasive snowy mist, were the jagged peaks of the majestic Iskadra range, one of Tehra's renowned Deadlands, a land of death and curses.

Henry gripped his Stormbinder tightly, feeling its energy resonating with the aether in his body. He cautiously looked around, pushing his Mystic Sense to its highest level, trying to scan every inch of land and every hidden corner.

There were no clear signs of an enemy, but he felt a mighty presence close by. It was right in front of him, at the foot of a majestic structure whose original shape was almost completely covered by the thick, white snow. It was a tall stone statue standing in the small square of the icy village, but the snow had piled up so thickly, forming solid layers of ice, that he couldn't see who the statue was or what it looked like.

At the foot of the statue, a figure in pitch-black, exquisitely crafted, angular armor sat motionless, like a part of the surrounding landscape. As if sensing Henry's presence, the sitting figure slowly stood up and walked towards him. When the distance between them was only a few dozen meters, Henry could see the figure more clearly: tall and muscular, with pitch-black armor clinging to a strong frame.

A formidable aura emanated from him, suffocating Henry. He knew this was no ordinary Ranker, but one of the strongest beings he had ever met.

"Hello, Henry," the man spoke, his voice low and echoing like the wind howling through the icy mountains of Iskadra, carrying no warmth of life. "I am Laurent."

The name Laurent, the mastermind behind the attack on Aerion, the one who had indirectly caused the tragic death of Captain Jacobs and countless comrades and friends. A furious, supreme hatred erupted in Henry's chest like an erupting volcano.

He didn't say a word, just gripped the Stormbinder tighter, pouring all his remaining Rank 3 aether into it. Mythris's divine sword also seemed to feel his fierce will to fight and his towering hatred. It trembled, and brilliant blue lightning bolts and small whirlpools of water began to form and dance around the sharp blade.

"YOU!!!" Henry charged at Laurent like a wounded beast, a beast at the end of its rope, ready to fight to the death for revenge. He swung the Stormbinder, a single strike carrying all his fury, grief, and last bit of strength, aimed at Laurent's neck, hoping to end the life of the enemy who had caused so many atrocities and so much suffering.

But Laurent just stood there, with no intention of dodging or defending. His eyes were indifferent and emotionless, looking at Henry as if he were a child trying to thrash about.

When the Stormbinder, carrying the power of thunder and water, was only centimeters from Laurent's throat, a thin but solid layer of energy suddenly appeared in front of him, stopping Henry's attack. Mythris's divine sword, despite carrying the power of a Demigod, could not pierce through that natural energy layer. It only created tiny sparks of ice upon impact. The rebound threw Henry back, and he fell sprawling on the cold snow. He tried to get up, but his body was frozen, unable to move even a finger.

The difference in power between a Rank 3 and a being at Laurent's level was too great, like the distance between heaven and earth. Even with Laurent just standing there, doing nothing, Henry couldn't even leave a scratch.

Just then, the Stormbinder in Henry's hand, after being blocked by the invisible energy, suddenly flared with a brilliant surge of lightning. A dazzling blue lightning bolt shot straight from the blade, easily piercing through Laurent's energy layer, then grazed his shoulder, leaving a small, faint scratch on his pitch-black armor.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Laurent frowned, then looked at the sword in Henry's hand and lightly touched the scratch on his shoulder. A hint of surprise and amusement appeared on his face. "Mythris... he still likes to play games like this." He immediately realized that Mythris had intentionally infused the sword with just enough aether to activate a hidden attack, an interesting "message" between members of the same secret organization.

Henry, after regaining a bit of his meager strength, looked at Laurent with eyes full of hatred, fury, and extreme confusion. "Why? Why did you do those things? Aerion... my comrades... what did they do wrong to you? Why did you so heartlessly commit so many crimes and cause so much suffering?"

Laurent didn't answer Henry's question immediately. He waved his hand, and a cold gust of wind blew away the thick snow covering the stone statue behind him. When the last layers of white snow melted away, a familiar and heartbreaking image, an image that had once been the pride and symbol of an entire nation, appeared clearly before Henry's eyes.

It was the statue of Divine Monarch Larsus, one of the four legendary Divine Monarchs of the Zephyros Kingdom, the national hero who had bravely sacrificed himself to protect the northern border's peace, and who was revered and respected by all the people of Zephyros as a saint.

The white marble statue vividly showed Larsus in his battle armor, holding the famous sword Calibur. His resolute, handsome face, tinged with a silent and noble sorrow, looked out at the majestic and treacherous Iskadra mountain range.

Then Laurent, to Henry's extreme surprise, took off his hood. Under the weak, hazy light of the icy land of Iskadra, his true face appeared more clearly, an angular, masculine face, with many similarities to the statue of Larsus behind him. The only difference was that Laurent had a certain quietness, a sadness, and a worldly maturity that the inanimate stone statue couldn't express.

"You... you are..." Henry was reeling, his mind struggling to accept the truth that was beginning to unfold before him.

Laurent reached out and lightly touched a small piece of metal, tarnished with time, that was discreetly attached to the gauntlet of his black armor. "Touch this, Henry. And you will understand everything."

Henry hesitated for a moment, but then he stepped forward, his trembling hand touching the piece of metal. Immediately, vivid and horrifyingly real images flooded his mind, countless images of a tragic past, a silent sacrifice that no one knew about.

He saw a young man, with a face and eyes exactly like Larsus's, bravely leading an elite army of Zephyros deep into the harsh land of Iskadra, where the gates of hell, Inferno, were slowly opening, sowing disaster and death over a vast area. He saw fierce, bloody battles with savage demons, the heroic sacrifices of countless brave Zephyros soldiers.

He saw that young man, in a final effort, bravely borrowing the ancient, pure icy power of a legendary entity, the Frostking, the ruler who had guarded Iskadra for hundreds of years. He used his body as a conduit to freeze and permanently seal the gates of hell, turning Iskadra into the icy, desolate wasteland it is today.

And finally, he saw that young man, exhausted and gravely injured. After the battle, he chose to spread the news that he had "died" heroically on the battlefield. Now, with the remaining trusted soldiers who had sworn loyalty to him to the end, he had formed the Cabal.

This was a perfect cover, a secret organization for them to carry out dangerous missions and special assignments for the Sanctuary Enclave, protecting the world of Tehra from threats that were even greater and more formidable than what the outside world could imagine. Threats that even the most powerful nations were unaware of or were too weak to face.

When the last images of that memory faded, Henry staggered back a few steps, his face pale. He looked at Laurent, who stood motionless, with an expression holding a myriad of complex emotions. "Larsus... you are Divine Monarch Larsus? The hero who... sacrificed himself to protect Zephyros?"

Laurent, or rather Larsus, simply nodded slowly, his face expressionless, as if the secrets that had just been revealed had no effect on his composure. "That was the price that had to be paid, Henry. A necessary sacrifice so that I could wholeheartedly join the Sanctuary Enclave and carry out missions for the survival of this world."

Henry stood there in the icy, desolate village, at the foot of the statue of a hero who was thought to have been buried forever under a thousand years of snow, trying to digest the shocking truth that had just been revealed. The hero whom all of Zephyros revered was behind the tragedies, losses, and suffering that he and the people of Aerion had just experienced.

The truth was too cruel, too ironic. It could shatter all the beliefs and ideals he had ever pursued.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.