Chapter 150: The False Messiah Rises

[Frostbitten Tundra]

Fenric stood before a smooth slab of ice as tall as a man, its surface polished to a perfect sheen. He stared at his own image in silence, studying every detail.

His skeletal frame curved into an eerie smile…

Then he began to laugh.

“Hahahaha… I succeeded.”

The sound was harsh and grating, like metal scraping against metal.

It reverberated throughout the frozen chamber, colliding with the ice walls and returning to him in distorted echoes.

For nearly a full minute, his chilling laughter filled the laboratory.

“Now no one can stop me!” he shouted, his voice brimming with triumph and unrestrained confidence.

Over the years, many had called him by different names.

Evil.

Demonic.

Cursed.

He had never cared for any of them. Such labels were meaningless to him. His mind had always been fixated on a single objective.

Unlike the rest of humanity, he refused to believe that the abyss was invincible.

Everything had a weakness.

The abyss was no exception.

It only required patience and the willingness to pay the price to uncover it.

For three years, Fenric had conducted countless inhuman experiments. He had wandered from one ancient ruin to another, scavenging forgotten knowledge from civilizations long reduced to dust.

After sifting through innumerable ancient tomes and corrupted manuscripts, he had finally discovered a method, a path to bypass the abyss’s restriction.

And now, he has done it.

Behind him, something began to shift.

His shadow, cast faintly upon the icy floor, was dissolving. It writhed violently, stretching and twisting as though alive.

It tried to cling to his feet, attempting to reattach itself to its rightful place.

Yet an invisible force pulled it backward, tearing it away from him inch by inch.

The shadow twisted as if in agony. Though it possessed no face, no voice, its frantic movements conveyed desperation.

Fenric turned slowly and regarded it with a cold, sadistic smile.

“You are nothing but my weakness,” he said with disdain. “So go quietly.”

He lifted the bone dagger in his hand and slashed downward.

The dagger cut not through flesh, but through darkness itself.

His shadow fragmented into writhing pieces. Each shard quivered before dissolving into nothingness.

Within moments, it faded entirely, as though it had never existed.

Fenric lowered his dagger and exhaled softly.

“Gone… finally,” he murmured.

Without a shadow, he stood alone beneath the flickering torchlight, untethered, unbound.

“Now,” he whispered to himself, “let us restore this body.”

He turned and walked toward a massive iron cauldron positioned at the right corner of the chamber. The surface of the liquid within it rippled ominously.

It was filled to the brim with fresh human blood, still steaming despite the frigid air.

As he walked, the torchlight cast no shadow behind him.

There was no trace of him upon the ground. It was as though he did not exist within the natural order of the abyss.

Seeing this, the smile on his face deepened.

This was what he had always desired.

To be forgotten.

To sever every vulnerability.

To erase the final tether binding him to the abyss.

And now, he has done it.

Without hesitation, Fenric stepped onto the rim of the cauldron and plunged inside.

The blood began to boil violently, bubbling and churning as though reacting to his presence.

However, instead of pain, Fenric felt relief. The liquid enveloped his skeletal frame, seeping into his marrow.

From deep within his bones, cells began to regenerate at a visible pace. Threads of muscle formed along his limbs. Veins coiled into existence.

Flesh spread across his ribcage and skull like creeping ivy.

Burned strands of hair sprouted anew from his scalp. His once-empty eye sockets filled with dark, glistening orbs.

Yet they did not return to their former color. His eyes were now black, laced with faint streaks of purple.

Half an hour later, the transformation was complete.

Fenric stepped out of the cauldron, crimson liquid cascading from his newly formed body.

His skin was pale, almost translucent against the torchlight.

He reached for his dark robe draped over a nearby table and slipped it on with deliberate, almost ceremonial pride.

Clothed once more, he extended his hand toward a staff resting against the wall.

His fingers wrapped around it firmly.

With that, he turned and walked toward the exit of the laboratory.

Outside the chamber, several awakeners sat in hushed discussion. Their voices were low, anxious. Every so often, their eyes flickered toward the sealed stone door.

Suddenly, the heavy slab of stone slid aside with a grinding rumble.

Fenric stepped out.

“Leader!” they called in unison, rising swiftly to their feet.

Their faces were filled with anticipation and barely contained excitement.

Immediately, they sensed something fundamentally different about him. It was not merely an increase in aura or strength.

The difference felt deeper, cellular, existential.

Among them stood a Level 18 Hunter, along with several Level 17 Warriors and Berserkers. Individually, they were formidable figures within the abyss.

Yet the pressure radiating from Fenric was unlike anything they had felt before.

It was not overwhelming in the traditional sense. Instead, it was elusive, unnatural.

If they had not been looking directly at him, they might have believed the space before them was empty.

“Leader… did you succeed?” one of the Level 17 awakeners asked cautiously.

Fenric nodded slowly, the corners of his lips curling upward.

Laughter erupted among them.

“Finally, no one will dare look down on us!” one of them shouted excitedly.

“I knew it! I always knew the leader would lead us to greatness!” another exclaimed.

Fenric observed their reactions with satisfaction. These were the followers who had believed in him when others had branded him insane.

“Leader,” the Level 18 Hunter asked, unable to contain himself, “what is our next action?”

They had hidden like fugitives for years, operating in secrecy and isolation. It was time to emerge.

What was wrong with using a few nameless humans for their experiments?

Those people would never have altered the fate of the abyss.

Their sacrifices had served a higher purpose.

Now, that purpose was within reach.

Fenric surveyed their eager faces and felt his own anticipation rising.

No one had ever left the abyss without reaching Level 20 and defeating the final floor boss.

That was the immutable rule.

But he was about to defy that rule.

Once he returned to the surface, his name would resound across the world. Millions would revere him.

He would not be remembered as a monster.

He would be hailed as humanity’s savior.

Their messiah.

“It is time to depart,” Fenric began, his voice calm yet filled with authority. “The world must witness our strength.”

“We no longer need to fear the abyss. It has lost its grip on us. We are no longer bound by its restrictions.”

He lifted his staff slightly.

“We are free.”

A wave of exhilaration swept through his followers. Their blood burned with excitement. Their eyes shone with devotion and reverence.

For years, they had dreamed of escaping the cursed abyss.

And now, that dream was within reach.

“Yes,” one of them whispered fervently. “We will finally be free.”

“Gather everything,” Fenric commanded firmly. “We leave immediately.”

“Yes, Leader!” they responded in unison.

They hurried to collect their belongings, eager to witness the stunned expressions that would greet them upon their return to town.

But as Fenric and his followers prepared to depart from their frozen hideout, something stirred in the distance.

On the horizon of the Frostbitten Tundra, beneath the pale sky, a massive undead beast appeared.

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