THE VILLAIN'S POV Chapter 817 Tools of War (2)

Frey drew near to him without a sound.

The youth remained seated, his back facing Frey.

"…Odd."

"You're right here, but your presence escapes my senses completely."

In his icy voice, Ghost shifted a bit to face Frey.

"I can't detect your aura as well," Frey responded.

Ghost fixed his gaze on him briefly before looking away once more.

"You're not telling the truth."

"You felt my arrival right from the start… how else would you know this spot? Adir shared it with no one."

Frey let out a soft sigh, his deception uncovered.

"I guess I can't fool you."

He moved nearer until he was at Ghost's side.

"But what I said held some truth. I really couldn't sense your aura."

"It's simply that… my special eyes perceive all things."

Frey spoke sincerely.

Without the Eyes of the Void, locating this place would have been impossible for him.

They unveiled every secret—even those concealed deep in darkness.

Even Vex, the assassin expert, failed to evade his sight.

Against that… Ghost stood no chance at all.

Still, Ghost had advanced greatly.

One quick look told Frey his assassin comrade's strength had surged remarkably.

Clear evidence that Adir's guidance after the previous war bore real fruit.

Though Ghost wasn't prepared for peak battles yet.

After examining him briefly, Frey shifted his attention to whatever had held Ghost's stare.

And surprise halted him.

"…Those are graves?"

Ghost gave a nod.

"Yes."

Two graves lay ahead.

One for a man.

The other… for a woman.

"Mist Umbra… and Charlotte?"

Frey inquired, a touch confused by the latter name.

Ghost replied in a hushed tone.

"She was my mother."

Silence enveloped them.

Frey recalled Mist Umbra, Ghost's father, perishing in the recent war.

He vanished utterly into the shadows, his body never recovered.

Thus, the grave nearby was probably vacant.

And Ghost's mother had passed too, it appeared.

Frey remembered her vividly.

That time he witnessed Ghost leaving money at her doorstep… too ashamed to face her.

She departed before he got the chance.

"Did she… perish in the last battle?" Frey ventured cautiously.

Ghost shook his head.

"No need to fret. She didn't die on your account."

"Her death came much earlier… in the Church's purge campaigns."

Frey had worried she fell victim to the chaos from his recent clashes.

But Ghost dispelled it at once.

"It's peculiar," Ghost murmured softly.

"Mist Umbra was a ruthless killer. He deserted his wife the instant she bore the gifted son he desired."

"After my birth, he never came near her even once."

"Yet here… their graves rest together."

Ghost offered a subtle smile.

"Life kept them apart."

"Death united them."

Hearing Ghost after so long left Frey at a loss for words.

Ghost had lost his whole family.

Frey wondered if anything remained in his life worth battling for.

"This world bows to just one force… power."

"The mighty survive… the frail perish unseen."

Frey whispered.

He rested a hand on Ghost's shoulder momentarily before withdrawing it.

"That's the reality of our world."

"I believe you're correct," Ghost answered.

Silence returned as they both surveyed their surroundings.

Then Frey broke it again.

"I learned you requested Adir to teach you his full style."

"That suggests you still have purpose in fighting."

Ghost inclined his head faintly.

"I suppose so."

"Would you object if I inquired about that purpose?"

A slight smile touched Ghost's lips.

"I'm not certain it qualifies as a true reason to battle."

His voice stayed chill as he gazed at the grave.

"Truth be told… I've been an assassin since my earliest breaths."

"Killing is my fated path. It's my sole talent."

"I have no grasp of family… and my remaining friends are all beasts."

He chuckled softly at that.

"So it's fitting I turn into a beast too."

"For a killer like me…"

"The battlefield is my only home now."

"Do you plan to fight on… until death claims you there?" Frey questioned, grasping Ghost's resolve.

Ghost had embraced the assassin's road, as it felt like his only option.

Folks like him couldn't exist far from combat anymore.

With so much loss around him, Ghost had grasped that reality sharply.

Thus, he nodded.

"I suppose it's a pretty minor reason next to the grand aims others battle over," Ghost remarked.

A faint smile touched Frey's lips as he shook his head.

"No."

"That's plenty good enough."

"Truthfully… it fits you just right."

He settled down next to him, both facing the pair of graves ahead.

"An assassin's like a tool," Frey stated gravely.

"A tool mustn't act by itself."

"So if you plan to keep battling ahead… allow me to pick your battlegrounds."

Laughter exploded from Ghost.

"Planning to wield me, then?"

Frey offered no denial.

"Exactly."

"Better than you perishing in some distant spot without a word to me."

Ghost breathed out gently.

"I guess my destiny got linked to yours ages ago."

"So… refusing you isn't really an option."

"Yes," Frey answered steadily.

"You can't."

Silence descended on the pair afterward.

Not another word escaped either of them.

They fixed their gazes on the graves in front, pondering…

whether someday they might lie within graves like those.

Graves buried deep in the soil.

Graves no one would ever find.

But the idea soon slipped away.

Deep inside, though, they grasped a different reality.

Likely, no soul would remain to inter them once their path ended.

Thus, they stayed there quietly seated under the ground.

Meanwhile, Snow lingered on the surface.

Atop one of the loftiest structures, he silently watched the Shadow Sect from afar.

A soft glow lit his golden eyes while he peered into the vast emptiness.

Gradually… a sly half-smile crept across his features.

"That's not fair…"

"You all meet up like this, leaving me out."

A deep sigh escaped him.

Then, gradually, he vanished—

abandoning an empty spot behind…

oddly desolate.