Frey approached him quietly.
The young man sat with his back turned toward him.
"...Strange."
"You’re here, yet I cannot feel your presence at all."
Speaking in his cold tone, Ghost turned slightly toward Frey.
"I cannot sense your aura either," Frey replied.
Ghost stared at him for a moment before turning his head away again.
"You’re lying."
"You sensed my presence from the very beginning... otherwise how did you find this place? Adir didn’t tell anyone."
Frey sighed lightly, his lie exposed.
"I suppose I can’t lie to you."
He stepped closer until he stood beside him.
"But I did tell the truth in a way. I truly couldn’t sense your aura."
"It’s just that... I have special eyes that see everything."
Frey meant it.
Without the Eyes of the Void, he would never have found this place.
They revealed everything hidden—even things buried deep within the shadows.
Even Vex, the assassin himself, had been unable to hide from him.
Compared to that... Ghost never had a chance.
Yet Ghost had grown stronger.
With a single glance, Frey realized that his assassin friend’s power had increased significantly.
Proof that Adir’s training since the last war had not been in vain.
Even if Ghost was not yet ready to fight at the highest level.
After studying him for a few seconds, Frey turned his gaze toward what Ghost had been staring at all this time.
And he paused in surprise.
"...Are those graves?"
Ghost nodded.
"Yes."
There were two graves before him.
One belonging to a man.
The other... to a woman.
"Mist Umbra... and Charlotte?"
Frey asked, slightly puzzled by the second name.
Ghost answered quietly.
"She was my mother."
Silence fell between them.
Frey knew that Mist Umbra, Ghost’s father, had died during the last war.
He had died in the shadows so completely that no one had ever even found his body.
Which meant the grave before them was likely empty.
And it seemed that Ghost’s mother had lost her life as well.
Frey remembered her clearly.
That day when he had seen Ghost leave money outside her door... unable to meet her.
She had died before he ever could.
"Did she... die in the last battle?" Frey asked hesitantly.
Ghost shook his head.
"Don’t worry. She didn’t die because of you."
"She died long before that... during the purge operations carried out by the Church."
Frey had feared that she might have been caught in the destruction caused by the battles he had fought recently.
But Ghost immediately denied it.
"It’s strange," Ghost said quietly.
"Mist Umbra was a cold-blooded assassin. He abandoned his wife the moment she gave birth to the talented child he wanted."
"He never approached her even once after I was born."
"Yet now... their graves stand side by side."
Ghost smiled faintly.
"Life never brought them together."
"But death did."
Listening to Ghost after such a long time, Frey found himself unsure what he should say.
Ghost had lost his entire family.
Frey did not know whether there was still anything left worth fighting for in his life.
"This world acknowledges only one thing .. power."
"The strong live... while the weak die unnoticed."
Frey said quietly.
He placed a hand on Ghost’s shoulder for a brief moment before pulling it away.
"That is the kind of world we live in."
"I think you’re right," Ghost replied.
They both fell silent again, observing the place around them.
Then Frey spoke once more.
"I heard you asked Adir to train you in his complete style."
"I suppose that means you still have a reason to fight."
Ghost nodded slightly.
"I suppose I do."
"Do you mind if I ask what that reason is?"
A faint smile appeared on Ghost’s face.
"I’m not sure it can even be called a real reason to fight."
He spoke coldly, staring at the grave before him.
"The truth is... I was born to be an assassin from my very first days."
"It was my destiny to become a killer. That’s all I’m good at."
"I don’t know what a family truly is... and the friends I have left are all monsters."
He laughed quietly after saying that.
"So I suppose it’s only natural for me to become a monster as well."
"And for an assassin like me..."
"There is no place left except the battlefield."
"Do you intend to keep fighting... until the day you die on the battlefield?" Frey asked after discerning Ghost’s intentions.
Ghost had chosen to continue walking the path of an assassin, because to him it was the only natural thing left to do.
People like him could no longer live away from the battlefield.
After losing so many around him, Ghost had come to understand that truth clearly.
So he nodded.
"I suppose it’s a rather trivial reason compared to the noble goals others fight for," Ghost said.
Frey smiled faintly and shook his head.
"No."
"That’s more than enough."
"And honestly... it suits you perfectly."
He then sat beside him, facing the two graves before them.
"An assassin is like a tool," Frey said seriously.
"And a tool should never move on its own."
"So if you intend to keep fighting from now on... let me choose the battlefield for you."
Ghost burst into laughter.
"So you intend to use me?"
Frey did not deny it.
"That’s right."
"It’s better than you dying somewhere far away without me even knowing."
Ghost exhaled softly.
"I suppose my fate has been tied to yours for a long time now."
"So... I don’t think I can refuse you."
"Yes," Frey replied calmly.
"You can’t."
After that, the two of them fell silent.
Neither spoke another word.
Both stared at the graves before them, wondering...
If perhaps one day they would end up inside similar graves.
Graves hidden beneath the earth.
Graves whose location no one would ever know.
Yet the thought quickly faded.
Because deep down, they both understood something else.
There would most likely be no one left to bury them when their journey finally came to an end.
And so they remained seated there in silence beneath the earth.
Meanwhile, Snow stood above ground.
From the top of one of the tallest buildings, he quietly observed the Shadow Sect from afar.
His golden eyes glowed faintly as he gazed into the empty distance.
Then, slowly... a half-smile formed on his face.
"That’s not fair..."
"You gather like this without me."
He let out a long sigh.
And then, slowly, he disappeared—
leaving the place behind him empty...
and strangely lonely.