Frost's focus remained locked on Frey, waiting for his next move.
But it didn't come from Frey.
Ghost, a master of stealth, had slipped beneath Frost's notice.
Engaged in a battle where even a moment's distraction meant death, Frost couldn't afford to take his eyes off Frey. And that blind spot cost him.
By the time his instincts screamed a warning—
The scythe was already descending upon his neck.
A colossal arc of darkness carved through the air, aiming to sever his head in a single, ruthless stroke.
But Frost wasn't S- ranked for nothing.
At the final moment, he manipulated his aura with pinpoint precision, concentrating it at the exact point Ghost had targeted.
Darkness clashed with ice.
The Dark Aura fought to consume him, but Frost's ice was unyielding—halting the scythe's advance, though not without leaving a shallow gash across his neck.
"Bastard."
Just as Frost began to turn toward Ghost, a second surge of overwhelming aura erupted before him.
Frey.
