Chapter 335 The Faceless One

"Vandread," he said, almost in disbelief despite knowing what was happening.

A pat on his head came from the usually stoic, silent man–a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one as he accepted it.

"You'll have to explain to me what you're doing dead, but...I'm sure you're already working on fixing that," Vandread said.

"I am."

"Good. Just because death chooses you doesn't mean you have to choose death," Vandread told him.

Again, he took some time explaining everything that had occurred since Vandread had passed–from the vanquishing of the Unending Nightmare, to the Trial of Parmesus, the battle against the Dread, and the situation in the After. It was a bit strenuous to repeatedly tell such events, though Blimpo and Joel didn't seem to mind hearing it again.

"I see. Those crusty old bastards in the Foundation...to think they'd have recruits undergo the trial where the Dread was being sealed," Vandread said, rubbing his chin, "Still, the fact you managed to take it down, even if it was at the cost of your life–I can see why there are forces trying to get you back into action in the realm of the living. For better or worse, you're of value to some important beings out there."

"For better or worse, yeah..." He said, placing his hand over his eyepatch.

What he hadn't noticed until glancing over was the sort of reverence that Joel and Blimpo seemed to look up at Vandread with; the scar-covered master of the Godless Style certainly was a legend by the stories Emilio had told them.

"Still, to think I gave my life to you just so you could go and bite the dust not too long after. Give me a break," Vandread sighed.

"...I know. I'm sorry–"Nêww chapters will be fully updated at novelhall.com

Before he could properly apologize, he was surprised to find himself met in an embrace from Vandread, who knelt down partially to match his height as he held him close.

"Huh–?" Emilio let out in surprise.

"Even if it's in circumstances like this, I'm glad I've gotten the chance to guide you again, Emilio. I'll...make it right this time," Vandread quietly said, clearly not used to expressing himself, "You've got friends by your side and the wisdom of a Primordial; you'll make it back to your family. I promised Julius that much."

There was nobody he expected emotional display from less than Vandread, though it resonated through him enough to draw tears to the edge of his eyes as he slowly nodded, returning the hold.

A bond existed between the two that transcended the norm; they both shared the same blood in their veins; blood perhaps considered a curse, perhaps a curse.

It was something neither of them realized until their reuniting; that same blood could be sensed, the beating of their hearts was one and the same.

'Maybe it was purging the Undying Blood from my body or merely your infectious curiosity, but my heart opened just as I died. That darkness clouding my eyes is gone,' Vandread thought.

A moment of silence persisted as Joel and Blimpo watched awkwardly before the third and final addition to their team was sought after.

Emilio held the emerald bookmark up, uttering the last name:

He was taken aback by how much the unstable soul of Asher was talking, at least more reasonable than Joel or Vandread's, to some extent, though he kept his guard up and his sword drawn.

Asher looked straight at him, squeezing the handle of his sword, "You're favored by Arcadius. For some reason, you're "special". Even you–somebody who abandoned their original life and acted as if you never wielded your previous name. That's right; I know why you're here. You have a second chance–one that I don't have. I guess at this point you can call it a third."

The words that left Asher's lips were hardly laced with anger, though they were entirely hollow, as if the being before him was devoid of emotion; that much was clear through those abyssal irises of his.

He knew better than to take words from an unstable soul to heart, though he couldn't deny they hit close to the mark.

'...It's different this time. Why? I have...a bad feeling about this,' he thought.

As he stood there, waiting for his opponent to make the first move, he witnessed "Asher" point his sword to the sky, instantaneously turning the clear-blue sky pitch black as all sense of safety shut down just like that. An unsettling sensation intertwined with the air; a feeling akin to the presence of the Nightmare or Dread.

Emilio knew this feeling well as it dug into his pores.

'This is...' He realized.

This time, as he met eye-to-eye with Asher, there were no eyes to meet with in actuality; the fellow reincarnator was now devoid of a face entirely, only shrouded by a shadow replacing his facial features.

"--!" Emilio found his heart skipping a beat.

'It's him...! "The Faceless One"...! Did he do something with Asher–? Is he holding his soul hostage? It's not just me...Is he trying to get at all reincarnators?' He questioned.

"Emilio!"

–Taking him even more by surprise as he felt his head swirling with far too many things going on at once, his name was called by the very same voice of Asher, though right beside him. Landing by his side was Asher, with a wounded arm and light bleeding paired with some bruises.

It was the same man he'd come there for, though noticeably different–noticeably still having a face.

"Asher?...But you were just–"

The existence of two Ashers almost tied his brain into knots until piecing together what was happening; the "Faceless" Asher was not using his soul as a host–it was the "Faceless One" itself, or at least some part of it.

"I'm honestly just as confused as you are right now, but we don't have time for that," Asher caught his breath, seeming to have been fighting with the Faceless One himself, "...That thing knew you'd come for me, apparently. I didn't believe it at first, but it seems like Dread took us both."

"I took it down with me," Emilio assured him.

"Yeah, I heard. Good job," Asher nodded, replying quietly, "If you've still got that spark in you, now's the time–this thing is trouble."

It was an unexpected situation amidst the Soul's Mark, if it even was so, seeming to be an isolated, contorted realm of the Faceless One's own manipulation.

"...Why does it feel like we skipped right to the 'Final Boss' here?" He asked under his breath, holding his sword up.

"No point in questioning it now. We just need to win–until we do, we're caught in a fate worse than death," Asher assured him, speaking quietly so their words were hard only between themselves, "--Right in the palm of that faceless freak's hand."