Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill-Chapter 381: Assassination 2

Around them, the other assassins closed in slowly, their steps calm, their eyes cold. The mist that once felt peaceful now looked like something hiding monsters.

Wales clutched his shoulder, trembling, while the world that had felt safe just moments ago turned into a nightmare

The assassin moved again, fast and smooth, and pulled out another dagger.

"Sorry for missing, but this time I won’t," he said in a low voice.

SWOOSH!

He rushed forward, leaving a faint afterimage behind him. The dagger flashed right in front of Wales’ eyes.

Wales did not even have time to scream or move. Fear locked his body. He shut his eyes tightly and waited for the pain.

But it did not come.

A sharp metallic sound rang out.

Wales slowly opened his eyes.

The dagger was pinned to the ground beside him, buried deep into the soil.

For a moment, the world felt still. Even the mist seemed frozen.

Wales swallowed hard, his throat dry, not understanding what had happened.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

"That’s enough."

The voice was calm and firm.

"Father... Ahhhh!" Wales groaned as pain returned to his shoulder. He tried to get up but almost fell.

Ethan stood beside him. His face was serious. A soft golden light gathered in his palm as he placed his hand over Wales’ wounded shoulder.

"Stay still," Ethan said quietly.

He pulled the dagger out in one clean motion. Wales squealed in pain and grabbed his father’s sleeve, his face pale.

The holy light flowed into the wound, and the bleeding slowed.

Wales pouted and stared at him. "Haaa... I know you didn’t like it, but I wanted to teach you a lesson," Ethan said.

"But did you have to stab me?" Wales glared at him, his eyes wet.

"If I didn’t, you would have thought these people were sent by me," Ethan replied calmly. "And you would not have felt how close death really is."

Wales bit his lip. "What do you want to teach so brutally?"

Ethan squatted in front of him and gestured with his hand. The masked men silently retreated into the trees.

"Listen, Wales," Ethan said. "Beast Taming is an overpowered profession. I understand that. But there might be people who can get past your beasts, no matter how strong they are. So do not rely only on others."

"You need to build your own strength too."

He looked straight into Wales’ eyes.

"Individual strength always matters. And do you think those proud beasts will follow someone weak?"

Wales did not argue. He looked down at his hands.

Inside, he knew his father was right. He just hated hard training.

He had always believed that since he could tame powerful beasts, they would fight for him.

But those last words hit him deeply.

"I am sorry for being conceited, Father," Wales said softly. "I will work hard. Believe me."

Ethan sighed and patted his head. "Even if you don’t work hard, I can still support your strength. But you still need real fighting experience. So go train with Grandpa Randall and Uncle Noel."

Wales nodded and slowly stood up. He whistled softly. Rocky limped over, and the wyvern crawled closer.

Wales climbed onto the wyvern’s back.

Before leaving, he looked back at Ethan. His eyes were still a little red.

"I understand what you mean but that doesn’t mean I am not angry. I am going to complain to Mother," he said seriously.

Ethan’s expression changed at once. "Hmph! Do you think I am afraid of them? Go and complain. How can someone as formidable as me be scared of some petty girls?"

Wales flew off without replying.

Behind Ethan, Rathlos suddenly appeared like a shadow.

"Can you say that while stopping your quivering legs?" Rathlos asked calmly.

Ethan froze.

"... Shut up," he muttered.

"I am not afraid of my wives."

"Sure. Sure," Rathlos replied, his voice flat.

Ethan crossed his arms and looked away, but his pride was clearly hurt.

...

Far away from Blanks,amidst the sea of corpses.

A lone figure walked slowly through a field of ruin.

All around him, the land of Frontier looked like the end of the world. Smoke drifted low over the ground, and a cold wind pushed through the broken remains of what had once been a forest. Trees lay uprooted, their roots exposed to the sky. The soil was dark and churned, soaked from days of battle. Shattered shields, snapped spears, and bent swords were scattered everywhere, half buried in mud and ash.

Corpses lay across the land. Some wore armor, some simple clothes, but all were still now. The battlefield had swallowed them without mercy.

The figure stepped forward, boots sinking slightly into the soft ground. His cloak, torn at the edges, fluttered behind him in the dry wind. He paused and looked around slowly.

His hand moved down and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.

"Haaa... Even as a demon, I feel sickened," he muttered under his breath. His voice was low, almost tired.

Another figure walked beside him, stepping over a broken cart wheel. This one’s expression was calm, but his eyes were heavy.

"It is what it is. We can’t do anything, Damor," he said quietly.

Damor paused. He turned his head and looked at the man next to him. His sharp features tightened. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if trying to shut out the sight around him.

"As someone hailing from the Clan of Pride, I, Damor Lucifer, feel no pride in this," he said. His jaw clenched as he spoke.

The other demon gave a short breath through his nose. "Hmph. You talk about pride. Even I, from Gluttony, feel my hunger fading away at this meaningless battle."

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Only the wind moved, carrying the faint smell of smoke and iron.

Damor opened his eyes again and looked ahead. His gaze hardened.

"We have lamented enough. Time to get to work."

He turned around sharply and clapped his hands once. The sound cut through the silence.

Several demons standing in the distance straightened at once.

"Demons, go and dig those human corpses," Damor ordered, his voice firm. "Make sure you do not damage their hearts."

The others hesitated only for a second, then began to move.

"Dig them carefully and extract their hearts," Damor continued. His eyes swept over his subordinates. "I know you do not feel guilty, but even if you have any thoughts, think about the future generations."

One younger demon looked uneasy, but said nothing.

Damor’s voice lowered, but it did not soften. "A predator does not hunt just for fun. It hunts to survive. What we are doing is necessary for our survival. So do it properly."

Hearing the command,the demons spread out across the ruined land.