Part 2 : Sharpened in Silence
The next morning was quiet. No wind. No birds. Just the soft crunch of snow as Null stepped outside.
He expected a sword waiting for him. Another spar. Another bruise.
Instead, the old man was sitting by a broken tree stump, sharpening a small dagger. He didn't look up.
Old Man:
"You learned how to fight."
Null nodded, cautious.
Old Man:
"But you're not here to fight. You're here to kill."
He tossed the dagger at Null's feet. It landed blade-first, buried in snow.
Old Man (without emotion):
"Kill me before sunrise."
Null stared at him.
He thought it was a joke.
The old man didn't blink.
Old Man:
"No rules. No honor. No warnings. Kill me. Or fail."
Then he closed his eyes and began to meditate.
---
Day One
Null waited. Watched. The old man didn't move for hours. Just sat there like stone.
Null circled. Tested the snow. Tried to find a silent angle of approach.
He failed.
A branch cracked underfoot.
The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back — again.
Old Man (still calm):
"Too loud."
---
Day Two —
The old man blindfolded him and walked him into the forest.
Old Man:
"Make it to the bell without getting caught."
The bell was hanging from a dead tree somewhere out there.
Null took one step forward and something struck his back — hard. He hit the dirt.
Old Man (somewhere behind him):
"You think your eyes make you dangerous? Start listening."
---
Day Three —
Four wild mutts. No weapons. Just his breath and his instincts.
Old Man:
"Outrun them. Or outsmart them."
He didn't.
He bled.
---
Day Four — Dagger Again
The dagger returned to his hand.
Null stalked the cabin. Waited for the old man to sleep.
Tried again.
Failed again.
This time, the old man slammed his head into the doorframe and whispered:
Old Man:
"You're still thinking like a fighter.
Killers don't fight. They end things."
---
Day Seven —
Null sat beside the fire, silent. Something had changed.
He wasn't angry anymore. He was thinking.
That night, he didn't go for the dagger.
Instead, he studied the old man's path around the cabin. Marked the patterns. Timed the steps.
He set up a wire. Just thin enough to hide under snow.
Used moonlight reflecting on melted ice to create a fake shadow — a decoy of himself.
Then he waited.
Just before dawn, the old man stepped into the trap — his foot caught, his balance broken. Null was on him in seconds, dagger to his throat.
Silence.
Then, a chuckle.
Old Man:
"Not bad. Took you long enough to stop being a warrior… and start becoming a weapon."
Null didn't smile. He didn't say anything.
The old man pushed the dagger away and stood.
Old Man:
"Next time… I won't go easy."
He walked past him.
Null stood there. Breathing. Alive in a way he hadn't felt in years.
---
Later That Night
By the fire again. No words. Just the crackle of wood.
Old Man:
"This isn't training for revenge.
This is training for survival.
Because after you face the ones who betrayed you…"
He sipped his drink. Looked up.
Old Man (calm, flat):
"They won't just try to kill you.
They'll try to erase you.
You'll be hunted down by the world."
Null looked into the flames.
Didn't nod.
Didn't speak.
Just sat there — and listened to the sound of wood turning to ash.
The Old Man watched him sulk in silence. Then, finally spoke.
Old Man:
"Tell me… will it be worth it? This revenge of yours."
He gestured at the fire.
"You're a dead man now. That means you're free. You could walk away. Start fresh. Be ordinary — get a job, a wife, maybe a kid. Work 9 to 5. Or grow some damn vegetables. Don't you want that?"
Null didn't answer right away.
He looked into his sake cup — at the broken reflection of himself in the liquid.
Then he drank.
Null:
"Since I can remember… my life was never mine. No free will. No family. No friends. Just orders."
He stared into the fire.
"Do this. Kill that. Obey. Survive. Like a dog. Like a fucking animal."
He looked up at the old man. His voice was quiet.
"I'm done being what they made me. But I can't live among humans pretending I'm one of them. This… this is my choice."
The old man sighed, almost fondly.
Old Man:
"A wolf among sheep, huh?"
He sipped his sake.
"Alright then… what's after revenge?"
Null said nothing.
Just stared into the fire, jaw clenched, sake cup in hand.
The flames danced in his eyes, but no answer came.
The old man didn't push.
He simply nodded — like he understood. Or maybe like he knew the silence was the answer.
---
[Years Later]
Somewhere in the mountains.
The wind howled across the ridge. Snow blew sideways.
But Null was still — focused, cold, controlled.
He moved like a ghost through the trees. Fluid. Deadly. Every step calculated. Every breath disciplined.
His body was leaner now. Sharper. Muscle carved by pain, reflex honed by failure.
The man who had once collapsed on this mountain was gone.
The Ghost had returned — rebuilt.
And this time, better.
The old man sat quietly by the tree stump, wrapped in a thick coat, a blanket over his knees. His hands trembled slightly, but his eyes didn't miss a thing.
He watched Null slice through the training dummies with nothing but a short blade and silence.
He watched him disarm a swinging trap blindfolded.
He watched him vanish into the trees — and reappear behind a bell without making a sound.
The old man smiled faintly.
Old Man (to himself):
"You're ready… finally."
But he didn't say it aloud.
Not yet.
Not until Null was done carving the final piece of himself from the ice.
And when that piece was carved, there would be no man left — only Ghost.