Chapter 335: Ruthlessly Expose!17

·"This is my shame, Foz." Ace's voice was cold, his fists clenched at his sides. "I once considered you a friend. I even told you about my dreams."

Foz scoffed. "A lifetime of shame?"

Ace pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself, "It's a pity."

Then, without warning, he straightened up, his entire demeanor shifting. His expression hardened as he stared down at Foz.

"Enough games. I'll try another approach."

His voice dropped, cold and unwavering.

"I gave you a choice before. Now, it's a threat. Hand over your people, or we'll do it ourselves—even if it means breaking this world apart."

Ace's gaze sharpened as he stepped closer. "Choose, Foz. Show me what kind of man you really are."

Foz's chest rose and fell erratically. His fingers curled into fists as rage boiled inside him.

"You... you!" His breathing was ragged, his entire body trembling with fury. "How could you do this?!"

Ace chuckled—low at first, then louder, until it became an uncontrollable fit of laughter. He clutched his stomach, shaking his head in disbelief.

"How could we?!" He pointed at himself, barely able to stand from laughter. "You already said it—Seireitei is doomed. So why shouldn't we go a little crazy before the end?"

"You wouldn't," Foz spat. "You don't want to see a throne built on bones!"

Ace's smirk didn't waver. "Believe that if you want. But whether we do it or not—that's up to us."

He crouched down in front of Foz, tilting his head. The lenses of his sunglasses reflected Foz's face—twisted with frustration and hesitation.

"Make your choice, Foz. You could die gloriously—but no one will ever know. Not that a proud Quincy like you would care about such trivial things, right?" Ace's voice dripped with mockery. "And even if your people did find out, I'm sure they'd praise you for your sacrifice."

Foz didn't curse or retaliate. Instead, he lunged forward, mouth open, desperate to attack Ace with whatever strength he had left.

But Ace sidestepped easily.

Foz collapsed onto the ground, struggling like a wounded animal. Ace watched him for a moment, then let out a chuckle.

"So much for the righteous Quincy." He slowly walked over and nudged Foz upright with his foot.

"You talk about honor, but look at you now—groveling before your enemy."

Foz's breaths were shaky. His body trembled, not just from exhaustion but from the weight of Ace's words.

"Tell me, Foz, do you regret not killing me?" 

Ace asked, pressing his foot down harder. His voice was quiet, almost amused. "Don't make me laugh."

Foz clenched his teeth, but he had no retort.

Ace leaned in slightly. "During the Slaughter Field... those arrows weren't meant for just anyone, were they?" His tone was casual, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable. "And in Tomie District—those assassins knew exactly how I operate. Who gave them that information, huh?"

Ace smirked. "It was you, wasn't it, Foz?"

Foz's face darkened. He said nothing.

Ace exhaled, shaking his head. "You're still alive because I chose to see you as a friend. If anyone should feel ashamed, it's you."

Foz's mind reeled.

Ace was right.

The attack on Gillians in the Slaughter Field had been a test—one meant to gauge Ace's strength. If he had been injured, the next step would have been wiping out all the Shinigami present.

And the assassination in Tomie District? That had been even more direct. Foz hadn't personally acted, but he hadn't stopped it either.

Ace had seen through everything from the beginning. Even if Foz had made a move back then, the result would have been the same.

He had no right to blame Ace.

But when had he started becoming this kind of person?

Was it when he entered Soul Society?

Or had his heart grown cold long before that?

But no matter what, he had become this kind of person—someone no different from the Shinigami he once despised.

No... there was still a difference.

The Quincy still had dreams.

They still clung to the vision of a perfect world.

From the moment they infiltrated Soul Society, they had been prepared for this.

"You're right," Foz muttered, exhaling a deep sigh. "We've done our share of dirty work too."

As he raised his head, a strange sense of relief washed over him. For the first time in a long while, he felt unburdened.

"As for friendship..." He looked at Ace with calm, knowing eyes. "We made the same choice, didn't we?"

Ace clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Foz smirked. "So? What now?

It's pointless to tempt me with rewards. Empty threats won't work either. And even if your threats are real, they still won't matter.

Like you said, I know I can't die unless I choose to end it myself.

So tell me, Ace—do you really believe I'd betray my own people?"

Ace let out a soft chuckle. "Of course not."

On the surface, today's meeting was about extracting Quincy secrets from Foz. Yamamoto and the others had insisted Ace try, convinced that he'd find a way.

But the method always depended on the situation.

The 9th Division had been torturing Foz for a long time. If he had a breaking point, they would have found it by now. If there was a weakness, they would have already exploited it.

Unless Ace could somehow hypnotize him into believing he was a Shinigami spy, there was nothing left to gain.

If old man Yamamoto were here, he'd probably whip Ace senseless for wasting time.

After all, wasn't Ace the one who asked to visit Foz in the first place?

Yamamoto had likely agreed just to teach his disciple a lesson—letting Ace see firsthand how stubborn the Quincy were, how impossible this mission truly was.

But Ace hadn't come here for some ridiculous persuasion attempt.

He had come for something else.

Something personal.

"I get it now," Ace admitted, his voice lighter, almost amused. "As long as we Shinigami are still trying to wipe out the Quincy, no matter what we offer you—whether it's gold, power, or even freedom—you won't waver."

Foz let out a hoarse laugh. "Took you long enough! Hahaha!"

Ace ignored the mockery. "Why don't you hear me out first?"

Foz raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Ace continued, smirking. "What if we approached this from a different angle? What if we dealt with each other... as equals?"

Foz opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Ace raised a hand to stop him.

"The torture you endured was, in a way, a transaction," Ace explained casually. "You just didn't have anything worth trading—or maybe you believed we had nothing to offer you."

He shrugged. "But none of that matters now."

Foz's vision blurred slightly from the lingering pain, his exhaustion creeping in. "Are you still refusing to give up?"

Ace chuckled, stepping behind him.

"I gave up a long time ago," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't hear me out."

Looking down at Foz's weary face, Ace smirked.

"I told you—we need to meet as equals.

And different identities...

mean different kinds of deals.

So maybe, Foz... it's time you started thinking about me too."