Rage bled out with every exhale, crystallizing in the air like the frost that gnawed at my skin—until all that remained was coldness.
If she fled, then so be it;
It gives me time to plan, so I should actually welcome it.
My shredded arms kept spilling dark blood, though [Regeneration+] pulsed steadily beneath the wounds, knitting torn tendons and weaving muscle fibers.
From the time it was taking to recover to this state, I drew a conclusion.
If I get hit by an attack of hers straight on, it would take more than 5 minutes to recover to top condition.
That essentially meant that if I was wounded too much, It would be akin to a death sentence.
From the clash I'd gathered a lot of intel that I was organising.
I knew the real Usurper, was most likely far stronger than the one I'd just faced.
Still, if I played my cards right, the scales of the battle could tilt in my favour.
I was aware that to achieve that—beyond the hidden trump cards I did not show her—[Overload] would have to be part of the fight.
There was just one recurring problem.
Each time I considered activating it, the chill that crept up my spine lingered like a burial shroud, my soul's silent scream echoing through the hollows of my being.
Whatever [Overload] would claw out of me the next time...was out of common sense.
It was something vast and ancient, something that should probably never be stirred up.
And yet, what choice did I have?
Survival isn't a negotiation.
You play every card in your hand, or you die.
I lowered myself to the floor, ignoring the jagged ice that bit into my palms, its teeth sinking deeper as the cold seeped through my clothes and gnawed at my skin.
A brittle breeze slipped through the hole in the wall, carrying the metallic tang of distant rain—sharp, sterile, clashing with the iron-rich stench of blood.
It coiled around me, numbing the edges of my pain.
I let my eyelids fall down.
With one of my senses gone, the world narrowed to the shuddering rhythm of my breath, the icy air scraping my throat.
Blood seeped sluggishly from my wounds, warmth leaching into the frozen ground beneath me.
Barely six minutes had passed.
The normal course of action should've been to leave this place, as the condition of this classroom made it harder for me to regenerate completely.
But I was actually killing three birds with one stone.
The cold gnawed deeper, but I welcomed it—I treated it as a whetstone sharpening both my resistance to the latter and understanding of the [Ice] element.
In addition, I could more or less understand how much influence external elements had on my current level of regeneration.
As always, the better the information, the more your chances of winning against the opponent.
After all, who could you hope to defeat, if you didn't even know about your own capabilities?
My thoughts were soon interrupted, though, as footsteps echoed.
I didn't bother to react to the presences I felt.
This, too, was training.
"What… what the hell happened here?!"
The Disciplinary Committee—six voices, twelve shoes crunching ice. Guns hissed as CADs powered up, barrels aimed in my direction.
"Hands where we can see them! Now!"
I sighed. Of course.
Blood crackled under my now-violet palms as I rose, the sound like glass shards snapping beneath me.
Frost cascaded from my shoulders in brittle sheets, scattering across the ice-laced floor.
Just when I'd gotten closer to understand something...
A spark of fascination broke through my irritation.
This numbness—it wasn't a side effect of the Absolute Skill at all.
It seems that simply forging an intimate bond with the Ice element makes you literally colder.
Perhaps that's why it isn't listed as an Absolute Skill's drawback; it's not a flaw in the skill itself, but rather a consequence of getting too close to the element.
You could literally call it suffering from success, in a sense.
...Whoops.
I got lost in my own thoughts for a second.
But all my understanding means nothing if I'm forced to stop mid-thought.
"Annoying,"
I muttered, though the word lacked heat.
The chill had sanded my anger.
Their breaths hitched, weapons trembling.
Well, I suppose this isn't a common situation, for them.
Still, I couldn't care less.
Having weapons pointed at you for no reason is still quite annoying.
"If you shoot," I said, eyes still closed, "you'll regret it."
No niceties.
No point.
Their guns trembled—six barrels, six panicked breaths fogging the air—but their fear reeked more of desperation than resolve.
I didn't believe for a second they'd listen to my explanation.
Didn't care to give it, either.
Thus…
This identity is doomed. Should I just kill them all?
The thought slithered in.
Easier.
Faster.
My fingers flexed.
A flick of the wrist, and their heads would be sent flying.
But I hesitated.
Or walk away.
Knock them out...
A warring instinct, thin but stubborn—the ghost of someone who'd once balked at slaughter.
The Dream Dimension had eroded that softness, left behind a simple conclusion.
Remove everything that wastes time.
As long as it didn't clash with that ideal, it was fine.
A heartbeat of silence, as I contemplated what to do.
Then: "You slaughtered an entire class, you Monster—"
I laughed.
You have no idea, buddy.
Muzzles flared.
Warnings.
"Stand. Down."
What a pain.
I lifted my hand, letting magic pool in my palm.
Even if they pushed themselves to the limit, there was no way they could cast magic faster than I could.
And even if they did manage it, they were nowhere near the level that should worry me.
They all flinched, skidding backward as if caught off guard.
To their impending deaths, all I felt was the chill and a burning urge to end it all.
My ruthless side had won.
Then—
"Enough."
The word cut through the frost, honeyed and warm, fraying the edges of my focus.
Oh, I see.
Her.
The magic in my palm dissipated.
Just in time.
--- Shiba Miyuki ---
The alarms blared as I sprinted, lungs burning, heels clattering against marble.
Idiots!
The Disciplinary Committee had already gone ahead, but I knew better.
Only him could cause such a huge commotion.
If I wanted to avoid the worst case scenario, I had to intervene.
I came to a halt at the classroom's threshold, as I took in the horrendous sight.
Ice.
Blood.
Frozen corpses.
Nakamura Hikari—seated at the center like a king on a ruined throne.
Frost clung to his bare torso, and his skin was etched with cuts that somehow healed before my eyes.
His forearms... they were something else—like raw, shredded flesh with bone just barely visible.
Yet through it all, his posture remained unruffled, as if this brutal scene was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
Moreover
'Isn't he cold?'
This was the first thought that came to mind.
But he wasn't alone.
The committee around him trembled, their CADs aimed at him with a mix of fear and awe.
Fools—they had no idea.
He could wipe them out with a single thought.
"Enough," I commanded, my voice slicing through the tension. Instantly, they froze.
"Stand down. Now." I repeated firmly.
There was a moment of hesitation.
"B-But Shiba-san, he's—"
But I cut them off.
"I'll take responsibility for this."
I stepped forward, each step accompanied by the crunch of ice underfoot, like shattered glass breaking.
"Report to the student council president. Go."
Relief marked their retreat, their footsteps echoing as they fled.
Left alone, I finally made my way over to him—only to find him already sunk back onto the floor, eyes closed as if the confrontation had vanished without a trace.
Bloodied and half-frozen, yet completely motionless, he looked like a statue reclaiming its long-lost pedestal.
Only after I approached him did I figure something out.
The cold here wasn't natural.
It pulsed like a living thing, gnawing at me.
'...Amazing'
My own magic demanded constant focus—a fragile thread of will to sustain it.
That was partly the reason I lose control of it when I get emotional.
But this? The very air had been rewritten, forced into an almost permanent state of obedience.
It clung to my skin, seeping through my uniform until each breath I took fogged in shallow, visible puffs.
I crouched down in front of him, feeling the ice bite harshly through my skirt.
A tremor coursed through me.
My fingers numbed, yet his lashes shone ever brighter, with frost weaving delicate crowns through his hair.
How does he not feel this?
His stillness was both mesmerizing and a little unnerving.
"Could you give me a suitable explanation for what happened here?" I kept my voice steady, though the chill frayed its edges. "I don't believe things are as simple as they look."
He tilted his head, frost cascading from his sleeves.
My stomach tightened.
To reduce him to this state—bloodied, yet eerily serene—who could wield such power?
His eyes opened slowly.
Cold. Unreadable. Yet piercing in a way that made it feel as if he were staring straight into my soul.
I didn't flinch or look away.
Instead, I met his gaze head-on, letting the silence settle between us.
I hadn't known him for long, but even so, I believed I understood him—just a little.
Enough to guess that he was doing the same to me now.
Weighing my intentions. Measuring the distance between ally and enemy.
So, I laid them bare.
"I don't want to make you a public enemy," I said evenly. "But if you massacred people without reason, then we will be. Right here. Right now."
My fingers curled at my sides, prepared for the worst. "If you have an explanation, I'll listen. No—I want to listen"
His expression did not change.
For a few heartbeats, he remained still.
Then, at last, he spoke.
"I found my target."
Target?
I was momentarily confused, but I let him finish.
His voice was even colder than normal.
"My sister, Nakamura Akari. She was plotting to kill me."
He let the words settle before adding,
"So we fought. Right here."
He pointed around the ruined classroom.
"This is the aftermath."
His tone remained even, but there was something behind it—something heavy. "I killed them. But they were already dead."
His gaze, momentarily glancing at the various corpses, flicked back to mine.
"They were just puppets. She used them against me."
He was ice-cold, detached in a way that should've been absolute—yet every time he mentioned his 'sister', a flicker of something unreadable surfaced.
A tiny crack.
Even if they weren't bound by blood, betrayal still hurt.
That's understandable.
Under normal circumstances, I might've said something about it.
Might've acknowledged the weight of that wound. But right now, I couldn't.
I exhaled sharply, only then realising how long I'd been holding my breath. The pressure in my chest loosened, leaving me lightheaded, as if I'd been released from an invisible grip.
The biting cold pressed deeper into my skin, but it barely registered.
We weren't enemies.
That single truth was enough.
I didn't need to blindly trust him.
Just needed to know he wasn't lying.
And I did.
That was enough.
---
Author's Note:
Surprise?
Bet you did not expect another chapter this soon.
Praise me.
From the next chapter, we'll go backwards just a little to explain what happened before all this mess.
Then, it's Usurper VS Akira final part.
And finally, Trial 5th. Been waiting for it!
Also, what do you think of the writing style? I've been trying to improve it :d