After waiting for ten minutes, the ice wall finally cracked and collapsed with a crystalline groan. Shards of frost scattered like glass across the ground, the mist peeling away to reveal a tall, lean figure stepping out from the haze.
She stood around 1.9 meters, her presence sharp and commanding without her saying a word. Long red hair, streaked faintly with black, spilled past her shoulders, but the tips of her hair, her fox ears, and her swaying tail were pure white, almost glowing against the darker colors. Her clothing made her stand out as much as her features—loose black cargo pants tucked into worn boots, paired with a heavy, baggy coat that reached down to mid-thigh. A red-and-black scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, its fabric shifting slightly as if to guard the jagged lightning-bolt scar that climbed from her collarbone up to just beneath her right eye.
Even beneath all those layers, I could tell she was strong. The broadness of her shoulders, the way her posture seemed balanced for a fight at any moment—it all screamed warrior. Her coat wasn't fully closed, and in the gap I caught a glimpse of bandages wound tightly around her chest. She wore no shirt beneath, just that rough wrapping. For a moment, I froze, my gaze lingering longer than I meant to. Amari had warned me not to drool over her, and now I understood why. She was beautiful—sharp, dangerous, and breathtaking in equal measure.
If it weren't for the fact that I wasn't into women with six-packs—and that my heart was already taken—I might have fallen right then and there. Her face carried the same dominant, piercing look the fox had earlier, eyes like molten gold locking onto me with a weight that made me straighten instinctively.
Then she smirked.
"It seems you're as short as ever, Yua-chan," the fox girl teased, her voice smooth but threaded with mischief.
My head snapped up. "I'm still growing!" I barked louder than I should have, heat rushing to my face.
She winced, one ear flicking down as she lifted her hands to cover them. "No need to shout, geez…"
I blinked, thrown off by how casually she brushed me aside. "Sorry. Wait—what did you just call me?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she closed the distance in two long strides and lifted her right hand. It hovered there, expectant. Without thinking, I raised my own. Our fists met with a solid bump, and then—almost on instinct—our hands slid into a pattern, a shake and twist I hadn't performed in years. My chest tightened. That was a handshake I knew. A handshake I'd always recognize.
I stared at her, realization hitting me like a brick. "So the murderer has become Amari's sister… and a monster," I said, anger sharpening my voice.
(Kitsuna POV)
"So the murderer has become Amari's sister and a monster," Zagan spat, his words soaked in fury.
I sighed, my breath clouding faintly in the cool air. My eyes flicked over him. He had brown hair and brown eyes, wearing casual clothing that didn't match the blades he was holding. His stance was tense, rage twisting his expression, but I could see it—he was hesitating.
Before I could even speak, he lunged.
I dropped, his boot slicing the air above me. Rolling sideways across the dirt, I sprang back to my feet with a confused frown.
"What the fuck are you doing, Zagan?" Amari's voice cut in sharply from the side, her tone trembling between outrage and disbelief.
"I'm killing someone who should not be alive," he snapped, his eyes never leaving me as he sprinted forward.
My lips curled into a grin, sharp and amused. "You? Killing me?" A laugh burst from my throat. Cold magic flared around my hand, forming into an ice-forged sword within an instant. I raised it just in time, catching the cross of his dual blades with a ringing clash. Sparks and shards of ice flew.
He blinked at the sudden weapon but didn't falter. Strike after strike came down—left, right, overhead. Fast, relentless. But not fast enough.
Each blow I redirected, my arm moving with effortless precision. My other hand stayed tucked behind my back, casual, as if his assault was nothing more than a sparring warm-up.
'Speed below six hundred. Strength is maybe just above six. He's strong for his age, I thought coolly, sidestepping another slash.
The more I denied him, the more unhinged his face became. His teeth bared, frustration crackling off him like static.
"How? How are you defending my attacks!?" His voice cracked with rage.
"Zagan, stop!" Amari shouted again, desperation rising.
"Amari, stay out of this," I told her firmly, my eyes still locked on his. I met his next swing and shoved it away, my blade slicing through the air in counterbalance. "Look at you—trying to kill me for something that happened in a past life."
"I don't care!" he roared, both swords slamming downward in a furious arc. "I won't let you influence Amari!"
I twisted aside, his blades digging into the dirt, and planted a swift kick against his rear. He stumbled forward, nearly falling face-first. While he scrambled to regain balance, I spoke, my tone like steel. "How do you know my influence would be bad? Maybe I'm exactly what she needs to survive in this world. You might be her fiancé, Zagan…" I smirked and jabbed my sword forward, halting inches from his chest. "But I'm her family now."
"Family?" His face twisted, veins bulging at his temples. "You killed your family in the past! What will change with this one?"
That was enough. My patience snapped.
I drove my foot into his stomach, sending him sprawling onto his back with a harsh grunt. His swords slipped from his grasp. Before he could move, I pinned him—one boot pressed against his chest, weight crushing down. With deliberate slowness, I stabbed one ice sword through each of his hands, pinning them into the dirt like insects on display.
"AAH!" His scream tore through the air. Pain twisted his face, sweat dripping instantly. I saw the flicker of shadow magic starting to gather, but my voice cut him off, cold and merciless.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Unless you want to lose your hands entirely."
His jaw clenched, fury giving way to uncertainty.
"You called me a murderer," I continued, my voice low, my eyes boring into his. "You're right. But did you ever ask why? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I lived through hell with them? That maybe those scars you saw on me weren't from training but from the people who were supposed to protect me?"
For the briefest moment, his glare cracked. I saw it—realization. Guilt, even.
I sighed, pulling back, releasing him from the full weight of my glare. "Don't get arrogant just because you have a class. You just had your ass handed to you by a level twenty-seven dumbass." I turned my back on him, dismissing the fight with casual disdain. "Amari, I'll be waiting at your parents' place. You can tell him about my father too, both of them if you want."
"Okay," she said quietly.
I walked off toward the mansion, and the moment I approached, the gathered family broke into whispers and laughter.
"He really had his ass handed to him just now," Granny commented, amusement flickering across her wrinkled face.
I laughed, brushing off the tension still clinging to me. "That's what happens when you rush into getting a class. Though… he does have a good one."
Dean tilted his head curiously. "You know what class he has?"
"Yeah," I replied, tapping my temple. "I've got Analysis. Can't see his full stats, but I get the basics."
I rattled it off:
Name: Zagan Anlit (Yua Suzuki)
Age: 13
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Level: 60
Class: Dual Warrior (Exotic)
Dean rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "Level sixty, huh. That's impressive for his age."
Mom snorted. "Impressive for a normal person. For a reincarnator? That's pathetic."
I smirked. "Exactly. His stats average around six hundred. Not bad for a regular, but… nothing special."
Dean nodded slowly. "Dual Warrior's an intriguing class, though. Flexible."
"Sure," I said dryly. "But let's be real—I bet Amari could beat him."
"Probably," Mom said, her smile sharp.
Dean blinked, frowning. "Actually, no. She wouldn't stand a chance."
Mom turned to him, eyes narrowing. "Have some confidence in your daughter. You're the one who trained her."
Dean flinched, looking away.
"Dean," Mom's voice dropped, dangerous. "How much have you personally trained Amari in the past three years?"
His voice faltered. "Hunny, I… I was busy with Black Ops; I didn't have enough time. So I got her a personal trainer."
"Who?" Mom asked, her tone like thunder.
Dean winced. "…Gray."
Smack!Bang!
He hit the ground face-first, Mom towering over him with her hand still raised.
"You fucking got a swordsman to train a mage!?" I shouted, disbelief boiling into laughter.
"No wonder she can't stand a chance against him," Mom snarled, kicking Dean in the ribs.
"But Granny helped her when she could!" Dean yelped, rolling over with a groan.
Mom folded her arms, glaring. "She has less time than you, and you know it."
The scene might've dragged on, but Amari's voice cut through the chaos.
"Are you guys done torturing Dad? Zagan has something to say."
(Zagan POV)
I lay there, my hands throbbing, shame coiled tight in my chest. 'Level twenty-seven,' I thought bitterly. 'How weak am I, that someone like that could destroy me?'
"Are you done brooding?" Amari asked, her tone flat.
"What level is she really?" I asked, hoping she'd tell me the truth.
"Twenty-seven," she said without hesitation.
I swallowed. "How strong is she?"
Amari crossed her arms. "Granny says she could beat a mid-level private easily, maybe a high one if they let their guard down."
I laughed weakly. "You're joking."
"She outplayed my father yesterday in their spar."
"What—" My words stuck in my throat.
"He was holding back," she admitted. "But she still caught him off guard."
"How?"
"She used her tail."
I stared, stunned… then chuckled despite myself. "That… does sound like Shiro."
"Is that so?" she murmured.
I flexed my pinned hand, grimacing. "Can you… take the swords out now? Please?"
"No."
I blinked at her. "Wha—?"
"Not until you listen." She crouched, her gaze steady. "You want to kill her for what she did in her past life. Fine. But you never bothered to ask why. "Let me explain what her father did to her."
And she did. Every word dug into me like glass. By the time she finished, my chest felt hollow.
"I'm an idiot," I whispered, tears welling. "Some teacher I was. Some friend. I abandoned him… her… without even listening." I swallowed hard. "Do you think she'd forgive me?"
"That depends on what you do now," Amari said.
I closed my eyes. "I'll apologize. For running away. For never hearing her side."
She slid one sword free from my hand. The sting made me hiss, but I flexed my fingers anyway.
"And?" she prompted.
"And…" I groaned. "I won't ever judge her halfway again."
"Not that." She twisted the other blade slightly.
"Ow! Stop, that hurts!" I yelped.
"There's someone else you need to apologize to."
I sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'm sorry, my sweet future wife, for attacking your sister."
Her smile softened. But then her eyes narrowed. "There's one more thing. What happened between you and Shiro?"
I froze, blood rushing to my cheeks. "No. He didn't—"
"She told me everything."
"We were drunk!" I blurted. "It didn't mean anything! Why would she tell you that!?"
"She had her reasons. Now promise me. Oath it, even."
I stared into her eyes, knowing I couldn't refuse. "…Fine."
I gritted my teeth, the words spilling like chains. "I, Zagan Anlit, swear I will only ever be with Amari Daig in this life." The oath burned through me, final and binding.
"Good." She tugged the last sword free.
"Dammit, can't you be gentle?" I groaned, cradling my hand.
"No." She smirked. "Now come on. You need to apologize and get healed. Then we're going shopping."
My stomach dropped. "Shopping? For what?"
"For my sister, obviously. You saw her clothes. Baggy coat, cargo pants—she owns one outfit. Rachel's coming too."
I groaned louder than before. "Ughhh… fine."
When we finally reached the others, Dean was still on the ground groaning as Mom kicked him again. And Amari's words cut through the chaos.
"Are you guys done torturing Dad? Zagan has something to say."