The vast practice hall of the International Ranker Association was now nothing but a glacial wasteland. The air itself seemed to freeze into translucent particles that shimmered faintly under the cold white lights above. Every breath formed a mist that lingered unnaturally long before dispersing into the air thick with condensed frost energy. Cracks ran across the titanium-plated walls; even the reinforced viewing glass bore delicate fractures that sparkled like icy veins.
The aftermath of the twin techniques — [Hailstorm Blast] and [Ice Bullet Barrage] — was beyond what any of the spectators had expected. Both techniques were Rank-A level or higher, yet the two young contestants had unleashed them with control so refined it made even the instructors wary.
Friz stood in the center of the hall, his breath slow, his posture unwavering. The azure aura that had surrounded him moments earlier now faded like fog melting under sunlight, leaving only a faint shimmer of frost on his shoulders. Across from him, Friya exhaled softly, her hair — pale silver-blue — fluttering slightly as her own aura began to dissipate. Around her, snowflakes spun like fragments of crystalized moonlight, forming and vanishing in the rhythm of her heartbeat.
The silence stretched.Neither of them moved, as if even a step forward could shatter the fragile stillness binding the world.
From the elevated gallery, voices began to rise.
"My god… these two… are they really rookies?""The control, the power output — I've only seen something like that from high-level Rankers!""Friz… and that girl, Friya, right? Both S Rank potential, easily!"
The murmurs blended with the faint hum of the energy walls that had been hastily raised to contain the storm. Frost crawled up the transparent barrier, forming intricate fractal patterns like ancient sigils. The air buzzed faintly with the residual mana of ice energy.
Finally, Friz broke the silence. His voice was calm, but it carried the firmness of authority.
"I think we should stop," he said, sheathing Snowbreaker. "Continuing to fight is not a good idea."
Friya's pale eyes glimmered, reflecting him in their depths — cold, yet uncertain. For a heartbeat, she said nothing, then her gaze flickered briefly toward the shattered tiles beneath her feet, before lifting again.
"You're right," she answered softly, her voice carrying a quiet resonance that blended with the sound of melting frost. "If we continued, we might destroy this entire hall."
Friz nodded once, not out of arrogance, but acknowledgment. His composure gave him the appearance of a veteran Ranker rather than a new recruit. Without further words, he turned and began walking toward the exit of the arena, the crunch of frost beneath his boots echoing in rhythm with the soft hum of the containment field fading behind him.
Friya watched him go. The faintest wisp of vapor escaped her lips, almost like a sigh, before she followed a few moments later.
Outside the hall, several judges gathered, still wearing expressions that oscillated between disbelief and awe. The chief examiner adjusted his glasses and looked at the data panel on his wristband.
"Combat evaluation complete," he murmured. "Attack intensity… efficiency… defensive stability... synchronization rate... this is absurd."
The others nodded in silence, watching the recorded replay in the holographic panel. The clash of two ice-type Rankers had painted the screen with blinding white light, enough to distort the sensors. Even the Association's energy monitors had fluctuated, briefly spiking into the red zone.
"Verdict?" one of them asked quietly.
The chief examiner hesitated, then exhaled.
"Friz — S-rank. That's the limit of what we can assign without authorization from the International Council."He paused, then added with quiet regret, "If it were up to me, I'd call him at least International."
"And the girl?"
"Friya. S-rank as well. Same case."
The rest of the panel exchanged knowing glances.No one questioned it.
Friz didn't linger for the final results. The weight of applause and whispers that followed him as he left the hall meant little. He had always found recognition meaningless; results spoke louder than praise.
The outer corridors of the Association headquarters were quiet. The walls were lined with illuminated panels displaying holographic maps of different natioanl branches — sectors of the Association spread across the planet. His footsteps echoed, slow and steady. He walked with his hands in his pockets, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere.
Outside, the evening sun hung low, half-hidden by the towering skyline of the city. Hovercrafts glided silently between the skyscrapers, their trails of blue light leaving faint ripples across the atmosphere. From here, the Association's gate resembled a cathedral of glass and steel, monumental and cold.
He paused for a moment, looking up at the sky — the pale orange fading into deep indigo — and allowed himself a breath. The battle replayed in his mind: the way her attack intersected his mid-air, the symmetry of it, the familiarity in how she controlled her frost energy. It wasn't just skill — it was something deeper, something that resonated.
He frowned slightly.That resonance… it wasn't natural.
As he turned to leave, he heard footsteps — light, deliberate, echoing softly against the metallic pavement.He didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
"Friz," came the voice.Gentle, composed, but carrying a faint tremor beneath its calm.
He turned his head slightly, and there she was — Friya.The pale light of dusk caught her silver-blue hair, making it glow faintly like threads of starlight. Her Association-issued uniform had been slightly torn from the battle, a faint burn mark on one sleeve still visible, but her demeanor remained poised.
"You followed me," Friz said simply.
Friya offered a small, somewhat awkward smile. "I… didn't mean to make it sound like that. I just wanted to talk."
He raised an eyebrow, not out of surprise, but curiosity. "Talk?"
"Yes," she replied, her tone gaining steadiness. "If you don't mind, there's a café across the street. I'll treat you to something."
He studied her expression for a moment. Her eyes, though calm, carried a weight — something unsaid. Something restrained. He had seen that look before — in people who carried secrets too heavy to share.
"A free drink?" he said finally, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. "I don't refuse free things."
Her eyes softened. "Then come."
The café in front of the Association gate was a small, quiet establishment wedged between two gleaming towers. Its transparent walls reflected the soft hues of the city night, with orbs of light floating above each table, illuminating the soft mist from steaming cups. The place was nearly empty — only a few Rankers and officers seated at the far end, quietly discussing their missions.
They took a table by the window. The city lights glimmered outside like constellations cast onto glass.Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes.
The waiter brought their orders — two cups of black coffee, faintly steaming. The aroma mixed with the faint ozone scent still clinging to their uniforms after the battle. Friz leaned back in his seat, his eyes on the skyline, while Friya looked at her reflection in the cup — lost in thought.
It was she who intended to speak first, but before she could even draw breath, Friz's voice broke the silence.
"I know what you're going to ask," he said.
Friya blinked, startled. "You do?"
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. His tone was calm but laced with quiet intensity.
"And I also have the same question for ."
Her eyes widened slightly as his words settled in the air. The faint hum of the café seemed to fade; the light above them flickered softly as though reacting to the tension.
Friz's gaze met hers directly, unflinching. His voice, steady and deliberate, carried the weight of a truth long unspoken.
"Why does the Blizzard Power exist inside you?"
For an instant, everything froze.
The coffee cup in Friya's hand stopped midway to her lips. Her breath hitched slightly — almost imperceptibly — but Friz noticed. Her eyes widened, a faint shimmer of pale frost flickering deep within their icy blue depths.
The words hung between them like suspended frost crystals — silent, fragile, yet carrying a storm beneath their stillness.
Friya didn't move. Her hand trembled faintly, just enough for the surface of the coffee to ripple. The reflection of Friz's calm, unyielding expression distorted on the liquid's surface, and for a heartbeat, her carefully maintained composure cracked.
"…What did you just say?"Her voice was low, almost a whisper.
Friz didn't repeat. He didn't need to.
Outside the window, snow began to fall — though it was not the season for it. The air temperature dropped subtly, unnoticed by the other customers but not by the two Rankers sitting at that table. A faint shimmer of frost began to form at the edge of Friya's cup.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.Her eyes — still locked on Friz — carried a mix of confusion, fear, and something else… recognition.
And in that moment, under the dim, cold light of the city, silence reigned once more — heavier than before.