Chapter 72: Dance of the Frost Dagger and the Nerfed Boss
[Sector 4 - The Rocky Ravine]
The dust from the artificial earthquake had finally settled, leaving the rocky ravine suspended in a tense, suffocating quiet.
Aokiji Kuzan stood in the center of the trap, surrounded by five confident upperclassmen. He didn't raise his arms to summon a glacier. He didn't drop the ambient temperature of the entire zone to absolute zero. Instead, he simply raised his uninjured right hand.
Crackle. Hiss.
Moisture from the air rapidly condensed around his palm, freezing instantly. But it wasn't a massive wall of ice. The frost compressed, sharpening and refining itself until it formed a sleek, jagged blade extending from his grip. It wasn't a long katana; it was a short, deadly dagger—reminiscent of an assassin's blade, glowing with a faint, subzero luminescence. He held it in a loose, comfortable reverse grip.
For a full second, the ravine was completely silent.
Then, the five upperclassmen burst into a chorus of echoing laughter.
The leader of the group—the one holding the long, metallic sword—placed a hand dramatically over his heart and let out a long, theatrical sigh of relief.
"Phew..." the leader mocked, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "I'm not going to lie, I was seriously terrified for a second! I was so worried the rumors about the U.A. monster were true. But looking at you now? Is that really all you can muster? A little icy toothpick?"
Aokiji didn't reply. His posture remained terribly relaxed, almost slouched. From his slightly parted lips, a slow, rhythmic stream of frigid white mist escaped with every exhale, mingling with the dust. A sudden, cold draft swept through the narrow ravine, rustling his messy black hair, shadowing his eyes. The micro-vents around his collar hissed softly, venting the excess internal pressure of his quirk.
BOOOOOOM!
A colossal, thunderous explosion suddenly ripped through the sky miles away, painting the distant horizon in violent shades of neon orange and furious crimson. The sheer concussive force vibrated through the soles of their boots, rattling the loose pebbles in the ravine. It was Bakugo's unmistakable signature—a blaring reminder to everyone present that a chaotic, high-octane war had already erupted across the rest of the arena.
The laughter of the five boys faded slightly as the echo of the distant explosion rolled over them.
Aokiji lazily tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto the leader. They were completely devoid of fear.
"You guys chatter way too much," Aokiji drawled, his voice carrying a chilling resonance that cut through the lingering rumble of the explosion. "Are you coming for my targets, or are you just going to stand there and bore me to death?"
The leader's arrogant smile returned, twisting into a vicious sneer. He gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands. "Have it your way, Ice Prince. Let's melt you down. Formation Delta!"
The five students moved with practiced, military precision, revealing the true nature of their quirks.
The largest of the group—the Boxer—slammed his fists together. His skin instantly hardened, taking on the dull, impenetrable sheen of solid steel. He charged forward like a runaway freight train, his heavy boots cracking the stone beneath him.
From the flanks, the slim fifth member of the group swung his arms in wide arcs. Quirk: Wind Claws. Three crescent-shaped blades of pressurized air shrieked toward Aokiji, tearing trenches into the dirt.
Aokiji didn't panic. He didn't retreat. He simply exhaled.
He pivoted on his heel, his body moving with a fluid, liquid grace that belied his lethargic attitude. He swayed past the rushing Boxer by mere millimeters, the sheer wind of the steel punch ruffling his jacket. As the invisible wind claws converged on his position, Aokiji raised his ice dagger.
Clang! Clang!
He deflected the pressurized air strikes with surgical precision, the impacts ringing out like metal striking crystal.
But the leader was already there, using the Boxer's charge as a blind spot. His long sword hummed with a violent, high-frequency vibration. Quirk: Kinetic Oscillation.
"Take this!" the leader roared, bringing the vibrating blade down in a brutal overhead arc aimed right at Aokiji's shoulder target.
Aokiji raised his ice dagger to block.
The vibrating steel met the frozen blade. For a microsecond, the ice held. Then, the intense frequency shattered the subzero structure. The dagger exploded into a cloud of sparkling, diamond-like dust.
"Gotcha!" the leader cheered, his eyes wide with impending victory as his sword continued its downward path.
But the smile vanished instantly.
Before the shattered ice dust could even hit the ground, Aokiji's palm flared with fresh cold. Within a fraction of a heartbeat, a brand new, perfectly formed ice blade erupted from his grip, catching the vibrating sword mere inches from Aokiji's chest.
Aokiji pushed back, using the leader's own momentum against him, sending the swordsman stumbling backward.
"He can regenerate the weapon instantly?!" the leader gasped, regaining his footing. "Sniper! Now!"
From the high ground behind them, the third member of the squad threw his arms forward. Quirk: Trajectory Control. Three of the regulation orange balls were hurled into the air. But they didn't follow a normal parabolic arc. They sharply banked and curved mid-air, accelerating toward the three targets on Aokiji's body like homing missiles. As they flew, they left behind vivid, glowing streaks of neon orange in the dusty air.
Aokiji's eyes tracked the incoming projectiles. His breathing slowed.
He spun, his trench coat flaring out around him. He slashed his ice dagger through the air in three consecutive, blindingly fast arcs. Unlike his usual massive, blunt-force attacks, these movements were elegant, refined, and hyper-concentrated. Every swing of his dagger left a lingering, luminescent trail of pale blue frost hanging in the air.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The visual contrast was breathtaking. The beautiful arcs of light blue frost perfectly intercepted the chaotic orange streaks. The three balls were sliced cleanly in half, falling to the rocky ground like discarded orange peels.
"He cut them?!" the Sniper yelled, staring in disbelief at the sliced rubber. "Who brings a knife to a dodgeball fight?!"
"Don't let him breathe! Ground him!" the leader barked.
The fourth member—the Trapper—slammed his palms onto the rocky floor. Quirk: Mud Conversion. The solid stone beneath Aokiji's boots instantly liquified, turning into a bubbling, viscous pit of thick brown sludge. Aokiji's feet sank rapidly, the heavy mud pulling him down like quicksand, threatening to lock his legs in place to make him an easy target.
"Got his legs!" the Trapper cheered, pulling his own orange balls from his belt, ready to throw them at the immobilized U.A. student.
Aokiji looked down at the mud creeping up to his shins. He didn't struggle. He didn't try to pull his feet out. Instead, a lazy, dangerous smirk touched his lips.
"You really shouldn't give me a liquid medium to work with," Aokiji whispered.
He stomped his sunken foot downward, sending a highly concentrated pulse of subzero energy straight into the sludge. He didn't freeze the whole canyon. He executed a low-level, hyper-focused technique.
Ice Whirlwind: Ankle Biter.
A spiraling vortex of white frost erupted from the mud, spinning furiously at ground level. It raced across the liquified earth like a frozen serpent, traveling directly up the Trapper's quirk stream. Before the Trapper could even blink, the whirlwind hit him, flash-freezing the mud around his boots, cementing his legs to the bedrock.
"W-What?! I can't move!" the Trapper panicked, pulling frantically at his frozen legs.
Aokiji used the newly created slick surface of the frozen mud to slide forward effortlessly, accelerating like a figure skater. He became a blur of blue and black. He zipped past the immobilized Trapper, and with a casual, almost dismissive flick of his wrist, he slapped three of his own orange balls onto the trapped boy's targets.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
An electronic voice echoed from the boy's sensors: "Target Eliminated."
Aokiji skidded to a graceful halt a few meters away, spinning the ice dagger in his hand. He looked back at the remaining four.
The suffocating arrogance that had filled the ravine moments ago had completely evaporated. It was replaced by the cold, biting sweat of realization. The upperclassmen stared at the U.A. first-year. They had expected a broken nuke, someone who couldn't use his massive explosions of ice anymore.
They hadn't expected him to condense that terrifying power into a surgical scalpel. He wasn't weaker; he was just vastly more efficient.
The leader swallowed hard, his grip tightening on his vibrating sword until his knuckles turned white. He looked at the fifth member, the one who had thrown the wind claws.
"Ren..." the leader said, his voice dropping its mocking tone entirely. "Drop the long-range support. Get serious. We need to end him in close combat before he picks us apart."
Ren, the wind user, nodded grimly. He brought his hands together. The ambient air around the ravine suddenly rushed toward his palms, howling and compressing until it took physical form. The compressed air roared into a long, glowing broadsword of fierce emerald-green wind, kicking up a storm of dust around his feet.
The formation shifted instantly.
The two swordsmen—the leader with his humming steel, and Ren with his roaring green wind blade—stepped to the front, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. The Steel-Skinned Boxer stepped just ahead of them as a living shield, while the Sniper retreated to the high rocks, ready to lay down covering fire.
The atmosphere grew incredibly tense. It was a perfectly balanced, highly coordinated offensive formation designed to overwhelm a single target.
Aokiji watched them assemble. The ice dagger in his hand dripped a single drop of water before instantly freezing over again. The micro-vents on his collar hissed, releasing another plume of steam into the crisp air.
He let out a soft, amused chuckle.
"A tank in the front, two DPS melee fighters, and a ranged sniper in the back," Aokiji noted casually, tapping the flat of his ice blade against his shoulder. "You guys look exactly like a raid party lining up to fight a dungeon boss."
He lowered his dagger, pointing the subzero tip toward the glowing green wind sword. A lazy, confident smile spread across his face, his dark eyes sparkling with the thrill of the new challenge.
"But seriously, don't look so stressed," Aokiji said, his voice calm and unbothered. "I'm not the evil, overpowered boss that wipes the whole party."
He bent his knees slightly, dropping into a low, athletic stance he had never used before.
"I'm the boss after he joins the hero's party..."
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