In the middle of the corridor, Nova lay sprawled on the ground, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if trying to see through it. His expression was distant—lost in thought. Debris from the earlier impact surrounded him. Though his armor was dusted, it bore no real damage, he was still in perfect condition. The kick hadn't hurt him; it had simply thrown him away after having lost his footing due to the unexpected blow.

'How long has it been since I got my ass kicked?' The question echoed in his mind. An image surfaced—Jack, back at the academy—and Nova's lips twitched with a half-smile.

'Not counting that sneak attack. At least this guy came at me head-on, not like some street punk throwing cheap shots...'

He sighed. 'I'll admit, this guy caught me off guard... but I don't even think he was serious.'

The memory replayed in his mind, how effortlessly Nova had blocked Slade's slap, and how, without missing a beat, Slade closed the distance and sent him flying with a single kick. That kind of precision, that control… it didn't feel like that was the extent of his power.

"I've been lying here long enough. Time to move," Nova muttered as he gradually pushed himself to his feet.

In truth, only a couple of seconds had passed, but to the stunned onlookers outside, it felt like time had frozen. The subordinates stood in disbelief, while Slade remained still, his gaze fixed on Nova's direction with unreadable calm, as if expecting to see him again any time.

Nova dusted off his armor with a casual sweep of his hand and began walking down the corridor, unhurried. When he stepped outside the complex, the first thing he saw was Slade—exactly where he had left him, motionless and silent.

Alaric and the captains let out a collective breath of relief at the sight of their commander, unharmed and composed. Without him, they would've been completely at the mercy of this new figure—Slade—and something in their guts told them that wasn't a situation they wanted to be in. Whether it was instinct or paranoia, they couldn't tell.

Nova's eyes locked onto Slade as he spoke, voice cool and laced with mockery. "If you didn't want to pay for your friends, you could've just said so. No need to throw a tantrum. Do you understand?"

Not even the kick had managed to knock the smugness out of him. If anything, it had stripped away the last of his restraint. The mask was now off.

Slade didn't respond. Or more accurately, he didn't register the words—not the way they were intended. All he heard was annoyance. Every syllable that came from Nova's mouth built on it. The irritation slowly grew.

With a deadpan gaze, Slade moved again, same speed. In a blur, he closed the distance and kicked Nova once more.

This time, Nova was ready.

Watching the incoming strike with calm precision, he timed his response perfectly, meeting Slade's kick with one of his own. The clash made no sound—no thunderous shockwave, no dramatic echo. To an onlooker, it would've looked like nothing more than two people exchanging casual blows.

But both men knew better.

Suspended in the air, legs locked mid-kick, only they could feel the immense force rippling through the point of contact.

"Stronger than Alaric... by a fair bit," Nova mused silently as he slid back a few paces, reassessing his opponent.

Slade, however, didn't flinch. His expression remained as unreadable as ever, calm, cold, detached. Even the force behind Nova's counterattack hadn't been enough to stir a reaction.

But beneath that emotionless facade, irritation was growing. This ant kept defying him over and over.

With a sharp push off the ground, Slade vanished from sight, reappearing at Nova's flank in a flash. His speed had suddenly doubled, the increase so abrupt it felt like a glitch in reality.

Nova's eyes widened as he struggled to track the movement not having expected such an explosive speed.

A sharp whistle cut through the air from Nova's right, his instincts flared like a siren. Without hesitation, he focused wind particles at his feet and shot left, crossing dozens of meters in an instant and widening the distance between himself and Slade.

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Glancing back at where he'd stood just a heartbeat ago, he saw Slade, arm fully extended in a punch that had missed by inches, striking nothing but air. Yet even that created a violent gust as if a small tornado was present for an instant.

'That was too close… Just how much strength is he hiding?' Nova thought, his breath hitching slightly. He steadied it, eyes sharpening. His calm turning cold and analytical. It had been a long time since he'd faced someone so strong.

Almost as if to answer his question, Slade's speed increased again.

From a nearby window, Alaric watched, wide-eyed. "I can't see him…" he whispered in disbelief.

Nova hadn't taken his eyes off Slade, not for a moment. And because of that, he saw the next movement clearly: a shadow tearing toward him at breakneck speed, straight on.

"He's coming right at me… Does he think I've lost track of him?" Nova mused silently, face unreadable. His mind was in a hyper-focused state—calculations unfolding rapidly, instincts honed by combat and memory. Similar to what happened in the Troll portal when he had been cornered.

His mind seemed to have a flawless image of Slade rushing toward him, slowed to a crawl—frame by frame.

At the same time, his right hand lit up, lightning Mana particles gathering with growing intensity.

10... 20... 50... 100... 200 particles.

Nova's entire hand was now aglow, electricity snapping through the air, a hum of restrained power building, ready to strike.

Clenching his lightning-charged hand into a fist, Nova struck the moment the shadow halted in front of him.

Slade hadn't expected it. The ant had read his movements, perfectly. Instead of landing a clean blow, Slade found himself colliding head-on with Nova's fist. His eyes, previously dull and disinterested, opened slightly in surprise as he registered the attack.

A single eyebrow lifted—barely perceptible, but it was the first outward trace of emotion Slade had shown since the battle began.

And then the fists met.

In that instant, every lightning mana particle stored in Nova's hand erupted. The discharge was immediate and violent, focused entirely on Slade's arm. A thunderous crack split the air, like a lightning bolt exploding between them.

Slade's hand went numb.

The sensation lasted only a moment in real time, but to both of them, it stretched—drawn out like an eternity compressed into a heartbeat, and Nova didn't waste that moment.

He launched a devastating kick directly into Slade's stomach. The impact landed with such force that a sharp wheeze escaped Slade's throat, air ripped from his lungs as his body folded slightly around the blow.

'One more' he thought.

Just as Nova prepared to launch another kick, Slade lifted his head.

His eyes, once emotionless, now looked as if they could devour everything in sight. The air around him seemed to freeze solid.

No, it didn't seem to, it was real.

A sudden drop in temperature swept through the area, turning the evening bitterly cold.

Nova felt it.

Despite his body being now resistant enough that it didn't react to even Earth's harshest winters. he felt a shiver crawl up his spine.

His eyes narrowed, mind racing.

'He's manipulating an element, ice. Is he using the second method? That would mean he's absorbed Mana particles. Ice ones.'

The implications piled up fast.

'If he's using the second method, then he can also absorb water and wind particles, condensing them into ice. Even if that fusion doesn't work perfectly, just being able to freeze ambient water particles would let him amplify the power of his element.'

That was the danger of the second method of Mana manipulation when two people fought using different elements.

The environment dictated power.

If you relied solely on the second method of Mana manipulation and found yourself in an area where your chosen element was scarce, you were as good as dead—an easy target for anyone with aligned elemental dominance. This fatal flaw was precisely why the method had been relegated to the second place.

The truly powerful didn't depend on Mana-rich environments of their own element. They didn't need to.

Because wherever they went, they would turn that place into their best possible environment.

They were their own territory.

But for Nova, new to mana, this was a hard, bitter lesson.

Frost spread rapidly across the ground between them, crawling out in delicate, deadly patterns. The air thickened with cold. Being so close to Slade, the eye of this icy storm, Nova felt each breath catch in his throat. His limbs trembled, not from fear, but from a cold that reached beyond the body and into the bones.

'Shit… I have to move. Now.'

He willed his legs to react, but the ice had already crept up from the floor, swallowing his feet, anchoring him. He looked down—frost was racing upward, coiling around his calves, reaching higher.

'Cut them off? No, useless. I'd still be caught again.'

The thought of being trapped, of losing control, fanned a fire deep inside him. It wasn't fear. It was fury. That spark ignited, burning hotter the more the ice tried to smother him.

Slade didn't care about Nova's feelings, he had his own to deal with.

Though outwardly emotionless, a slow-burning anger, fueled by irritation and annoyance, had begun to stir within him, seeping even into his cold, unfeeling heart." With a slow, deliberate stomp, he summoned a wall of ice behind Nova. It grew steadily, inch by inch, until it towered at his back. By the time it reached full height, it had already claimed Nova's arms and back, locking him in place.

A prisoner wrapped in frost.

Slade calmly brushed his long hair back into place, strands falling neatly behind his ears. He stood silently before Nova for a moment, locking eyes with him.

Then, without warning, a relentless barrage of punches and kicks crashed into Nova's body. Each strike was precise, punishing, delivered with the quiet fury of someone repaying pain in kind. Blow after blow landed like echoes of Slade's intent, wanting to make Nova understand his place.

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