The wind howled briefly between the rocks, carrying snow across the abandoned path.

Ryn adjusted his stance, blade lowering just enough to signal readiness rather than threat.

Fritz stepped forward, sword half-raised.

"Who are you?"

The man's gaze flicked to him briefly. Dismissive.

Then back to Ryn.

"You already know," he said.

Ryn did.

He'd seen him briefly at the announcement in Raias, half a step behind their Hero Candidate.

This was Kharvos' shadow. His right hand.

The one sent to do all his dirty work.

He didn't answer right away. His mind was already moving, rewinding the whole day and laying them out piece by piece.

Everything had gone according to plan.

He made sure to check everything: routes, timing, procedure, even the amount of time the disposal team could linger without drawing notice.

There were no obvious gaps.

Which meant the problem wasn't execution.

Ryn lifted his gaze back to the man standing in the snow.

He hadn't been chasing them. He'd been waiting.

That meant…their endpoint was compromised all along.

Ryn's gaze drifted briefly to the wagons, then back at the executioner.

He exhaled slowly, cold air biting into his lungs.

Whatever the truth was, he'd need to survive through this to uncover it.

"You know you can't directly kill us without punishment, right?" Fritz broke the silence at last.

The wind tugged at the wagon's canvas, lifting it just enough to make the whole frame shudder.

For a moment, the man didn't answer.

Then he laughed quietly.

"Correct," he said. "Not without cause."

His gaze shifted, drifting past them to the wagons.

"But that's the interesting part, isn't it?" he continued. "Rules only matter when there's someone to enforce them."

He took a step to the side, boots crunching into the snow, giving them a clear line of sight past him, down the frozen path ahead.

The man drew his greatsword, plunging it into the sand in a show of dominance.

"So," he said, looking back at Ryn now. "Do we continue pretending this is a conversation…?"

The man released the hilt of his sword and straightened, snow shifting around his boots.

"Well," he said mildly. "If we're going to do this properly…"

He placed a hand over his chest, posture almost formal. A mockery of noble traditions, the worst Ryn'd ever seen.

"Kharik Bloodmane," he announced.

Kharik's eyes lifted, flicking between Ryn and Fritz.

"And you?" he asked. "It would be rude to—"

"Don't kid yourself," Ryn cut in.

Snow exploded beneath his feet as he closed the distance in a blink. His blade flashed up in a clean, killing arc, aimed straight for Kharik's neck.

His blade never met the man's thick neck.

The air screamed as Kharik twisted, his massive frame moving with deceptive speed.

Snow's edge skidded across a sheath of ice that hadn't been there a heartbeat ago, the impact sending a jolt straight up Ryn's arms.

Ice detonated outward.

Ryn used the momentum to fling himself backward, creating separation between himself and the executioner.

Knew it.

He also had Cold Affinity, and it was much more refined than his own.

Kharik didn't press immediately. He watched them both, breath turning into mist.

Ryn didn't need more than that single exchange.

They couldn't win this.

An Essence Master. At least one to three ranks above Fritz. Three, maybe more, above himself.

Kharik took a step forward, and the temperature dropped again.

Fritz moved to intercept, blade flashing, only for his strike to be caught mid-swing. Ice crawled up his weapon, numbing his hands instantly.

"Careful," Kharik said mildly. "You'll lose fingers that way."

Ryn's decision snapped into place.

There was only one way to win this.

Counter him with opposite Affinity firepower.

Amelia.

Ryn hurled Snow.

Kharik shifted aside easily, the blade missing him by a wide margin.

Exactly as intended.

The blade struck the ground and dissolved mid-spin, silver light flaring as it reformed. Limbs unfolded and claws bit into stone as Snow's tiger form burst free.

It didn't hesitate.

The tiger turned and sprinted full speed toward the distant slopes, a streak of mist tearing across the snowbound path toward the Moonlight Tribe.

Ryn acted instantly—he had to keep Kharik's attention. Just long enough.

A marked coin flashed from his hand as he drew a plain arming sword from his ring.

[Star's Path]

Ryn reappeared just above Kharik, blade already descending toward his skull.

Steel met steel.

The flat of Kharik's greatsword caught the strike effortlessly, the impact ringing through the air

Fritz didn't waste the opportunity, flashing toward Kharik's flank to deliver a Wind-infused slash.

It worked, as his blade cut into the man's abdomen, deep enough to draw blood.

However, Kharik didn't react at all.

"Disappointing," he said calmly. "For a Hero Candidate."

Ryn's [Enhanced Senses] flared.

Underneath Fritz's foot, ice had coalesced, shaping itself into a spike that was primed at his heart.

Shit—Aquila!

The Blessing answered instantly, Ryn's muscles coiling with explosive force.

He twisted, boots hitting the ground as he launched himself forward—

—barreling into the Hero Candidate, knocking them both into the cold snow as the ice spike erupted where Fritz's chest had been a heartbeat earlier.

Kharik rolled his shoulder once and heaved the greatsword free, resting the massive blade across it as he advanced.

Snow crunched beneath his steps.

Ryn and Fritz were already moving, pushing themselves back into guard positions as they reset for the second exchange.

Neither of them spoke.

Kharik tilted his head slightly, watching them with open curiosity.

"Hm," he said. "By the rules…"

He shifted his grip.

"…it should be my turn now, shouldn't it?"

The air around him dropped another degree.

He cleared the distance with a single step, the greatsword coming off his shoulder in a single smooth motion.

Ryn felt it an instant before it happened.

Too fast—

"Fritz—!" he shouted.

Ice screamed outward as the greatsword struck, the impact detonating the frozen ground beneath Ryn's feet. Frost spears tore upward in a violent surge, the shockwave hurling him off balance.

Ryn twisted, trying to roll clear before the cold hit him.

Too late.

It crawled up his leg, then his side, locking muscle and bone in an instant. The follow-through came a heartbeat later.

The greatsword slammed into him like a falling wall.

"—Ghh!"

A guttural noise escaped him as he flew through the air.

His body struck the mountainside with a hollow and brutal sound, breath torn from his lungs as stone cracked beneath the impact.

Ice shattered around him, fragments raining down as he slid and collapsed into the snow.

[HP: 80/150]

Fritz screamed his name.

Ryn tried to move and confirmed quickly that his left arm was broken

Snow drifted down in the sudden silence.

Just one hit took almost half of his HP away.

Kharik straightened slowly, greatsword emitting faint mist off its edge.

"…Phew," he exhaled calmly. "That felt good."

Cold pressed in from every direction, not just against his skin but inside his body, like cold creeping into his lungs.

Move.

Kharik stepped closer.

Each footfall sent a fresh wave of frost racing outward, sealing cracks in the ground, locking the world into place around him.

"Still alive," Kharik noted mildly. "Not bad. Thought you were just the strategist."

Ryn's vision blurred.

The man stood above him, sword raised.

"Execution," he said calmly. "I'll never get tired of it."

The blade began to fall.

And then—

The air shattered.

Wind screamed past Ryn's ears as something slammed between him and death, snow exploding outward in a blinding wave of color.

Rainbow light erupted across the field.

Ryn's frozen vision snapped into focus just in time to see Fritz standing there, one foot planted, blade clashed against Kharik's own.

His entire body was wreathed in shifting hues, cycling violently as if every emotion he'd ever suppressed was burning all at once.

Ryn realized what this was instantly.

[Determination]

Fritz's breath came in ragged bursts, blood trickling from his mouth as he braced against the impossible weight pressing down on him.

"RAARGH!"

He let out a raw and unrestrained scream.

The greatsword was forced back, until eventually…

Kharik was torn completely off his feet, knocked over into the snow as his blade plunged uselessly into the snow behind.

His expression caught between surprise and hostility.

Ryn lay there, barely conscious, staring up at the impossible sight through the haze of pain and cold.

And it hit him then.

This was why he was Humanity's Hero.

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