The battlefield held its breath.
Icariel stood like a statue—black eyes unblinking—as the monster that nearly killed Eldrin now struggled beneath his fists.
Not far away, Eldrin whispered, 'For real...?' A grin broke across his bruised face."
Floon, crouched behind rubble nearby, glanced toward the battlefield. He spotted the bald girl—Grinis—cornered.
Floon blinked as blood painted the floor. "Damn. If that kid makes it out alive… we might just have a ghost of a chance left. And if he fights like that again… maybe this war's not lost yet."
Meanwhile, Grinis's face twisted into a snarl.
"Surrender? Me?" she spat blood. "And why would I do that? So I can rot in some prison and die a slow death? Never."
He glanced skyward for the briefest moment. "I was curious… about life beyond the mountains…"
Then he shook his head. "Ah… never mind."
Icariel exhaled slowly. "Guess you don't leave me much choice…"
BAM!
He launched forward, the ground beneath his feet cracking from the force. Dirt scattered behind him like a miniature explosion. In a blink, he was in front of Grinis again.
She slashed with her claws—he weaved under her strike and drove his fist toward her ribs. She blocked with her forearm, only for Icariel to pivot and strike her face with his elbow.
She reeled.
But Icariel didn't stop.
His body moved faster than ever before—each muscle responding like a tuned weapon. Speed, power, perception—everything was sharper since his superhuman awakening.
"You… shouldn't be this strong… not even after I used Dered How," Grinis gasped. "What are you? What are you made of?!"
CRACK!
A punch to her ribs—this time on the right side. A loud snap echoed.
She flew backward, tumbling through the air before slamming into the cobblestones, dust and gravel spraying up around her.
Before she could recover, he was already upon her.
BAM! A spinning kick to the same spot. She was thrown across the field like a ragdoll, blood trailing in the air.
Icariel dropped to one knee, his hand scraping over the gritty stone of the square. "Everything I've learned… I can apply it instantly. This body—it's like the perfect vessel."
Despite the brutal punishment, Grinis still pushed herself up. Barely.
Her arms shook. Her body was a canvas of torn flesh, broken bones, and splattered blood. But she stood.
Again, they clashed.
She launched herself with one last desperate scream, claws spinning in a whirlwind of death. Icariel met her head-on.
Fist collided with claw. Leg swept under hers. She struck his side, but he tanked it—grabbed her wrist mid-swing and twisted it until she screamed.
He kneed her in the gut. Twisted. Slammed her face-first into the ground. Then backed away, letting her struggle back to her feet.
"Surrender," he said again, pointing two fingers at her chest.
"I told you… I don't want to kill anyone right now."
Grinis coughed violently as she smirked through blood-stained teeth.
"You've got all this strength… and still don't have the guts to kill?"
Icariel's gaze darkened. His voice came low and steady.
"It's not that I'm stronger than you," he murmured. "It's that you haven't realized yet. The boost you were relying on—it ended the moment you unleashed those mana daggers. Since then, you've been burning through nothing."
Grinis froze.
Her eyes widened. Then narrowed. Frantic, she glanced at her hands—pale, trembling. No glow. No pressure. No weight behind them. Just fatigue. Emptiness.
"No… No, I would've felt that—I would've known—"
"You didn't," Icariel cut in, his voice cold as ice. "Because you were too busy being angry you couldn't kill me. So I'll ask you again—surrender."
Her mind raced. "The Dered... it saved me from that shattered body—I must've drained most of its power just surviving. And then I used four skills, back-to-back. I was already on the brink. No matter how high its quality, it was bound to burn out. That's why his hits feel so heavy. Why he can track me—when that golden-armored elf couldn't do anything against me me."
"I'm empty. A shell."
A hollow laugh escaped her lips. It cracked into a snarl.Her voice shook—rage masking something deeper. Resentment. Despair.
"Then my answer is the same, you damn brat! You—you humiliated me! Your strength, at your age, mocks everything I built—every year I clawed my way toward power! Every sacrifice! So screw your pity—come and finish it! Kill me—and carry the weight like the rest of us!"
His flame sparked. "Spear of Flame."
A column of fire condensed into a spear in his palm. The air warped around its heat.
"You're making this harder than it has to be," Icariel whispered, stepping forward. His expression was unreadable—resolve in its purest, most brutal form.
He took one step.
Then a second.
SHLK.
Blood sprayed.
A hand pierced cleanly through Grinis's back—straight through her chest.
Icariel froze.
"What…?"
He watched, stunned, as Grinis's body slumped.
The hand retracted, blood dripping from its slender, deadly fingers.
"Princess Virethiel?" Icariel muttered, confused.
Grinis's wild eyes returned to normal—the pupils reforming before slowly fading. Her expression softened. "Guess… a failure… until the end…" she whispered.
Then collapsed.
Behind her, Princess Virethiel lowered her hand, her stealth cloak vanishing into shimmering mist.
All around them, the battlefield shifted.
The strange 'U' symbols that had glowed on the Yetis' bodies flickered—then disappeared.
"Her skill," a soldier gasped, holding up his shield. "It's gone! I stopped that punch—it didn't crush my bones!"
Floon's voice rang through the field. "Their power boost skill is undone! They're weaker now! Forward, all units!"
"AAAHHH!" A chorus of elven voices rose in a desperate, furious charge.
The Yetis roared, but this time—they stumbled back.
Icariel still hadn't moved. He stared at the princess as she stepped beside Grinis's fallen body.
"Since you were taking your sweet time to finish her," Princess Virethiel said nonchalantly, "I decided to do it myself. Any problem with that, kid?"
Icariel narrowed his eyes. His jaw clenched.
"I didn't ask for your help. If you're so capable, then why didn't you step in from the start? Why did you leave me to fight her alone?"
The princess laughed softly.
"Oh, look at that—what a difference a few weeks make. The coward's found his voice now? I was just recovering my strength. So, calm down."
She knelt beside Grinis, placing a gentle hand on the woman's cheek.
"Healing Spell."
A soft green glow radiated from her palm. The massive wound in Grinis's chest began to close.
Icariel blinked. "You… healed her? After that?"
Virethiel shook her head.
"I never planned to kill her. Just shut her down long enough to stop the madness. She's paralyzed from the shock."
"Then… why?" Icariel asked, his tone tense.
"To keep one intelligent creature alive," she replied, "we need information—what their main plans were, and more importantly, how they turned Adviser Valandoa into a traitor."
Her gaze flicked toward Icariel, sharp and cold.
"The one you killed—by crushing his heart with your bare hands."
Silence.
Icariel didn't respond.
Princess Virethiel's eyes narrowed as a memory flashed in her mind—one that returned unbidden, from a conversation she'd had with Elena a few moments before.
"Highness," Elena had said, her voice quiet but urgent, "there's something you need to know about Icariel."
Virethiel had glanced sideways. "I'm listening."
Not far from them at the time, Icariel had been locked in battle with Grinis—bloody and brutal.
Elena continued, her voice trembling. "What I'm about to tell you… might leave you in shock."
She took a breath.
"When Aelar took us to the White Basement—the safe room beneath the castle—the Adviser appeared. He told us to open the final door, said the castle wasn't safe anymore. I was about to do it… but Icariel stopped me."
Virethiel frowned. "He… stopped you?"
"Yes," Elena said. "He sensed something was wrong. He said the Adviser wasn't alone… that he'd come with monsters. And he was right."
Virethiel frowned in memory. "But that vault is heavily enchanted. Even our vision couldn't see beyond those doors."
"Yes. Our elven sight couldn't see through them—but he knew. And that's what shocked the Adviser. He didn't expect anyone to notice. But Icariel… he did. He sensed the danger."
"What happened next?"
Virethiel's breath had caught.
Elena's voice grew tighter. "The Adviser attacked. His goal was to kill Icariel and take us hostage. But Icariel… he didn't just fight. He destroyed the monsters, and then he beat the Adviser—nearly to death."
"He saved us… and told us that staying there longer wasn't safe, so we needed to leave."
Virethiel had opened her mouth, but Elena continued quickly.
"But then… the Adviser got back up. His body lit with rune scripts—glowing symbols. He was going to kill himself and take all of us with him. But Icariel reacted faster. And killed the adviser."
Virethiel's green eyes widened in disbelief.
"The Adviser… a traitor? That explains how they got into the castle unnoticed. Why the gate soldiers never raised the alarm. And the lie… about the invaders coming in four days."
Elena had fallen quiet, but then Elif—standing beside her—had spoken, despite her mother's attempt to silence her.
"There's more, Highness." Elif's voice was quiet but firm. "The moment those rune scripts appeared, Icariel didn't hesitate. It was like he knew what to do. His hand went through the Adviser's heart… and I heard the bones crack. He crushed it without mercy. He really is a strange one, yes, I say that a lot, but..."
Then Elif had stepped forward, bowing her head low.
"But he saved our lives—mine and Mother's. And from what I saw, he saved the Royal Captain too. So please… even if it's not my place to say this, I'm asking you: protect him, Your Highness. He had to take a life, and it's weighing on him—I can see it in his eyes, no matter how hard he tries to hide it."
Virethiel had looked up then—eyes narrowing as she watched Icariel clash with Grinis, her daggers flying in a storm of crimson light.
"Don't worry, dear," she said with a faint smile. "Since he's struggling to finish her off, I'll step in. I owe him that much—for cleaning up the mess my negligence left behind."
Back in the present, PrincessVirethiel exhaled and looked toward Icariel.
"Quite the story Miss Elena told me. Honestly, I'm still in shock. But I can't afford to sit here stunned—not now. There are plenty of questions about you, your actions, and your… construction," she said, eyeing him. "But truthfully, I don't care."
Her tone gentled. "You stood by my people. For that, I offer you my deepest thanks." She took a step forward. "So I ask something of you, once more."
Icariel tilted his head slightly. "Ask what?"
"Fight with me. Help me bring down the Yetis. My soldiers are still struggling, but after seeing how you took down that Yeti and kicked this superhuman's ass, I'm sure you'll be a huge help."
"I refuse," Icariel said flatly.
Virethiel blinked. "May I ask why?"
"Because it's not my job," Icariel said, his voice sharpening with resolve. "I have my own priorities."
He wasn't noble. Just tired—tired of surviving other people's battles.
"I'm taking Elena and Elif somewhere safe. I promised the teacher, and that's the only thing that matters to me."
He looked toward the battlefield, then down at his hands. "Even now, I keep getting pulled into all this. If it weren't for that damn teleportation skill, I wouldn't be here at all."
She studied him—this strange boy with a strength unnatural for his age. "I see."
She took another step, her boots crunching softly in the snow.
"In that case… how about this?"
Icariel looked up.
"If you help me here," Virethiel said slowly, "I'll offer you any reward within my power. Anything you desire. Even…"
She paused for weight.
"…a fragment of the Tree of Life."
The wind howled.
Icariel's fingers twitched.
A moment passed.
Then another.
And in his black eyes… something flickered.