At three in the morning, Ethan Chen was jolted awake by a surge of supernatural cold that felt like a physical blow.
He sat bolt upright in bed, his entire muscular frame racking with violent tremors from the extreme frost. The rhythmic clicking of his teeth chattering echoed with jarring clarity in the deathly silent room. His eyes darted instinctively toward the window—the glass was perfectly intact. He reached out to touch the heating pipe along the wall, confirmed it was still vibrating with operation, but the metal that should have been warm now felt like a rod of solid ice.
"What's... happening..." Ethan struggled to swing his legs out from under the covers, intending to open the door and check the corridor. However, the moment his fingertips brushed the metal handle, a piercing, searing pain shot through his nerves. The moisture on his skin froze instantly, nearly bonding his flesh to the frigid brass.
The handle refused to budge, feeling as though the internal mechanism had been fused with molten iron. He tried to cry out for help, raising his fists to hammer desperately against the wooden door, but the sound was swallowed by an invisible barrier the moment it left the room. He closed his eyes and tried to churn the spiritual energy within his core, but the faint current remained as stagnant as a pool of dead water, refusing to react no matter how frantic his will became.
Outside in the corridor, a ghostly pale-blue light was flowing slowly like liquid along the cracks of the doorframe.
Brad Thorne, a youth born of a prestigious lineage who styled himself a genius, stood before the door with two lackeys flanking him. He pressed his palm against the wood, chanting a low incantation under his breath. The ring on his left hand pulsed with an eerie azure glow, emitting a visible mist of frost from his fingertips that continuously funneled waves of absolute-zero energy into the room.
"Brad, is he gonna... die in there?" one of the lackeys asked, his voice wavering as he stared at the thick white rime crystallizing over the door.
"Die? Doesn't he carry that wretched 'Incineration Hex'?" Brad Thorne sneered, his eyes gleaming with a malicious, sadistic pleasure. "I'm just helping him cool down. If he can't handle a little chill, what right does he have to step foot in my branch?"
Just as Brad prepared to intensify his "masterpiece," a dark shadow flickered from the periphery, and a violent gust of wind tore through the air!
"Watch out!"
It was a heavy, bone-shattering roundhouse kick. Leo Vance twisted his waist mid-sprint, his leg muscles bulging visibly beneath his uniform trousers as he unleashed a lethal arc of force. Brad's pupils contracted; he barely managed to raise both arms in a frantic guard.
BANG! The dull thud of the impact sent a massive shockwave through Brad's frame, forcing him to skid back five paces, his soles screeching against the marble floor and leaving acrid burn marks behind. The two lackeys weren't so lucky; they were swept off their feet by the sheer collateral force and tumbled onto the ground.
Inside, Ethan heard the muffled sounds of combat. Though he couldn't see the struggle, he realized a turning point had arrived and began throwing his weight against the frozen door with renewed desperation.
"Bullying a newcomer... that's not exactly a display of skill. Care to go a few rounds with me instead?" a voice rang out—lazy, yet vibrating with coiled tension.
"Leo Vance... what the hell is a loser like you doing here?" Brad stood up, rubbing his aching forearms while his left hand surreptitiously slid toward a second, emerald-green ring. "This is a welcoming ceremony for the freshman. It's none of your business."
Brad let out a furious bark, thrusting his hand forward and pointing his index finger directly at Leo. With a flicker of spiritual intent, he roared, "Wind Blade, GO!"
The emerald ring flashed. Two translucent blades of wind, shrieking as they sliced through the atmosphere, hurtled toward Leo. A typical Psionic would have woven a counter-spell, but Leo Vance simply dropped into a low crouch and took a sharp, deep breath. A subtle, rhythmic snapping sound—like the beating of a drum—echoed from his skeletal frame.
This was his unique Physical Mantra. Lacking high-tier elemental talent, Leo spent his hours tempering his own flesh, injecting spiritual energy into his muscles and bones to enhance his strength and speed. For a man of his standing, turning his body into a weapon was a calculated, brilliant move.
Leo moved like a leopard skimming the earth, completely bypassing the wind blades as he vanished from his original spot.
Brad's vision blurred. Before he could recalibrate, Leo had manifested behind him like a vengeful specter. Leo seized Brad's hands, wrenching them into a painful lock behind his back, and expertly stripped the two rings from his fingers. In the same fluid motion, Leo launched himself into the air, his boots landing with pinpoint precision on the backs of the struggling lackeys, pinning them back into the floor.
"If you don't beat it right now, I'll stop being polite," Leo's voice went cold as he tossed the confiscated rings onto the floor.
"You better watch your back!" Brad snarled as he scrambled away, his face alternating between flushed red and deathly white. He knew all too well that in close-quarters combat, even a master of spells was no match for these physical-arts maniacs. He spat bitterly on the ground, snatched up his rings, and turned to flee. "Let's go! I'll find another way to deal with you two trash heaps."
As Brad retreated, the ice sealing the door melted instantly.
The door swung open, and Ethan Chen felt a surge of warmth rush into his lungs. He slumped weakly against the wall, looking up to see a boy with a mess of curly hair, his uniform draped over a set of athletic clothes, grinning down at him.
"You okay, man?"
"I'm... fine. Thank you," Ethan wheezed, gasping for air.
"I'm Leo Vance. You're Ethan Chen, right?" Leo reached out to steady Ethan, his brow furrowing as his palm touched Ethan's ice-cold skin. "The whole academy is talking about you. You're like a trending influencer on the other side, even though this godforsaken place doesn't even have a signal."
Leo gave a brief, dismissive explanation of the farce, his tone dripping with contempt for Brad. "That guy thinks having a rich family and a bag of ritual tools makes him invincible. Tomorrow I'll report this to the professors and give him something to remember."
"Don't..." Ethan shook his head. He didn't want to escalate things before he even understood the landscape. Moreover, with the shadow of death looming in thirty days, this petty squabble felt insignificant. "Don't report it. I'll just avoid him from now on."
Leo blinked in surprise, but he didn't pry. Instead, he slapped on a goofy, wide-eyed grin and rubbed the back of his head. "Hey, honestly, I haven't been back to the other world in forever. Let's be friends, yeah? Later on, you gotta tell me about what cool movies or new games are out there."
Leo extended a fist. Ethan looked at it, the tight cord of tension in his chest suddenly loosening. He reached out and tapped his fist against Leo's.
After Leo left, Ethan lay back down. The blankets were still cold, but his mind had found a strange peace. He realized this place wasn't so different from the world he knew. He had lived cautiously in Brooklyn, and he would continue that tradition here—keeping a low profile, mastering his energy, and solving the problem of his impending death. That was the only thing that mattered.
The next morning, Skylar Sterling knocked punctually on the door. She was dressed in a sharp, crisp academy uniform, her silver hair pulled back into a disciplined ponytail. However, before she could utter a word, a cynical figure drifted over like a lingering shadow.
"Yo, morning," Leo Vance said, tilting his head with a brilliant, unbothered smile.
Skylar's eyebrows knotted into a hard scowl, her disgust plain for all to see. "What are you doing here? I recall your dorm being at the other end of the corridor."
"Look at you, being all cold. Ethan here is my brother-in-arms," Leo patted his chest, unashamedly squeezing his way toward the door. "It's the rookie's first day. He doesn't know the local customs. What if those self-proclaimed 'nobles' try to bully him? I'm here to provide an escort."
"That won't be necessary. Professor Nyx personally assigned me to guide him," Skylar interrupted icily, her voice carrying an unquestionable sense of duty.
"Tsk, tsk. Typical star pupil of Instructor Nyx," Leo said, his tone turning sour with a flash of ill-concealed jealousy. "There aren't five people in this school she actually likes. You really should work hard to stay in her good graces."
The door opened, and a weary-looking Ethan appeared. Leo acted first, hooking an arm around Ethan's neck and dragging him toward the exit as if staking a claim. "Ignore her. Come on, I'll show you the ropes."
"Leo! Don't you dare—he isn't even in ours branch!" Skylar gritted her teeth, hurrying to keep pace. she turned to Ethan and gave a polite, professional nod. "Hello, Ethan. I am Skylar Sterling. I will be responsible for your registration process today."