"Uaaagghhhhh..."
As soon as the elevator doors opened, Ghost rushed out in a panic, as if not only his body but even his soul had been set ablaze.
In the northern region of the Empire, it was winter almost all year round.
Little Ghost had never liked winter—he hated it, truly hated it.
The cold would make your nose run, and your throat turn hoarse. Even though Little Ghost was born in the north and had endured winter all year long, he had never grown used to pain.
And perhaps humans were never meant to grow accustomed to pain.
That was what he believed, until his entire hometown was destroyed by the Revolutionary forces.
They claimed the name of freedom to destroy his village, saying that people who surrendered and enjoyed peace as slaves under the oligarchy deserved to die.
"Damn bastards! You're the ones who should die, you slaves of freedom."
Harboring hatred for the Revolutionary forces, the teenage Winter Ghost joined the Legion to eradicate the radicals who pursued freedom.
"I'll kill every last one of you! You radical bastards."
Yet—fate seemed determined to mock him.
"They're just children, why are you burning them?!"
The Revolutionary forces began turning children into weapons of war. Soldiers without emotion, indoctrinated to be loyal to the Revolution.
Young Winter Ghost could not accept these killings. They were only innocent children, victims of this war. Why did children have to be sacrificed for the ambitions and ideologies of adults?
"Uaaagghhhhh..."
In the Legion, every soldier who disobeyed orders was punished. Winter Ghost had disobeyed orders to kill children, and so he was punished.
Unfortunately, the soldier assigned to punish him was a sociopath who took pleasure in tormenting others.
Winter Ghost endured torture that no human being should ever have to suffer.
His body was pierced with heated metal, making his skin and flesh melt.
His body was burned until it was covered in burns, and then those burns were rubbed with ice until Ghost groaned in agony.
And worst of all was the boiling water poured directly into your mouth. From the throat all the way into the stomach, it made even the brain feel as though it were being burned alive.
Pain, pain, pain.
That horrifying torture left behind psychological trauma that still haunted Winter Ghost to this day.
Winter Ghost smashed a fire extinguisher, filling part of the hotel corridor with white gas.
"The Revolutionary forces, the Legion, hah... I'm sick of all of it."
"Lyxander, your strength is nearly spent, isn't it?"
Ghost's gaze turned serious. Within the drifting gas, the silhouette of his hunched body looked utterly terrifying.
"Let's end this... Show me everything you've got, Lyxander!"
Lyxander stood before the elevator and let out a slow breath, recalling how his body could shatter and how his dreams had crumbled so easily.
"Releasing the third limiter is no different from destroying my own body. Even if I use it, I still won't be able to kill Winter Ghost."
Lyxander knew that going all out would be nothing more than meaningless waste. But right now, he was furious over his senior's death.
In truth, he was even angrier at his own weakness. The power of Pigeon Xander was enough to make even someone as strong as Grey think twice before provoking him.
If only he were stronger, if only he were stronger, then he would be able to protect the people around him.
Winter Ghost and Lyxander locked eyes. These two men, usually playful and unserious, had now become deathly serious.
"Power limit—Release!"
Lyxander shot forward at once, leaving an afterimage behind him.
'I can see it, once again I can see it. The Path!'
The accumulation of talent, the accumulation of experience.
Once again, Lyxander saw the Path.
His speed increased as he tried to chase it.
Tsuk—
But just as he was about to touch the Path, a transparent shard of glass pierced through his stomach.
Lyxander's pupils widened, and blood poured from his abdomen.
"Ugh... When... When did you take it?"
Back when Ghost had shoved Lyxander through the transparent glass.
Ghost had slipped the glass shard behind Lyxander into his pocket, allowing Lyxander to successfully trap him in a Guillotine Choke.
Fortunately, the glass had neither shattered nor melted, allowing Ghost to use the transparent shard as an invisible dagger to stab Lyxander.
Ghost looked down at the kneeling Lyxander with cold eyes.
"I let every part of your plan proceed smoothly. I made you lower your guard and use all your strength, then I ended this fight."
Ghost added,
"If you had stayed calm, you should have realized that flames like that weren't enough to make me cry out in pain. But you were trapped by anger, and you let your guard down."
"Lyxander, anger, hatred, revenge—none of those things matter. Forget such things and fight with a clear mind. Only then can you become the last one standing."
Winter Ghost turned and began walking away, leaving Lyxander collapsed on the floor.
But he stopped mid-step—a man with an inverted hood surfaced in his memory.
"Anger? Hatred? Revenge? Kekeke, what value do such things have? I seek only solitude, to become the one and only person standing alone."
"Anger will not sway me, hatred will not blind me, and revenge will not burn me. For I am one unbound by emotion, one who walks the path of solitude."
Winter Ghost turned slightly. 7-Star Sigma had made him realize the foolishness of hatred and revenge. At the very least, he ought to follow the rules of the Group Chat properly.
He glanced at Lyxander and said,
"Don't worry. A Fixer has already come to heal you. Don't pull out that glass—it'll only worsen the bleeding."
And with that, he simply left, leaving Lyxander alone behind him.
Lyxander, defeated, lay on his side. The exhaustion from releasing three limiters and failing to reach the Path had pushed him to his limit.
His vision blurred, and his breathing became ragged.
Fortunately, an old Fixer wearing a white cleaner's uniform arrived.
"Tch... Ordering me around as you please! Stay still, kid, I'll heal you."
He grumbled for a moment before finally pulling the glass shard from Lyxander's stomach.
But his expression immediately shifted to shock.
Lyxander, still bewildered, turned and looked at his stomach. His pupils widened. The wound in his abdomen was already closing on its own before the old Fixer had even used his ability.
"What... What is happening?"
But before Lyxander could ask further, the exhaustion from releasing the three limiters finally caught up to him.
Like being struck by a truck, Lyxander lost consciousness on the spot.