The Northern Ridge didn't just have bad weather; it was actively trying to murder anyone who didn't have a noble title or a broken power scaling cheat code. A savage, zero-degree blizzard ripped across the jagged mountain peaks, throwing razor-sharp ice crystals through the air with enough force to turn a standard imperial knight into actual swiss cheese.
But the storm couldn't do shit to the three figures standing on the edge of the frozen canyon.
Kazriel stood at the front, having completely ditched his pristine white noble robes for a suit of sleek, matte-black armor that looked like it was forged out of pure cosmic disrespect. The armor was form-fitting, dead silent, and hummed with a faint, dark gravitational pressure that effortlessly bitched-slapped the freezing wind away before it could even touch his face.
Beside him, Aria was wrapped in a heavy, fur-lined silver coat, looking fine as hell and casually spinning a small vortex of wind around her head like a personal hair-dryer so the snow wouldn't ruin her look.
And then, ten paces behind them, there was Amien.
The poor kid was shivering so hard his teeth sounded like a broken machine gun, desperately hugging his massive stone training pillar like it was his mother. "M-M-Master... my balls have officially ascended to a higher plane of existence. I can't feel my fucking toes, bro. Are they still attached?"
Kazriel didn't even turn around. "If they fall off, Mariela can glue them back on later. Stop crying and fix your stance, you weak-ass lizard. Wrap your mana around your skin or die, I don't care which."
"You're a literal monster, man," Amien whimpered, his dragon scales trying and failing to ignite under the sheer disrespect.
Suddenly, the entire mountain range vibrated.
ROOOOOAAAR!
From the dense whiteout of the blizzard, a massive, thirty-foot shadow burst forward. A Frost Behemoth—an S-rank local boss covered in ice-plated armor with tusks made of compressed glacial bullshit—lunged out of the fog. The soundwave alone caused a mini-avalanche on the next peak over. It saw three squishy humans and immediately decided it was lunchtime, bringing its massive ice claws down like a falling meteor right toward Kazriel's head.
"HOLY SHIT! MASTER, USE WEAPON CREATION! SPAWN A ROCKET LAUNCHER OR SOMETHING!" Amien screamed, losing his absolute mind.
Kazriel just sighed, looking incredibly bored. "Too loud. Shut the fuck up."
He didn't use his Magic Creation. He didn't invoke his high-tier spells. He didn't even use gravity to squash it. A oversized overgrown teddy bear wasn't worth the mana bill.
Kazriel's right hand casually dropped to the hilt of the jet-black katana resting at his waist.
Click.
The sound of the guard unlocking was completely swallowed by the storm, but what followed absolutely deleted the landscape.
Kazriel moved so fast the laws of physics felt insulted.
There was no flashy sequence. Just a single, blinding flash of silver light that sliced through the falling snow, cutting a perfectly straight line through the blizzard for over three hundred fucking meters.
A fraction of a second later, Kazriel was standing a hundred paces behind the giant beast, casually shearing his katana back into its scabbard with a clean, smooth motion.
Clack.
The moment the blade clicked fully into place, the Frost Behemoth froze mid-air. A clean, microscopic crimson line appeared across its massive chest. The thirty-foot S-rank threat slid apart perfectly in two, its internal organs and frozen blood painting the pristine white snow a brilliant, steaming crimson.
The blizzard itself had been split wide open, leaving a giant, clear blue gap in the sky directly above them where Kazriel's slash had literally atomized the storm clouds.
Amien's jaw hit the snow so hard it almost broke. He looked at the split monster, then at the sky, then at Kazriel's sleek black armor. "One hit? No magic? Are you fucking cheating, Master?!"
Aria strolled over, a smug, dangerous smirk on her face as she wrapped her arm around Kazriel's armored shoulder. "Nice clean cut, Kaz. But you're getting lazy. A drop of blood almost hit your boots. Truly unacceptable."
"The wind caught it," Kazriel lied smoothly, his cold gaze piercing deeper into the mountain pass where the distant campfires of the rogue bandits and weapon masters were hidden. A predatory, toxic smirk played on his lips. "Come on. The warm-up trash is cleared. Let's go bully the locals."