The transition into the Rank A Gate was a disorienting shift from the modern city to a nightmarish, bioluminescent jungle. The air was thick with the chittering of unseen insects and the cloying scent of rotting vegetation. The moment they crossed the threshold, Friz didn't break stride. He simply walked away from the group of chattering, expensive-looking Rankers, his indifference to their presence as absolute as the cold he commanded.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" one of them shouted, his voice tinged with panic. "You're supposed to be protecting us!"
Friz didn't acknowledge them. He was already several yards ahead, a lone figure in simple clothes against the grotesque, oversized flora. The jungle came alive. Insects the size of dogs, with carapaces like polished obsidian and mandibles that snipped through solid wood, erupted from the foliage. A giant, multi-legged centipede creature oozed from a burrow, its segments glowing with a sickly green light.
They never stood a chance.
Friz moved with an economy of motion that was almost lazy. He didn't summon grand spears of ice or blizzards. A flick of his wrist sent a wave of absolute zero that flash-froze a charging beetle mid-leap, its momentum carrying it forward to shatter against a tree. A glance towards the centipede coated it in a rime of frost so profound its internal fluids solidified, locking it into a permanent, grotesque sculpture. He didn't fight; he simply imposed a state of cessation upon anything that drew near. It was efficient, silent, and utterly terrifying.
He pressed deeper, following the oppressive aura of the Gate's core, until he found the Boss. It was a colossal, moth-like creature, its wingspan blocking out the false sky, dusted with a neurotoxic powder. It let out a psychic shriek that would have liquefied the brains of the rich kids back at the entrance.
Friz sighed, a small puff of mist in the humid air. This was tedious.
He didn't allow it to attack. He simply raised a hand and focused. The air around the moth-Boss dropped to a temperature that defied physics. The moisture in the air, on its wings, in its very cells, crystallized instantly. There was no struggle, no epic battle. One moment it was a terrifying apex predator of this pocket dimension, the next it was a perfectly preserved, frozen monument, its psychic scream silenced forever. The core of the Gate pulsed once, then began to destabilize. The mission was over.
It was then, in the sudden silence following the Boss's demise, that the ambush was sprung.
"Not bad, rookie."
A group of five Rankers emerged from the dense jungle, their gear scarred and practical, a stark contrast to the shiny new equipment of the group Friz had abandoned. They moved with the confident swagger of veterans who preyed on the weak. They had been waiting, letting him clear the Gate, intending to claim the rewards and the credit.
Their leader, a woman with a nasty scar across her cheek, gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. "We've got your little fan club all trussed up back there. Nice and cozy." She grinned, revealing a missing tooth. "Makes this simple. You hand over the Gate core and any rare materials you found, and we let your rich brats go without adding any new holes to their pretty faces. Refuse, and... well, let's just say their parents will be getting a very expensive bill for reconstructive surgery."
Friz stood still, his back to them, looking at the frozen moth. He didn't turn. He didn't respond. He simply processed the threat.
The woman's grin widened, thinking his silence was hesitation. "Come on, kid. Don't be stu—"
She never finished the sentence.
Friz moved.
There was no warning, no telltale gathering of power. One moment he was ten feet away, the next he was among them. The air itself seemed to freeze in his move.
He didn't throw a punch. He didn't summon a weapon. He simply exhaled.
[Ice Breath].
It wasn't a fiery blast, but its opposite—a cone of silent, expanding nothingness. There was no wind, no sound, only a wave of absolute cold that radiated from his mouth. It didn't travel; it simply was. The five ambushers had no time to react. Their eyes widened in shock, their muscles locking mid-swing. In the span of a single heartbeat, they were transformed from threatening predators into five ice statues, their expressions frozen in masks of sudden, final horror. The condensation of their last breath hung in the air before them as tiny, glittering ice crystals.
Friz didn't even look at his handiwork. He turned, his pale blue eyes completely devoid of emotion, and walked back towards the Gate's entrance.
The group of rich Rankers were exactly where the ambushers had said—bound and gagged, their eyes wide with terror. They had seen the entire, chilling exchange. They had witnessed the man they mocked and dismissed move like a force of nature and dispatch five veteran Rankers without breaking a sweat.
Friz stopped in front of them. He didn't kneel to help. He didn't offer a word of comfort. He simply looked down at them, his expression one of profound boredom.
"Untie yourselves," he said, his voice flat and cold. "And get out."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over their expensive, now dirtied gear and their terrified faces. A cold, disdainful snort escaped him.
"Hmph. After today, don't let me see you again." He delivered the final verdict with utter finality. "You're really in the way."
Then, without a second glance, he turned and walked away, leaving them bound on the jungle floor. He didn't wait to see if they escaped. He didn't care. His job was done. The Gate was cleared. The distractions had been neutralized.
Behind him, as they frantically worked to free each other from their bonds, the group of rich kids didn't feel anger or humiliation. They stared at Friz's retreating back, their earlier fear transforming into something else entirely. Their eyes were wide, not with terror, but with pure, unadulterated awe. They looked at him not as a commoner or a mere S-Rank, but as an idol. A figure of absolute, unassailable power who operated on a level they could barely comprehend. In that moment, Friz wasn't just a Ranker; he was a glacier, silent, immense, and utterly indifferent to the pebbles in his path.