(Thermodynamic Collision)
Time: 23:45 (Moments After the Meeting). Location: The Nexus Hall — Main Exit to the Plaza.
The automatic glass doors of the Nexus Hall hissed open—a soft sound that marked the end of diplomacy and the beginning of brutal physical suffering.
I stepped out.
Instantly, the night atmosphere of Zero Point City hit me like a physical wall. Not with a blow, but with theft.
That night wind—The Downdraft—didn't just blow. It roared vertically down from ten thousand meters above, sliding along the towering black wall of The Great Tether looming over my head, carrying with it the chill of the stratospheric layer untouched by the sun. It tore through the thin, remaining warmth in my cloak, penetrated the fabric, pierced my skin, and immediately seized my bone marrow.
I staggered one step, my knees buckling.
"Damn it…" I hissed. The sound came out as a thick puff of white vapor that immediately froze in the air, leaving a trail of microscopic ice crystals floating before my eyes.
Fifteen minutes.
That was all it took for my body to completely betray its master after leaving that sterile meeting table. In there, I was the Grand Praetor, the feared leader, the monster who shattered a gavel with his bare hands.
But here? Under this indifferent sky? I was merely a leaking Heat Sink. A broken biological cooling machine, endlessly sucking heat from its surroundings but unable to retain it.
I leaned against a concrete pillar outside the Nexus Hall lobby. My gloved hand touched the stone surface.
CRACK.
A faint cracking sound was heard. Where my palm met the pillar, a white layer of frost spread rapidly like a parasitic fungus, freezing the night dew clinging to the stone into solid ice within seconds.
"Stop…" my inner voice screamed, panicked. "Stop sucking. You're freezing the world, you fool."
But my body didn't care for the brain's commands. The Aqua circuits in my blood screamed with hunger, absorbing every joule of thermal energy within a one-meter radius, while the Gale circuits pointlessly expelled it. And the Flame circuits? The internal furnace that was supposed to warm me? Dead. Cold. Like wet ash.
I hugged myself, trying to contain the increasingly uncontrollable trembling. This wasn't ordinary shivering. This was cellular vibration. It felt as if every molecule in my body was trying to break free from its bonds with the others.
It hurt. The pain was immense. It felt like thousands of ice needles were flowing through my veins, replacing warm blood with liquid nitrogen.
I fumbled through my cloak pocket with stiff, numb fingers, searching for the one small hope I'd brought. An old iron Zippo lighter.
With trembling hands, I struck the wheel.
Click. Fwoosh.
A small flame appeared, dancing in the wind. Blue at the base, orange at the tip.
I brought my hand close to the flame, desperately seeking warmth.
However, the laws of physics around me were broken. As soon as my skin approached, the flame didn't burn me. The flame… was sucked in.
WUMP.
The flame died instantly, its energy completely drained by the void inside me, leaving the wick frozen stiff and cold in an instant.
I stared at the dead lighter in horror. Ordinary fire was no longer effective. My body was too hungry. Giving it candle flame was like giving a single drop of water to someone dying of thirst in the desert.
I needed more. I needed a furnace. I needed magma.
My mind worked quickly, mapping the city's geography in my now-foggy head.
"Under-City," my instincts whispered.
Down there, in the depths of the labyrinth of sewage pipes and ancient bunkers supporting this city, there were rumors of high-quality leaking Geothermal Pipes. Pure heat from the earth's core, pumped up to power the city's turbines. Industrial heat. Unfiltered, dirty heat.
It was dangerous. Going down there unprepared, without a map, without guards, was suicide. It was a criminal den, a dumping ground, a place where the Grand Praetor could be killed for his boots. The map data prepared by Rian—my genius secretary—I hadn't even had time to read in detail.
But the choice was: freeze to death here like a dog on the roadside, or die trying to seek warmth in the underground hell.
My decision was firm. Hell sounded warmer.
I forced my feet to move, leaving the clean plaza area towards a darker district.
TTTTTTY… TTTTTTY…
A rough mechanical vibration sound broke my concentration. Not from my head, but from the Magitek Gauntlet on my wrist.
A priority notification.
My heart jumped a little. "Weaver?" I hoped. "Is that you? You always know when I'm in danger. Tell me where the fire is. Give me your miraculous solution again."
With difficulty, I raised my left arm. The hologram screen glowed red, blinding my dark-accustomed eyes.
My hopes shattered into pieces.
[HIGH PRIORITY CALL — SKY LIAISON REPRESENTATIVE][SENDER: THE JOINT COMMISSION (ZENITH-ZERO)][SUBJECT: DAILY AUDIT MANDATE][CONTENT: Remaining Time for Under-City Pacification: 6 Days, 23 Hours. Do not disappoint the Sovereign.]
I stared at the message.
"Damn it…" I hissed, frozen vapor escaping my mouth.
Them. The gods above the clouds. While I struggled just to breathe, they sent a homework timer.
They didn't care if I lived or died, as long as I completed their dirty task: cleaning out the rat tunnels down there so Ambrosia—that golden life-fluid—could keep flowing up into their greedy mouths.
Ironic. They needed Ambrosia to live. I needed heat to live. We were both starving parasites, just with different menus.
"Screw the Sovereign. Screw the deadline."
I roughly turned off the screen. Anger gave me a small surge of adrenaline—a false warmth that allowed me to walk a little faster.
Unconsciously, my heavy footsteps dragged me past the neutral district border. The air's smell changed. From the clean scent of ozone, to the smell of sulfur, burning oil, and metal smoke.
I had entered Sector North: The Iron Plaza (Valdor Zone).
My logic was simple: If I couldn't reach the Under-City yet because it was too far, at least Valdor was the hottest place on the surface. This was The Forge—the city's furnace. Here, weapon factories never slept, smokestacks spewed hot dust, and waste rivers flowed warm.
But… it wasn't enough.
I stood in the middle of Valdor's cracked concrete streets. Around me, I could see the orange glow of smelting furnaces in the distance. I could feel the vibration of giant steam machinery underground.
But the cold in my bones didn't leave.
This environmental heat was only on the surface. My skin absorbed it, but my Gale expelled it again before it could reach my internal organs. I was like a leaking bucket trying to hold rain. I needed a concentrated heat source. I needed Mana energy of the Fire type, not just hot air.
"Useless…"
My vision began to darken at the edges. Tunnel vision. Signs of end-stage hypothermia. My brain began shutting down non-vital functions to protect core organs. My feet felt like they belonged to someone else.
I staggered. Collided with a street lamp post. The iron pole rang with a tang and was instantly covered in a layer of ice where my shoulder touched it.
"Is this the end?" I thought hazily. "Freezing to death in front of an iron smelting plant? A funny joke."
And that's when… I felt it.
Not saw. Felt.
Amidst the gray industrial smog and my own frozen vapor, something cut through the air.
A wave of thermal distortion (heat haze) so strong it made the scenery before me shimmer like a desert mirage.
Someone was walking towards me.
Their steps were relaxed, but each time their boots touched the asphalt, I could see the road surface soften slightly, the black asphalt turning into sticky paste from the heat emitted by that figure.
Wild plants growing between the concrete withered instantly, dried up, and turned to ash as they passed.
My blurry eyes tried to focus.
A girl.
Her hair… not white, but Ash Grey. Its color was dull and wild, like the remnants left after a great fire had died. The tips appeared singed, wavy from the hot wind she created herself.
She wore strange combat attire—lots of vents and open sections, as if she was afraid of being choked by her own clothes. Her skin was flushed, damp with sweat that immediately evaporated, like someone with a permanent high fever.
But her eyes…
Her eyes were Pale Dry Blue. Intense. Bright. Terrifying.
That wasn't the color of ice. It was the color of a gas flame at its highest temperature—a flame so hot its color turned blue and burned oxygen to nothing.
And there was one more thing that made this scene feel like a feverish delusion.
She held an umbrella.
A black umbrella with a long metal handle and a wide canopy, fully open in the pitch-black night.
"Crazy," my sluggish brain thought. "Who uses an umbrella at night? No rain. No scorching sun."
It was ridiculous. Absurd.
But then I saw it more clearly. Under the shelter of that umbrella, the air seemed… to swirl. There was a thin blue mist falling from the umbrella's ribs, enveloping the girl's head and shoulders in an artificial cool shroud.
The umbrella wasn't for rain. The umbrella was for herself. It cooled her, protected her from burning by her own fire, creating a small paradoxical cold oasis amidst the heat she radiated onto the street.
The asphalt beneath her feet boiled, but the air around her head froze.
That contradiction was mesmerizing.
But I didn't care about her umbrella. I didn't care about the oddity.
Because the energy radiating from her body… was heaven.
The cold choking my bones suddenly… retreated.
A different kind of heat radiated from her. Not machine heat. Not solar heat.
It was Mana. Pure, dense, and wild heat. Similar to the heat I usually absorbed from enemies in battle, but this was far greater. Far more limitless.
She was a Leaking Walking Reactor. She was desperately, uncontrollably expelling excess heat into the air.
And me? I was a Hungry Black Hole.
My dormant Flame circuits deep in my chest suddenly pulsed. Painful, but alive.
"Eat…" my primal instinct whispered, overriding logic. "She is your cure."
I let go of the lamp post I was holding. My feet moved on their own, stepping forward, stumbling towards that heat source like a moth to a flame.
My hand reached out unconsciously, stiff fingers yearning to touch that intoxicating warmth.
"W… warm…" I hissed.
THUD.
My body gave in. Gravity won.
My knees hit the asphalt. My vision went completely black.
The world spun, and the last thing I was aware of before consciousness left me was the sensation of searing heat striking my face—not painful, but saving.
I fell face down, helpless, right in front of the combat boots of the umbrella-carrying girl.
(The Coolant)
Location: Sector North (Iron Plaza). Status: Critical Overheat (Body Temperature: 41.5°C).
Heat.
Always heat.
It felt as if my blood had been replaced with boiling molten lead. Every heartbeat pumped magma throughout my body, burning nerves, boiling internal organs, and making my skin feel like paper about to burn to ash.
I walked along the quiet concrete streets of Iron Plaza, not because I wanted a night stroll, but because I couldn't sleep. My dorm mattress felt like a toaster. The blanket felt like a shroud of fire.
I needed air.
"Stabilize…" I whispered to myself, my voice hoarse from a dry throat. "Don't explode. Don't burn the sidewalk. Hold on."
My hand gripped the metal handle of Solaris—a modified Magitek umbrella I carried everywhere. This umbrella was spread wide above my head, its pitch-black canopy slowly rotating with a soft whirrr sound.
This wasn't an umbrella for rain. This was an External Radiator.
Its ribs sucked the excess Fire Mana leaking from my head, converted it into a thin, cool blue vapor mist, then let it fall back onto my shoulders.
Only under the shade of this umbrella could I breathe. Outside this small circle, the world was an oven.
I stepped. Sssst.
The sound of softening asphalt was heard under my boot soles. I left melting footprints on Valdor's concrete streets. Wild plants on the roadside yellowed and withered just from me passing near them.
I was a walking disaster. A leaky reactor forced to wear a school uniform.
"I hate this place," I grumbled inwardly. "I hate this city. I hate this body."
People called me The Gilded Weapon. The Golden Weapon. They thought my power was a blessing. They didn't know what it was like to live with a 42-degree fever every second, every day, for your entire life.
They didn't know what it was like to not be able to be hugged because you'd scorch the skin of someone close to you.
I wanted to rip off my own skin so this heat could escape.
Suddenly, my steps halted.
Up ahead, amidst the thick industrial smog, something was… wrong.
There was a disturbance in the air.
Usually, a ten-meter radius around me was a heat distortion zone (heat haze). The air shimmered from my body temperature.
But up ahead… the smog was still.
No. The smog was… freezing?
A shadow stumbled out of the darkness. A man.
He walked like a drunk, or someone who had just escaped a morgue. His cloak was dull, his hair black and messy.
But what caught my eye wasn't his appearance.
It was his Temperature.
Even from five meters away, I could feel it. A piercing wave of Anti-Heat.
Not ordinary cold wind. This was a Thermal Vacuum.
It felt as if an invisible black hole was walking down the street, sucking all energy from its surroundings. The lamp post he had just bumped into was covered in a thick white layer of ice in an instant.
"What is that?" my inner voice was alert. "Valdor Ice magic? An attack?"
I tightened my grip on Solaris' handle. Ready to switch this umbrella's mode from Coolant to Fire Lance with a single button press.
The man raised his face.
His face was deathly pale, almost blue. His lips trembled violently. His eyes… red? A dim, desperate, and… hungry blood-red.
He stared at me.
No. He wasn't staring at my face. He was staring at my energy.
He stared at the heat radiating from my body as if I were a piece of wagyu steak in front of someone who had starved for a week.
"W… warm…" he hissed. His voice cracked, accompanied by thick white vapor escaping his mouth.
He stepped forward. Stumbled.
My combat instincts screamed: Retreat! He's dangerous! He'll attack!
But my body… my sick, burning body… had a different reaction.
As he approached, entering a three-meter radius from me, something miraculous happened.
The burning pain on my skin… subsided.
My boiling blood felt… cool.
The cold air he emitted collided with my heat aura. The two didn't explode. They mutually nullified each other.
For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like I was being burned alive.
The sensation was so pleasant, so intoxicating, that I forgot to raise my weapon. I just stood transfixed, letting the "Walking Air Conditioner" approach.
"Who are you?" I thought, my eyes widening. "Why do you feel so… cold? So quiet?"
He stretched out his trembling hand, his stiff fingers trying to reach me. He didn't seem to want to hurt. He seemed to want… shelter.
THUD.
His body gave up.
He fell face down, hitting the hard asphalt right at the tip of my combat boots.
Silence.
Only the soft whirrr from my umbrella and the hiss of frozen vapor escaping the man's body.
I stared at him. He didn't move.
Unconsciously, I lowered my umbrella a little, letting the cool air from his body hit my sweaty face.
It felt like drinking ice water in the middle of the Sahara Desert.
I knelt beside him, ignoring security protocols, ignoring common sense. I took off my combat glove, then hesitantly, I touched his neck to check his pulse.
…I touched his neck.
ZING.
The jolt wasn't pain. It was… silence.
For the first time in my life, the roaring fire in my head stopped screaming. My blood, which usually boiled, suddenly felt calm. Like a nuclear reactor whose emergency button had been pressed. Cold. Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
My eyes grew heavy.
My eyelids felt like they were weighted with lead. My knees buckled, not from fatigue, but from this numbing comfort.
"What… is this…?"
Normally, I needed sleeping pills from Aethelgard just to close my eyes for two hours. The pain from Overheat kept me always awake, always alert.
But now, just by touching this living corpse's skin… I wanted to sleep.
I wanted to curl up on this dirty asphalt, beside this stranger, and sleep for a thousand years.
"Ah… did he die just like that?" my inner voice thought, my mind starting to wander slowly, like thick syrup. "It feels so good…"
Suddenly, a danger alarm at the back of my mind blared.
DANGER.
In Valdor, comfort was a trap. In Zero Point City, a moment of carelessness meant death.
If I fell asleep here, on the hard sidewalk of Iron Plaza, I'd wake up without my kidneys. Or I wouldn't wake up at all.
This wasn't help. This was anesthesia.
This person… he was dangerous. His presence killed my survival instinct. He made this "Golden Weapon" want to become a useless blanket.
"Too strange," I hissed, biting my own tongue to trigger pain and stay conscious.
With a rough jerk, I pulled my hand away from his neck.
WHOOSH.
Instantly, the connection broke.
Hell returned. The heat inside my body surged again, burning nerves, making my head throb with pain. Sweat poured again. My breath became ragged again.
Pain. But this pain kept me awake. This pain kept me alive.
I stood up unsteadily, staring at the man lying still on the asphalt. He was still breathing, thin frozen vapor escaping his mouth. He wasn't dead. He was just… asleep.
Part of me wanted to drag him. Wanted to make him my personal cold pillow.
But the rational part refused. Taking him with me was like carrying a leaking sleep gas canister. I couldn't allow myself to be weak.
"Tch," I spat to the side. The asphalt sizzled as my hot saliva hit it.
"Just leave him," I muttered coldly, adjusting the position of my Solaris umbrella to shield my head again.
"Better than nothing. I don't want to die a fool just by falling asleep on the sidewalk."
I turned around.
Without looking back, I strode away into the night smog of Valdor, leaving the "Ice Block" alone in the middle of the hard street.
Let fate take care of him. I have my own fever to tend to.