Name: Rue Hazard.

  Level: 16 → 20.

  Class: ArchMage-Knight.

  Creation Point: 0.

  Authority: Authority of Frost.

  Core: Arch—Core.

  Mana: 278/350 → 102/430

  Strength: 27 → 32

  Dexterity: 20 → 25

  Constitution: 24 → 28

  Mind: 31 → 39

  Sense: 22 → 30

  Arcanery: 40 → 50

  [Knight Spell (3/3)]

  - Frost Sword [35→101] [Fragile-Piece] →[Lesser-Piece] [Common]

  - Statis of Obsidian Ice [50,025→51,112] [Archon-Piece] [Mystic]

  - Heart of Frost Knight [8→72] [Fragile-Piece] [Uncommon]

  [Mage Spell(3/3)]

  - Frost Blast [15→35] [Fragile-Piece] [Common]

  - Frost Shrapnel [6→62] [Fragile-Piece] [Common]

  - [Ice Embrace] [0→12] [Fragile Pieces] [Rare]

  Ice cracked, and sunlight beamed into Rue’s face.

  He barely opened his eyes—then a fist slugged straight to his face—the rest of the ice encasing him broke apart.

  Rue’s head snapped up. An Imp Laborer towered over him, its body blocking the sunlight above as its hand raised, smashing a pickaxe down toward his brain.

  Snapping into movement, Rue reached forward. He caught the pickaxe’s steel with his left hand. His palm cracked, and Rue yanked the pickaxe out of the Laborer's grip, then shoved it back into the Imp’s neck.

  Flesh parted.

  The Laborer’s cries cut off.

  He let its body fall to the ground—no time to rest, he was met by a myriad of pickaxes and tridents.

  Raising his arm in defence, Rue tried to step away, to retreat backward. But a fearsome force smashed him forward. Ice cracked across his back.

  Stumbling onto one knee, he brought his hand up to shield his neck. But the big problem was that the ice across his back was about to shatter.

  Move, Move!

  Rue spun and barrelled into an Imp Laborer who had done the damage to his back. He shoulder-slammed the creature’s stomach and crashed it into a wall.

  Not missing a beat, he spun again and summoned his sword. Dark frost gathered on his arm like a coalescing mist, forming into a dark obsidian ice sword with jagged frost coating it. It was different. The sword let out a small cold mist as if it were breathing. These mists promised poison in the form of frost.

  Despite the armor calming him, he still let out a small chortle of uneven breath.

  How many of them even--

  The Laborers advanced, a group of them charging straight at Rue, who was utterly alone.

  He shrugged off the kill notification, quickly counting about a dozen rushing at him.

  Not only the Laborers, but also the normal Imps—those small ones, weaving between the Laborers' legs.

  Rue glanced to his right at the door of a house.

  He decided to enter, blasting through the door and pushing himself straight up the staircase. The house was familiar with the half-moon staircase—two Laborers were on his tail, and Rue swung his sword.

  Vapor trailed his sword path and decapitated one Laborer in a quick motion—he kicked down the body, causing the Laborer behind to tumble down. Then, aiming an open palm at the house entry, Rue formed a Frost Shrapnel and let it loose. His magic crashed straight through three poor Laborers, killing them in a straight line just as they entered.

  Rue's gaze went to the bottom of the stairs again. The Laborer, finally freed of his brethren’s body, charged at him.

  How annoying.

  He would rather keep chucking his magic, but now, because of it… A pickaxe swung sideways at him. Rue caught it with his sword and sheared its head, continuing his strike to drag his sword through the Imp’s shoulder and completely cut the creature in two.

  He was about to turn and commit to using Frost Shrapnel again, while peeking at his mana. But, by the entrance, five regular Imps aimed their tridents at him. Hand-pulled, with three forks behind them.

  Rue inwardly cursed and ran straight up with a new set of Laborers chasing him.

  Tridents went sailing, and Rue outsped them upstairs. He briefly heard a Laborer cry out. Turning back, he saw one Laborer was pinned to the wall with a trident through its neck.

  Ignoring the tomfoolery, Rue raised his sword, ready to hold this high ground. The second floor was just a boring hallway that ended in a balcony.

  Good. He had an escape path.

  One would have thought that these Imps would at least hesitate to charge up the stairs. But, no, they were complete maniacs.

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  Rue cut apart a Laborer’s arms with a quick swing.

  He had hoped to kick it down, but another Laborer pulled the injured one and threw it down the stairs’ railing. The brethren killer, however, quickly received a jab through its neck from Rue. This time, Rue pushed it down, causing a small avalanche of bodies to tumble.

  He grinned and aimed Frost Shrapnel down. His mana was critical, and he had lost the Potions Agi had tied around him. But seeing the stacked bodies of Laborers below, how could he hold back?

  No, he could not.

  Rue shot sharp obsidian Frost Shrapnel down. The spell streaked through the mound of bodies with a trail of blood and frost, and he was rewarded with five kills.

  The frost broke apart, and a chilled mist exploded through the house.

  How many had he killed? He did not count. Still, Rue held the second floor, welcoming any attempt to ascend.

  More laborers decided to challenge him. But with them forced to swing upward and way slower than Rue, they did not land any meaningful hits on him.

  Finally, after five more deaths, the regular Imps appeared--forming into five lines and throwing their tridents at Rue.

  He rolled sideways and stood immediately. Annoyed by the sudden projectile, Rue grasped one trident stuck into a wall behind him, intending to throw it back at the Imp below.

  Let's see if these bastards like the taste of--

  The moment he was about to peek at the stairs again, a burst of flame burst straight at his face.

  Rue reflexively ducked and thrust the trident forward whilst holding his sword in his right hand. His trident gored deeply into an Imp’s eye. The new Imp was as big as the laborers, if not a bit skinnier.

  The Imp’s torch fell onto the wooden floor below.

  Rue kicked it away.

  It rolled down the stairs. Unfortunately, before Rue could take his position, Imps’ Firespitters streamed in at him.

  Three of them.

  Level 20. And Rue knew enough not to give them space.

  He dashed forward with his dark sword.

  A focused scorching flame rushed at him, wielded by the Firespitter in melee.

  Rue did not back away. He thrust his sword forward. Flames tried to melt his ice, and it melted, but not enough to save the Firespitter from being impaled in the neck. Rue twisted his sword, cleaving it up, splaying its brain in viscera of dark blood.

  He tried to connect his swing to another Imp, but his sword was melted apart by a burst of flames.

  A Firespitter just launched a close-range fireball, which Rue managed to duck. He did not get a rest as another Firespitter slammed his torch onto his head.

  A hot, creeping pain blinded him for a moment.

  Rue staggered backward, blinking away the searing agony across his face.

  With his sword melted, his hand was freed. His eyes snapped open to two Imp Firespitters slamming their torches on him.

  Rue did not intend to run.

  He met their charge, and he was faster.

  He grabbed both torches’ handles and tightened his fingers, crushing the Imps’ fingers onto the torches' metallic handles. Their fingers exploded with a small crack. Both Imps roared in pain, and Rue stole away their torches.

  Now, holding both torches in his hand, he shoved both at the imp's face--only for the fire to quickly die out. No, not die out. The Imps, both of them, opened their mouths and consumed the flames.

  Their cheeks now filled like balloons, and their eyes glinted with burning hatred toward Rue. Their throats glowed bright red.

  Shit.

  Two flamethrowers bloomed at him.

  Rue brought his hand up in defence, causing flames to melt away his arm's obsidian ice. Luckily, the flames only focused on his head, so Rue's body was spared. A molten sensation smouldered around Rue’s arm, and the flames crept into his face, neck, and upper body.

  His body cried for him to scrape, but Rue refused. He knew escaping would let his whole body be targeted. So he steadied his legs, slammed both hands forward, and smashed both imps on the face.

  A cruel thud broke against the wooden floor below. His armor was melting, but not cracking yet. He needed to go into Absolute Zero again. But his mana…

  Rue looked down on the wailing Imps. He then whipped his leg onto both of their necks, cracking their bones.

  [Level Up]

  [Level Up]

  [Level Up]

  [Level Up]

  “Ugly big basta—” his hand clamped to his mouth, and at once, cold vapor exuded from Rue’s body in a loud hiss. His armor was gone, letting a mist of cold form around him. He didn’t lose his armor against Gannicus, but he lost it against his soldier…

  To be fair to the Gargoyle, they used fire while Gannicus couldn’t.

  But what else could Rue do? His Authority was Frost. And he was at a disadvantage.

  Was there no way to overcome that?

  He shook his head.

  No need to think about it now. For now, he needed to find Potions, a mana potion. In this world—worlds of magic. Surely a household will hold some potions.

  Looking around, Rue stiffened when he heard creaking, hesitant footsteps on the staircase.

  He was level twenty-four now. Laborers and normal Imps he could handle. But if another three Firespitters were here…

  Rue opened the door closest to him and closed it without making any noise. Inside was a bedroom with a wooden bed in the corner and a desk with various books stacked on top. Rue immediately raided the dresser, opening it one by one until he heard the clinking of glasses.

  Four potions. Two mana and two Health. He let out a sigh of relief and quickly downed the mana potion, then tucked the health potion against his bandaged hip.

  A flurry of footsteps creaked against the wooden floor, and Rue could feel pressure upon the floor. He rested his back against the wall just outside the door, sword readied, heart hammering.

  The moment he gripped the blue frost sword, Rue admired the small jagged ice it now had on it. He ran his thumb across it and recognized that these razor-sharp edges would be a great addition for delivering frost. No longer did he need to cut into flesh; he could slide slowly and still let Frost invade.

  An eagerness thrummed inside of him, and Rue could feel a smile forming on his lips. As mad as it sounded, he was looking forward to the next fight. So, when the creak of wood sounded off just beyond the door, Rue quickly pulled the door open and pierced a normal Imp’s head.

  He grinned and stepped out to find himself between six regular imps, each of them taken aback by his appearance.

  Perfect.

  Rue built Frost Blast on his left hand and advanced, quickly jabbing forward into an Imp’s neck and slamming his magic backward, staggering the rest of the Imps. He then carved out the Imp’s flesh and parried another trident. He bounded forward and proceeded with the slaughter.

  --

  Rue almost forgot about the Watcher. The mystical figure who descended from the sky out of nowhere with wings so marvellous it was almost like he was an angel.

  Actually, maybe he is?

  With Frost Sword coated in blood, Rue opened the balcony door and stepped out. He breathed in the clean air, as an exuding metallic taste still lingered in the hallways full of dead Imps.

  He chugged down one health potion. One of the damn Imps managed to jab into his chest. Luckily, Rue was able to counter quickly and kill it.

  He let out a small laugh as sunlight beamed down on him, letting a comfortable heat settle across his body, which still pumped with this rush.

  Now, where was…

  There he was.

  Rue gazed down upon the Watcher, still standing with his spear straight, and the onlookers gaping at him. Now their eyes settled on Rue.

  Then a cry rose from the crowd.

  “Integrators!”

  The crowd began surging forward, skipping across the plaza, and was about to enter the house Rue was in, but the Watcher slammed his spear down, and a pulse of a golden sphere pushed the crowd back.

  “Access to integrators shall only be opened at the Second Stage! As informed to Cuellan’s Adventurer Guild,” the Watcher barked.

  “We’re no gods!” one man bravely screamed back. “We are just good people intending to secure our place in the last World.”

  The crowd began supporting him. And the Watcher then crossed his arms, unbothered by the wave of hatred.

  “There won’t be a Last World if the integrators did not win it for us,” he spoke softly. A silence followed. “So, do not interrupt the Tutorial.”

  Rue did not know what this Last World business was. But right now he could not care less, because a figure of a girl appeared on the balcony of the Brothel.

  Rue looked across the plaza where the brothel lay, placed directly across the court, which sprawled with sandy ground and a makeshift market upon it. A soft sigh escaped him. From the girl’s back, eight spider legs jutted out, each as long as she was. The girl's Silverline hair swayed in the wind, and she climbed to the roof of the brothel.

  Sruka’s champion.

  [Arch Warlock—Level 25]

  “You down there?” Rue called, addressing the Watcher.

  He gazed up at Rue, red eyes studying him.

  Rue pointed at the girl. “Can you save her? She was taken against her will before this… Tutorial started.”

  “Normally, I would, as it is my job. But now it is up to you. I will not interfere.”

  “So, if we had chosen ‘no’ earlier, that girl would be safe now?”

  “Or Sruka might cut her loose and kill her anyway.”

  “So you will not interfere? No matter what?”

  “That is right, unless someone outside of her faction gets involved.”

  From afar, the girl opened her mouth, which split open gruesomely all the way to her cheek. Strings began to build up into a slithering web.

  She was casting magic.

  Rue lifted his hand, and ice began to coalesce above him. He pushed more and more mana into the Frost Shrapnel; it sharpened. Illuminated by the sun, the crimson ice was launched toward the girl, and in response, she discharged metallic shrapnel straight at Rue.