Back in the Academy, in the nurse’s office, the morning felt… quiet.

Greyson lay on the bed with a white sheet pulled up to his waist. His clothes were rumpled, his hair a soft mess. 

His body had done too much, and it had paid the price. His eyelids fluttered now and then like he was trying to wake but couldn’t quite climb out of the fog.

Still, sounds reached him, though rather muffled.

It was a woman’s voice.

“There’s no need to worry too much,” she said gently. “He just overexerted himself.”

There was no reply.

“You already prevented his body from sustaining any serious damage,” she continued. 

Still, no reply came.

But even in his drifting state, Greyson could tell who she was speaking to. The faint cold had his mark all over it.

Slowly, the presence approached Greyson’s bedside with steps too light to be heard.

The woman’s voice came again, a slight distance away from the approaching presence.

“He’ll be fine now,” she added. “Cooling him down kept the swelling and inflammation under control.”

Greyson felt the truth of the words.

His body held pain, his limbs were heavy, and breathing took effort. But even then, it didn’t feel like he was breaking.

Then, he felt a hand hovering above him that radiated a slight chill. 

Frost’s hand moved slowly over Greyson’s body, scanning for heat trapped beneath the skin. He checked silently, again and again. 

Even the nurse felt a slight ache watching the boy linger at the bedside like that.

It was then Greyson’s lashes fluttered, his lips parting with effort. The voice came out weak.

“Why…?”

Frost’s hand finally paused. 

The next words came quieter, melancholy etched into every syllable.

“Why keep the distance?”

Frost didn’t answer. Instead, his hand moved upward to Greyson’s forehead, then gently touched it. His eyes softened, voice coming out even softer. 

“Just rest for now.”

And then the cold deepened in a slow, soothing descent.

Greyson felt it seep through his skin and into his skull, slowly soothing his nervous system.

His lashes trembled, breathing evening out. And then he slipped under, sinking back into unconsciousness peacefully.

Frost stood there, watching him. In his mind, thoughts moved like they were about to fracture.

If Grey had used his true Resonance, he wouldn’t be lying here.

Was I wrong?

Was it too cruel to keep him small… to keep him safe…?

Suddenly, noise broke the quiet.

A cluster of students had gathered outside the nurse’s office, their voices spilling through the door.

“I heard he nearly died!”

“Let us see him, just for a second!”

“I’m telling you, he took down monsters like he was insane!”

Wade’s voice was among them, anxious and earnest.

“I just want to check on him, okay? He’s my friend!”

The nurse’s expression tightened. She stepped toward the door, sliding it open a little.

“Keep your voices down,” she scolded. “This is a medical room, not a sightseeing attraction.”

The students continued murmuring anyway, noise reaching the bed. 

And then—

Cold rippled outward, and the temperature in the corridor dropped significantly. The walls frosted over. The doorframe whitened.

A warning. 

The students outside went silent in an instant.

The nurse’s eyes widened as she felt it too, the chill and intent behind it so sharp it made her bones shiver.

Frost’s gaze had narrowed and fixed on the door, voice low.

“Quiet.”

The word echoed, and it was obeyed.

“Wade,” he said. “In.”

The nurse, still stunned, blinked twice before opening the door for one student to slip through, though the others dared not move either way.

Wade stepped in like someone entering a den. He tried to smile, but it came out shaky.

“Y-Yes?” he said, then immediately winced at his own volume and lowered his voice. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Take care of him,” Frost said quietly.

Wade swallowed and nodded almost too quickly.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I will.”

Only then did Frost rise and walk toward the door.

Outside, the students parted instinctively, stepping back to let him pass. 

No one spoke. No one breathed too loudly.

The nurse watched him go, seeing it clearly as a wave of primitive fear took over. 

The moment Frost left Greyson’s side, the icy blue irises screamed pure cruelty. 

Outside the Academy compound, Kael looked utterly wrecked. 

Barely any buildings stood intact. Streets were gouged with deep scars, and the air carried the stench of smoke and trauma. 

The Central Esper Academy had ceased lectures for the next few days. A number of students were dispatched in groups to help clear debris, support medical stations, and reinforce damaged structures. 

Frost, however, walked alone.

He wasn’t here to help or comfort. He merely had one goal.

The leviathan.

Investigators had already gathered at the river. Instructors and field specialists were also assigned to understand what had happened.

Frost approached without announcing himself. Yet, an instructor turned, recognizing him.

“You’re from Class S, right?” the instructor asked.

Frost didn’t answer.

“Purpose of attack,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

The instructor blinked, caught off-guard by the bluntness. But he recovered quickly, professional pride forcing him to straighten.

“Why do you want to know?” the instructor asked. “You’re a student. This is an investigation matter.”

Frost’s gaze lifted, and the change in pressure was immediate.

The surrounding temperature plummeted, river water freezing and the air turning sharp.

The instructor felt his own body begin to betray him, heat gradually bleeding from his skin. His heart hammered, realizing that this was not a student asking for information.

Frost spoke again, voice colder.

“Purpose,” he repeated, “of the attack.”

The instructor’s lips trembled. 

“I—we can’t be sure,” he managed. “It… it may or may not have been a deliberate attack. It’s possible…”

His voice faltered.

“Someone or something agitated the monster.”

That was all it took, the possibility.

Frost’s gaze slid to the river, now partly entombed in ice. Then, he spoke again.

“Location of the monster.”

The instructor swallowed hard, instincts screaming at him to refuse and to remind the boy that there were protocols to follow. But the frost on his skin had already proven how meaningless those chains were.

Still, he tried.

“As an instructor, I have to ask…” the man said, voice strained. “Why?”

The space turned hostile. The air became so frigid it felt thick. The world was gradually bleaching into blue-white tones. The other personnel were also feeling it, stumbling back.

Frost glanced toward the instructor, eyes starting to glow faintly, the icy blue cold and cruel. His words echoed, carrying through the frozen air.

“Location,” he said again, “of the monster.”

The instructor’s knees threatened to buckle. 

“N-North,” he forced out. “Possibly… north. Deep. Beyond… two thousand metres.”

The moment the information left his mouth, the pressure eased. The ambient temperature returned slowly.

The other instructors and staff gasped as sensation returned.

Frost took a single step toward the frozen water.

The instructor tried to call out. 

“Wait! Stop! This is reckless!”

But Frost didn’t hear him. His mind had already narrowed into a single, merciless point: to find the serpentine monster and finish what he should have done last night.

He was done pretending to be a harmless boy.

Greyson had collapsed, nearly taken.

And Frost…

Was going to make the world pay.