I’ll go for my specialty: a calm, calculated victory instead of flashily using all my powers.

Now, for the opener…

Hoarfrost raised his hands and released a wave of freezing animus. A swirling wave of white wind exploded out of him, roughly tousling his hair and uniform. In seconds, he filled the arena in a screaming blizzard with such a denseness of snow particles that one could only see a few feet ahead.

Your move, General.

Hoarfrost lowered his hands and breathed out a plume of white, the cold within him coursing powerfully. He maintained his animus output to keep up the blizzard as he walked forward in the storm towards Feyman.

Hmm? What is that light?

In front of him, Hoarfrost could see a blue light glowing in intensity. Then he felt a wave of heat and stopped in his tracks.

A bright blue light flickered on in front of him and grew into a roaring tower of blue flame. The fire spun like a tornado, negating the cold temperatures of the blizzard.

Hoarfrost shut off the power he had been feeding into the blizzard and it dissipated completely. Feyman let his fire tornado die down as well. After a few moments, the snow and smoke cleared away and the two looked at each other once more.

So he’s a fire type, who usually specializes in mobility and offense. It’s going to be harder to corner him with a plan of attack. Not surprising that my fight is set up against my natural counter.

Feyman didn’t move impatiently, instead, he calmly stood ready to respond to attacks and retaliate the moment an opportunity presented itself. Hoarfrost could tell by the way he carried himself that the general was experienced in battle strategy himself.

However, no matter how much experience my enemies have, nobody can control the fight like I can…

After a moment, Feyman raised his palm towards Hoarfrost and fired a jet of blue flame at him.

Hoarfrost casually raised a hand and a shield of ice formed in front of him. The jet of flame collided with it and exploded in a hissing plume of steam.

It’s not that your offensive power is weak, General. The reason you can’t take control is because my area control and defenses are perfect. No move you can make can disrupt my gradual, guaranteed victory.

The steam cleared and Hoarfrost stared across at Feyman once more. Despite being thwarted so easily, the general still looked calm and ready.

Time for my next move…

Hoarfrost raised his hands and released another burst of icy animus from within him. Spikes of ice grew from the ground, slicing through the air towards Feyman.

I need to confirm a few more of your abilities, General.

The general fired a blast of flame, propelling him to the side and dodging as the ice speared the place he had been moments before.

His reaction time is very fast, Hoarfrost thought, following his movement with cold eyes. His speed and maneuverability are both also high.

Hoarfrost turned around to face where Feyman now stood ready again. He doesn't seem winded, so his stamina is also most likely high.

Despite me having an advantage by dragging out the fight, I should probably end this soon so I don’t use up or reveal all my powers early on in the mission. I should have a good enough idea of his abilities at this point to execute a plan, however…

As Hoarfrost looked closely at the general, a minuscule uneasiness within him grew into worry.

The general wasn’t just observing Hoarfrost closely. He was staring right at him, looking directly into his eyes. What Hoarfrost saw within those eyes… wasn’t just simple confidence. It was something deadlier, more sinister.

Hoarfrost took an unintentional step back, his mind recalculating the fight.

Come to think of it, the general’s best move should be to constantly attack me to keep me from thinking in the hopes that I’ll make a mistake. And yet, he’s far too passive, letting me do what I want as if he’s not even trying to take control of the match at all.

He’s acting like he’s the one with the advantage instead of the other way around.

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Is he bluffing? Or is he hiding something?

Hoarfrost stopped his nervous train of thought and let a new wave of cold spread within him to steel himself. He then met the general’s eyes in a cold challenge and prepared a wave of animus for his final attack.

No, I have to move forward and act according to plan. I won’t let him get in my head and disrupt my strategy.

Hoarfrost released the gathered animus from his feet and a sheet of ice began spreading from his shoes across the dirt floor of the arena.

This is my finishing move against you, General Ley. When this spreads across the arena, you won’t be able to maneuver at all and I’ll be able to create ice spikes anywhere.

You should have stopped me before it got to this point…

As Feyman saw what Hoarfrost was doing, he calmly extended both of his palms and released a twin jet of flame. Hoarfrost held up his hands and formed a shield of ice to block it as before. The attack was a lot stronger, and hissing steam gushed around him, covering him in a smokescreen.

Wait… I can’t see.

Hoarfrost quickly released animus from his body in the form of cold wind and blew away the fog of steam.

Feyman hurtled to him through the air at full speed, wreathed in blue flame and holding a fiery dagger out in front of him.

… What? Hoarfrost had barely a second to register what was going on. His speed is an order of magnitude faster than before!

In a split second, the blazing Feyman was right in front of Hoarfrost, his dagger poised to stab through his heart. The general’s snarling face was only a few feet from Hoarfrost’s.

Time seemed to freeze as Hoarfrost looked deep into the man’s eyes.

Those red-tinted eyes contained only one emotion. Bloodlust.

Within that instant, something in Hoarfrost’s blue eyes sparked and an electrifying wave coursed through his body, activating his powers on a primal level.

Ice exploded forward from the ground around him. A quick succession of wet thunks followed.

Hoarfrost stared at the knife that had stopped inches away from his chest. Then he looked up gravely at its wielder.

Feyman hung in the air in front of Hoarfrost, impaled by five jagged ice spikes that jutted out of the icy earth. Blood flowed down the spikes and pooled onto the ground.

Hoarfrost's mind raced, trying to comprehend what had happened.

What was that bloodlust? And his power was on a different level just then. He attacked recklessly without any fear whatsoever and it was effective. Even if it ended up getting him killed.

Hoarfrost looked at the dying man in front of him. Someone who shouldn’t have stood a chance in a fair fight against one of the Twelve nearly scored a serious hit on me. If all of their soldiers are like that…

Feyman laughed as he caught Hoarfrost's eye. His voice was weak as he spoke. “Ah so close, so close. Nobody told me you had instant-level reaction time. Ah, I should have kept my bloodlust hidden better…”

"Stop talking," Hoarfrost said, "Are you not at all worried about all of your pierced organs?"

How was this man even talking?

“Ah… looks like it’s not going to be that easy after all,” Feyman said, ignoring Hoarfrost's words, “Well, it’s probably better this way.”

Then Hoarfrost's eyes widened.

Wait, why didn’t the bell ring to signal the end of the match?

Hoarfrost jumped backward and held a ready stance.

Somehow… it looks like the match isn’t over yet.

Can Feyman still fight?

Feyman grinned as if in answer to Hoarfrost’s thoughts and clothed himself in blue flame, burning away the icicles buried in his chest. He fell to the ground and fire danced across his wounds and they closed up, leaving only scars behind.

The general theatrically dusted himself off as he stood up from what had been several fatal wounds. He faced Hoarfrost with a crazy smile, his elegant demeanor gone and replaced with an aura of cocky bloodlust.

“It’s not a big deal to have a few more, see?” Feyman lifted his black and crimson uniform to show a bare chest crisscrossed with an uncountable multitude of scars.

“What… are you?” Hoarfrost said, probing Feyman as he gloated.

“It looks like you’re finally understanding the true nature of the Federation,” Feyman said, “The stronger you are, the more he blesses you with strength and freedom.”

Gifting powers to the strong, and so much of it as well, how is that even possible? What sort of monster stands at the top of this organization?

“Compared to him, my bloodlust and my powers are nothing. If you even want to stand in his presence, you’re going to have to prove that you can withstand at least this much,” Feyman said.

Then he lowered his voice and talked with a serious expression, “However, I don’t suggest meeting him, Hoarfrost. Surrender. If you don’t, I’m not going to stop until you kill me.”

“Is whatever reward you get for defeating me worth staking your life?” Hoarfrost asked.

“When I fight, I always stake my life,” Feyman said, “That’s why I’m able to win against overwhelming odds.”

Hoarfrost looked into Feyman’s unwavering eyes and the general made a small smile in response, flaunting his unbreakable resolve. Hoarfrost’s expression darkened.

I made a false assumption from the beginning. I had thought that the Twelve were stronger than the Federation and that they would need to trick us to gain an advantage…

“If I die, I won’t regret having lived my life that way, like a torch that burns blindingly bright until it goes out all at once,” Feyman continued, raising his knife and setting it ablaze with blue flame.

With their numbers, their conviction, and the strange powers of their leader… the Federation was stronger than us from the start. Probably far stronger.

From their attitude, my instinct tells me their aim is not something simple like sabotaging us in some way. They’re planning for something far more decisive… total domination.

I don’t know the whole picture yet, but at this point, there’s only one thing I can do…

Hoarfrost took a deep breath and let his powers build up inside him once more. A cold wind sloughed off of him, tugging at his clothes and hair as he looked at Feyman.

I can only stand tall and never let them dominate me.

“As your answer, no, I’m not going to surrender, and neither am I going to kill you,” Hoarfrost said, “I’m going to crush your will to fight. I’m going to put out your flame. That’s how much stronger I am.”

You may be fine with dying, General, but I’m not. I’m going to win and live on to become the greatest hero.

Sorry, but your resolve is simply going to be my stepping stone. The first of many.