The temperature plummeted rapidly as icy tendrils of energy began to radiate from Alonso's body. This wasn't the kind of cold that merely chilled; it was a raw, biting force, powerful and wild. The air itself seemed to snap under the freezing pressure, and a visible frost halo spread from his form. His aura, now visible, shot upward like an icy beam piercing the sky, casting a pale, cold light over the surrounding forest.

Within seconds, everything near Alonso was frozen solid. Grass, trees, and even solid rock became encased in a thick, crystalline layer of ice. The air crackled with the sound of frost spreading—a chilling wave of freezing death rippling across the landscape.

Alonso's eyes, once a deep, sharp purple, had faded into a haunting white, devoid of warmth. His jet-black hair, now bleached to a brilliant snow-like color, shimmered like frost in the cold light. His nails, lips, and even his clothing turned ghostly white, matching the wintry transformation that consumed him. His breath, a steady mist of freezing air, escaped in visible plumes, as if the cold itself had claimed his very lungs.

The power he radiated was overwhelming, a menacing chill that gripped the environment with ruthless intensity. Yet, just as quickly as it had surged forth, the aura subsided, leaving the world around him locked in a deathly, silent freeze.

Alonso didn't need much time to realize what was happening. His scientific mind swiftly broke down the sensations coursing through him. My cells are generating ice energy, akin to a generator producing electricity, he noted. This wasn't some wild magic he couldn't comprehend; it was a phenomenon he could analyze and dissect, like a complex formula waiting to be solved.

A deep, primal roar tore through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. The massive ape, despite being overwhelmed by Alonso's new power, stared at him with raw fury. Its chest heaved as it pounded its fists against its body in a display of aggression, each thump echoing in the now-frozen landscape. The ape charged forward, its powerful legs propelling it toward him with terrifying speed, fists raised to deliver a crushing blow.

But Alonso remained calm, watching the beast as it closed in. He wasn't fazed by its size or strength—he had been analyzing every aspect of this power, and he knew exactly what to do. With just a casual flick of his wrist, Alonso snapped his fingers.

Bam.

The entire scene froze in an instant. The ape, mid-swing, was locked in place, its once formidable body encased in ice. This wasn't a surface-level freeze; Alonso's ice permeated every layer—bones, blood, organs—everything within the ape had turned to ice, its very life force extinguished in a blink.

Alonso circled the frozen statue with a measured pace, his keen eyes analyzing every detail. The freezing effect is not merely external; it's cellular. It penetrates down to the molecular level. Fascinating, he thought, captivated by the precision and lethality of his attack. Typical ice magic could never achieve this.

A chuckle escaped him, not out of arrogance, but sheer intellectual satisfaction. "I will designate this transformation as... Ice Titan," he muttered, feeling the residual power tingling beneath his skin.

As he willed the transformation to fade, his snow-white hair reverted to its natural black, the biting cold subsided, and the frost blanketing the area began to melt. But as the world returned to normal, the analytical part of his mind continued to run through the possibilities. I possess full control over this power. It feels instinctive, almost like muscle memory. My understanding of ice manipulation from my previous life is facilitating this... seamlessly. He flexed his fingers, feeling the residual energy still coursing through him.

"The fact that my entire body can become ice while remaining alive and stronger... How does that even function? My cells appear to adapt to the mana with remarkable ease." His voice trailed off, overtaken by new theories forming in his mind. This would undoubtedly require deeper investigation. But one thing was clear: I am no ordinary ice wielder anymore. I've evolved into something significantly more powerful.

For now, Alonso's mind shifted to his next task. First, I need to locate civilization, he concluded, his steps growing more purposeful as he moved forward, leaving the frozen statue of the ape behind, a testament to his newfound abilities.

It had been four grueling hours since Alonso found himself stranded in this strange, uncharted world, relentlessly making his way through the seemingly endless forest. His sharp mind constantly worked through calculations and strategies, yet each new path led him deeper into the maze of towering trees. No matter how fast he sprinted, how high he vaulted between branches, or how precise his leaps were, the dense forest stretched on without end. Frustration gnawed at him with every wasted step.

His patience, usually unwavering, began to wear thin. "Four hours of this…" Alonso muttered to himself, his irritation palpable. He had encountered nothing but beasts—creatures of no use to him in finding civilization. His thoughts raced as he ran, leaped, and darted, but the oppressive monotony of the forest clawed at his mind.

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Finally, Alonso halted in his tracks, glaring at the unchanging wilderness around him. "Enough," he growled under his breath, his frustration boiling over. He needed a new strategy. Glancing at the thick canopy overhead, he clenched his fist, summoning the ice from within.

His hands emitted an intense cold mist as, in mere moments, an enormous ice pillar began forming beneath him. The sharp crackle of frost filled the air as the pillar shot upward, piercing through the treetops. Alonso stood atop the towering structure, now 10,000 feet in the air, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon.

At last, from this vantage point, he spotted something—a flicker of hope. Scattered monster settlements littered the forest below, but far to the south, something caught his attention. A town. A sign of civilization. His heart, though hardened by years of intellect and discipline, stirred slightly with relief. After what felt like an eternity, he finally had a destination.

Without wasting another moment, Alonso leapt from the pillar, descending rapidly. The wind howled around him, tugging at his clothes as the ground rushed up to meet him. There was no panic in his eyes, only calm precision. As the treetops came closer, he snapped his fingers, and in an instant, a massive ice ramp formed beneath his feet. The sudden conjuring caused a sharp drop in temperature, frost spreading across the ground below.

Alonso slid down the ice with perfect balance, his body leaning with the curves as he propelled himself at breakneck speed through the forest. Trees blurred past him, the wind biting at his face, but his expression remained focused. His control over the ice was flawless, every turn and twist smooth and effortless. The ice path extended further as he neared the town, a shimmering trail behind him like a comet streaking through the woods.

As the town walls loomed closer, Alonso jumped from the ice ramp, landing with a graceful thud, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. The icy mist surrounding him dissipated, but the cold aura still clung to the air. He stood tall before the massive gates, his sharp eyes studying the structure before him. The wall was imposing, stretching high above him like an ancient guardian, and the road leading from the forest to the gate was quiet and desolate.

Alonso reached his destination.

Alonso's sharp eyes fell on two guards stationed at the gate. As he approached, their postures tensed, betraying the fear his mere presence elicited. He didn't need to hear their words or observe them closely to understand the emotions surging behind their stiffened forms. Alonso could read fear like a book, and these two were an open page.

The younger guard, barely in his twenties, stood in chainmail armor, a bastard sword dangling from his waist. He was the first to react, his eyes widening as they settled on Alonso. The Oni—an A-ranked magical beast known throughout the land for their strength and brutality—was a figure of terror. The guard's hand instinctively hovered over the hilt of his sword, trembling ever so slightly. Alonso didn't miss it.

A seasoned veteran in his forties stood beside the younger guard, though experience did nothing to mask his fear. His grizzled face twitched as his gaze swept over Alonso's form. It was clear neither man had expected an Oni at their gate today.

As they eyed him, Alonso felt no need to engage immediately. Their existence was beneath him—these men, whose arrogance and ignorance painted their expressions, were like insects buzzing in his path. He was above them, far beyond their limited understanding. But that didn't stop him from observing them, noting how deeply ingrained their prejudices were.

Their fear wasn't just of his race—it was something darker, something that went beyond the primal reaction to an Oni's power. It was the shifting political landscape they were truly afraid of, a landscape that had recently been altered in favor of the very beings they despised.

It had only been two weeks since the Vita Kingdom, where Foresthill City was located, had abolished slavery. The king's love for a beastwoman had brought about a change of heart, and in his newfound empathy, he outlawed the inhumane practice, ordering reparations for all former slaves. A hundred gold coins each. This decision had unsettled many, especially those who had benefitted from the exploitation of demi humans. Alonso could see it written across their faces—their resentment, their barely-contained bitterness.

The older guard, his jealousy thinly veiled, sneered at Alonso, his voice dripping with contempt. "Lucky bastard, come to collect your coin, eh?" he spat. His tone carried more venom than Alonso had anticipated. "What's the world coming to, letting dangerous monsters like you walk free? If it were up to me, you'd all be in chains, working until your bodies gave out."

The younger guard nodded silently, his agreement evident in his posture. The arrogance of youth coupled with the ignorance of inexperience. "Don't think you can get away with anything. Break the law or harm a human, and I'll have your head on a stick."

Alonso's sharp mind processed the situation quickly. It appeared they had mistaken him for an ex-slave, here to claim the king's reparations. He hadn't expected to slip into the city so easily, having assumed they would demand documents or identification. After all, being newly transported to this world, he had neither. But now, the guards had handed him an opportunity.

The guards' misguided assumption played right into his hands. There would be no need for sneaking into the city. They believed he was a freed slave—perhaps all ex-slaves were allowed entry without question, to receive their compensation. How convenient.

Alonso's expression remained neutral, though the satisfaction within him grew. He had no intention of correcting their misunderstanding. Their ignorance, born from fear and prejudice, would work to his advantage. But their arrogance… that was something he couldn't entirely ignore.

Though they were no more than obstacles, Alonso despised their audacity, the casual way they dismissed him as beneath them, all while trembling in fear. It was almost amusing. But rather than confront them directly, he would let their minds simmer in their own terror. A subtle shift in his posture—a slight narrowing of his eyes—was all it took to unsettle them further. He could see the cracks forming in their false bravado, the way their hands twitched toward their weapons, though they dared not draw them.

In their silence, Alonso made his decision. He would play along with their assumptions, allow them to believe they had the upper hand for now. After all, in the grand scheme of things, they were irrelevant.