As soon as the ssenger uttered the words "an unbelievably beautiful woman," a wide grin spread across Ragnar's face - almost childlike in excitent.
But there was nothing innocent about it.
It was the smile of a man who'd just been told fate had handed him a new trophy - sothing shiny to place beside the rest, sothing to display as proof of his dominance.
He strode out of the lounge with quick, confident steps. His boots echoed against the marble hallway floor - where professors had once discussed grants and conferences, and where now the walls bore sars of blood and the handprints of fleeing students.
Two of his n followed, but Ragnar wasn't listening.
He was already imagining her.
He hoped she'd be proud. Arrogant. The type who looked down on others like the world belonged to her.
Because those were the most satisfying to break.
As for the other two?
An old man with a cane? So average guy?
Ragnar scoffed under his breath.
Ever since he'd absorbed so much Essence - since his stats had risen to heights ordinary people could only dream of - he'd stopped taking people like that seriously. To him, they were pawns.
Unless he ran into that damned monster again.
The thought hit him suddenly, like a cold gust of wind.
The giant boar.
The Crimson Horned Boar.
He'd seen it from a distance a few days earlier, when he'd wandered too close to its territory. Just the sight of that beast had triggered his instincts - sharpened by the system, amplified by his levels - to howl in warning.
To run.
And he would have.
Without sha.
Survival instinct mattered more than pride.
But then he saw sothing he couldn't erase from mory.
A man.
A man who had actually stood against that monster.
He rembered the thunder of impacts, the trembling earth, buildings cracking like cardboard under forces he couldn't comprehend. Walls collapsing into the street. Windows exploding outward. An entire wing of a building caving in under pressure that felt less like a battle and more like an earthquake.
And then…
The boar fell.
And that man was still standing.
Just rembering it made a thin sheen of sweat form along Ragnar's back.
"That guy should be dead by now…" he muttered as he neared the exit.
A malicious glint surfaced in his eyes.
After all - he'd done everything to make sure that happened.
The mont he saw the man win, confrontation hadn't crossed his mind. He knew the best move would've been to approach and finish him personally before he recovered. The system rewarded ruthlessness. Killing soone like that could've launched him to an entirely different level.
But he didn't.
Because - though he'd never admit it - he'd been afraid.
Afraid that even weakened, even barely standing, that man could still kill him with one careless strike.
So Ragnar chose the safer path.
He lured zombies.
Dozens.
He made noise on purpose, dragged them toward the battlefield, provoked them, scattered corpse remains to draw more. After a fight like that, anyone would be exhausted - bleeding, drained.
If the zombies didn't kill him, they'd at least finish the job.
Then Ragnar could return later… and take whatever was worth taking.
He smirked.
"Either he's lying sowhere eaten… or barely alive," he murmured.
That thought restored his confidence fast.
Because if that monster really was dead…
Then there was no one on campus who could threaten him.
***
Victor and Arnold hadn't spoken since they felt the shift in Natalia's mood. Even n as insensitive to aura as they were could tell the air around her had grown heavier - colder - as if every step she took left behind an invisible trace of frost you couldn't see but could feel on your skin.
They walked in silence until, after a while, Arnold hesitantly raised a hand and pointed at a four-story building one street over.
It had once belonged to the administrative faculty.
Now it looked like every other place on campus - dirty, partly ruined, windows shattered, dried blood staining the entrance steps.
"Th-there…" he muttered.
Natalia stopped imdiately.
Leon and Roland did too.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Then, under the tense gaze of both young n, Natalia gave a small, indifferent nod - as if the building wasn't ho to a man who'd turned lives into hell, but just another checkpoint to clear.
And she moved forward.
Roland followed without a word, his cane tapping against cracked asphalt.
Victor and Arnold stayed behind, too afraid to step closer.
Leon lingered beside them, watching the girl's back as she walked toward the entrance like nothing in the world could stop her.
That was when Valeria spoke beside him.
As usual, she stood too close - arms folded beneath her chest, unintentionally accentuating them - and that sweet, irritating smile played on her lips. The one that always ant she was thinking sothing.
"Do you rember…" she began softly, "…after you fought that giant boar, how dozens of zombies suddenly started gathering around you?"
Leon glanced at her, saying nothing - just giving a small nod for her to continue, careful not to let Victor and Arnold notice he was holding a "conversation."
Valeria shrugged innocently.
"Oh, nothing much. I was just wondering if you still rembered."
Her smile widened.
Leon frowned.
He knew her well enough to understand that her "nothing much" was never nothing.
Before he could press further, a voice rang out.
The building doors burst open, and a young, athletically built man stepped onto the stairs. The mont he saw Natalia standing a few ters away, he spread his arms wide like he was greeting a long-lost lover.
"Oh damn!" he shouted in delight. "What a beautiful woman!"
His eyes glead with undisguised lust as they traveled shalessly over her figure - from the icy heels, up her long legs, to her cold, proud face that looked at him like he was sothing filthy.
In his mind, there was no doubt.
A woman like that should stand beside him.
As queen.
"Are you Ragnar…?" Natalia asked in an icy voice. "Leader of this group… who calls himself king?"
"That's right," he replied with a broad grin, nodding - but he didn't even glance at Roland or Leon. He was too busy staring at her. "And you…"
He never finished.
Because Natalia had no intention of listening another second.
She flicked her right hand lightly.
Two ice spikes ford instantly above her head - long, sharp, glowing faint blue with mana - then shot forward without warning, aid at his shoulders to pierce the joints and immobilize him in one strike.
Roland snorted quietly.
He'd expected that.
His senses had already tensed.
Ragnar saw the attack mid-sentence - rage twisting his face instantly.
"If you won't co nicely…" he snarled, "I'll make you my personal bitch… my way."
He roared sothing guttural…
…and slamd his fists forward twice.
BOOM.
The air in front of him shuddered like it had been struck by an invisible hamr. Both ice spikes shattered mid-flight, exploding into a cloud of icy fragnts that fell like snow.
Ragnar didn't wait.
In his mind, it was simple: if she attacked from range, she was a mage. Distance was her advantage. So he'd destroy that distance - close in before she could cast again.
His arms swung back like he was bracing against an invisible wall, then he smashed them into the ground with such force the asphalt cracked and the air vibrated like it had been clenched in a fist.
The next mont he vanished…
…not literally, but to ordinary eyes it looked that way.
He launched at Natalia at terrifying speed, a gust of wind kicking up dust and debris behind him.
One thought filled his mind:
Close the gap. Break her rhythm.
Natalia was genuinely surprised - for a fraction of a second.
Not because he was strong.
Because he was fast.
She'd imagined Ragnar as a lust-driven brute who'd gained strength killing weaker beasts and used it to dominate normal people - not soone with real combat skill.
And now his fists were already in front of her face.
She couldn't fully react…
…but Roland, standing half a step behind her, moved at the sa instant.
The old man didn't look like soone who could outreact a young fighter, yet his cane sliced the air at the perfect angle, striking Ragnar's wrist the exact mont the punch was about to land.
The blow was deflected.
Ragnar shot slightly past them.
"Tch."
He clicked his tongue, already turning to strike the old man from the side -
when the temperature dropped sharply.
Ten ice spikes materialized above Natalia in a straight line - like a row of spears hamred into the sky - then all launched at him at once.
His expression hardened instantly.
He jumped sideways.
Rolled across the ground, dodging the first three as they slamd into asphalt, shattering it into ice and stone fragnts.
The remaining seven curved mid-air…
…and chased him.
"What the…" he snarled and punched the air.
Once.
Twice.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Each strike sent violent ripples through the air, invisible hamrs crushing space itself - and all seven spikes exploded one by one into clouds of frozen dust.
Silence lingered for a beat.
Ragnar looked at Natalia, who had already leapt back several ters, reestablishing distance. Her blue eyes were now completely cold - no emotion, only pure focus.
He smirked maliciously.
Drew a deep breath.
His chest expanded unnaturally, like he was pulling in more than air.
He gathered strength…
…and mid-turn, threw a massive punch into the space before him.
The air condensed into a visible, warped projectile that blasted toward Natalia with terrifying force, tearing dust and pebbles apart in its wake.
At the sa instant, Roland vanished.
He appeared directly in front of Ragnar, cane cutting down toward his knee -
- but before the strike connected, a strange transparent air barrier ford around Ragnar's body, stopping the blow centiters short.
At the sa ti, a necklace on Ragnar's neck flashed.
Roland narrowed his eyes, noticing the glint.
Ragnar snorted.
"You think that's enough?"
He swung for the old man's face…
…but Roland had already slipped out of range, retreating several steps without panic.
And then Ragnar heard it…
the dull impact.
The air projectile he'd launched seconds earlier… had just reached Natalia.
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