The International Rankers Association's practicing hall stood like a modern fortress of steel and glass, towering over the city like a symbol of human ambition. Inside, the massive training ground was bustling with activity. Veteran Rankers sparred in designated areas, generating bursts of power that lit up the air, while fresh candidates nervously waited for their evaluation rounds. Judges in formal uniforms observed from elevated platforms, and automated drones floated overhead, recording every battle.
Then, the temperature began to drop.
At first, it was subtle—a faint chill brushing against the skin, as though a breeze had wandered in from some distant winter. A few Rankers shivered, rubbing their arms in confusion. But within seconds, the cold deepened, sharp and invasive, sinking into their bones like icy needles. Frost crept silently along the steel beams, the glass walls, and even across the tiled floor. The ambient temperature plummeted rapidly, turning every breath into a puff of white mist.
All eyes turned toward the center of the hall, where Friz stood.
The air around him swirled with cold winds, his aura expanding outward like a winter storm breaking free of confinement. His silver-blue hair fluttered despite the absence of any natural breeze. Beneath his boots, frost blossomed like intricate flowers across the polished floor, spreading outward in beautiful but merciless patterns. His presence alone transformed the entire hall into an icy realm, and those caught within it could feel the weight of a power that was not just elemental—it was a declaration.
Some Rankers backed away instinctively, their instincts screaming danger. Even the judges exchanged glances, unsettled by how rapidly the environment had changed. The reinforced glass walls that enclosed the training ground began to show faint cracks along their edges, as if the building itself were straining to withstand the pressure of the freezing aura.
Friz stood motionless at the heart of this frozen domain, his eyes half-lidded, distant. Inside his mind, memories of the old world played like a film projected on the walls of his soul.
He remembered the days when he had been Ice—one of Boboiboy's elemental fragments, part of something larger. He remembered the first time they fought together, standing against overwhelming enemies, their powers intertwining in perfect synchrony. He remembered the bitter battles, the sacrifices, the victories that were shared between brothers and sisters bound not by blood but by elemental essence.
He also remembered the end. The day they were separated. Torn from the whole and scattered into this new world, where each fragment was forced to find its own path.
For a long time, he had wandered like a drifting iceberg, carrying the remnants of a shared past that no longer defined him. But no more. Today, here, inside this hall filled with eyes watching his every move, Friz would take his step forward—not as Ice, the fragment, but as Friz, the Ranker, the survivor, the one who carved his destiny anew.
In the silence, broken only by the faint creaking of forming ice, he lifted his head. His breath left his mouth like steam against the frigid air. His voice was cold, but resolute, echoing clearly through the hall:
"Rebirth and walk on a new path! I call… Snowbreaker."
The response was immediate and magnificent.
Around him, the scattered ice fragments that had formed from his aura began to glow with a pale blue luminescence. They trembled, lifted from the ground, and swirled upward in a spiral storm. The fragments moved with precision and intent, orbiting him like a constellation coming together. The whirling ice created streaks of frosty light in the air, forming a vortex that hummed with power.
At the vortex's core, the fragments fused, reshaping and compressing. Crystalline edges slid into place with sharp clicks, and frost condensed into hard, elegant structures. Piece by piece, a weapon took shape—a brass-knuckle-like construct with intricate frozen patterns. At the end of the knuckle was a short, sturdy gun barrel, forged entirely of crystallized ice, glowing faintly as if lit from within by the breath of a winter spirit. The entire weapon floated briefly before him, rotating slowly, as if testing the air of this new world.
Friz extended his hand. The weapon shot forward, fitting perfectly over his fist. The moment his fingers curled into a grip, a surge of power flowed through him, as if the storm itself had recognized its master.
This was [Snowbreaker].
It was not a remnant of the past but a crystallization of his decision. A bridge between the world he came from and the world he stood in now. Snowbreaker represented everything Friz had become—no longer bound to Boboiboy, no longer a mere piece of something else. This weapon was his companion for the future, forged from memory but dedicated to his path alone.
The audience outside the icy domain held their breath. Judges leaned forward. Some candidates whispered nervously, realizing they were witnessing an S-class awakening in real time.
Across the arena, Friya, another Ranker candidate with impressive control over ice-based projectiles, raised both her arms. In response to Friz's display, she summoned Ice Barrel, containing various Ice Bullets aimed directly at Friz.
With a sharp, commanding gesture, she launched her attack.
The [Ice Bullet Barrage] exploded forward like a hail of frozen death, filling the air with sharp whistling sounds. Each bullet carried compressed energy, enough to pierce reinforced barriers if fired en masse. The formation moved with terrifying speed and accuracy, creating a storm of projectiles that left no room for escape.
But Friz didn't flinch.
He took a single step forward, his boots crunching against the frosted floor. He raised his fist—Snowbreaker gleaming in the pale light—and aimed the barrel directly at the incoming barrage. His breath became steady, his heartbeat synchronized with the hum of the weapon. Then he gathered energy.
A glow began to form inside the barrel. At first, it was faint, like a distant star seen through winter fog. But quickly, it intensified, swirling into a concentrated core of icy energy. Frost spread outward from the barrel, cracking the floor beneath him even further. The air pressure dropped suddenly, as if the weapon were drawing in all surrounding cold to forge a single devastating counterattack.
"Hailstorm Blast!"
The name echoed through the hall as Friz fired.
A blast of concentrated icy energy burst from the Snowbreaker, howling like a winter tempest. It was not a simple bullet, nor was it a beam—it was a dense mass of crystallized storm energy, compressed and accelerated into a roaring stream. The shot streaked forward, colliding head-on with Friya's Ice Bullet Barrage.
The impact was immediate and earth-shaking.
The colliding forces detonated in a violent explosion of frost and pressure. A shockwave rippled through the hall, carrying with it a bone-chilling wind that spread in all directions. The reinforced glass that lined the spectator area cracked simultaneously, the sound echoing like gunfire. Some panels shattered outright, raining down shards of frozen glass.
Observers stumbled back, shielding their faces from the sudden blizzard that had erupted inside the hall. The temperature plummeted even further, causing thin layers of ice to crawl up the walls and across the ceiling. Rankers stationed near the impact zone raised defensive barriers, their breaths sharp and visible in the freezing air.
The clash between the Hailstorm Blast and the Ice Bullet Barrage had turned the hall into a frozen battlefield, and it was clear that this was far from an ordinary demonstration of power. It was a confrontation between two paths of ice