Volume One: In the Prime of Youth Chapter Two: Breaking Through the Encirclement

This was the last car of the train. After a thorough inspection along the way, Ho Ye had confirmed there were no remnants of the catastrophe. His supernatural powers had replenished to overflowing; slaying the disaster earlier had only required a single ability, consuming little and rapidly restored.

Ho Ye lifted his arm and operated on the screen of his wrist device. This was the Crystal Brain, the most common portable smart electronic device after smartphones had been rendered obsolete, its performance rivaling that of high-end civilian computers from the old era.

He pulled up information on the Icefang Wolf: typically, its supernatural level ranged from C to A, with attributes of darkness and ice. Its teeth possessed an extremely high concentration of ice-based supernatural energy; a bite would instantly freeze the wound, severely hindering mobility.

Supernatural practitioners would receive a cursory education on dozens of common disasters in high school, but the Icefang Wolf wasn’t among them. Now, fully understanding its capabilities, Ho Ye felt a cold sweat for those outside. This type of collective disaster was surely highly cooperative; coupled with their biting restrictions, those five men were truly in danger.

Ho Ye paced anxiously, his frustration seeking an outlet. Suddenly, he punched the window hard. The fractured glass reflected his handsome face, twisted with worry and severity.

“Headquarters reinforcement won’t arrive for at least half an hour, but how long can they last?” he asked himself, torn in indecision. He knew now was the time to go out, yet a soldier’s duty was to obey orders. If Klaus refused to let him join the battle, he ought not to go.

But…

“Stay together—don’t let them break our formation!”

“Captain, watch out!”

“Ah! My leg is frozen!”

“Fall back, don’t let them catch up. As long as we’re here, they won’t prioritize attacking the passengers!”

“Damn it, enough!” Ho Ye kicked open the car door and charged out, resolute and fearless.

The five supernatural agents of the Railway Security Bureau fought and retreated atop their hover bikes, while twenty Icefang Wolves trailed behind like a massive tail. The disasters did not rush forward; they knew well how to leverage their numbers against human practitioners.

They approached one at a time, draining the agents’ stamina and supernatural power. If one suffered serious injury, it immediately withdrew to the rear, waiting for recovery. The soldiers, however, weren’t so fortunate. Human healing abilities paled in comparison to those of the disaster beasts—already a major disadvantage. Though these men regularly traversed the wilds, few disasters dared attack trains, so they had grown complacent, a force dulled by idleness.

“Captain, we’re surrounded,” a team member reported to Klaus.

The five had lured the wolves away from the train, hoping to distance them from the passengers and gain room to maneuver, avoiding collateral damage from their abilities.

Yet, unknowingly, the twenty Icefang Wolves had encircled them, closing in and squeezing their space.

“Brothers, looks like we’re going down here today,” Klaus gasped, one leg already frozen, his tone burdened with regret as he spoke to his men.

One teammate laughed heartily, “What’s to fear? Guys like us, just muddling along till retirement, would never amount to much anyway. If I die a martyr, maybe my daughter could get a job at Bancroft. That’s the best supernatural college for all mankind!”

Another sighed, “Bancroft, huh? Isn’t that where young Lord Holles studies? If he were here, maybe we could hold out a little longer.”

Klaus shook his head, “I’ve seen plenty of those privileged sons. Join the army just to polish their resumes, then go off to be bureaucrats. Best not to count on him. I kept him off this mission precisely because I feared he’d die by accident—if that happened, even if we made it back alive, we’d pay dearly.”

“If we die, will he run, or charge at these beasts?”

“No idea, but I don’t believe he could take down twenty on his own.”

“Me neither.”

“All right, enough chatter!” Klaus barked, eyes fixed on the wolves closing in. “Kill one and break even, kill two and profit! Attack!”

Before the five could advance, a roar sounded from afar. The disasters paused, drawn to the commotion, and the agents turned toward its source—a sound they knew well, the engine of a hover bike!

Ho Ye balanced atop the bike, gripping his twin blades tightly. He seemed oblivious to the horde of disasters, speeding straight toward them. Just as the bike neared the beasts, Ho Ye leaped high into the air, blades whirling madly!

In an instant, no one could tell how many strikes he unleashed, but with each swing, a crescent-shaped flame shot forth—so scorching that the five below felt their skin burning. Yet what stunned them most was not the ferocity of his attack, but the eerie color of the flames: jet black.

The fire slashed at the feet of the disasters, exploding into towering black walls. The Icefang Wolves recoiled in fear, leaping back but still eyeing the humans hungrily.

Ho Ye landed among the five, kneeling before rising to stand. He turned to them, firelight flickering across his striking face, lending it a hint of martial ruthlessness. “Heh, just in time again.”

The group stared in amazement—why did this youth seem more reliable than seasoned veterans?

Klaus was first to recover, demanding, “Wasn’t your order to protect the passengers? Why disobey?”

Ho Ye replied coldly, “Disasters will prioritize killing practitioners. With me here, the passengers won’t die. Without me, you surely will.” He spoke bluntly, uncaring if his words exposed their incompetence. Years of learning from his father had taught him: in moments like this, only the coldest, most forceful attitude could secure leadership; otherwise, precious time would be wasted in debate.

He fixed his face and asked, “How’s your marksmanship?”

“Why do you ask?”

“How’s your marksmanship!” Ho Ye demanded loudly.

The five were stunned by his commanding presence, momentarily forgetting this youth was only a nineteen-year-old student.

“Not bad, we place in the bureau’s annual shooting contest.”

Ho Ye nodded, “Good. When the flames disperse, I’ll flush out the disaster beasts, you deliver the killing blow. Twenty in all—let’s finish them at once.” As he spoke, he crossed his arms, imitating his father’s lecturing stance. He wasn’t sure if it added authority, but it certainly did for his father.

“Can’t we wait for reinforcements?” one asked.

“If we drag this out, the disasters can easily exhaust us. Would you rather die before help arrives, or fight now? The choice is yours.”

With that, Ho Ye turned his back to them, pulling out a cross pendant hidden beneath his uniform. He kissed it, closed his eyes, and gripped his blade, poised for action. With each breath, black lightning coursed from his chest, snaking through his limbs, crackling ominously.

“He’s supposed to be a fire-type practitioner—why does he have lightning?”

It was no wonder they were shocked; Ho Ye’s display defied all known conventions. Since the advent of supernatural practitioners, never had anyone possessed more than one attribute. Why could this privileged youth, written off as a resume-builder, wield both fire and lightning? It was unnatural.

“Could it be sorcery? But he’s not chanting anything!”

Sorcerers were a unique group among practitioners, able to recite incantations or use ritual arrays to perform astonishing feats—summoning meteor showers or giant beasts for battle. Yet, as they said, there was no chanting, so they couldn’t confirm if Ho Ye was a sorcerer.

Klaus swallowed hard; this youth was not to be underestimated. He ordered, “Follow his lead. Load supernatural magazines.”

The magazines for supernatural pistols didn’t hold bullets; instead, they contained compressors and converters to crystallize the wielder’s energy for firing. Advanced practitioners could even use their abilities as ammunition.

The group loaded their magazines, disengaged safeties, and prepared to concentrate fire on the disasters beyond the wall.

Ho Ye continued to breathe calmly. Never neglect the breath—this basic skill had taken him months to master.

For nineteen years, he had lived beyond the public eye, never revealing his face to any media. Now, he felt it was time to step onto the stage, preparing for the growth ahead. Today’s battle, compared to the grand scenes awaiting him, was merely an appetizer. He couldn’t afford to lose; greater stages lay ahead!