E-Rank or SSS-Rank: I Awakened a Skill That Shouldn’t Exist

The battle on the Island of the Cursed raged endlessly, and by now it had spiraled into its most catastrophic state yet.

The reason was simple—the Dark Emissaries had finally stepped onto the field. No longer content with watching from the sidelines, they had joined the carnage themselves.

For the ordinary heroes, there was no longer even the illusion of hope. Against the Emissaries, only the elites stood a chance.

And so, with bloodied hands and broken spirits, the surviving heroes abandoned the frontlines.

They dragged back the corpses of their fallen comrades—friends, siblings, lovers—retreating to the rear of the island where the support teams awaited.

The air was thick with grief. Today was a day of sorrow. Too many had died.

But sorrow did not linger only on that cursed island. Far away, across the seas, past the middle continent and into the northern lands, another tale unfolded.

At the very southern edge of the northern continent stood a solitary city.

Sërenya.

Once, it had been a magnificent city, a shining jewel among nations. Now, it was scarred—burned, broken, and half-rebuilt after calamity.

The aftermath of the Cursed invasion still lingered in every shattered building and ruined street.

Yet, hope flickered here. Citizens—both awakened and ordinary—labored side by side, rebuilding walls and homes stone by stone.

Skills meant for war were redirected toward healing and reconstruction, bolstered by their young master who had claimed using an artifact to raise the ranks of their abilities.

Because of that miracle, the progress was faster than anyone could have imagined.

At the heart of this struggling city stood the great infirmary, one of the few facilities left untouched by destruction.

It had become Sërenya's beating heart, a sanctuary where life was pulled back from the jaws of death.

Within its many wards, countless families rejoiced. Survivors healed, children clung to their parents, and loved ones embraced with tears of gratitude. In this place, there were smiles, relief, and laughter.

But not everywhere.

In one ward, silence reigned. No joy. No laughter. Only an oppressive stillness that weighed on the chest.

On the bed lay a girl with hair like snow, her pale strands spread across the white sheets like scattered frost.

Her chest rose and fell gently in a rhythm that almost seemed peaceful, as though she were lost in a deep, dreamless slumber.

Laura.

But it was no simple sleep. She was in a coma. Doctors and healers alike had examined her condition, and all had come to the same conclusion: she would not wake anytime soon.

Her health was stable—balanced even—but her consciousness was locked away in a prison no one could reach.

Beside her bed sat another figure.

Xin.

Her elbows rested on the mattress, her head on her folded hands. Though her eyes were closed, her brows were furrowed tightly, and her body trembled faintly. Beads of cold sweat dotted her skin.

She wasn't asleep. She was trapped.

Xin was caught within a nightmare.

_ _ _ _

Inside Xin's Nightmare

Xin's breath came out in short, visible gasps as she staggered forward across what seemed like an endless platform of ice.

Each step echoed with a sharp crack, as if the frozen ground could shatter beneath her at any moment. The air was suffocatingly cold, so biting that it gnawed into her bones, making her body tremble uncontrollably.

Around her stretched a frozen wasteland—houses, roads, even entire streets, all consumed by thick sheets of ice. It felt like she had stumbled into a dead world, one locked away in eternal winter.

She didn't know how she had arrived here, nor why her legs carried her deeper into this frozen void, but an unseen force tugged her forward. Something—someone—was waiting at the end.

At first, all Xin saw were frozen objects: shattered cars encased in ice, streetlamps frozen mid-glow, doorways sealed shut by crystal frost.

But the deeper she went, the heavier the dread became. The frozen world began revealing horrors.

The first were beasts—massive, wolf-like creatures, claws outstretched as if caught mid-lunge.

They were locked in solid blocks of ice, their fangs bared, their eyes forever frozen in rage. Then came the humans. At first, strangers whose faces she didn't recognize.

Men, women, children—all preserved like lifeless sculptures. Their postures spoke of fear, desperation, and pain, captured in their final moments.

But then—her steps faltered. Her heart clenched. Among the frozen figures stood a face she could never mistake.

"Uncle… Nathan?"

Her breath hitched in her throat, turning into jagged ice in the air. There he was, smiling faintly even in this frozen prison, just like he always did when reassuring her after she was scared as a child.

But that smile—trapped behind layers of frost—was twisted into something unbearably tragic.

"No… no, this can't be real."

Her trembling hand rose on its own. She stepped closer, ignoring the cold stabbing her lungs with every breath, ignoring the dread pressing in from all sides.

With one finger, she touched the frozen surface of Nathan's cheek, hoping desperately that it was an illusion. That he'd blink, laugh, and ruffle her hair like always.

Instead, the sound of cracking thundered across the ice field.

A web of fissures spread from the point of her touch, snaking through Nathan's frozen form like jagged lightning.

The sculpture groaned under the strain, and before Xin could even gasp, the entire statue shattered into countless shards of glittering ice.

Xin's eyes widened, tears spilling freely—but even those tears froze upon her cheeks, hardening into cold trails of crystal. She collapsed to her knees, staring at the fragments of what had once been her uncle.

Her shoulders shook violently, grief clawing at her chest, but beneath it all something darker stirred—fear.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

Xin squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe in, then out, steadying the storm raging inside her.

This is a nightmare, she told herself firmly. It has to be. If I can find the way out, none of this will matter. None of it will be true.

But as she opened her eyes, the frozen wasteland stretched on endlessly, silent and merciless.

The deeper Xin moved, the more unbearable the dread became. It wasn't just fear clawing at her—it was as though the very cold itself was seeping into her being, layer by layer.

At first, she thought it was only her skin stiffening from the frost, but soon she realized the truth: her flesh, her blood, even her mind and soul were freezing.

Every breath she took burned like shards of ice being driven into her lungs. Her body trembled violently, and yet she couldn't stop walking.

Her sense of time and distance had long since unraveled. Was it only a few meters she had walked? Or countless miles? Hours? Days? She couldn't tell.

The frozen wasteland distorted everything—her perception of reality, her very sense of self.

And then… something shifted.

Xin slowed her steps, her icy breath hanging heavy in the still air. Ahead, at the farthest edge of this frozen nightmare, the endless ice seemed to break.

The ground leveled out into a pale, eerie stillness. There, in the silence, a lone figure knelt.

No—she wasn't standing. The figure's slender frame was bent forward, her face buried in her hands as if she were quietly sobbing.

Wisps of long, white hair floated unnaturally in the frozen air, stirring even though no wind existed in this dead world.

Xin's heart seized in her chest. A sharp pain lanced through her already-frigid body, and for the first time since the nightmare began, she wished desperately that she could wake up.

Because she knew that figure.

"...Laura?" Xin's voice cracked, weak and trembling.

Her knees buckled, and she nearly fell as her breath hitched painfully in her throat. She knew that hair. That posture. That fragile outline that radiated sorrow so heavy it seemed to bend the air itself.

Her sister.

The one lying unconscious in the infirmary bed of Serenya.

The one she had sworn she'd protect.

Yet here Laura was—trapped in this frozen nightmare.

Xin's lips quivered as she reached a shaking hand forward. "No… no, it can't be you. You can't be here."

To be continued…

AUTHOR'S NOTE

That's the chapter, everyone!

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– Ultra