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

Xin's breath caught in her throat as she looked at Laura. Her elder sister's once proud, graceful figure was now slumped on the icy ground, her shoulders trembling with every broken sob.

Her long white hair was tangled and drifting aimlessly in the frozen air like strands of mist, and though the nightmare world itself was terrifying, what truly pierced Xin's heart was the sheer sorrow etched into Laura's form.

Xin didn't care if this was a dream, a vision, or some cruel illusion—it hurt all the same. Seeing her sister like this carved into her chest a pain deeper than any wound she had ever suffered.

"Sister…" Xin whispered, her voice trembling as she began to step closer. Each step echoed softly against the frozen platform, her feet crunching into the frost as she drew nearer.

Laura's lips were moving, barely audible at first. The words came as broken murmurs, fragments lost in the icy wind.

At first they seemed like gibberish, nonsense twisted by grief, but as Xin focused—listened deeper—she realized there was one word that repeated over and over, dripping with despair.

Guilt.

"It's all my fault," Laura choked out, her sobs trembling violently. "It's because of me… they died. I caused their deaths… I—I let it happen…" Her voice cracked, shattering like fragile glass under pressure.

Tears welled in her eyes, but before they could fall, they crystallized instantly into tiny shards of ice, tinkling as they struck the ground.

Xin's heart clenched painfully. She couldn't bear it. She moved faster now, her voice breaking but still soft, gentle, like a ray of warmth in the dead frost.

"No. It's not your fault, sis. It's not." Xin's words carried with them every ounce of her conviction. "You are not to blame."

Laura froze. The sobs quieted. Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her face.

Xin's entire body trembled at what she saw.

Her sister's once-beautiful face was ghostly pale, drained of life. Her eyes—those gentle, protective eyes she remembered—were gone, replaced with eerie glass-like orbs of frozen blue.

Inhuman. Hollow. They reflected no warmth, no life, only a haunting stillness that made Xin's soul shudder.

Tears of ice trailed down her sister's cheeks, each one sharp enough to cut.

Still, Xin pressed forward. Step by step, until finally she knelt beside Laura, her hands reaching out to wipe away the frozen shards.

"It's not your fault. Not then, not ever. Sir Ron's death… that was the cursed ones' doing. Not yours."

Laura's expression didn't change, her eyes blank, but Xin saw the faintest flicker of something—hesitation, doubt—beneath that icy mask.

"I… I cowered," Laura whispered hoarsely, her body trembling as if the admission itself shattered her. "If I had stood my ground, he would have survived. He died because of me. Because I was weak."

Xin tightened her grip on her sister's cold shoulders.

"No. Stop this. You're wrong. You weren't the one to blame. The cursed are the monsters who took him, not you. Big Brother and the others—they'll make them pay. I'll make them pay. So please… stop torturing yourself. Wake up. Come back to us."

For a moment, silence hung in the frozen world.

Laura stared at Xin, her glassy eyes flickering with something unreadable, as if she were caught in a storm between despair and hope. But then, as if a dam had burst, the darkness swallowed that flicker whole.

Her lips twisted, trembling as her voice cracked into a scream.

"No… you're wrong! It IS my fault! I AM cursed! Because of me—Ron is dead!"

Her words struck like thunder.

The frozen world convulsed.

A violent wave of icy energy exploded outward from Laura, engulfing Xin instantly. The chill was unlike anything she had felt before—it wasn't just cold, it was absolute.

Her flesh felt as though it was being torn apart by frost, her blood solidifying in her veins, her very thoughts crystallizing into shards of pain.

"Aaaahhh!" Xin screamed, her cry piercing the emptiness as the freezing agony swallowed her whole.

_ _ _ _ _

Xin woke with a start, her chest heaving as if she had just clawed her way out of a frozen grave. Her face was wet with cold sweat, though it wasn't sweat alone—her skin itself felt icy, her fingers stiff and unresponsive as though frost had crept into her very bones. For several heartbeats, she could not even move her hands. It was not simply a dream, she realized.

The frost she endured in that nightmarish place had followed her back into reality. Only after forcing her will through the numbness did her body finally respond, her fingers trembling violently as warmth slowly returned.

She let out a shaky breath of relief and turned her gaze toward the infirmary bed. Laura lay there, peaceful—too peaceful.

Her sister's face was serene, her chest rising and falling in an unbroken rhythm of slumber, but Xin knew better. That calm wasn't natural; it was the stillness of someone imprisoned within their own guilt.

Xin clenched her fists. She won't wake up until she lets go of blaming herself… until she forgives herself. That much, Xin understood now.

She didn't know how she had managed to enter Laura's dream, but she knew what she had seen there was no illusion. Her sister was frozen not by magic, but by despair.

And though that dream left no visible wounds, it carved scars inside her heart that Xin could still feel echoing in her body.

Leaning close, Xin whispered softly as if delivering a prayer, "Please, sis… wake up soon. I need you. Rin needs you. Big brother needs you. We can't fight this war without you."

Laura, however, remained as she was—silent, unresponsive, a prisoner of her own sorrow.

Xin exhaled, stood up, and left the infirmary ward.

The streets of Serenya stretched before her, not bustling with life as they once had, but filled with the sounds of hammers, saws, and weary voices.

The city was still broken, half-ruins and half-rebuild, its people working desperately to put the pieces back together. Warriors and civilians alike lifted stones, carried lumber, or patched broken walls.

As Xin walked through the streets, her ears caught whispers—snippets of fear and doubt that spread among the people like a hidden plague.

"Why are we even rebuilding? Won't those monsters just come back and destroy everything again?"

"Shut up! Don't say that—"

"But it's the truth. What if they lose? What if the heroes can't protect us next time?"

"You fool. The young master already defeated those who invaded. He'll never let them win."

"Yeah, but I heard… he had to turn into something else. A monster."

"A monster? Don't be ridiculous."

"Think about it! If he already transformed once, what's stopping him from changing completely? From becoming something we'll all have to fear one day?"

Xin's expression didn't change. Her footsteps were steady, her eyes forward. She heard every word, every rumor, but her heart was too heavy to be shaken by whispers. Let the city doubt. Let them fear. She had her own burdens—burdens far heavier than the idle speculation of frightened citizens.

She walked until the ruins gave way to a looming structure at the city's edge—a large facility, its steel doors tall and foreboding, the kind of place built to contain more secrets than answers.

At its entrance stood Rin. He wasn't smiling, wasn't teasing as he usually did. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his dark jacket, his hair falling into his eyes, and his face—normally mischievous—was sharp, grim, almost weary.

Xin stepped up beside him. For a long moment, neither spoke. The air between them was heavy, filled with the weight of what they were about to face.

Finally, Rin sighed, his voice low. "Are you ready?"

Xin's chest tightened. Ready? No. How could she ever be ready for what awaited them beyond those doors? For the final meeting with their last relative? For the truth they knew they could no longer run from?

Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her nails digging into her palms until it hurt. But she nodded. Slowly, firmly. "Yes."

Today, they would see their aunt. And as fate wove its cruel threads, Xin knew this might very well be the last time.

To be continued…

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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– Ultra