MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Vivian drifted through the mortal throng like an ethereal fairy gracing a gathering of the mundane. Her eyes wandered over the battlefield, capturing every detail with a quiet, almost otherworldly grace.

Inevitably, her thoughts strayed to the death method of her parents, yet, deep down, she knew that memory was a fabrication of her own longing mind.

The only truth she had ever been told, back when she was but an orphan, was that her parents had been slain by demons in connection with the Forsaken Cult.

Since then, her mind had conjured countless versions of their demise, fantasies born from grief, reshaped with every passing year. At times, dreams would stir in the depths of her slumber, carrying visions where their love still enfolded her, warm and cozy, as though death had never claimed them.

It was this enduring memory, real or imagined, that urged her forward, even when her talent had proven futile upon awakening.

Their faces, their love, their warmth, their embrace, these were her pillars. They propelled her, sustained her, and anchored her against the relentless tides of despair.

She had envisioned countless ways to annihilate the demons and eradicate the Forsaken Cult, visions steeped in vengeance, sharpened over years of silent resolve. That unburning hatred had been one of the driving forces behind the creation of her guild.

But her mission was not forged in wrath alone; she had also founded numerous orphanages, sanctuaries for children so they might never endure the hollow ache she had felt in her own youth, the crushing solitude.

All this, she had achieved before reaching the age of twenty.

And now… as her gaze swept over the chaos of the battlefield, there was no need for imagination, no need for hypothetical vengeance.

The time for dreaming had passed.

The moment to breathe life into her long-nurtured visions had come. She would not merely think of ways to destroy the demons and the Forsaken Cult, she would make their eradication a reality.

Her eyes flashed with a glacial sharpness, and her lips parted to release a voice colder than the deepest abyss, colder than any ice that had ever existed, yet carrying a fury capable of reducing even the heart of a volcano to ash.

Frozen World

The words resounded like the endless beat of a war drum, reverberating through every ear within hundreds of kilometers. Before anyone could even trace the source, an overwhelming surge of mana erupted into the sky, immense in both quantity and purity, like a boundless ocean breaking free of its restraints.

In an instant, the scorching desert heat collapsed into nothingness. The air quivered as ice particles spiraled and shimmered under Vivian's absolute dominion. Frost devoured the land in sweeping waves, freezing all within sight. Even the sunlight that pierced the desert was seized mid-descent, entombed in crystalline stillness.

Vivian harbored no concern for collateral damage, her mastery over mana and ice had long transcended such trivial constraints, amplified by her exceptional physique and innate talent. When the frost swept across the battlefield, it moved with effortless ease, gliding past soldiers unscathed as if obeying an invisible, merciless will.

Her control was nothing short of monstrous: freezing thousands while sparing countless others within the very same space, a terrifying dance of destruction and mercy executed with surgical grace.

Vega might boast feats of similar magnitude, fueled by a fractured talent that required no discipline, no honing, only the raw power of imagination entwined with mana.

Vivian's Origin Ice Physique was that broken.

The Forsaken Cultists, witnessing their comrades crystallize into frozen statues, unleashed torrents of chaotic energy in a desperate bid to corrupt the ice and shield themselves.

Elements flared violently around them, each wielding unique defensive powers, but all proved utterly futile.

One by one, they succumbed to the freeze, trapped within the same merciless icy prison. Then, at Vivian's mere thought, every frozen sculpture erupted simultaneously in a dazzling explosion of frost and shards.

A shockwave of sharp ice fragments blasted outward, but before they could strike the ground, they fell under Vivian's unrelenting control.

With a subtle command, she reshaped the shards into deadly implements, gleaming swords, daggers, arrows, and spears, each shimmering beneath the plummeting temperature.

With ruthless accuracy, the icy weapons surged forward at a velocity beyond reason, slicing through flesh, bone, and blood with merciless efficiency.

Screams rent the air, some cut short as heads were severed before cries could escape, others echoing in sheer agony. Yet, despite the onslaught, a few still managed to twist away, narrowly evading death or raising feeble defenses.

In an instant, countless gazes snapped toward Vivian's position, and, like ants drawn to spilled sugar, demons surged forward in a frantic tide, their eyes devoid of fear.

Vivian's expression did not waver. Her gaze met theirs, calm yet lethal, as her irises blazed with an otherworldly icy blue.

Glacial Gaze

The effect was immediate. Every advancing demon froze in place, encased from head to toe in flawless crystal ice, their last steps suspended mid-air as time itself seemed to abandon them. But Vivian was far from finished.

Glacial Soldiers

The frozen demons stirred, no longer of flesh and blood, but sculpted entirely from living ice, their wills shattered and replaced by Vivian's absolute domination.

At her silent command, they turned upon their own kin, lunging forward with predatory precision. Jagged claws of frost sliced through the air, rending all in their path.

The demons' chaotic energy still pulsed through their bodies, propelling them onward, but their minds were shackled, enslaved to Vivian's will. Any who fell beneath their icy touch joined her growing army, their forms crystallizing before joining the slaughter.

Delicate ice particles gathered in her palm, coalescing into a pair of flawless twin daggers. Though a mage by classification, Vivian had honed her body with sheer discipline, anything less would be a waste of such an absurdly gifted physique.

With a single step, she vanished into a blur. The first dagger kissed the neck of an elf before the target even realized death had come.

Before the blood could spill, she was gone, already upon her next victim. A sharp, wet tear of flesh rang in a cultist's ears, and then their vision dimmed into nothingness.

Wherever she passed, bodies collapsed into the sand with heavy, lifeless thuds. She struck only two places, the heart and the throat. Nothing more. Nothing less. Her slaughter was precise, merciless, like a butcher in an abattoir.

Vivian wove through the Ecliptic Cult's rankers as if they were mere mortal ranked beings, unworthy of the ranks they bore.

Unlike Vega, she had no need to prolong her battles to gain experience. She already possessed it in abundance, skill sharpened to perfection, tactics honed by countless encounters, and an instinct as lethal as any weapon.

Zenith ranked foes fell before her as though they faced the grim reaper herself. Her Glacial Soldiers multiplied with every passing minute, swelling her army as she tore through the battlefield like an iron spear through paper.

And she did not slow, not for a heartbeat. She would not stop until every being tainted by chaos was brought to its knees.