A desolate realm lay locked in a perpetual twilight, smothered beneath a ceiling of churning, thunderous clouds. Below stretched a world of ice and stone, a brutal, mountainous landscape where colossal peaks jostled for dominance, denying even a sliver of flat ground. Everest would have been a mere foothill here; from above, the vista was a frozen, endless sea of jagged spines.
Yet this was a sea of ruin. Thousands of mountains had been pulverized into fields of rubble, their forms replaced by yawning craters that pockmarked the terrain. This was not the work of natural disaster, but of a conflict between two living forces.
The proof came in a single, shattering BOOM! A shockwave of pure concussive force erupted outwards, vaporizing thirty mountains in an instant. At its epicenter, two figures recoiled from the clash of their fists, drifting apart with the calm of celestial bodies. Smirks of profound satisfaction cut across their faces.
They were clad identically: blue keikogi secured by black belts, reinforced by military boots and half-finger gloves—a uniform for ultimate combat.
The two young men were a study in contrasts. One had black hair tipped with electric blue, while the other bore a longer, unruly brown mane. Despite their different styles, both possessed the sharp, handsome features of seasoned warriors.
The black-haired fighter, Pathro, broke the momentary silence with a taunting grin. "You can still keep up, huh? I'm impressed."
Kiligaku, the brown-haired brawler, scoffed. "What made you think I wouldn't in the first place?"
The words were a feint. In the same breath, Kiligaku launched a blistering chop-kick at Pathro's head. Pathro evaded by dropping into a low squat, the air whistling where his head had been. Seizing the opening, he unleashed a savage kick of his own. Kiligaku crossed his arms in a desperate guard, but the sheer force behind the blow sent him rocketing backward. He tore through a line of mountains like a bullet through butter, stone and ice exploding in his wake.
He skidded to a halt just in time to see Pathro descending from above, fist aimed like a meteor. Kiligaku leaped upward, and Pathro's punch instead connected with the ground. The impact was catastrophic, vaporizing the terrain into a massive crater and reducing the surrounding peaks to mere pebbles.
"Hey," Kiligaku called out, casually dusting off his keikogi as he landed. "I think you missed."
Pathro's expression tightened with annoyance. "More like you dodged."
He lunged forward, a straight punch aimed at Kiligaku's center. Kiligaku deflected the blow and fired a counter-fist into Pathro's abdomen. Pathro twisted away, the strike grazing his side, and immediately swept a leg at Kiligaku's footing. Anticipating the move, Kiligaku used the momentum to launch into a spring kick, his heel connecting solidly with Pathro's guard.
The block saved Pathro from a direct hit, but the concussive force still blasted him through several mountain ranges. Seeing his advantage, Kiligaku dropped into a sprinter's stance and blitzed after him at blinding speed.
But Pathro was ready. He wrenched himself to a stop and, as Kiligaku closed in, simply stomped the ground. The earth shattered, a deep fissure racing out to snare Kiligaku's leading leg. Thrown off balance, Kiligaku's carefully prepared punch went wild, slamming into the ground and birthing another colossal crater.
Pathro looked down, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's wrong? I didn't even dodge, and you're already destroying the mountains for me."
Kiligaku wrested his foot from the crack, replying through gritted teeth, "You're so proud of yourself for using a cheap trick."
"Well," Pathro retorted, his grin widening. "That cheap trick brought you to your knees, didn't it?"
Pathro shot forward in a blur, closing the distance before Kiligaku could even think about launching a strike. He snapped into an axe kick, heel cutting down like a guillotine—yet Kiligaku managed to raise his arms in time, blocking the blow. Even so, the impact sent a spiderweb of cracks racing across the frozen ground, and the sheer force drove Kiligaku's feet several inches into the ice.
Pathro didn't slow. He pushed off the air, spinning into a sharp crescent kick aimed at the side of Kiligaku's neck. But Kiligaku leaned back with inhuman precision, letting the kick slice past. He countered by thrusting out a palm, repelling Pathro with enough force to fling him across the icy plain. Pathro skidded, using one hand pressed against the ground to brake himself before flipping upright.
Kiligaku slid into a martial stance—a crisp, disciplined Karate form. Pathro mirrored him with one of his own.
In the next instant, both began releasing their aura. The ground trembled beneath them. Pathro's aura surged outward in fierce waves of blue, while Kiligaku's rose in golden arcs, climbing skyward like twin pillars of light.
"I'll end this now," Pathro declared.
"You wish," Kiligaku answered, tone almost mocking.
They dashed forward at once—two streaks of color tearing across the frozen expanse. Their fists collided with a deafening CRACK, and the force that erupted from the impact resembled a miniature supernova. The shockwave vaporized everything around them, reducing more than a hundred mountains to drifting dust. And these weren't ordinary mountains—each one was at least fifty times the volume of Mount Everest, compressed even further by the realm's brutal cold. The temperature had made the stone unbelievably dense, yet it still shattered like brittle glass beneath the backlash of their clash.
This wasn't sparring.
This was a duel between monsters.
As the dust and snow finally settled, the two boys stood several meters apart, their breath fogging in the frigid air.
Pathro exhaled heavily. "Damn… you're still standing?"
Kiligaku, also catching his breath, scoffed. "I'm more surprised you thought that was going to take me down."
Pathro straightened, fists tightening again. "Well, I'm not done. I can keep going."
Kiligaku cracked his knuckles. "Same here."
But just as they prepared to launch at each other again, a voice echoed through the realm—flat, metallic, emotionless.
"Attention, Attention. Cadet 13-14 and Cadet 57-14, your time is up. Prepare for return to Academy in two minutes."
The message repeated on loop, accompanied by a countdown ticking from everywhere and nowhere.
Pathro groaned and dropped flat on his back. "Already? Damn… that felt like an hour."
Kiligaku snorted. "Who mistakes eight hours for one? You're probably still coping with the fact that this was our last training session in this realm."
"Can't lie… that's probably it," Pathro admitted. "Hard to believe this is my last day as a Cadet. Wonder what life's like as a Soldier."
"Hopefully I'll still get chances to kick your ass," Kiligaku said.
"That time is never coming," Pathro grinned. "But I look forward to you trying."
Kiligaku glanced down at his uniform. "Speaking of trying—these clothes are freakishly durable. I honestly thought all the hype was exaggerated."
"Oh, they're insane," Pathro said. "I heard the material absorbs the user's energy and reinforces itself, basically becoming as tough as the person wearing it."
"Huh… makes sense." Kiligaku stretched. "Anyway, I wonder what we missed. It was an hour before New Year when we came in."
"Probably nothing," Pathro shrugged. "Fireworks, cheering… the usual."
Before Kiligaku could respond, the AI's voice chimed again:
"Countdown complete. Teleportation in progress."
A cold white aura enveloped their bodies. A heartbeat later, Pathro and Kiligaku vanished.
---
This realm was known as The Icetomb, though most simply called it Freezing Hell. Created by the Japanese military, it served as one of their elite training zones. Its temperature never rose above –270°C, and its gravity sat at a crushing 120 times that of Earth.
Yet despite being engineered, the Icetomb was a fully real, self-sustaining dimension—truly infinite in scale. It was designed to push cadets beyond human limits, forcing them to fight, move, and endure in conditions that bordered on physically impossible.
The Icetomb was only one of ten such realms. Each existed independently, endlessly sprawling, each designed with its own extreme conditions to forge soldiers capable of surviving anything.
...
The eerie white aura dissipated, depositing Pathro and Kiligaku onto a smooth, metallic platform. Circular and etched with glowing circuits of advanced sci-fi technology, the teleportation base hummed with latent energy. Before them stood a man who needed no technology to command attention—a towering, broad-shouldered figure whose very presence exuded authority.
"Well, am I to assume you were waiting for us, sir?" Pathro asked, his voice still carrying the residual fatigue of their spar.
The man's gaze was unreadable. "You two sometimes forget you are the representatives of the cadets," he stated, his voice a low rumble. "We instructors have a lot for you to address your fellow comrades about. Come with me."
A silent, weary groan passed between Kiligaku and Pathro. We just got out of training, and we're already being handed paperwork, they thought in unison.
Pathro ventured a plea. "Sir, with all due respect, we're exhausted. We spent eight hours in the Icetomb. Can we at least get a moment to rest?"
The instructor waved a dismissive hand. "That is not my problem. That was a usage of your bed time..." He paused mid-sentence, his brow furrowing. "...Wait. Did you say eight hours?"
A spark of hope ignited on the cadets' faces. Finally, he understood the magnitude of their exertion.
"Yes, sir," Kiligaku confirmed, straightening slightly. "We stayed and fought non-stop for the full eight hours."
The instructor's eyes flicked to a sophisticated chronometer on his wrist, its display reading 07:02 AM. A slow, knowing, and slightly ominous smile touched his lips. "Oh, I see. So you are completely unaware of what happened last night." He turned, his long coat swishing as he began to walk away. "No matter. You'll find out soon enough. Now, follow me."
The brief hope curdled into cold confusion. Pathro and Kiligaku exchanged a loaded glance. What happened last night? The instructor's tone suggested it was something monumental. But whatever it was, it had clearly not earned them any reprieve from their duties. With a shared, resigned sigh, they fell into step behind him, the mystery hanging over them as heavily as the Icetomb's gravity.