Chapter 86: Frost Walker [3]

Time seemed to crystallize around me like the ice formations that surrounded us throughout the arena. Cindy’s scream of pain echoed in my ears, but it felt distant, muffled, as if I were hearing it from underwater. The sight of blood seeping through her protective clothing, the knowledge of what that bite meant, the implications of what would have to happen next—it all crashed over me like a wave of liquid nitrogen, freezing my thoughts and my body in place.

“It can’t be happening,” I whispered, the words barely audible even to myself. “Not her. Not now.”

The infected’s teeth had found their mark with surgical precision, sinking deep into the muscle of Cindy’s left shoulder. I could see the wound from where I stood—ragged, deep, already showing the telltale signs of viral contamination as dark veins began to spread outward from the bite site like poisonous roots. The transformation timeline had begun its inexorable countdown, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it except…

Except what I would have to do. What I would have to ask of her. What I would have to take from Christopher.

The Frost Walker’s approach barely registered in my peripheral awareness. Its elongated limbs moved, ice crystals forming in the air around its fingertips as it prepared to deliver the killing touch that would turn me into another frozen statue. The creature had recognized my moment of vulnerability, my complete distraction, and was moving to exploit it with ruthless efficiency.

But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think beyond the implications of Cindy’s infection. The woman Christopher loved—truly, deeply loved in a way that had transformed him from a casual teenager into someone willing to risk everything for her safety—was going to die unless I violated every boundary of friendship and decency that existed between us.

The Frost Walker’s hand was less than two feet from my throat when Sydney’s voice cut through the frozen tableau of my shock.

“RYAN! MOVE NOW!”

The urgency in her voice, the terror snapped me back to the present. I twisted sideways just as the creature’s fingers brushed against my protective suit, feeling the cold seep through the insulation like liquid death. Ice crystals formed across my shoulder and chest, but I was already moving, already rolling away from the killing touch.

Behind me, I could hear the chaos intensifying as more infected poured through the arena entrance. Rachel’s ammunition was exhausted, her handgun clicking empty after claiming its final victim, but the creatures kept coming with the relentless hunger that defined their existence.

“Rachel!” Sydney shouted, hurling another of their improvised torches at a cluster of advancing infected. “We need cover! We need something now!”

Rachel stood among the advancing horde with tears streaming down her face, her empty weapon useless in her hands. But instead of retreating, instead of seeking cover or calling for help, she did something that surprised everyone in the arena.

She began to beg.

“Please,” Rachel whispered. “Please, I need this. I need the power I felt before. The barrier that protected us.”

Her voice grew stronger, more desperate, as the infected closed in around her.

“I felt it before!” She cried, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “When we fought the Fire Spitter, when Ryan was in danger, something awakened in me. Something strong. Please, I need it now!”

The infected were within arm’s reach when it happened.

A shimmering barrier of red light erupted around Rachel, expanding outward in a perfect sphere that encompassed Sydney and the wounded Cindy as well. The energy field was beautiful—translucent crimson that pulsed with internal light, strong enough to stop the infected’s advance but transparent enough to see through.

The creatures struck the barrier and recoiled as if they’d touched molten metal, their decomposing flesh smoking where it had made contact with the protective field. They circled the barrier like frustrated predators, searching for weaknesses that didn’t exist.

“R…Rachel???” Sydney breathed, speechless.

Inside the barrier, Cindy groaned in pain and growing awareness of what was happening to her. The infection was spreading faster than normal, the dark veins now visible along her neck and down her arm. She looked up at Rachel with eyes that were already beginning to show the first signs of viral contamination—a slight cloudiness, a distance that suggested the human consciousness was starting to retreat before the advancing infection. She might have half an hour at best.

“I know what’s happening to me,” Cindy said quietly, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face. “I know what this means.”

Christopher had been fighting his way toward her position, his flamethrower cutting through infected with desperate efficiency, but he was still dozens of feet away when Cindy’s voice stopped him cold.

“Christopher!” She called out, her voice carrying clearly across the arena. “Don’t come here! Help Ryan! He needs you more than I do right now!”

“Like hell!” Christopher shouted back, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m not leaving you!”

“You have to!” Cindy’s response was firm despite her pain. “Look at him! He’s fighting that thing alone, and it’s going to kill him if you don’t help!”

Christopher’s eyes found me across the arena, taking in my desperate battle against the Frost Walker. The creature had recovered from my evasive maneuver and was pressing its attack with renewed fury, launching ice projectiles and waves of supercooled air that forced me to constantly move, dodge, and retreat.

The conflict in Christopher’s face was heartbreaking to witness. Every instinct, every emotion, every fiber of his being was screaming at him to reach Cindy, to protect her, to be with her in what might be her final moments of humanity. But her words, her plea for him to prioritize the larger battle, was asking him to choose between love and duty in a way that would scar him forever.

“Go,” Cindy said again, softer now but no less insistent. “Please, Christopher. Help him finish this. For all of us.”

Christopher stood frozen for a moment that seemed to last forever, tears streaming down his face as he looked between the woman he loved and the friend who needed his help. Then, with a sound that might have been a sob or a growl of fury, he turned away from Cindy and began fighting his way toward my position.

“I’m coming, Ryan!” He shouted, his voice thick with unshed tears and barely controlled rage. “Hold on just a little longer!”

Inside the protective barrier, Rachel’s expression had shifted from desperate hope to cold anger-. The Dullahan virus that I had transferred to her during our intimate encounter was manifesting in ways that went beyond simple physical enhancement. Her analytical mind, already sharp, was now operating with superhuman efficiency, processing tactical information and combat scenarios with machine-like precision.

“Sydney,” she said quietly, never taking her eyes off the infected that surrounded their position. “Get the hand axe from Christopher’s bag. The one he left as backup equipment.”

Sydney moved quickly, retrieving the weapon and pressing it into Rachel’s hands. The axe felt natural in her grip, as if she’d been wielding such tools all her life instead of just discovering her combat capabilities.

“What are you going to do?” Sydney asked, though from Rachel’s expression the answer was obvious.

“I’m going to kill them all,” Rachel replied simply. “Every single one.”

She cancelled the barrier.

Four infected that had been pressing against the protective field suddenly found themselves face-to-face with a woman who had been transformed by alien technology into something far more dangerous than they could comprehend.

Rachel moved with fluid movements, her enhanced physiology allowing her to strike with strength and speed that defied human limitations. Her first attack was a powerful kick that sent the nearest infected flying backward into its companions, creating a domino effect that bought her precious seconds to position herself.

The hand axe sang through the air as she brought it around in a devastating arc, the blade biting deep into the skull of the first infected to recover its footing. The creature dropped instantly, brain matter splattering across the arena floor, but Rachel was already moving to her next target.

Her expression was cold, controlled, merciless.

The second infected fell to a precise strike that severed its spine at the neck. The third lost its head entirely when Rachel’s enhanced strength drove the axe through bone and tissue like they were made of paper. The fourth and final creature managed to grab her arm, but she simply twisted out of its grasp and drove the axe handle up under its chin, snapping its neck with an audible crack.

Four infected, dead in less than thirty seconds.

Meanwhile, my own battle with the Frost Walker had reached a critical juncture. The creature’s attacks were becoming more frequent and more devastating, forcing me to use the wind blade ability repeatedly to defend against its ice projectiles. The constant use of the Dullahan virus’s capabilities was draining my energy reserves, and I could feel exhaustion beginning to build in my muscles despite my enhanced stamina.

The flamethrower across my back was becoming more liability than asset. Its weight was slowing me down, and the fuel tank was making it difficult to move with the fluid grace necessary to avoid the Frost Walker’s killing touch. Worse, I could feel the equipment beginning to overheat from the constant temperature changes—the arena’s frigid air clashing with the thermal output of the weapon’s internal systems.

That’s when I remembered Mark’s warning about the flamethrower’s safety systems.

“The bad news is that these things are going to be hot, heavy, dangerous to the operator, and they’ll go through fuel faster than a race car. Plus, if anything goes wrong—if a fuel line ruptures, if the ignition system fails, if someone drops one of these beauties—you’ll be dealing with consequences that range from severe burns to spectacular explosions.”

The idea that formed in my mind was desperate, dangerous, and probably suicidal. But as the Frost Walker launched another barrage of ice boulders in my direction, I realized it might also be our only chance.

I dove sideways to avoid the creature’s attack, then began working at the release mechanisms on the flamethrower harness. The straps and buckles were designed for quick release in emergency situations, and within seconds I had the entire unit free from my back.

“Christopher!” I shouted. “When I throw this, hit the deck and cover your eyes!”

Christopher looked confused for a moment, then understanding dawned on his face. “Are you insane?” he called back. “That thing could kill us all!”

“Better than letting ice boy over there do it slowly!” I replied, hefting the flamethrower’s weight and judging the distance to my target.

The Frost Walker had paused in its attack, those alien eyes studying my movements with obvious intelligence. It could sense that something was about to happen, that the dynamics of our confrontation were about to shift dramatically.

I pulled the lighter from my pocket, flicked it to life, and hurled both the flamethrower and the small flame toward the creature in quick succession.

The explosion was beyond anything I had anticipated.

The flamethrower’s fuel tank detonated in a ball of orange and white fire that lit up the entire arena like a miniature sun. The heat was so intense that ice formations throughout the rink began melting instantly, creating floods of water that steamed and boiled as they spread across the floor. The shockwave knocked both Christopher and me backward, sending us sprawling across the wet concrete with ringing ears and spots dancing before our eyes.

But when the smoke cleared and my vision returned, the Frost Walker was still standing.

The creature had absorbed the explosion’s thermal energy just as it had absorbed our earlier flame attacks, converting the heat into strength rather than taking damage. But the force of the blast had stripped away the ice formations that had covered its torso, revealing something that made my heart race with hope.

Embedded in the center of the Frost Walker’s chest, pulsing with cold blue light, was the second stone we needed to complete the alien device.

The creature’s attention remained fixed on me with laser focus, those lightning-colored eyes tracking my every movement with predatory intensity. It had identified me as the primary threat, the symbiotic host that represented everything its creators had programmed it to destroy. Nothing else in the arena mattered to it—not Christopher, not the ongoing battle between Rachel and the remaining infected, not even its own survival. Its entire existence was focused on the singular goal of eliminating me.

Which gave me the opening I needed.

“Christopher!” I called out as I helped him to his feet. “I need you to get its attention for about ten seconds. Can you do that?”

Christopher wiped blood from a cut on his forehead and nodded grimly. “Ten seconds. I can do that.”

“Hit it with everything you have. Right in the face. Blind it if you can.”

“What are you planning?”

“Something stupid,” I admitted. “But if it works, this ends here and now.”

The Frost Walker was already moving toward us, its patience apparently exhausted. Ice crystals formed in the air around its hands as it prepared to launch another attack, but this time I was ready.

I activated the time freeze ability.

The world stopped.

Everything around me became perfectly still—Christopher frozen mid-stride, the Frost Walker caught with its arms raised for attack, even the droplets of melted ice hanging motionless in the air like suspended diamonds. I had ten seconds of stopped time, and I intended to use every millisecond of it.

I sprinted toward the side of the arena not approaching him from the ground just in case because of the dangerous aura at his feet that might freeze my legs, also using the frozen moment so I could position myself where the creature wouldn’t expect me to be. The hanging wires and cables that had once supported arena lighting and sound equipment provided the perfect anchor points for what I had in mind.

Eight seconds left. I leaped upward, my enhanced physical capabilities allowing me to reach one of the thick support cables that hung from the ceiling. The wire was solid, designed to support heavy equipment, and it held my weight easily as I positioned myself directly above the Frost Walker’s position.

Five seconds left. I drew upon the Dullahan virus’s power, feeling the familiar sensation as the chain-like tattoo on my right arm began to glow with dark green energy. But this time, instead of creating a simple wind blade, I poured more energy into the ability than I ever had before. The wind that formed around my arm was visible, violent, and growing larger by the second.

Three seconds left. The swirling vortex of compressed air had expanded beyond my arm to encompass my entire upper body, creating a miniature tornado of cutting wind that would slice through anything it touched. The power drain was enormous—I could feel the virus feeding on my life force to fuel this level of destruction—but it would be worth it if I could end this fight.

One second left. I positioned myself for maximum impact, aiming for the center of the creature’s chest where the blue stone pulsed with alien energy.

Time resumed.

The Frost Walker immediately began searching for me, its head turning left and right as it tried to locate where I had disappeared to. But Christopher’s response was instant and perfect—he triggered his flamethrower and sent a concentrated stream of fire directly into the creature’s face.

The Frost Walker recoiled, raising its arms to protect its eyes from the flames. It was exactly the distraction I needed.

I released my grip on the wire and dropped toward the creature like a meteor of wind. The expanded wind blade around my arm had grown to the size of a small cyclone, visible as a spiral of dark green energy that screamed through the air with the sound of hurricanes.

The Frost Walker began to turn, some instinct warning it of the danger approaching from above. But it was too late—far too late.

I struck the creature in the center of its back with the full force of my enhanced strength and the devastating power of the wind blade ability. The impact sent shockwaves through the arena that cracked concrete and shattered what remained of the ice formations.

But the real destruction came from the wind blades themselves.

Instead of a single cutting edge, the concentrated vortex exploded outward into dozens of individual wind blades, each one sharp enough to cut through steel. They sliced through the Frost Walker from multiple angles simultaneously, reducing the creature to fragments in a matter of seconds.

The explosion of ice and alien tissue was tremendous, filling the air with crystalline shards and strange, phosphorescent fluids. But through it all, I could see the blue stone tumbling through the air, freed from the creature’s chest by the devastating attack.

The stone hit the arena floor and rolled to a stop at my feet, its surface pulsing with the same cold light that had powered the Frost Walker’s abilities. I reached down and picked it up, feeling the alien energy resonate with the red stone already in my pocket.

We had won.

The Frost Walker was destroyed, reduced to scattered fragments of ice and organic matter that were already beginning to melt. The infected reinforcements lay dead around Rachel’s position. The immediate threat was over, and we had acquired the second stone needed to complete the alien device.

But no victorious shouts echoed through the arena. No celebrations, no cheers of triumph, no relief at having survived another impossible battle.

Because Cindy sat against the arena wall with tears streaming down her face, the bite wound on her shoulder now surrounded by dark veins that spoke of viral contamination spreading through her system. The transformation timeline was accelerating, and we all knew what that meant.

She was infected. She was going to die unless someone saved her miraculously.

And there was only one person in our group who had the ability to save her—through a process that would destroy Christopher’s heart and violate every boundary of friendship and trust that existed between us.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep