This is going to use up a sizable amount of my animus and I will reveal a significant amount of techniques, but it seems like the time has come to win using the tip of the iceberg of my “flashy” powers… the powers of a top-class hero.

Increasing output of powers across the board to high spec…

The cold within him rose to the intensity of a maelstrom. His insides and senses felt simultaneously numb and extremely sharp from the cold. White tendrils steamed off of him and rose into the air and his every breath expelled a frosty cloud.

“Come at me however you want,” Hoarfrost said to Feyman.

Feyman cloaked himself in fire and darted forward with his knife, flame streaming behind him. Hoarfrost formed a blade of ice in his hand and easily parried the blow. Feyman looked shocked at the speed and strength of Hoarfrost’s movement.

“Surprised?” Hoarfrost said, “Did you really think my body was weak just because I defended myself with ice?”

Feyman didn’t respond. He rushed forward with a flurry of knife blows and Hoarfrost parried all of them, his sword of ice ringing musically as it clashed with Feyman’s fiery steel. Steam hissed off of them as they exchanged blows.

Hoarfrost caught Feyman’s blade with his ice sword and held it down. They looked into each other’s eyes for a split second, then Feyman raised his free hand and released a jet of flame directly into Hoarfrost’s face.

Hoarfrost didn’t defend against the fire, letting it wash over his face in another explosion of hissing steam that covered the both of them. Even with the thick steam around them, Hoarfrost used his own free hand to form another blade of ice and plunge it into the general’s heart.

The man jumped backwards with a snarl. Blood ran down his chest as he burned away the frozen blade and sealed the wound.

As the steam cleared, Feyman met Hoarfrost’s eyes once more. Hoarfrost’s face was unaffected by Feyman’s point-blank flame attack.

As I increase the output of my powers, my physical reactions dramatically improve and my skin becomes extremely cold to the point where it is almost impenetrable, especially to temperature attacks.

None of your attacks will ever reach me anymore, General, and I’m not even using any ice to defend or attack.

The issue is not whether I can win, but whether I can properly break the general’s fighting spirit before he becomes unable to fight or not.

The best and most dominating way to do that would be to force him to use his trump card ability…

“Next,” Hoarfrost said, “What else do you want to try, General, that you think you are better at than one of the Twelve?”

Sweat poured down Feyman’s face and he panted heavily. He also looked noticeably paler, most likely due to blood loss and organ damage that couldn’t be fully repaired by the mysterious healing powers he was using.

Despite his situation, there was not a hint of despair in his face, only a single-minded intensity.

The general stepped forward with his knife once more and they crossed blades again, knives ringing as they clashed.

He’s realized that at this point, the only thing he has that could pierce my skin as I am now is a direct strike with his fiery blade. Hoarfrost thought. He’s right, but he should also know that’s never going to happen.

This time, after a couple of parries, Hoarfrost knocked aside Feyman’s blade and ruthlessly plunged his sword of ice into his heart again.

The general fell back panting and leaning on his sword as blood slapped to the ground before he could burn the ice blade and close up the wound.

“Are you done stalling, General?” Hoarfrost said, “Don’t you think it’s about time to start wrapping things up?”

“You’re pretty arrogant aren’t you?” Feyman said, “Stabbing my heart is like a mosquito bite to me. You think something like that is going to break my will to fight?”

Feyman picked up his blade and walked forward as if to cross blades again, but Hoarfrost frowned and shook his head.

“Wrong answer,” Hoarfrost said and waved a finger at Feyman. A shard of ice formed in the air beside Hoarfrost and blurred forward, piercing itself in the general’s heart once more. “I wonder how many more wrong answers your heart can take…”

The man grunted and stumbled to the ground, sluggishly healing himself. It was obvious that impaling his heart had a far more serious effect on him than he claimed. “Fine,” He said with a crazy smile, blood trickling out of his mouth, “I haven’t pushed myself as far as I’ve wanted to yet, but since you’re so impatient, I guess we can finish things right now.”

The general stood up and rolled his shoulders. His black and crimson uniform was torn in places and stained with blood. He set his expression and it became intense and concentrated once more.

It’s coming. An attack that will release all his power at once.

I’ll have to stop his ultimate attack and destroy his hope completely in a single instant to demonstrate my complete dominance…

The general took a deep breath, then radiated an intense crimson aura of power. His veins glowed red. Then a dark red flame erupted across his body, quickly growing to an intensity too bright to look directly at. Hoarfrost had to hold up an arm to guard his eyes against the light as he looked at him even with animus-enhanced eyes.

That power… it’s not just his own. That crimson is the “gift” he was talking about.

Feyman crouched on the ground as if about to pounce, his knife held ready.

This mission, this trial, is too important to me to go halfway on. It’s time to show the Federation exactly why I’ll never be dominated.

Ah… even so, I hate doing this.

Feyman blurred forward towards Hoarfrost like a red comet.

Hoarfrost closed his eyes. He let the cold fill his body and increased the sharp numbness of the cold until he felt nothing inside of himself. A howling white, wind tore at his clothes as his frosted aura intensified to its maximum.

Activate ultimate ability. Absolute Zero.

The storm around Hoarfrost disappeared in the blink of an eye. The air became completely still.

Feyman hovered with his knife outstretched, frozen in midair, a couple of feet from Hoarfrost’s body. His wreath of flame extinguished in an instant. It was as if time had suddenly stopped and the world around Hoarfrost was caught in a single freeze-frame.

Hoarfrost opened his eyes. The white of his eyes had become light blue and his irises had become an inky indigo. His hair had become completely white as well.

Hoarfrost felt no sense of touch, of hearing, of feeling, of any particular thought or emotion. He didn’t feel peace nor terror at his lack of senses. The world was quiet and still. He felt nothing.

Hoarfrost was gone, and the only thing controlling his body now was his power. Therefore, he wasn’t Hoarfrost right now. He was another entity entirely. He was now the emotionless fighting entity of his own powers that Hoarfrost had named Zero.

Zero didn’t move. All he did was look Feyman directly in the eyes.

Feyman tried to look away, but he was both conscious and frozen in place. All he could do was stare deeper and deeper into the abyss of Zero’s dark, indigo eyes. Despite his pupils being human, there was nothing remotely human left in those eyes. They were soulless wells of cold. They were the alien eyes of one that had calmly administered death to countless enemies.

Feyman’s eyes trembled as his soul was pierced by the stare of those deadly eyes. After what felt like another silent eternity of staring, the general’s eyes rolled into the back of his head.

His fighting spirit as well as his mind was broken.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the match.

Hoarfrost stopped Absolute Zero and his eyes, hair, and senses returned to normal. Feyman fell to the ground, convulsing and screaming, as uniformed medical personnel rushed onto the arena and carted him away on a stretcher.

Hoarfrost didn’t feel disgusted or fatigued at using his ultimate power. Instead, he felt rejuvenated and glowed with the lingering ecstasy that came from using his power.

“What’s wrong, Feyman? All I did was look in your eyes and show you my true nature,” Hoarfrost said after the man as he was taken away, “Next time, don’t brag about your resolve and throw yourself at enemies if you’re going to break so easily.” Hoarfrost smiled to himself and chuckled.

“Someone looks awfully happy,” A voice said from behind Hoarfrost.

Hoarfrost quickly turned and saw Thirteen standing behind him. Thirteen’s arms were crossed and his eyes were hard.

“No… it’s not like that…” Hoarfrost held his hands up to his mouth, horror dawning in his eyes as he realized what he had said. “That’s not who I am,” He said meekly.

“I don’t know. It looked a lot like you really enjoyed breaking that man just now,” Thirteen said.

“No really, it’s just an effect of…” Hoarfrost began.

Thirteen held up his hand to silence him. "I'm not necessarily saying that what you did was wrong. The stance that you took during this fight is your choice and I will evaluate it holistically at the end of the mission. Just remember that I’m interpreting all your actions as what you believe a hero should do, I'm not just looking at your results alone. That is all.”

Hoarfrost clenched his fist, a heavy feeling in his heart. He let his anger dissipate the cold from inside him completely.

“Understood,” He said eventually, unable to meet Thirteen’s eyes.

“Well, there is one thing,” Thirteen said, “While this is a trial for me to assess you, it would do you well to remember that this is a two-person mission. This is also an opportunity for you to assess me. It would do you well to watch closely, Hoarfrost.”

Thirteen walked past Hoarfrost onto the middle of the arena where he would be starting his match. Hoarfrost paused for a minute on the arena grounds, then walked up into the stands to where Sarah Muse was sitting. As he walked, he passed General Jack Gimer, who eyed him with a mixture of fear and respect.

Sarah laughed and clapped her hands as Hoarfrost approached where she sat.

“Great show, Twelve,” She said to him as he sat down two seats away from her, “I’m afraid you’ve piqued my curiosity with that monstrous trump card ability of yours…”

“So there are no complaints about my competence, then?” Hoarfrost said.

Sarah shook her head, “None at all.”

“Good,” Hoarfrost said, “I half-expected you to have a written test ready to assess my judgment next or something.”

“Oh?” Sarah said, “Angry, are we? Where did the cool, well-spoken Twelve go?”

Hoarfrost took a deep breath and calmed down. If I lose control of my emotions the minute I stop using my powers then I really would be dependent on them, wouldn’t I?

I can do this on my own if I use everything I’ve got…

“Sorry,” Hoarfrost said, “I just became a little irritated after fighting such a violent and hostile opponent in order to prove my worthiness. Things got messier than they needed to be if all you wanted to know was whether I was adequate or not to speak on behalf of the heroes, don’t you think? I’d like a complete explanation for why exactly it was that important to see my fighting skills.”

Sarah smiled slightly, “So that’s your answer?”

“What do you mean by that?” Hoarfrost said.

“In that fight, you forced Feyman to use his ultimate move and easily stopped it while simultaneously crushing the resolve he staked his life on. You didn’t just win. You completely dominated him in every possible way. Your answer to our plans seems to be rising to our challenge and saying that you won’t back down if we try to dominate you.”

Hoarfrost sat back, thinking over her words. If he wasn’t using his powers, it took longer for him to sort out the facts and come up with suitable responses.

Sarah laughed as he saw him think. “Don’t worry. I think it’s an excellent response. I personally believe that people who are truly powerful are the ones who rise to the challenge to dominate those in their way. I’m looking forward to seeing if you can keep up your challenging stance as you deal with the leader of our organization.”

I have the approval of the Federation, whose values are usually opposite from the League’s. Hoarfrost thought, keeping a grimace off of his face. I think I might have made some mistakes in my approach to all this…

While I was in that ring, I think I let my powers get to my head. I thought I could crush Feyman in a clear challenge to the Federation to show how powerful I was as a hero…

Is Thirteen really looking for someone who will challenge the enemy and power through any plans they create?

I think strength is important, but there's more to it than that...

He looked down at Thirteen in the arena.

I wonder what sort of hero would Thirteen think is ideal?

“That man… I wonder what his answer is…” Sarah said quietly as if reading my thoughts. She looked over at Thirteen and Jack as they prepared to fight.

Thirteen told me to watch him closely. Is his fight going to give a hint to what I should do to pass his test?

The bell rang to begin the match.