I Died and Received an SSS-Rank Unique Ability-Chapter 53: Signs of a Massacre

The night passed uneventfully. Hidden deep within the rocky crevice, the group finally found the rest they so desperately needed.

Dain took the first watch, followed by Ayla, then Vale, and finally Klein—who received a long look from Vale before lying down. He remembered the many times Klein had woken him up over false alarms. Klein merely smiled, offering an apologetic shrug and a silent look of solidarity before drifting off, joining the others in sleep.

Now, with the morning wind whistling through the mountains and sunlight piercing the thinning clouds above, the group stirred awake, groggy but alert, ready to face whatever challenge the new day held.

Hunger still gnawed at them, clinging like a shadow. But even just a few hours of rest had dulled its edge. They could only hope they’d stumble upon something edible—be it a plant or a monster—before the mountain could consume them instead.

The journey began slowly. Their limbs were sluggish from sleep and heavy with the lingering cold that clung to their bones.

Fortunately, the fog had thinned, just enough to reveal where their path was leading.

Downward.

They followed the trail as it dipped toward a massive plateau that stretched so far it vanished into the horizon. Confused, the group exchanged uneasy glances. How could descending help them reach the high peak where they’d first seen the light? Still, with no other path in sight, the choice wasn’t really theirs to make—what awaited them now was not chosen, but rather forced.

After several hours of trudging through thick, waist-deep snow, they finally reached the plateau.

Now, standing at its edge, they scanned their surroundings. Jagged rocks jutted up from the ground like broken spears. Though the terrain was mostly flat, the sheer density of the rock formations made visibility poor, blocking any clear view of what lay ahead.

They lingered in silence, each of them wondering what might be hiding just beyond the next stone.

Vale considered summoning the four-eyed raven again—but quickly dismissed the thought. The toll it took was still too great. He’d need to save it for when there was no other choice. For now, they would have to rely on their instincts.

The group moved forward with caution. The vast plateau felt unnaturally empty. It had been too long since they’d encountered any ice golems—far too long.

Vale’s expression darkened. Unease crawled through his mind like ink seeping into water.

Then, Ayla came to a sudden halt.

"What is it?" Vale asked, stepping closer, noting the way she had frozen mid-step.

"There," she said, her voice low and grim, pointing ahead with a tense jaw.

From behind one of the jagged stones, crimson bled across the snow—spreading like wildfire, staining the white landscape with deep, unnatural red.

One by one, the group summoned their weapons.

The blood kept spreading.

They exchanged tense glances, then began to move—slowly and cautiously—toward whatever lay behind the stone.

It didn’t take long before they saw it.

A severed limb lay in a pool of blood—flesh torn, bone exposed like shattered ivory.

Then another. And another.

Behind the massive rock, bodies were strewn across the snow—ripped apart, twisted at unnatural angles. Some were missing heads, others had their torsos caved in as if crushed by immense force. Frozen fingers clawed at the ground, as if trying to escape even in their final moments. Steam still rose faintly from fresh wounds, a sign that whatever did this had only just left. The entire area was stained deep crimson, a massacre frozen in time.

Vale stared, wide-eyed, as the realisation hit him.

"Human bodies..." he muttered.

The words escaped like a whisper, barely audible over the wind.

A heavy silence followed. The air felt thick—unnatural. An eerie sensation crawled over them, as if they had stepped into a place they were never meant to be. Their expressions darkened. They held their weapons high, gripped tightly, ready for the worst.

Then—suddenly—a low groan shattered the silence.

Their heads snapped toward the sound.

A lone figure twitched amidst the carnage, half-buried in blood-soaked snow. His legs were gone, torn away completely. Yet still, he clung to life.

The group rushed toward him. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

As they approached, the man’s lips parted—blood spilling from his mouth in thick streams.

"R... r... u... n..." he rasped, each letter a struggle, torn from his shredded lungs. His voice was little more than a whisper—wet, hoarse, and trembling with pain—yet heavy with desperate warning.

But the group had no time to heed the warning.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, a deep, rumbling growl rising from the earth. A thick fog began to settle around them, curling in from all sides like a creeping tide.

Vale narrowed his eyes, scanning everything around through the haze.

A dark silhouette slid across the distance, barely visible behind the fog’s cover, swift and ghostlike.

Then—a sudden shift in the air, a change of pressure above them. Vale’s instincts flared as he looked up.

There, suspended in the sky, hung a massive spear-like shard of ice, its tip glinting with death, aimed straight down at them.

"Watch out—" Vale shouted, but the words were cut short as the ice came crashing down, obliterating the spot where the students had just stood.

They scattered, barely dodging the deadly strike at the last possible moment—but the assault was just beginning.

Countless more spears materialised in the sky, hanging like executioner’s blades, each one aimed with unnatural precision.

Vale’s mind raced. Questioning who—or what—was attacking them. He gritted his teeth while dodging the rain of icy spears, barely able to keep up with the relentless barrage. One thing remained clear in his mind.

They had to act—now.

His eyes swept the terrain, desperate for any sign, any clue of the attacker’s location. And then, he finally saw it.

High above, atop one of the jagged rocks, stood a tall, thin figure.

It looked weightless, almost translucent, like a spectre or a ghost. Long hair danced in the wind, and in its hand, a spear of ice gleamed. Its navy blue eyes locked onto the group below with a cold, merciless focus.