I Died and Received an SSS-Rank Unique Ability-Chapter 94: Interrogation

Vale clamped a hand over the man’s mouth, silencing him before the scream could form.

The man jolted awake instantly, eyes wide with terror as he registered the dark figure looming above him.

Vale pressed a finger to his lips, a silent warning. Then, he spoke.

"Darius Flamesborne."

The name hit like a hammer. The man’s eyes widened even further.

He swallowed hard and whispered, "I don’t know who that—"

Before he could finish the lie, Vale summoned his weapon with a flick of his wrist, placing its cold edge against the man’s throat.

"Try again."

The man hesitated, breathing shallow, then confessed, "My father. He was my father."

"Father?" Vale paused, the weight of the word dragging his thoughts backward.

It had been eighty years since the royal assassination. Of course his uncle would be long dead. But the son—he might still hold the answers.

"The assassination of the Royal Family," Vale said coldly. "What role did your father play?"

The man tensed, then spoke in a hushed tone. "He... he was tired of being overlooked. They came to him—officials. Promised him wealth, power, a title. All they wanted was information."

Vale’s jaw clenched, fury simmering just beneath the surface.

"What kind of information?"

"Guard patrols. Security measures. Weak points—blind spots."

Vale’s voice dropped, sharp as the blade at the man’s throat. "Who were these officials?"

"I—I don’t know. Government men. Higher-ups. They wore fancy suits and spoke like they owned the world," the man stammered.

A dark shadow passed over Vale’s face.

The man, sensing the shift, squirmed slightly—as if he had more to say.

Vale eased his grip just enough to listen.

But instead of whispered truths, the man screamed.

"HEEEEELP!"

Vale struck him with the pommel of his blade, knocking him out cold. But it was already too late.

The door burst open.

An armoured soldier stepped into the room, sword at the ready.

Before he could fully cross the threshold, another figure emerged from the darkness behind him—a shadow cloaked in black steel.

The knight moved in a blur. His longsword sliced clean through the soldier’s arm in a single, fluid arc.

Before the man could even scream, the blade spun back around and thrust deep into his abdomen. The knight wrenched it free, and the lifeless body dropped with a dull thud.

Blood hadn’t even touched the floor before two more armored figures stormed down the corridor, weapons drawn, eyes locked on the enemy.

A flicker of doubt crossed Vale’s mind.

"Do I run?"

Images of the estate’s tight security surged through his thoughts—the place was crawling with Awakened soldiers at every turn. Staying here and fighting them all would be suicide.

Yet, something inside him refused to move. His legs stayed rooted. He couldn’t run.

Not now. Not when justice is this close.

This was the moment. There would be no second chance. The descendants of traitors were within reach, and his family’s blood still cried out for vengeance.

Dark flames coiled around Vale’s weapon like a living thing, responding to his resolve. He turned to face the charging soldiers.

The first attacker lunged in with a curved sabre, quick and aggressive—but Vale was faster. He sidestepped the slash and drove his blade into the man’s thigh, twisting it before pulling away to avoid a second strike from the axe-wielding brute that followed.

The massive axe came crashing down, splintering the wooden floor beneath their feet with a thunderous crack. Vale had already spun away, his sword slicing through the air in a wide arc. Black flames erupted as his blade tore through the second man’s back.

The axe-wielder groaned, his scream swallowed by the searing flames that licked up his body and invaded his core. Within seconds, his charred form collapsed in silence.

But there was no pause. The sabre-wielding soldier was back on his feet, lunging toward Vale, hoping to catch him off guard.

He never made it.

The dark knight appeared beside Vale, his black longsword singing through the air. He didn’t hesitate, joining the fray. With the two of them together, the enemy stood no chance.

Blow after blow rained down. The final soldier fell in moments, his body consumed by the ever-hungry black flame. His essence withered into ash.

Vale barely had time to catch his breath.

Three more soldiers charged in from the corridor’s far end. One raised a bow and released an arrow infused with magic. It tore through the air and slammed into Vale’s shoulder, the icy tip sinking deep into flesh and armor.

He grimaced in pain, grabbing the arrow’s shaft and snapping it off with a hiss.

Before he could reset his footing, the wall behind him exploded.

The balcony wall shattered into a rain of brick and debris. A thunderous boom echoed across the chamber as dust engulfed the master bedroom. Vale’s vision faded for a heartbeat—choked in stone and smoke—before clearing again.

The corridor behind him was now sealed by fallen rubble. He turned slowly toward the gaping hole in the wall.

Outside, on the ground far below, stood a lone figure.

A young man with jet-black hair. No weapon in hand—only a whirl of green energy spiraling around his arms like a storm waiting to break.

Their eyes met.

The man raised an arm, and a scythe of wind surged upward, slicing through the air. Vale raised his weapon to block, but the wind attack was wide—too wide.

It slashed through his armor, ripping chunks off his shoulder and side. He staggered but held firm, refusing to fall.

With a clenched jaw, Vale activated the enchantment embedded in his armor—Stealth. In an instant, he vanished from sight.

At the same moment, he triggered his relic. His vision stretched outward, encompassing the entire mansion in a spectral overlay. He activated Frostpiercer.

Shards of glistening ice rained from the sky toward the wind-wielder.

But the man was fast—unnaturally so. He moved like the wind he commanded, dodging every shard with effortless precision. Despite Vale’s invisibility, the man’s attacks didn’t stop. He could somehow track him, even through the Stealth enchantment.

Meanwhile, the soldiers in the corridor had clawed through the rubble, forcing their way into the master bedroom once more.

The Knight moved to intercept them.

Vale shifted Frostpiercer’s targeting away from the wind-user and toward the soldiers now battling the Knight. As shards of ice rained down on the new enemies, Vale made his move.

He dashed toward the wind-wielder.

In response, a slender rapier shimmered into existence in the man’s hand, conjured from raw wind and will. He met Vale’s strike mid-charge.

Their blades collided with a piercing clang that rang across the courtyard—metal against magic, fury against precision.

And neither of them held back.

Their blades collided again and again, each clash sparking and ringing through the air. They fought without pause, every move sharp and precise, leaving no room for mistakes.

But time was against Vale.

The Knight was faltering—his black armour torn apart, his strikes slowing under the weight of his wounds. Even with Frostpiercer’s support and half of Vale’s focus aiding him, he couldn’t hold off two Awakened soldiers alone.

Through the relic, Vale sensed more soldiers rushing from deeper in the manor.

They would arrive soon.

With no other option, Vale summoned the ice dragon.

A massive, shimmering beast materialized above. Its presence froze the battlefield—soldiers, wind, even sound—into stunned silence.

Then, with a silent command, he unleashed it.

The dragon dove, crashing into the estate in a wave of frozen destruction. Buildings shattered. Soldiers and servants alike were buried under falling ice.

But there was no time to dwell.

Vale turned back to the wind-wielder. Still no opening. Every strike he threw was deflected by the man’s swift, precise rapier.

Then Vale felt it.

The Knight’s core flickered. He was nearing his end.

Vale dodged another slicing wind and leapt back. Then he soared into the air. Mid-flight, he dismissed the Knight, reclaiming what remained of his essence.

Before he could land, he extended his arm toward the soldiers.

A wave of black fire erupted.

Desperation met futility as the men tried desperately to defend. Their weapons melted, and before long, their bodies vanished behind the black flames.

[ You have slain an Awakened Human... ]

[ You have slain an Awakened Human... ]

The system messages echoed faintly in his mind, but Vale paid them no heed. His eyes remained locked on the lone man standing opposite him.

Something had changed.

The man’s expression was no longer calm—it had darkened, grief and fury flaring behind his gaze as he watched his comrades fall to the flames.

And with that change, his presence shifted.

The air around him thickened unnaturally. The wind had stopped.

Then, suddenly, the black flames flickered and died—snuffed out as though smothered by a giant hand.

Vale’s eyes widened as he gasped for air.

But there was no oxygen to breathe.

The very atmosphere had been drained—vacuumed by the enemy’s will.

Vale choked, his lungs burning as he stumbled, vision blurred as the realisation started sinking in.

This man couldn’t just create wind attacks. He could control the element itself.