Reincarnated as the Only Male in an All-Girls Magic Academy!
Chapter 32: World Of Ice.

Chapter 32: World Of Ice.

Lia’s breath hitched.

The spear in her grip trembled as her arms locked with the claws of a curse nearly twice her size.

Its elongated neck hissed a vaporous sound, and its second pair of arms writhed up her side, ready to strike.

Her teeth clenched, her legs sinking deep into the broken marble, but she couldn’t reposition. Not fast enough.

She saw the second curse too late!

It was a blur leaping from above, a jagged mass of hate with serrated limbs outstretched to impale her through the back.

Too fast—!

Then a shadow crossed the sky.

Chains whipped like angry serpents as Ren soared in from the left, his kusarigama’s club end spinning like a meteor hammer.

Bang!

The weight collided with the side of the diving curse’s skull mid-air, smacking its neck with a sickening crunch before it even touched her.

The impact slammed the curse into the ground with such force that cracks veined outward like spiderwebs.

Lia blinked. Her lips parted slightly in shock.

"...Sigh," she released a breath instead and drove her heel into the floor, shoving back her opponent with brute force.

Ren landed beside her, his chain recoiling into his grip in smooth arcs.

"I got your back," he said calmly, eyes still on the curse now rising. It was disoriented, but definitely not dead.

"Hmph," Lia huffed, flipping her spear into reverse grip and stepping beside him. "I still haven’t completely forgotten you."

"I never said you should." His voice was steady, unfazed, just like his expression. "Just didn’t want to see you get impaled. It’d ruin morale."

Lia’s cheeks tightened slightly, but she said nothing more.

The injured curse lunged again.

Swoosh!

Ren sidestepped it smoothly. His kusarigama whirled around his body as he flicked his chain upward, yanking the curse’s leg and tripping it mid-dash.

With a flourish, he twisted his momentum again using the rune—funneling all his torque into his right arm—and launched the scythe through its skull in a single, devastating spin.

Puchi!

The curse fell twitching. Then melted into oily mist.

Ren exhaled lightly.

Next to him, Lia roared, her spear igniting in crimson-orange flames. She shot forward like a comet and impaled her opponent through the chest, the explosion of fire engulfing both of them.

Bang!

The curse shrieked as it burned from the inside out.

When she stepped back, smoke trailing from her arms and shoulders, only ash remained.

The two of them stood side by side, blood splattered and bruised, but still standing.

Lia broke the silence first, still frowning. "That rune ability... you transfer force through your body. That’s impressive."

Ren glanced at her, chain still wrapped loosely around his arm. "So is igniting your whole body in fire. Does it burn you?"

"No," she said simply.

He nodded. "Then you win."

For the first time since the appearance of the wound, a twitch of amusement passed her lips. It vanished a second later, but he noticed.

They didn’t speak again as they sprinted toward the shattered auditorium.

Windows burst inward as curses clawed and screeched through the gaps.

Ren and Lia moved like a blur. Flames and chain, scythe and spear, dancing in unison. The cursed bodies fell around them in twitching heaps, melted or torn open with brutal precision.

Within seconds, they vaulted through the window and landed inside.

The air was thick with pressure.

Mirabella stood at the far end, a storm of destruction surrounding her.

A dozen broken pews were scattered across the auditorium, and the stone wall behind her had collapsed completely.

She alone held the south wing—the most exposed entrance—and was locked in vicious combat against a Stage 3 Curse!

The curse was towering, muscle-bound, and covered in jagged, black spikes. But it wasn’t its size that was terrifying.

It was the aura.

It pulsed like a heartbeat. Each pulse made the air grow heavier. Ren recognized it immediately.

"Mirabella!" he called out. "What kind of curse is that?!"

She blocked a massive swipe and drove her dagger into its chest, pushing it back an inch. "Killing Emotion!" she shouted, her voice strained but defiant. "It feeds on my will to kill it! The more I fight, the stronger it gets!"

Ren’s eyes widened. That was a trap loop!

’If she gets angrier... it adapts. If she hesitates... it pounces. A pure psychological warfare type.’

He spun to the side and yelled, "Lia! Another group—now!"

Lia nodded, immediately moving to the frightened crowd huddled in the center.

"Next 500!" she barked. "MOVE! Keep formation, same path!"

Ren snapped his kusarigama tight. "I’ll follow the rear."

They surged toward the entrance. 500 girls, terrified, some trembling, others gripping their borrowed weapons too tight to wield them properly.

Then the curses howled.

Dozens of them. Screeching from behind the collapsing outer buildings. The hunt had begun.

Ren’s eyes narrowed. "Lia! Don’t stop. Keep them running. If they hesitate, they die."

"And you?" she asked.

"I’ll buy you time."

With no more words, she nodded and took point, her spear blazing once again as she guided the crowd down the escape path.

Ren slowed his pace, keeping 20 meters behind the last girl.

The air behind him grew colder.

’They’re coming. I have about thirty seconds before contact.’

His breathing slowed. His arms loosened. He flicked the chain once and scanned the path, calculating.

’Three choke points. Too open for traps. Walls too fragile for collapses. Use terrain for trip angles. Stamina’s running low—need to minimize rune use.’

His heartbeat was calm.

The first curse arrived.

Ren didn’t wait.

He launched forward, kusarigama spinning with mechanical precision.

Swish!

Chain-first, he swept low, knocking the curse’s legs out from under it. Before it hit the ground, he pivoted and drove the scythe downward with brutal grace.

It howled and was silenced.

Then the second came. And the third.

Ren’s mind blazed like a battle computer, his momentum shifting at angles no human could naturally follow. His rune flashed faintly, but only when needed.

He was conserving energy.

Regulating breath.

’If I fall, 500 die. So I won’t fall!’

The fourth curse leapt.

Ren pounced.

Swish!

.....

The gates of the arena burst open.

The second group of girls stormed through, their eyes wide with awe, terror, and finally, relief.

"Get in! Go!" Lia shouted from the back, her flame-tipped spear sweeping sideways to cut down a curse that had tried to flank them in the final sprint.

They stumbled inside, gasping, bleeding, some sobbing as they crossed the protective line of enchantments woven into the stadium’s inner border.

"We made it...!"

"I thought we were gonna die!"

"I—I’m alive... Thank you, Ren!"

"Thank you, both of you!"

Ren didn’t say anything. He just stood at the entrance, chest rising and falling with silent, ragged breaths.

His dark blue kusarigama hung limp in his grip, slick with black curse fluid.

Cuts littered his arms and a deep gash tore through the side of his shirt, but he neither winced nor acknowledged it.

He nodded once, curt and sharp.

"Activate the barrier," he ordered, voice calm despite the state of his body. "The curses are already closing in on this place."

The girls rushed to the rune platforms along the inside walls and began channeling what little energy they had left.

The silver barrier pulsed faintly. Then it glowed.

The dome around the arena flared to life. And just like that, they were safe, at least for now.

But Ren was already turning around. He glanced at Lia. "Let’s go."

Ten minutes later, they returned. This time, with the final 500.

It wasn’t a march.

It was a struggle.

The third group had faced the worst of it. With fewer defenders left in the auditorium, curses had poured in relentlessly.

Many of the girls bore bloody bandages, limping or being half-carried by others. Some had weapons gripped so tight their fingers were white. They had fought for their lives, every step.

Ren and Lia were no different.

Ren’s entire side had been painted red with blood—some his own, some not. His legs felt like iron weights.

His scythe-arm trembled, though he hid it well. Lia was barely any better, her armor scorched, her flames dimmer than ever, and her left arm clutched to her side.

Still, the moment they reached the arena and the girls poured in through the gates, they stayed standing. Unyielding.

Ren stumbled forward, hand bracing the wall. He was panting. Stamina low. Muscles strained, but his eyes remained calm. Sharp.

"Everyone—stay inside," he said, voice lower now but no less firm. "Don’t move from this location. Keep the barrier up. We’ll deal with the rest."

Lia looked at him, one brow twitching. "We?"

He glanced her way, a faint smirk tugging the edge of his lips.

"Of course. I’ve still got a part to play."

Truth was, Ren wasn’t doing this purely out of heroism.

No saint would think the way he did.

’This is most likely a test.’ That deduction had solidified in his brain during the second trip. The number of curses. The timing. The way the staff vanished.

Everything points to a structured scenario.

’The academy’s testing our capabilities. Our instincts. Leadership. Combat potential.’

And if that was the case...

Then this wasn’t just about surviving.

It was about ranking.

He wasn’t here to be average. He wasn’t here to coast. He needed resources since he had no backing.

He’d save lives, yes. But he’d make damn sure they all knew he was crucial.

And there was no better way to cement that than helping take down the strongest enemy of the wound; the Stage 3 curse.

He wasn’t going to let Mirabella take all the credit.

Even if... he respected her deeply.

No, they weren’t friends. He’d barely exchanged more than a handful of words with her.

But what she had done, holding that side of the building alone, giving the others time to escape, not backing down from a curse that evolved based on her own aggression, that took grit. Grit and a terrifying level of willpower.

Even if she might have already deciphered what he also deduced. The facts remained.

The first wall. The frontline. That was her. He owed her his respect. And maybe... some backup.

"Let’s go," he muttered, and Lia followed.

They sprinted once more through the ruined campus. This time, there was no conversation. No exchanges. Only battle.

They tore through curses like seasoned veterans. Ren’s kusarigama dancing with lethal grace, his mind sharpened by fatigue rather than dulled. Every enemy he faced was studied, calculated, and exploited.

Momentum became his weapon. He flowed from kill to kill, letting the rune shift his torque and redirect impossible angles.

His blade struck from above, below, behind, never predictable.

And each time he moved, he felt something shifting inside.

I’m getting better.

He could feel it in his arms, in the way he moved the chain. In how he dragged enemies into perfect kill zones.

This wasn’t raw talent, it was learning. Experience. A brain trained to adapt, forced to evolve through blood and death.

They reached the auditorium.

And stopped cold.

Ren’s eyes widened. Lia’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief.

The building... was frozen.

The entire interior had transformed into a glacial wasteland. Ice blanketed the pews, the walls, even the ceiling.

Jagged icicles protruded like spikes from every corner, and the very air had turned white from frost.

In the center stood Mirabella.

Unmoving.

Her hair drifted behind her like strands of frost-touched silk, and in front of her, just five paces away, was the shattered, frozen corpse of the Stage 3 curse.

Its body encased in crystalline ice, mid-roar, mouth frozen open in a silent scream.

Dozens of other curses surrounded it.

All frozen.

All dead.

Ren blinked. For once, he was speechless.

’That’s not just ice. That’s... a powerful weave. A terrifying one!’

He didn’t know the classification. But what he did know was that Mirabella was a monster and that she could already weave!