Chapter 45: The Frost Monarch’s Wrath

The battlefield had been scorched, shattered, and ravaged by fire—but now, it stood eerily still, transformed into a desolate kingdom of frost. The ground, once cracked with molten fury, was now sealed under layers of crystalline ice. Shards of frozen terrain jutted out in all directions like the spines of some ancient beast, glinting beneath the faint snowfall that drifted endlessly from the sky.

The winds howled across the frozen wasteland, carrying with them a biting chill that sank into the bones. The sky itself had dimmed under the spell’s influence, blanketed by swirling storm clouds tinged with pale blue. Time itself seemed to slow within the area, each movement weighed down by the suffocating presence of magic.

At the very center of it all, rising high above the ice-laced ruins, stood a throne of jagged ice—towering, regal, and merciless. Atop it, Lucen Merrith sat like a monarch of winter, his cloak billowing, his eyes glowing an intense blue that pierced the storm. Mist escaped his lips with every breath, his hair now a ghostly mix of white and silver-blue. The aura around him pulsed with raw magical pressure—his red aura now gone, replaced by a chilling bluish-white glow.

Behind him, eight massive dark blue magic circles rotated slowly in the air, humming with power and ancient runes. The very air trembled at their presence.

This was no longer a duel.

It was a declaration.

Lucen stood from his throne, his voice deep and commanding as it echoed across the frostbitten land.

“Witness the Ice Kingdom.”

And down below, standing still amidst the swirling snow, was Zane Creed.

Calm. Unshaken.

Smiling.

The moment Lucen’s words faded, the sky above darkened into a deep sapphire hue, as if night itself had descended to honor his command. The cold intensified—sharper, crueler. Then it came.

8th Circle Spell: Absolute Zero Howl.

A roar of blizzard wind burst forth from Lucen’s throne, a monstrous wave of artic-blue fury. The wind howled like a thousand beasts, laced with diamond-edged shards of ice that razored through the air. Everything it touched began to crystallize—structures, boulders, even the fractured remains of Lucen’s earlier magma assaults—frozen solid in an instant. Then came the sound: an echoing, glassy shatter as those same statues burst apart, fragments glinting like stars in the storm.

And still, Lucen stood untouched atop his throne, commanding nature’s wrath as if he were its chosen sovereign.

The battlefield itself empowered the spell—every flake of snow, every inch of creeping frost feeding into the tempest’s reach.

But then—something changed.

Lucen narrowed his eyes.

The blizzard, vast and unrelenting, began to shift. Slowly at first, but unmistakably. The storm’s flow bent—just slightly. Then, unnaturally.

The howling winds… were turning.

Zane stood within it all, unflinching. Snow curved around him. Ice recoiled before touching him. Wind diverted, refusing to land a scratch. It was as though he had reshaped the rules of nature in a few heartbeats.

Lucen blinked, genuinely taken aback.

“…That same art again?” he muttered under his breath.

His eyes narrowed. He moved.

Glacial Step.

The throne shattered beneath him in a burst of mist. Lucen became a blur—his body trailing light-blue afterimages as his feet skimmed the battlefield, freezing everything in his path. He closed the distance in an instant, a blur racing straight toward Zane.

Zane watched calmly.

“So you got faster too. This battlefield really is your domain.”

His voice was unfazed, carried like a whisper against a storm.

Lucen didn’t respond. His focus had shifted completely.

His hands moved mid-dash, arcane energy crackling in his palms. He slammed one palm toward the ground.

8th Circle Spell: Frostbind Dominion.

A pulse erupted outward.

The ground beneath them cracked open—no longer flat, but awakening.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of thick, rune-covered chains of translucent ice shot out like serpents, spiraling upward with terrifying speed. They glowed with cold magic, seeking their prey. Crystalline pillars burst from the earth, and the chains tried to drag Zane toward them with snapping force.

Each link shimmered with ancient sigils. Each movement came with the sound of creaking glaciers and echoing dread.

Zane’s eyes narrowed slightly as the first chains reached for him.

As Zane stood calmly amidst the frozen battlefield, the first of the glistening ice chains came slithering toward him like serpents seeking prey. He didn’t dodge.

Instead, he let the chain wrap around his arm—then another around his leg, and another around his waist—until he stood there completely bound by crackling, cold shackles. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

From atop the jagged ice throne, Lucen Merrith leapt down, his cloak billowing, his boots crunching softly against the crystalline ground. With frost coiling around his fists, he declared with confidence, “You’ll be frozen down to your very soul.”

Zane, unbothered, looked at the chains.

“They’re cold,” he said simply, tone amused. “But not colder than my patience.”

Lucen’s expression flickered. Without pause, he lunged forward, casting Frost-Forged Fist—his right hand encased in shimmering, supercooled ice, fist clenched and aimed straight at Zane’s chest.

But just before impact, Zane suddenly twisted his body upside down, using the ice chains as leverage. With a swift leg swing, he redirected Lucen’s punch away.

BOOM!

Lucen’s frosted fist slammed into the ground, sending a burst of frost outward and instantly growing jagged ice crystals at the impact point.

Still hanging upside down and chained, Zane spun with momentum and drove a devastating kick toward Lucen’s exposed side. The smirk hadn’t left his face.

Lucen’s eyes widened—he sensed the force even within his own magical terrain. At the last second, he raised his palm and summoned Arctic Shield, a thick, glacial wall of defense.

Zane’s kick struck it—

CRACK! The shield shattered like cheap glass.

Lucen was blown back several meters, boots skidding against the frost. Gritting his teeth, he stomped the ground in response, activating Shatterfrost Pulse.

With that stomp, shimmering veins of magic rippled across the battlefield.

KRA-KOOM!!

Portions of the ice terrain detonated around Zane, blasting upward in a chaotic storm of jagged shrapnel and icy shockwaves.

Zane was still airborne from his kick—but now surrounded.

The blasts erupted beneath him. Thousands of sparkling shards, glinting like crystal knives, tore through the air.

In that instant, Zane moved.

With a casual motion, he flexed both arms—

Crack! The ice chains snapped apart like brittle twigs.

Spinning midair, he extended his palms and waved both hands once, elegantly—

And all the incoming ice shards, splinters, and pressure waves curved mid-flight, redirected around his body like they were caught in a whirlpool. They circled, changed course—

—and were flung straight back toward Lucen.

Lucen’s eyes flared. “Tch—!”

He threw both arms forward, casting Mirrorfield Refracture.

Instantly, a sprawling maze of mirrored ice walls surged from the ground—towering, gleaming, and flickering as they reflected both Zane and the incoming projectiles. The redirected shrapnel split apart, scattering against the reflective maze.

Lucen breathed heavy inside the icy labyrinth, buying himself a brief moment.

But Zane was already moving again. Lucen dashed in for another strike, and this time, his Frost-Forged Fist connected—only for Zane to twist his body again and redirect the force back into Lucen’s own momentum.

Lucen reeled, staggered, and with each exchange, new bruises formed on his body—

While Zane remained pristine, not a single mark on his coat, that infuriating smile never fading.

Breathing hard, Lucen attempted to fake a frontal punch. But instead of connecting, he suddenly leapt backward, taking to the air, and channeled another technique—

Frostwing Ascendancy.

Two majestic wings of translucent ice burst from his back, trailing streams of frost. They flapped once—and he soared, fast.

Much faster.

Zane’s eyes flickered, impressed. “You got faster. Good.”

Lucen launched toward him from above, delivering a barrage of close-range punches, each one backed by frigid mana.

Zane blocked and deflected effortlessly, barely needing to move more than a shoulder or elbow.

But then—Lucen’s fist suddenly struck the ground again, summoning a thick ice wall to block Zane’s vision.

Behind it, unseen, Lucen chanted quickly.

Magic swirled.

Then—

Cryo Revenant Array.

From the enchanted ice beneath Zane, the ground cracked—and rose.

RUMBLE.

CRRRAAAK!!

Thick frost split and gave way as four hulking golem beasts, armor-plated and glowing faintly blue, burst out from the frozen earth. Vapor streamed from their joints. Their eyes gleamed with eerie, enchanted light.

They surrounded Zane in a square, snarling and raising frost-laden fists.

And then they all charged.

One swung wide from the left, another lunged at his back, and the two front attackers came with hammering blows in perfect sync.

Zane tilted his neck once, loosening it. His smile deepened.

Then he moved.

Like flowing water, his arms and body danced through their strikes. His Ripple Vein Flowing Fist glided between the attacks, redirecting them smoothly.

One golem’s punch was parried into another’s chest.

Another’s frost spike missed and struck its ally’s arm.

Zane used the recoil of a blow to spin and slam his elbow into the throat of a third—cracking it clean.

Each attack was not blocked—but turned into a trap against the attackers themselves.

Lucen, still in midair with wings fluttering, watched with a pounding heart.

“What… What is this man…?” he muttered, huffing, his face pale.

He began gathering mana again, for something stronger—

Zane weaved through the icy battlefield, his fists tearing through ice golems like paper sculptures. Frost shattered and snow swirled with every movement, yet his expression remained relaxed, almost bored.

But in that moment, a ripple of concentrated mana surged behind him.

Lucen, standing atop the throne of jagged ice, raised his arm, the air tightening around him as he began to gather an enormous amount of mana. Glimmering specks of ambient frost converged at his palm, forming a luminous spear that shimmered with aurora-like hues.

Zane felt it—he sensed the gathering storm—but didn’t stop. Another golem lunged toward him, only to be bisected by a sweeping, effortless palm strike.

Above, the spell took form.

“Aurora Lance,” Lucen declared, his voice resonating across the battlefield.

A radiant iceberg-colored spear hovered above his hand, trailing threads of prismatic light like the northern skies. The temperature dipped again, and the spear hissed with piercing energy. With a sharp flick of his arm, Lucen roared,

“Take this, Zane!!”

The spear launched like a comet, blurring through the air at impossible speed.

Zane’s eyes tracked it instantly.

“This… was what you were building mana for?” he muttered with a smirk. “That’s disappointing.”

He tilted his body mid-step and with a graceful upward leap, completely evaded the incoming projectile. The spear, instead, crashed into the cluster of remaining golems behind him.

BOOOOOM!

An eruption of frost-light exploded in a dazzling burst, shattering several golems instantly into a cyclone of ice dust.

Zane, still airborne, narrowed his eyes.

“No…”

He saw it.

Lucen’s other hand glowing.

That wasn’t the real spell.

A sudden silence blanketed the battlefield.

And then—

Lucen’s eyes flared with frosty brilliance.

“Absolute Zero Lance.”

From his palm, a condensed streak of pure cold erupted—an impossibly fast, razor-thin beam of blue-white frost.

It carved through the air like fate itself.

Zane’s eyes widened.

He tried to shift midair—

But it was too late.

CRACK!

The beam pierced his chest cleanly, and in an instant, the air stilled.

No sound.

No wind.

Just silence… followed by the crisp sound of ice splintering.

Floating in the air, Zane’s body was suddenly encased in a perfectly clear crystalline prison, like a statue of a god caught mid-motion. Ice swirled inside the transparent tomb, snowflakes frozen in place.

Lucen’s shoulders slowly lowered, breath curling in front of his mouth as he stood proud atop his throne of jagged ice.

His lips curved into a tired yet satisfied smile.

“Hah… how about that?” he whispered, frost forming at the corners of his mouth.

But as the storm winds calmed and the battlefield settled…

He didn’t notice it.

That subtle curl of a smile…

Etched faintly on Zane’s lips inside the ice.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep