Chapter 306: The Battleaxe and the Lion

“Kill it,” said Olivia.

The Golden Lion’s gaze fell upon the Frost Giant. Castag thought he saw sorrow in its eyes, yet the searing heat behind him was spreading rapidly.

Castag knew—begging for mercy was useless now.

In the empty eye socket of the gouged-out eye, the eyelid suddenly sprang open. A new eyeball had already formed, becoming pure white like the rest of them.

“Roar~ Vmmm~”

A deep growl echoed, as if the very earth trembled from the rise and fall of this mighty chest. Will surged forth, and a pillar infused with frosty aura surged up, engulfing both Castag and the Golden Lion standing on him. The spreading shockwaves stirred the air like a gale.

George knelt on one knee, using his thigh for support. He plunged his sword into the ground, anchoring himself firmly.

Richard and the Dragon-Eagle were swept into the sky by the tempest, helpless like dried leaves. Even unconscious, Richard remained tightly secured to the Dragon-Eagle’s back, held by his bindings. The Dragon-Eagle let out a sorrowful cry, its twisted and broken wings flapping feebly.

Only Olivia stood steadily on the ground. Her ruby-like eyes glowed faintly, locked on the entangled Frost Giant and Golden Lion. Within those eyes seemed to shimmer the reflection of a lake.

“Roar!”

The Golden Lion roared. Its body shimmered faintly with golden light. The frost striking its body instantly crystallized into gold and was shaken off. The ground beneath its hind legs slowly turned to gold. Its front paws pinned the Frost Giant firmly, while the golden taint on its back slowly retracted—it was the Frost Giant’s will resisting the corrosion.

Castag pressed both arms to the ground and struggled violently. The Golden Lion pressed down with force. Suddenly, Castag’s shoulders bulged, and his arms twisted one hundred and eighty degrees, punching straight at the Golden Lion’s chest.

The Golden Lion staggered back two steps. Castag rolled and stood up, his arms cracking and snapping back into place. Then he raised them high, as if gripping the frost storm itself. A long-handled axe, forged from the will of frost, condensed in his hands.

With the battleaxe held high, his six eyes locked onto the Golden Lion, and he let out a beast-like roar.

The Golden Lion only moved its paws slowly. The raging storm couldn’t budge its body. Only its thick mane fluttered in the gale. The frost around it transformed into gold and no longer raged—it now fell slowly like golden snow.

Its steps reverberated, the earth rising beneath its feet like golden stairs. The Golden Lion ascended step by step until it stood atop a golden mountain, gazing down upon Castag. Then it roared.

“Awooo~”

A thunderous shockwave swept out, clearing the entire storm-ridden field. A golden sheen blanketed the ground. Castag, who had raised his battleaxe to cleave this golden peak, halted mid-stride. Even the surface of his body facing the golden mountain was now tainted with gold.

Olivia’s small figure stood protectively before George. The wave of corruption spreading across the earth split and flowed around her before it could reach him.

“Relax. Let Big Gold handle that one. For us, we’re merely here to experience the clash with this near-divine power,” said Olivia, though her expression was grave.

George’s body slackened—not in relief, but in sheer exhaustion. Propping himself up, he glanced at Olivia’s small back, exhaled deeply, and turned to look elsewhere.

The Dragon-Eagle was already wrapped in gold. After the storm cleared, it had fallen from the sky. Now it lay curled tightly on the ground like a ball, shielding Richard within its body.

George’s gaze returned to the two massive phantasms facing off. He couldn’t help but say, “Even the aftermath alone is this powerful?”

Olivia replied, “And that’s with their magic restrained. If not, just the clash of their wills alone would be unbearable.”

“The clash of wills?” George asked.

“Yes. But for beings of the same tier, a clash of wills is just like exchanging greetings. Only when their will is materialized with magic does it unleash true power.”

As she finished, the Frost Giant’s body shook violently. The gold restraining it shattered and fell like a flurry of raindrops.

“Roar!”

The Frost Giant let out a mighty roar and charged once more toward the golden mountain.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Each step it took shook the ground. Cracks split open the golden terrain beneath its weight, revealing the Golden Lion’s power had seeped nearly three meters into the earth.

Drawing near, the Frost Giant raised the frost-forged battleaxe and swung it down with force.

Just then, the Golden Lion stomped atop the golden mountain. The peak melted, transforming like molten gold. Like a true lion, it pounced at the Frost Giant.

The Frost Giant, cloaked only in a layer of frost armor, swung its axe undeterred.

Yet the Golden Lion—fluid and molten—met the strike directly. The battleaxe split it in two, but the resistance drained the axe’s momentum. Countless golden tendrils shot forth like ropes, entangling the upper body of the Frost Giant, binding it.

Riding atop golden waves, the Golden Lion surged forward.

Entangled in golden cords, the Frost Giant struggled to lift its axe. The Golden Lion’s right forepaw slammed down hard, forcing the Frost Giant to its knees. Two massive dents formed on the golden ground under the weight.

Despite its size, the Frost Giant was only chest-high to the four-legged Golden Lion. Only by riding the golden wave could the lion tower over it. As the giant knelt, the golden tide surged to envelop its body.

Even the frost battleaxe resisting the lion’s right paw began to corrode, the handle turning golden, cracking, and then—crack!—shattering under the lion’s paw. That paw then smacked down on the Frost Giant’s head. Sharp claws tore three gashes across its face, shredding all six eyes.

Blood sprayed. Blinded, the Frost Giant thrashed even more wildly. Its lower half had already been consumed by squirming gold. Only its arms still moved.

Its flailing fists struck the Golden Lion but did no real harm. The lion circled it, gaze fixed, seeking a vulnerable spot to strike.

The golden liquid flowed upward like water, reaching the giant’s face. There, it found the claw wounds and seeped in.

The tearing agony made the giant clutch its face, trying to pull the gold off.

At that moment, the Golden Lion pounced, jaws wide, and bit off half of the Frost Giant’s head.

The struggling arms fell limp, encased in gold. Blood and brain matter flowed from the half-head but were stuffed back in by the golden shell.

“Is it over?” George asked.

“No, not yet. The frost storm hasn’t ended,” said Olivia, looking to the sky.

Within the Golden Lion’s golden field, peace reigned. Outside it, the frost storm still howled. In the sky above, where Olivia looked, the swirling frost condensed into a massive humanoid form.

The Frost Giant was already enormous—but compared to this, it was like George compared to the giant itself.

The silhouette let out a voiceless roar. Instantly, the land seemed frozen, all motion slowed.

The colossal figure raised its arms, gripping a battleaxe, and then—swung it down hard.

As the axe fell, the congealed space compressed. George felt like his entire body was being stretched and squeezed, like the time Cicero had dragged him through mud—he was nothing more than clay in the hands of the Frost Giant.

The sky churned in resistance, as if the world itself defied the axe’s descent.

The Golden Lion let out a roar. A golden phantom appeared above, roaring silently, then charged toward the massive axe.

A battle of axe and lion—two titanic wills tearing at each other. George felt his every fiber, soul, and thought being torn in two: one side drifting in icy void, the other weighed down by golden gravity.

His vision warped—or perhaps his mind did.

Pain clawed into the depths of his soul. Yet his eyes could only stare at the point where the axe and lion would collide.

Closer. Closer.

In that moment before the impact, the world froze.

The pain vanished—as if it had never been.

George twitched his fingers. It felt like he was the only person left who could move in this world.

Then he felt a hand brush against his leg.

Looking back, his broken calf had fully healed. Strength returned to it.

In a daze, George felt his consciousness both inside his body and as if cupped gently in a pair of unseen hands.

He could no longer control his body.

This feeling—it was just like the time he had first met the Patriarch of the Theocracy.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep