Even without seeing them, she could feel them charging straight toward her. The snow and ice around her fed her senses, they couldn't hide.
No matter how she tried to shake them, her misdirection spells didn't work. They never hesitated. Never veered off course. It was like they could ignore the entire world and zero in on her exact location.
Then, snap. She stopped moving. Completely. Not by choice. Her body didn't respond.
Her mind was still sharp, but the ice that made up her form no longer listened. It was like her very essence had been shackled by some force above her.
She knew this feeling too well. A force that ruled over ice. Like a king bending a subject's knee.
"…Tch." Her eyes lit up with defiance.
She yanked her consciousness back under control, forcing her body to move again, but something had changed.
It wasn't in her head. She'd been weakened. Somehow, her elemental output was being suppressed, like someone had turned down the volume on her magic. She might not have enough left to outrun them.
BOOOM!!!!
Another explosion ahead. That awful fire again.
Out of the blazing pit, the black-robed man walked forward, dragging Malrik like a lifeless sack behind him. Bryella skidded to a stop in midair, alarmed.
A wall of flame rose in front of her. The fire didn't just burn, it hunted, leaping at her like living beasts. And this time, she couldn't stop them.
Her magic fizzled out before the ice could even take form, reduced to steam. Vapor and cold mist swallowed the area, but it offered no protection.
"Little witch…" the man's voice slithered through the flames. "Your running time's up. Give up now, and I might go easy on you." He wasn't even mocking her. Just casually cruel.
Bryella narrowed her eyes. "Do you have a fire core?"
"What?"
"Then piss off." Her tone was flat, calm, and very human.
She'd only lived among them a short while, but she'd picked up their language well. She raised one delicate hand, and flipped him off.
The figure froze. Then grinned. "So that's how it is."
But the real man wasn't standing there. That burning body was just a decoy, a flickering puppet built of ash and heat.
Elsewhere, the true black-robed figure was already moving, quiet as a shadow through the swirling mist, circling in.
Infernal flames surged beneath the decoy, roaring up in a tidal wave. They twisted into monstrous shapes, diving at her again and again.
Flaming serpents lunged as she danced in the sky, dodging, flipping, barely staying ahead. But she was slowing down.
The real figure didn't reveal himself. He simply watched her struggle from the fog's edge, like a predator toying with prey. "Don't worry," he murmured. "You're still useful. I won't kill you. Just stop fighting, and we'll make this easy."
Bryella, even now, didn't back down. "Piss off," she said again.
He laughed. Not angry, just entertained. "You've got fire. I'll give you that. A little sloppy, sure, but, "
"But what?" another voice cut in.
The man's words caught in his throat. In a burst of heat, his fiery decoy vanished just before a biting wind blade tore through the spot where it stood. It missed, slicing nothing but empty air, but something else was coming.
From the swirling mist, a massive silhouette stepped into view. A hulking figure, surrounded by cold.
He looked straight up at the rooftop.
"…Damn. Missed."
The fog thinned. A towering man stepped forward, face half-shadowed by frost.
His eyes locked on the robed figure above. He licked his lips and gave a sharp grin, exposing long, fang-like teeth.
"Now then," the man said, voice calm and deadly. "What you say before? Mind saying it again?"
"…Commander Vane, you really shouldn't be here."
"Who's gonna stop me?" Vane stood there, tall and relaxed, hands on his hips like he owned the place. He didn't look the least bit worried.
But behind that lazy grin, his instincts were screaming. Something was off.
It wasn't just danger, it was the timing. Like someone were intentionally messing with him.
First the white dragon attack. It throw huge problem on his city. Then the madman 'artist' Malrik come out, creating even more chaos. And now this ice woman…
He glanced down. Below, hidden under a thick swirl of ice mist, a pair of eyes locked onto Bryella. The black-robed figure crept forward, slow and quiet like a shadow, getting closer to her as she stood frozen in shock.
The ritual had already started. All the traps were in place. Power plays were happening behind the scenes.
If this were a game of cards, Vane was supposed to be the one controlling the deck, managing emotions, timing, positioning. Everything.
But Bryella appear without warning. She just slammed down everything. That wasn't supposed to happen.
The black-robed man didn't say a word as he pushed aside a frozen corpse. Strange flames sparked in the air around him and then exploded, the heat rolling out in waves.
Vane's eyes caught the flash. A heartbeat later, he moved. He stomped the ground so hard the entire rooftop cracked and collapsed beneath him.
Then he shot forward like a thunderclap, a cold battle aura wrapped tight around him. His hand curled into a claw as it tore through the air, cutting through space itself with speed and power.
He slashed straight through the wall of fire. But the second he passed it, something went off, like a chemical blast. Wind roared out from the explosion, carrying a chill that cut to the bone.
Nearby buildings and towers shattered under the pressure, ripped apart by the spreading shockwave.
At the center, a massive crater, easily tens of meters wide, marked where he struck. Did he hit? Nope.
At the crater's core, there was only a frozen gouge, like a beast's claw had torn through and left nothing but frost.
"…She erased it?" Vane paused.
He'd flinched, just for a split second. But that was enough for the enemy to slip away, completely untouched.
That shouldn't have happened. He was already gold-tier. His body and thoughts moved together, perfectly in sync.
That hesitation wasn't him. No way. It had to be some kind of trick, probably a magic illusion. Or a mental feint layered into the attack.
"Get lost."
From the edge of the battlefield, Bryella had already thrown up an ice shield to block the fire coming at her. A sharp screech rang in Vane's ears, yanking his focus back.
His dragon-hide coat whipped in the wind. A faint glow shined from the strange claw-shaped mark pulsing on his hand, a trump card he rarely used.