The assaults resumed with renewed vigor, wave after wave of ice elves descending upon them with supernatural coordination, as if guided by a superior intelligence. But Nolan and Grace held the line, each in their own way, like unshakable ramparts.
Nolan, his gaze cold and precise, wielding his dark sword with terrifying ease, traced deadly arcs through the air. Each slash released a blade of shadow so sharp it sliced through enemies at a distance, slicing through their icy flesh like paper, reducing entire groups to nothing in a single blow. He almost danced, disappearing into the shadows, reappearing where least expected, striking with surgical precision.
At his side, Grace wielded a strange, cracked sword, glinting with silver and gold, whose incomplete blade nevertheless seemed to carry colossal power. Attached to his arm by a thick chain, the weapon vibrated with every impact. And each time it made contact with the ground, air, or enemy flesh, it caused a devastating explosion, wiping out several elves in one fell swoop. The frozen ground cracked, craters formed, and trees frozen solid burst under the pressure.
Nolan (mockingly, hands in his pockets, a wry smile):
— "Did you grab this sword in a hurry, or did you fire your blacksmith before he finished the job?"
Grace (laughing heartily as she sheathed her weapon):
— "Hahaha, not at all. It's a gift my father gave me when I was still a kid. It's a magic sword. Behind its battered exterior hides some very... interesting abilities."
Nolan (nodding, looking intrigued):
— "I see. A discreet weapon, but damn useful."
Grace (scanning her surroundings):
— "We've cleared this area. It's time to go deeper into the forest."
The two men set off again along the winding path, moving between the frosted trunks. The wind picked up, biting harder with every step. A snowstorm suddenly raged, making progress difficult. The ground crunched beneath their feet, the cold seemed to want to bite through their skin.
As the two men plunged deeper into the snowy forest, nature seemed to be turning against them. The blizzard intensified, howling through the icy trees, branches cracking under the wind. Visibility dropped drastically, reduced to only a few meters. The ground, already covered in a thick blanket of white, became slippery and treacherous.
Grace, her cloak fluttering violently in the air, glanced vigilantly around her, her instincts on high alert.
"It seems this forest doesn't want us to progress..." he growled, shielding his eyes from a gust of wind.
Nolan, unperturbed, moved forward calmly, his cloak of shadow closing around him like a second skin, partially protecting him from the cold.
"No... This isn't just a natural storm. Something is deliberately trying to slow us down."
He placed his hand on the ground, concentrating. A brief pulse of dark energy escaped his fingers, probing the surroundings. His eyes narrowed.
— "There is... a barrier. An ancient magic. It's altering the climate in this area."
Grace frowned and paused for a moment, placing a hand on the trunk of a frozen tree. He murmured a few words in an ancient language. The tree responded with a slight shudder.
— "You're right. This storm is artificial. It emanates from an ancient spirit bound to this forest. And it's angry."
Nolan straightened, his expression serious.
— "Looks like we've found the real main course."
The snow grew thicker and thicker, almost alive, as if trying to bury them. Then, in the distance, a guttural howl tore through the air, followed by a colossal figure advancing slowly between the trees: a creature made of living ice, several meters tall, its eyes shining with a blue light, its torso covered in ancient runes.
As the snowstorm intensified, the ground suddenly trembled beneath their feet. Dull cracks echoed all around them, and several colossal ice golems emerged from the snowy ground. Their massive bodies were made of reinforced blocks of ice, and in the center of their torsos, strange, indecipherable runes glowed with a blueish glow.
Nolan (tightening his grip on his dark sword, his gaze focused):
"Looks like we've just reached a new level..."
Grace, climbing onto the shoulder of her orkiné bear, scanned the horizon. From the shadows of the frozen trees, slender, agile figures began to move quickly.
Ice elves emerged from the forest one by one, riding elegant, horse-like mounts with fur made of frozen crystals. Their gazes were as sharp as their weapons. Some held slender, curved bows, ready to unleash their magical arrows. Others carried gleaming spears imbued with ancient magic. The rest wielded curved sabers, their blades vibrating with runic magic.
Grace (calm, a smile on her lips):
— "Looks like the main course is coming sooner than expected..."
Nolan (cracking his neck, a shadow in his eyes):
— "Then let's serve it piping hot."
As Nolan charged at full speed, the golems reacted instantly, raising their massive arms skyward. A surging wave of ice, like a frozen tsunami, rushed toward him, freezing everything in its path.
But Nolan, with almost inhuman agility, leaped across the frozen tree trunks, moving from branch to branch like an elusive shadow. He avoided the attack with precision, his steps leaving only swirling flakes behind him.
Arriving at the perfect height, the blade vibrated with a dark, sharp aura.
— "Shadow Breaker."
With a swift movement, he launched a massive diagonal slash of shadow, slicing one of the golems from top to bottom, which shattered in two with a crash, shards of ice flying in all directions.
But no sooner had the giant collapsed than something unexpected happened:
Four smaller golems emerged from its shattered pieces, each bearing a miniature version of the runes on their chests. Their icy eyes gleamed, faster, more agile, and already ready to counterattack.
Nolan (tightening his grip on his sword, a wry smile):
"I see... they split with each destruction. Interesting."
The real challenge had just begun.
Nolan, after observing the four golems moving rapidly around him, made his sword disappear in a flash of shadow. His hands free, he landed on the ground in a fluid motion, his eyes staring alternately at the golems and the elven soldiers approaching ever closer.
"Changing my approach won't hurt me..." he said calmly.
A few meters away, Grace, standing atop a snowy mound, firmly held Enuma, her magic sword hued with silver and gold, still bound by a vibrant chain of mystical energy. He danced among the spear-bearing elves, his face aglow with an almost euphoric smile, each swing of his blade causing immense explosions of light mixed with pulverized ice.
"You call these assaults?" he shouted in an almost mocking roar, as a dozen enemies were thrown into the air, reduced to dust by the power of his weapon.
Suddenly, the archers entrenched at the rear moved into position. A volley of whistling arrows sliced through the air, rushing towards Grace.
But Grace, impassive, raised Enuma slightly. A vibrant aura surrounded the blade.
"Pathetic."
The arrows flew at an impressive speed, riddling the air with high-pitched whizzes. Yet Grace seemed to glide between them with an almost supernatural ease. Her body twisted, lowered, and bent, her movements as fluid as an elegant dance amidst chaos. Each missed projectile seemed deliberate, as if he already knew their trajectory.
With a smooth gesture, he caught two arrows between his fingers, observing them for a brief moment before snapping them with a simple pinch.
Then, with a half-smile, he said in a calm but proud tone:
"Grace: 'Let's see... find a better approach. I can see the trajectory of attacks before they arrive.'
Her gaze shone with a strange, almost mystical glow. A thin veil of energy covered her eyes, betraying a perception beyond the visible. The archers, now hesitant, feverishly readjusted their bows, understanding that their enemy was not only powerful... but also impossible to surprise.
Grace stood up, his face determined, his Enuma sword gleaming in the icy light of the surroundings. With a fluid, controlled gesture, he drew his sword, its chain extending with disconcerting flexibility. The gleaming steel lengthened for several meters, taking on an almost lifelike, serpentine form, like a steel snake ready to strike.
With a brutal movement, he swept the air before him. The sword slithered between the enemy ranks, slicing through archers and spearmen with surgical precision. Each impact of the blade against the soldiers' armor caused a devastating explosion, sending shards of ice, metal, and bodies flying through the air. The icy projectiles created by the soldiers shattered instantly under the force of the attack.
The archers, panicking, tried to draw their bows to respond, but the chain wrapped itself around their weapons, snapping them with a single movement. Grace gave them no chance. The spearmen, attempting to charge, were quickly reduced to pieces, their bodies thrown back, shattered by the incessant explosions.
The icy wind carried the screams of souls lost in the merciless attack. Each swing of the sword seemed to carry away a little more of their hope. Thanks to his perfect control over the chain, the sword flew through the air with lethal grace, mowing down everything in its path with no visible effort.
The last soldiers tried to flee, but it was already too late. Grace paused for a moment, observing the scene almost nonchalantly, as if he had simply finished a danse macabre.
—Grace: "There, that's all for you."
He sheathed his sword with a leisurely gesture, the chain folding into itself, as the echo of the explosions dissipated in the snowstorm.
Nolan stood firmly on the snowy ground, the four small golems and the two towering giants looming before him. The smaller golems were causing sharp, icy stalagmites to burst from the ground, which charged at him like a sea of spears. But Nolan, relentless, activated his "Cut" ability. In an instant, he launched invisible blades of wind with surgical precision.
The stalagmites shattered before they even reached their target, the chunks of ice falling around him like snowflakes under the impact of the wind blades. Every movement was fluid and controlled; the small golems stood no chance of hitting him.
The small, cunning golems slid into the snowy ground, quickly disappearing beneath the icy surface, preparing their surprise attack. But Nolan, his eyes sharp, awaited their move. With a simple wave of his hand, a flurry of invisible blades formed in the air around him, slicing through space with devastating precision. Each blade of wind grazed the ground, and in an instant, the golems were sliced into a thousand pieces, their ice forms pulverized, their bodies exploding into tiny shards.
The large golems, meanwhile, struck the ground with all their might. The tremors resonated beneath Nolan's feet, creating cracks in the snowy ground, and great waves of snow rose up around them. But Nolan, implacable, remained motionless amidst the chaos, not blinking for a second.
The ground shook once again under the mighty blows of the giant golems, but this time, Nolan didn't react by simply dodging. He extended his hand toward the titanic ice creatures, a look of intense concentration on his face. In an instant, an icy blast formed around his palm, quickly expanding into a massive gust of wind. The wind's shape shifted, like an arrow, ready to slice through the air with destructive force.
[Arrow of Despair], Nolan muttered to himself, activating his ability. The giant wind arrow shot forth, tearing through the air like a dark lightning bolt. With blinding speed, it rocketed toward the giant golems, striking the ice creatures with cataclysmic violence. Within moments, the golems were swept away, their massive bodies exploding into icy shards and stone fragments. The attack didn't stop there, continuing to rip through the forest with devastating force.
The shockwave caused by the arrow spread like a destructive wave, striking trees, rocks, and everything in its path. The forest behind him became a field of ruins, transformed into a devastated place. Trees shattered and flew, and a storm of ice and debris rose into the air.
The earth itself seemed to crack under the force of the attack, deep craters forming where the wind arrows had struck. A deathly silence reigned over the area after the attack, broken only by the sound of slowly falling snow and chunks of ice continuing to shatter in the air.
Nolan impassively observed the ruins around him, showing no emotion, as if this kind of devastation were a mere formality.
He turned his gaze to Grace, a faint, amused smile on his lips.
— Nolan: "I think the forest won't be a problem for us anymore."
Grace, moving forward with slow but steady steps, began to clap her hands, a sincere, almost theatrical applause echoing through the icy, silent air.
— Grace: "Your prowess in combat... and especially in spellcasting, it was remarkable. Truly."
He stopped beside Nolan, a smirk on his face, his eyes shining with admiration.
— Grace: "You've mastered more than one type of magic... wind, shadow... and who knows what else. There's no doubt about it. You're not just gifted, you're... an exceptional being."
He reached out toward the ruins left by the [Arrow of Despair], still smoldering with residual magic.
— Grace: "There aren't many beings in this world who can cause so much destruction while maintaining such a calm, detached air."
Then, in a slightly lower, almost complicit tone:
— Grace: "And I have a feeling... that this is still only a glimpse of what you're truly capable of."
A brief silence falls between them, before Nolan answers or they resume their walk through the frozen remains of a scarred forest.
The snowstorm mingled with the howls of the beasts, their frozen breath blurring the air with sharp crystals. Thousands of ice creatures advanced in supernatural coordination, their eyes gleaming with cold magic. Despite the imminent assault, Nolan and Grace remained motionless, as if frozen in a chilling lucidity.
Nolan's gaze fixed intensely on a lone tree, whose bark seemed to vibrate to the rhythm of a camouflaged magical presence. His instincts never failed him.
— Nolan (calm, sharp): "I can feel it... Over there, about 40 meters away. His aura is too precise, too stable. It's him..."
Grace, already ready to draw Enuma again, confirmed in a calm, almost amused tone:
— Grace: "You can see him, Nolan."
— Nolan: "Yeah. He's a summoner elf." He's the one who summoned the golems... and now these ice beasts."
His gaze darkened.
— Nolan (coldly): "He's good. But not good enough to hide from me."
The fangus' feet were already scraping the snow, the deer were howling in unreal voices, the birds were soaring above them, forming a menacing circle. Yet the two men showed no sign of panic.
Grace shrugged cheerfully:
— Grace: "Good. It'll save us a long time searching."
— Nolan (beginning to walk slowly toward the source of the magic): "Then let's go greet him."