Thou hast trespassed upon sacred land, and thus, the price must be paid," Revolt intoned, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.
A colossal magic circle manifested in the heavens, eclipsing the sky as the clouds of pure frost dissipated into nothingness. The lingering ice within the air shattered, drawn into the intricate runes of the circle, which pulsed with an eerie, arcane radiance.
A tremor rippled through the frozen expanse, shaking the wasteland as if the very world recoiled in reverence. Revolt exhaled, slow and measured, as the magic circle shrank, its celestial glow converging toward him. It hovered behind him, resonating with an ancient power, before shifting.
His short, once-pale blue hair darkened, strands morphing into a deep abyssal black streaked with searing blue, mirroring the untamed power surging through his being. His eyes burned with the same luminance, a storm of frigid blue fire. Beneath him, the ice did not glisten but blackened, as if corrupted by his will.
The magic circle condensed into a spectral crown, settling upon his brow, a relic of dominion long forgotten. Revolt closed his eyes briefly, feeling the weight of the oath sealing itself to his very soul.
"By the sacred oath sworn in ages past, this land shall remain under mine eternal guard. I am Revolt, Dragon of Frost, bound by duty and devotion. For it is mine lady's will, and her will is absolute."
His dragon-scale blade dissolved into mist, reshaping into a long, obsidian-hued blade of enchanted ice. Its razor-sharp edge, forged from the scale of an ancient dragon, gleamed with a frost so intense it seemed to freeze the mana flow around it.
Revolt exhaled slowly, freezing mist releasing with his exhale, he raised the blackened ice blade high above Dante's frozen form, his voice resonating with an ancient, chilling power.
"By the decree of frost eternal, let thy soul be bound in endless slumber. Let the cold embrace thee, let suffering be thy only companion, and may the abyss of ice claim thee beyond death itself."
As the curse wove into the blade, the ice along its edge pulsed with a dark, eerie blue glow. Without hesitation, Revolt drove the weapon downward, piercing through the frozen prison and into Dante's heart. A sharp crack echoed through the battlefield as ice erupted within the prison freezing Dante's heart from the inside.
"May your rest never be peaceful."
As mist swirled around him, Revolt reappeared at the heart of the frozen battlefield, his presence radiating an unshakable dominance. His voice, laced with ancient authority, echoed through the forest.
"Who dares step forth and challenge me?"
From the shadows, Stiles emerged once more, flanked by seven A-rank swordsmen, their blades gleaming with mana. An S-rank rogue wielding twin daggers stood poised, his stance light yet lethal. Beside him, an A-rank mage and an S-rank mage prepared their spells, arcane energy crackling at their fingertips. A towering S-rank paladin took position, his armor glimmering with divine radiance as the support classes wove layers of protective and empowering enchantments over the gathered warriors.
Revolt surveyed them, unimpressed, the icy air thickening with his restrained power. Slowly, he lifted his blackened ice blade, its frosted edge glinting ominously in the pale light.
"So be it. Let the final sight burned into thy souls be the frozen edge of despair."
Stiles struck first, vanishing in a blur before reappearing behind Revolt, his blade descending with the full force of [Sword's Will]. The rogue followed an instant later, twin daggers gleaming with lethal poison as they carved through the air toward Revolt's back.
At a distance, the A-rank swordsmen coordinated their assault, their weapons infused with arcane might as a mage chanted an incantation, amplifying their power. The paladin, a bastion of holy radiance, raised his sword skyward, golden light cascading over the battlefield before he brought it crashing down in a divine smite meant to sunder even the mightiest foe.
But Revolt moved with the effortless grace of a being beyond mortal reach.
Before the rogue's blades could land, blackened ice chains erupted from Revolt's sword, coiling around him like living serpents and yanking him to the frozen ground. With a single sidestep, he slipped past Stiles' strike, his movements flowing like mist, and in the same breath, his hand clamped around Stiles' throat. Without hesitation, he lifted him with monstrous strength and slammed him into the ground, ice cracking beneath the impact.
The swordsmen's combined attack roared toward him, a symphony of steel and magic, but before it could reach its mark, an ice barrier materialized in an instant, absorbing the blow. Cracks splintered across its surface, yet it held firm.
Then came the paladin's divine strike, a righteous judgment meant to cleave through all wickedness. But before the blade could land, Revolt vanished into mist, reappearing effortlessly at another vantage point, his cold gaze watching as the paladin's attack descended toward empty space.
Blackened ice surged forth once more, binding Stiles and the rogue together in an unbreakable grip—right in the path of the paladin's devastating blow.
Steel met flesh.
A golden explosion of holy energy erupted upon impact, consuming both warriors in a brutal clash meant for Revolt. As the light faded, the battlefield stood silent for a fleeting moment, the air thick with frost and blood from both Stiles, and Remedy, the rouge.
Revolt stood with his blade swung over his shoulder staring at this sight released a chuckle, "Foolish mortals."
The paladin raised his sword, and a radiant healing barrier surged across the battlefield, instantly mending wounds and restoring Stiles and Remedy to their former state before the devastating impact.
"S-Shit! That hurts like hell!" Stiles growled, rubbing his neck, where faint bruises lingered from Revolt's iron grip. His eyes burned with fury as bloodflames crackled wildly around his form, growing more unstable by the second. His rage boiled over. "I'm gonna kill that bastard!"
With renewed vigor, Stiles surged forward, his twin blades of blood carving a crimson arc through the air as he struck down upon Revolt. Yet, in an instant, shimmering dragon scales emerged across revolt's body, effortlessly nullifying the attack.
But Stiles only smirked.
Unnoticed in the chaos, Remedy had slipped into position behind Revolt, his form obscured by his [Sheath] skill, his presence masked from even the keenest senses. In a single, precise motion, he drove his poison-coated dagger deep into Revolt's leg.
For a fleeting second, it seemed like a strike well-landed.
But Revolt did not flinch.
With inhuman speed, his leg snapped backward like a coiled serpent striking its prey, slamming into Remedy with such force that the rogue was sent hurtling through the air. His body crashed into a tree with a sickening crack.
Before Remedy could react, blackened chains surged down from the canopy like waiting fangs, wrapping around his throat with a deathly grip. Remedy barely had time to gasp before the ground beneath him split open, a massive glaive of black ice erupted from below, impaling him in one brutal motion.
Then, in a grotesque display of finality, the ice twisted and shattered, splitting Remedy's body in two.
Seizing the moment, Stiles activated [Blood Dance], a whirlwind of strikes erupting from him as he danced around the battlefield. His twin blades whirled with deadly precision, several attacks slicing through Revolt's defenses and finding their mark. With each drop of blood that spilled, Stiles felt his own wounds mend, the blood of Remedy fueling his regeneration.
Revolt, sensing this, leaped back, his expression turning cold and calculating. With a swift motion, he extended his hand toward Remedy's lifeless form and encased it in an impenetrable block of ice, the air around them crackling with an unnatural chill.
"I see," he stated flatly, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the situation. "Thou heal by stealing... from others, such a... foul way to use magic."
Suddenly, Revolt's vision swayed, a fleeting moment of disorientation causing him to stagger. Regaining his footing, he furrowed his brow in confusion. "How peculiar," he mused, conducting a swift examination of his own body. "The poison... so I am on a time limit, am I?"
Stiles caught a glimpse of Revolt's realization. "How about that, huh?" he quipped, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
Revolt narrowed his eyes, acknowledging the cunning of his opponents. "It was a clever ploy, I'll grant you that, foul creatures."
In an instant, the ornate crown atop Revolt's head began to glow ominously, enveloping his body in a shimmering light. The noxious effects of the poison dissipated before his eyes. "Dragon Cleanse," he declared with authority. "A unique ability that purges all negative effects from one's being."
Revolt's icy gaze swept over the assembled hunters, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Dost thou still desire to challenge me, knowing the futility of thine actions?" he asked, his voice resonating with an ancient authority. "I offer thee one final chance at life, should ye choose to retreat."
Halstein, finally recovering from the strain of his earlier magic, stepped forward with a heavy heart. The weight of the battle pressed down on him, and he realized the overwhelming power before them. "We... we cannot continue this fight," he admitted, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "There is no victory to be had here, not now. We must regroup and reconsider our approach."
Revolt regarded him with an icy nod, recognizing the wisdom in Halstein's decision. "Then depart, and do not return until thou art prepared to face me with the strength ye currently lack," he commanded, his tone firm yet imbued with an ancient patience.
As the hunters began their slow retreat, the forest seemed to exhale, the frost settling once more and leaving behind an atmosphere thick with unfulfilled challenges and the ominous promise of future confrontations. The blackened ice returned to its vibrant blue hue, a stark contrast to the tension that lingered. Stiles stood rooted in place, his gaze locked on Revolt.
"I will kill you," Stiles declared, his voice low but fierce. Yet, before the words could fully settle, the effects of [Crimson Limit] overwhelmed him. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Revolt strode over to Stiles's motionless form, his expression a mixture of disdain and amusement. "Mind thy tongue," he admonished, gripping Stiles by the throat. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled Stiles towards the retreating hunters. The sight of the body soaring through the air sent a ripple of panic through the group, but they rushed to catch him, only to stumble and fall to the ground as they struggled under his weight.
After a tense few moments, the hunters regained their footing and continued to retreat, their spirits heavy with defeat. SteelArm turned to Halstein, his eyes filled with concern. "W-where's Dante?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Halstein opened his mouth slowly, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on him. "I'm not sure... but we must assume he's dead for now."
SteelArm's eyes widened at the implication, and he shook his head in disbelief before turning away, forcing himself to walk alongside the others in silence. As they made their way through the forest, their wounds evident and their morale shattered, they finally emerged before the cameras, a disheartened assembly with half of their number eliminated. The reporters stood in stunned silence, capturing the grim scene unfolding before them.
One of the guild leaders watching the broadcast leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. "What in the hell did they face?" he murmured, frustration evident in his tone, as the absence of the ice barrier and the shifting clouds remained unseen on the screen, hidden from the world.