Third Implantation (22)

Behind him, three Plasma Circles hovered in the air, their sapphire light casting eerie shadows against the icy terrain. Water swirled around his feet in chaotic waves, sapphire shards danced in the air like a halo of crystalline daggers, and his fists clenched tight, ready to shatter ice and bone alike.

He looked like an unknown being with a lot of abilities.

Permafrost's gaze darted between the weapons Vastarael had at his disposal. The Divine tightened his grip on his massive hammer, his armor of ice barely holding together.

"You're just a bag of tricks, aren't you?"

"No," Vastarael replied. "I'm the executioner."

And with that, the battlefield erupted into chaos again.

Vastarael moved first, his glaive slicing through the air in a lethal arc. Permafrost brought his hammer up to block, the collision sending a shower of sparks and ice shards flying. But Vastarael didn't stop.

His Plasma Circles lit up and streams of volatile energy shot out, flying toward Permafrost like fiery serpents. The Divine dodged one, then two, but the third struck his shoulder, searing through his icy armor and burning into his flesh.

Permafrost roared in pain, retaliating with a wild swing of his hammer. Vastarael ducked low, sapphire rising up to shield him from the shockwave of the strike. The shield shattered under the force but it gave Vastarael just enough time to counter. He thrust his glaive forward, the sapphire blade aiming for Permafrost's ribs.

The Divine sidestepped, his hammer coming around in a wide sweep, but Vastarael was already moving. He leaped into the air, the sapphire shards around him shooting forward like a hail of bullets. Permafrost snarled, raising an ice barrier to block the attack, but the shards punched through, cutting deep into his arms and legs.

Vastarael landed behind him, his Plasma Circles whirring to life again. This time, he didn't just fire blasts. He manipulated the energy to form whips of pure plasma. They lashed out, wrapping around Permafrost's hammer and yanking it off balance. Vastarael capitalized on the opening, spinning Calimostria in his hands before slamming the glaive's blade into Permafrost's thigh.

The Divine stumbled but he wasn't going down that easily. With a roar, he slammed his fist into the ground, causing massive ice spikes to erupt around him. Vastarael jumped back, narrowly avoiding being impaled, but one spike caught his shoulder, tearing through flesh and bone. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain as his regeneration kicked in, and charged forward again.

This time, he didn't rely solely on his glaive. He let it dissolve into sapphire particles, freeing his hands. His sapphire coated fists crashed into Permafrost's chest like meteors, each punch reinforced by sapphire energy that cracked the Divine's armor with every hit.

Permafrost retaliated with a backhand strike, his icy gauntlet smashing into Vastarael's jaw and sending him flying. The prince hit the ground hard, blood spilling from his mouth, but he rolled with the momentum, Plasma Circles firing off another volley of attacks to keep Permafrost at bay.

"Pointless struggle."

Vastarael wiped the blood from his lips. "No, I'm just wearing you down."

And he was. Permafrost's movements were slower now. In contrast, Vastarael seemed to gain momentum with every passing second. His multitasking was flawless; Plasma Circles firing at strategic intervals, water and sapphire rising up to block or strike, sapphire shards cutting through the air, and his fists delivering devastating blows whenever he got close enough.

When Permafrost swung his hammer again, Vastarael sidestepped, his hand glowing as he summoned water to coat the weapon. In an instant, the water froze, locking the hammer in place. Vastarael lunged forward, his fist crashing into Permafrost's face. The Divine staggered back, his icy helmet shattering from the impact.

But Vastarael wasn't done. He summoned his glaive again, the weapon materializing in his hand just as Permafrost tried to recover. Vastarael spun the glaive and brought it down on Permafrost's shoulder, cutting deep into the flesh and severing one of the glowing tattoos.

Permafrost howled in pain, the light of his tattoos dimming even further. He lashed out with his free hand, claws of ice forming around his fingers, but Vastarael caught the strike with one hand, his sapphire-coated skin preventing the claws from piercing through.

With his other hand, Vastarael summoned a torrent of water, slamming it into Permafrost's chest and sending the Divine skidding across the battlefield. The water froze on contact, trapping Permafrost in a cocoon of ice for a brief moment.

Vastarael didn't waste the opportunity. He raised his glaive, Plasma Circles charging behind him as he prepared for another attack. Permafrost shattered the ice trapping him just in time to see the glaive coming down, but he was too slow to fully dodge. The blade grazed his side, cutting through muscle and bone, leaving a deep, gaping wound.

And plasma blasts intensified the damage.

Despite the injuries he sustained, Vastarael pushed forward. And while Permafrost was still standing, it was clear he was losing ground. Vastarael's multitasking was overwhelming.

He couldn't predict what he could use because he had a lot of abilities with different ways of using them.

The fight was far from over, but the tide was turning. And for the first time, Permafrost felt a flicker of something he hadn't experienced in centuries.

Fear.

"Enough! Time for you to die! Overwrite, Eternal Frost!"

The entire battlefield trembled as the icy domain reacted to its master's will, the air itself freezing over.

The ground beneath Vastarael's feet cracked as spikes of ice erupted, surging upward. He leaped to avoid them but the frost seemed alive. His glaive gleamed with sapphire energy as he swung it in wide arcs, shattering the ice that crept too close. But no matter how fast or hard he struck, it kept reforming faster each time.

And then it began. His body started to slow, frost creeping up his legs. At first, he thought it was the usual ice but the moment he tried, he realized it wasn't. This ice was denser, heavier and far colder than anything he'd ever encountered. His sapphire energy faltered as the frost crept higher, encasing his thighs, waist and arms.

Vastarael's breath hitched as the cold pierced through his body like shards of glass. His exhale turned to visible mist and then, horrifyingly, to liquid air. Each breath was a struggle, his lungs straining against the oppressive cold. His fists swung desperately, shattering the ice on his forearms, but it reformed instantly, stronger than before.

Permafrost chuckled darkly, his voice echoing through the frozen battlefield. He hefted his massive hammer over his shoulder, the icy weapon pulsing with essence.

"What's wrong? Your tricks running out? You fought well, I'll admit. Better than most. But you're no god. And this is your end. All that effort, all that bravado, for nothing."

He twisted his body, trying to shake off the frost, but it was futile. The ice had reached his chest now, climbing higher with each passing second. His arms trembled as he raised his glaive for one last strike, but the frost overtook his hands, freezing them in place.

The Winter Labor's icy armor shimmered, fully restored.

"You've got spirit, I'll give you that," he mocked, stopping a few feet away from Vastarael. "But spirit doesn't win battles. Power does. And I've already won."

The frost reached Vastarael's neck, his jawline trembling as he fought to keep it at bay. His breaths grew shallow, each one burning his lungs like acid. His muscles screamed in protest, his body frozen in place. He could feel his strength fading, the endless regeneration that had kept him alive struggling against the overwhelming cold.

Vastarael let out a shaky sigh, the sound muffled by the frost creeping over his throat. His golden eyes softened for a moment, reflecting the glimmering ice around him.

"I really… tried everything I could. Guess this… is where it ends…"

And then his throat was encased.

He couldn't breathe.

The frost reached his lips, his nose, his eyes, sealing him in a crystalline prison. His glaive slipped from his frozen fingers, shattering against the ground. His golden eyes dimmed as the ice overtook him completely, his form now a statue of sapphire and frost, standing silently amidst the frozen wasteland.

Permafrost stood before him, his hammer raised high, a triumphant sneer twisting his lips.

"Goodbye, you bastard. May you find peace in the afterlife… if there's anything left of you to pass on."

And with that, he swung his hammer down, the battlefield trembling under the weight of his killing blow.