In that magnificent bedroom of Frosthelm Keep, adorned with ice-blue and silver embellishments, time seemed frozen.
However, this stillness was not caused by the magic of the Mystical Beast Cryomara, but by the strange, tragicomic, and deadly tension of the atmosphere inside.
"God Slayer", "Prince of Nothingness", Cassian, that fearless warrior who brought a god to its knees in his own dimension... was currently in the most pathetic position of his life.
He was crouching on both knees in the corner of the room, at the base of the ice-covered wall. His hands were placed neatly on his legs with the discipline of a student.
He had bowed his head, fixing his eyes on the fur of the white polar bear skin on the floor.
On the left side of his face, a crimson, five-fingered, very clear handprint that would probably not fade for a few days shone from his cheek to his chin.
