The broken remnants of Lanka's Frost General lay scattered across the bloodstained snow as absolute silence fell over the mountain gorge.
Sagiri stood calmly in the freezing wind, his black cloak whipping in the drafts as dark alchemical fluid dripped from his bare hands.
His left eye burned with ancient crimson authority, while his right eye shone with the cold, radiant light of the void.
The sixty thousand Soulless shock troops and giant frost beasts froze in mechanical confusion, their command network severed by the death of their general.
Sagiri did not give them a single heartbeat to reorganize.
He unleashed the archive aura in an expanding dome of pitch-black and radiant silver gravity that rippled across the entire valley floor.
The crushing pressure slammed into the enemy ranks like an invisible tidal wave, locking thousands of iron-clad enforcers to the frozen earth.
