The throne room of the Frost Citadel was a cathedral of jagged black ice, a monument to a cold so ancient it predated the L-Clan itself. Every pillar was carved from "Eternal Frost," a substance that vibrated with a low, humming frequency, siphoning the warmth from the very air. In the center of this frozen graveyard sat Frostera the Duke, the King of Icerians. He was a behemoth of translucent muscle and glacial armor, his eyes glowing with the blue malice of a dying star.
But today, the King was not looking at his subjects. He was looking at an impossibility.
Standing in the center of the hall, surrounded by a swirling mist of sub-zero vapor, was the Five-Armed Person. He stood perfectly still, his silhouette framed by the five distinct limbs that emerged from his torso with unnatural grace. Two of his hands gripped his signature plungers, while the other three hung relaxed at his sides, their fingers twitching in a rhythmic, alien pattern.
"I am Frostera the Duke," the King's voice boomed, sending ripples through the ice pillars. "I have ruled these Northlands for three centuries. I have watched empires crumble and heroes freeze into statues. You... you are nothing but a glitch in my reality. State your name before I grind your bones into snow."
The Five-Armed Man didn't look up. His hood shadowed his face, but his five eyes—stacked in a vertical and horizontal cross—glowed with a bored, golden light.
"Names are a burden for the living," the man replied. His voice didn't come from his throat; it seemed to vibrate out of the air itself, hitting the Duke like a physical weight. "To me, you aren't a King. You aren't a Duke. You're just a warm-up exercise for a much larger war. I came here for the Black Scroll. You are simply in the way."
The Clash of Sovereigns
Frostera roared, a sound that triggered a localized avalanche outside the citadel. He lunged from his throne, his massive ice-mace—The Glacial Cracker—swinging in a horizontal arc. The sheer displacement of air was enough to shatter the stone floor.
The Five-Armed Man didn't dodge. In a display of sheer, terrifying disrespect, he dropped his plungers. They clattered onto the ice, useless.
As the mace descended, the man moved with a speed that defied the laws of physics. Two of his hands shot up, catching the mountain-sized mace mid-swing. The impact sent a shockwave that blew out every window in the hall, yet the man didn't move an inch. His other three hands lunged forward. They gripped the Duke's throat and shoulders, the fingers digging into the reinforced ice like hot needles through wax.
"Is this the strength of the North?" the man whispered.
With a guttural grunt, he hoisted the 5,000-pound King into the air and slammed him face-first into the ground. The floor disintegrated. The Duke scrambled back, his glacial armor cracked. He was terrified. He unleashed everything.
"ABSOLUTE ZERO!" Frostera screamed. He opened his maw, and a beam of conceptual cold erupted. It wasn't just ice; it was the total cessation of atomic movement. Anything the beam touched ceased to exist as matter.
Duke uses ICE PUNCH.But 5 Armed Man literally blocks it with his a finger.
The Five-Armed Man finally smiled. He raised his central palm. The air around it began to glow a deep, violent crimson.
"Open," he commanded.
The DivineFlames.His 2 fingers are burning with flames,he oulls his 2 arms like a BOW AND ARROW and launches it.
A spark appeared. Then, a roar. A pillar of golden-white fire erupted from his hand—the Divine Flames. It was fire that burned not on oxygen, but on pure Urza. When the flame met the Absolute Zero beam, the result was total annihilation. The beam didn't melt; it turned into ash instantly. The fire traveled up the beam, consuming the Duke's arm, then his torso.
Frostera, the King who could not be burned, began to evaporate. His screams were silenced as his very essence was turned to steam. Within seconds, the King of the North was gone. Only a charred crown remained on a floor that was now rapidly melting into a lake.
The Five-Armed Man picked up his plungers, his five eyes blinking slowly. "Pathetic," he muttered, turning toward the exit.