CHAPTER 442: ICE, BLOOD, DEATH.

The northern skies blazed with distant light, yet on the scarred plains below, a different war raged.

Snow and smoke churned in violent spirals as a monstrous wolf prowled through the battlefield. Its fur was a twisted tapestry of black and frost, every strand dripping with liquid ice that froze the ground beneath its paws. Crimson eyes burned through the blizzard like molten rubies, and each breath that left its jaws came as a storm of blood-tinged frost. Tyrant: the corrupted spirit beast of Leon Richards.

A growl rumbled through the air, so deep that it made the earth crack. The creature’s breath turned the snowfields into a graveyard of ice sculptures, fallen warriors and frozen trees alike shattering to dust when the wind howled.

Trevor appeared first from the haze, his pale hair catching the faint crimson light of his own blood magic. His white armor gleamed dully beneath streaks of ice, each plate etched with runic veins that pulsed in rhythm with his heart. His eyes, sharp and predatory, glowed crimson beneath his hood. He spun his scythe in a slow arc, letting the blood mist rise around him like smoke.

"Come on, mutt," Trevor hissed, his voice low but edged with hunger. "Let’s see what your master’s corruption tastes like."

From the shadow behind him, Lamair stepped forward. His towering frame loomed over the battlefield, eight feet of grim majesty wrapped in sleek black armor. His purple hair flowed like a banner of night, and his skin gleamed with a faint metallic sheen, death incarnate sculpted into form. The two massive axes in his hands gleamed coldly, their chains snaking around his arms, dripping with necrotic energy.

"The beast carries Leon’s scent," Lamair said in a gravelly tone. His purple eyes flared as spectral puppets rose from the snow, hulking, skeletal forms animated by his will. "Kill it, and his link weakens."

Tyrant’s growl deepened. Then it moved.

A blur of black. A surge of frost. In an instant, the air froze so hard it cracked like glass. The beast slammed into Trevor’s guard, and the impact threw a shockwave that shredded the ground. Blood sprayed from Trevor’s lips as he was launched backward, carving a long trench through the snow. But he didn’t stay down. With a grin that exposed his fangs, he snapped his fingers, and the blood that had been flung into the air exploded into a thick red mist.

Tyrant howled, the crimson fog eating into its flesh.

"Now!" Trevor shouted.

Lamair responded without hesitation. He hurled one of his axes, the weapon spinning in a deadly spiral. The chain coiled and snapped tight, and the second axe followed, both weapons biting deep into the wolf’s shoulder. Black blood hissed as it hit the ground, turning snow into sludge.

But Tyrant didn’t slow down. It twisted violently, shattering the axes loose with a burst of corrupted mana. A pulse of freezing energy followed, ice spears erupted in every direction, skewering Lamair’s undead puppets in a single strike.

Trevor leapt back into the fray, his scythe glowing red-hot with condensed blood essence. He spun it in a full circle, unleashing a sweeping arc of energy that cleaved through the storm. The strike cut into Tyrant’s side, and black ichor sprayed across the field.

The wolf retaliated instantly. It opened its maw, revealing a heart of frozen crimson energy, and from it poured a beam of frostfire, pure, destructive cold that turned everything it touched into crystalline ash. Trevor blurred away just in time, his body dissolving into smoke.

The beam struck Lamair instead. For a moment, it seemed to consume him whole. Then his laughter echoed from within the storm.

When the frost cleared, his flesh was half-frozen, but his body still moved. "You think I fear decay?" Lamair snarled. "I am decay!"

With a roar, he yanked on his chains, pulling his axes back. The ground beneath him split open, and skeletal arms clawed their way out, his puppets reforging themselves from the corpses of those just slain. Each one wielded bone-blades shaped from the storm itself, and with a wave of Lamair’s hand, they charged the beast.

Tyrant leapt among them, tearing, crushing, freezing everything in its path. But even as it slaughtered them, more rose again, driven by Lamair’s relentless will.

Trevor reappeared behind the wolf, his form reforming from a swirl of smoke. He drove his scythe downward, channeling the power of the Primogenitor’s blood. The air howled with crimson light, and the strike tore open a massive wound along the beast’s spine.

Tyrant howled, its fury shaking the heavens. Ice burst outward from its body, forming crystalline wings that spread wide over the field. The beast lifted from the ground, its corrupted mana flaring violently, and for the first time, Trevor’s smirk faltered.

Lamair’s purple eyes narrowed. "It’s ascending," he muttered. "He’s using Saint Power through it."

Trevor wiped the blood from his lips and smiled again, sharp and defiant. "Good. That means it’ll bleed enough to make this fun."

The wolf descended like a meteor, and the world broke apart once more.

...

The frozen wasteland trembled as Tyrant’s roar shattered the night sky. The world warped around the beast, its fury seeping into reality itself. The ground split into jagged shards of crystallized frost, and the air thickened into a freezing haze that burned the lungs. The corrupted wolf’s power expanded outward, birthing a domain of twisted ice. Within it, the world became a labyrinth of frozen spires, black snow, and reflections that moved on their own.

Each breath became pain. Each heartbeat froze mid-thump.

Trevor’s smirk vanished completely this time. "He’s forming a domain," he muttered. His voice was rough, laced with a strange excitement. "Guess Leon’s mutt isn’t all bark."

Lamair’s eyes glowed brighter, purple lightning crawling across his blackened skin. "Then let us respond in kind."

A low hum spread from the vampire’s body as blood began to seep from his pores, crimson mist thickening into rivers that snaked across the frozen field. They pooled, merged, and then rose, forming runes that pulsed with a heart-like rhythm. Each throb made the ground quake, and soon, the crimson glow spread across the horizon.

Beside him, Lamair slammed his axes into the ground. The frost cracked beneath his feet as necrotic energy poured out of him, black and violet and heavy with the stench of the grave. The corpses that had been shattered earlier began to twitch, crawl, and stand. Their bones fused into monstrous forms, half-shadow, half-corpse, eyes blazing with unholy fire.

Where the two Primogenitors stood, their auras collided, blood and death merging into a grotesque harmony.

And then, the world bent.

The air grew dense and sluggish, as though time itself hesitated to move. The ice around them lost its color, turning grey, melting, then reforming again as if caught between life and decay. Trevor’s domain had taken hold, the Sanguine Reign. Lamair’s overlapped it perfectly, forming the Gravewake Abyss

.

Together, they birthed a field that rejected life, light, and heat alike.

The sky dimmed until only the glow of blood and violet death illuminated the field. The two Primogenitors, fallen princes of immortality, now stood as kings of carnage.

Tyrant’s domain fought back viciously. Its body flared with icy light, and from its maw erupted hundreds of icicles shaped like spears. Each one carried the essence of destruction, meant to pierce barriers. They struck the field and shattered into shards that melted into red snow.

Trevor raised his hand, and the snow itself responded. The blood in the air gathered, forming a crimson barrier that rippled like liquid glass. "You’ll have to try harder than that," he said, voice low and dangerous. His eyes glowed brighter as veins of scarlet light crawled down his arms.

Lamair laughed, deep and rumbling. "Let him try. His corruption burns bright, but corruption always feeds death." He gestured, and his puppets surged forward,hundreds of them, moving like one organism. They leapt through the air and clashed with Tyrant, their weapons cracking against its icy hide.

The wolf retaliated instantly, its body morphing, expanding, becoming a creature of frost and metal. Its claws gleamed with cybernetic light, and black wires pulsed under its skin like veins. With each step, the ground froze solid, and the undead shattered upon impact.

Trevor appeared above it, spinning his scythe in a full circle. "Let’s bleed him dry!" he roared, swinging downward. The blade sang through the air, cutting into Tyrant’s flank. The blood that spilled froze instantly, only to be seized by Trevor’s will and turned into spikes that impaled the beast’s back.

Lamair followed suit, using his chains to reel himself in close. He slammed his twin axes into Tyrant’s skull, and an explosion of necrotic energy followed, splintering one of its horns. The beast howled in fury and unleashed a pulse of freezing wind that flung them both away like rag dolls.

Trevor crashed through a glacier, blood spraying from his mouth. Lamair hit the ground hard enough to leave a crater, frost spreading across his limbs. But both of them stood again.

"Persistent bastard," Trevor hissed, wiping his lips. "I almost like it."

Lamair’s laugh rumbled low in his throat. "If we survive this, we’ll feast on its heart."

The wolf’s eyes flared again, brighter than before, red merging with blue as its corrupted Saint energy spiraled out of control. Reality fractured around it. The sound that followed wasn’t a roar, it was a distortion of existence itself.

Trevor and Lamair exchanged a glance. Then, without words, they moved.

Blood and smoke. Death and shadow. The two powers converged once again. The ground melted away beneath them, revealing a crimson abyss filled with skeletal hands reaching upward. The sky shattered, and from it poured rivers of blood, coiling into runic circles that encircled the battlefield.

Trevor’s wings, formed of smoke and blood essence, flared wide behind him as he launched forward. Lamair followed, surrounded by his legion of undead, each one now glowing with purple fire.

Their weapons collided with Tyrant’s claws, the shockwave tearing the very air apart. The ground broke into floating shards of ice and stone, suspended midair as the three beings clashed again and again, beast against Primogenitors, chaos against death.

Every strike lit up the sky like a star being born. Every movement shook the frozen plains.

And though they were outmatched, the two immortals did not fall. They laughed amidst the carnage, drenched in their own blood, fighting like the damned kings they were.