His breath was ragged, his limbs heavy, and a pervasive cold seemed to seep into his body. No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t cold—it was the sensation of his vitality draining away. He had lost a lot of blood.

    Frost smiled wearily. How ironic that just as his father had finally returned, he was about to meet his end. Did that mean he had fulfilled his destiny? Did fate no longer need him now that the Progenitor had returned?

    Frost quickly dodged to the side, avoiding another attack by rolling into the ruins of one of the surrounding houses. This place used to be a training ground for their warrior, built sturdy enough to withstand some punishment, but Frost was aware that even this place wouldn’t hold up for long under the combined assault. His Sister and Razeth were too strong, and ordinary materials couldn’t withstand their attacks at all.

    Frost carefully raised his head, peeking out from behind his cover. He quickly pulled back as a flurry of ice spears pierced the spot where his head had been. Staying low, he repositioned himself within the ruined building. He silently flanked around and quickly conjured a long lance. In one swift movement, he appeared before a different window and launched his projectile with all his might, aiming at his sister.

    It wasn’t an attack she could contend with, though Frost had little hope of actually injuring her. As expected, just before his javelin reached its target, it was intercepted by a black spear, shattering the ice into countless pieces. Frost shot a glare at Razeth before quickly ducking back behind cover. He had to keep moving.

    A moment later, a pale blue fog drifted into the building. Frost had acted quickly, but he couldn’t completely avoid the poisonous mist. His injuries throbbed as more of the vile toxin seeped into his body. His first thought was to find Ezekiel. With his mysterious powers, removing the poison would be easy. But Frost quickly dismissed the idea. If the human wasn’t here, he likely didn’t have time to heal him either. Ideally, the human was cutting through the ranks of Frostscale warriors, easing the burden on the tribe. If that was the case, Frost would gladly endure.

    The only question was... how much more would he be able to take?

    Frost darted up the stairway, rushing to the rooftop. He kicked the massive wooden door open, sending it flying across the flat roof. He couldn’t afford to be gentle right now—every second could mean the difference between life and death. Without hesitation, he moved toward the ledge, already conjuring another attack.

    As he ran, dozens of gleaming ice shards formed behind him. Razeth had been good at shielding his sister, but this wasn’t an attack that could be easily blocked. Frost reached the ledge and looked down at the two Purebloods below.

    “DIE!” he roared, unleashing the attack.

    Like a storm of blades, the shards rushed forward. Despite the large quantity, Frost was incredibly precise with his attack, not wasting a single shard as every single one headed for the two Purebloods.

    Razeth’s expression hardened as he tightened his grip on his spear. With his other hand, he shoved Polaris, launching her out of the danger zone. That was all he had time for before the attack struck. In one fluid motion, Razeth spun his spear in front of him like a windmill. The weapon moved so fast it became a blur. The shards struck his defense, doing nothing, like raindrops splattering on a roof.

    When the attack ended, Razeth was unharmed, if a bit winded. He looked up at Frost, a cocky smile on his face. “Almost had me there,” he said mockingly.

    Frost glared, though inwardly he couldn''t help but admire his opponent. Razeth truly was a master of the spear, his technique far beyond anything Frost had ever seen. Even in a fair fight, Frost would likely have to go all out just to scrape by with a victory. This was troublesome.

    Sensing movement, Frost rolled to the side but wasn’t fast enough to fully avoid the attack. A thin needle of ice pierced his shoulder. With a grunt, he yanked it out and turned his roll into a sprint, heading for another side of the building. Frost jumped, aiming for a nearby alley. That last exchange had taught him one thing: he couldn’t win against these two. At best, he could stall them long enough for help to arrive.

    As he sailed through the air, Frost noticed another fight nearby. He quickly glanced in that direction and saw two of the Elders battling a Frostscale Pureblood. His heart swelled with hope; with their numerical advantage, they should be able to overpower their opponent and come to his aid. However, after just a moment, his hope deflated. The Elders were barely keeping up and had even sustained injuries, while their opponent remained in good condition. If anything, these two needed saving as well.

    From behind Rezath, he saw his sister looking at him with a vicious smile. Frost cursed, ripping his foot free before abandoning the attack. Too late. Razeth had used this time to bring his weapon back up, hammering it down like a heavy rod.

    Frost knew he couldn’t dodge the attack. Instead, he crossed his arms above his head, forming a layer of ice along his forearms. It was the best he could do in that moment. The next instant, pain shot through his body, and he found himself lying on the floor. His arms felt shattered into a million pieces, but fortunately, they were still attached to his body.

    Not that it mattered...

    Razeth was standing above him, a triumphant smile on his face. “Time to say goodbye, little wolf,” he taunted, raising the tip of his spear for one last thrust.

    Frost closed his eyes, the fight leaving his body. This was as far as he could go. With his arms shattered and his body pinned, he couldn’t defend himself any longer. He had done all he could.

    Razeth''s spear tip gleamed with a sinister black light, pausing briefly at its peak before descending toward Frost''s chest like a bolt of lightning. But the weapon never reached its target; in the next moment, Razeth was struck from the side, his feet carving deep furrows into the ground. He slowly turned his head, a dark expression on his face.

    "What do you think you''re doing, pup,” he asked, his eyes locked on the intruder.

    “Get away from my brother!” Snow demanded, fully entering the plaza.

    Razeth grinned viciously. “And what if I don’t, little girl? Are you going to force me?”

    “Yes,” Snow said, not a hint of fear on her face.

    Razeth looked the young Pureblood up and down, a wicked smile spreading across his face. The little girl had transformed into a stunning beauty, even surpassing her sister. Appreciating her delicate yet fierce appearance, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. “How about you surrender? I might be willing to spare your brother if you do.”

    “Run away, Snow!” Frost ordered weakly from his prone position. The last thing he wanted was to drag her into this.

    Snow ignored both of them, her stance resolute. “I refuse!” she declared. “However, if you surrender now, I might be able to convince Zeke to spare you.”

    Razeth burst out laughing. “Spare me? Even if he were here, I wouldn’t fear that little Dragon-spawn. Do you really think mentioning his name will save you?”

    In the next moment, a large shadow fell over the plaza. Razeth looked up, his pupils shrinking as he saw a massive scaled form hovering above them. Its majestic wings were spread wide, and its sinuous neck held its proudly raised head adorned with magnificent horns. As Razeth laid eyes on the creature, he couldn''t suppress a shudder that originated from the depths of his being. It felt as though his very essence demanded that he submit to the being before him.

    The dragon looked down at him, its golden eyes filled with disdain, as if he were an ant. “You have quite the mouth, little snake, daring to speak of us Ancient races with such disregard. It seems it has been too long since we feasted on your kind.”