Four jagged ice spears shimmered into existence before the old man, his lips moving in a rapid chant. With a flick of his hand, the spears shot forward at terrifying speed.
The monster swung its massive log in a sweeping arc—three spears shattered mid-air, but one struck true, lodging deep into its leg. It sneered at the old man, unfazed.
With a savage roar, the beast swung the log again. The sheer force cracked the air itself, sending a howling wind toward the old man. He raised an ice shield just in time, the crystalline wall splintering but holding against the gale.
The monster grinned wider, almost inviting him closer.
They clashed again and again. The old man moved in a wide circle, chanting, hurling ice spears in a rain so fast the human eye could not follow. Spears pierced the monster relentlessly, turning its body into a grotesque porcupine of frozen blades. Yet, impossibly, its flesh healed almost as quickly as it was pierced.
Sluggish now, its movements dulled by countless wounds, the monster staggered—but it still smiled.
The old man raised both arms. Three massive slabs of ice materialized high above, then crashed downward, boxing the beast in. For a heartbeat, it looked trapped. But the monster slammed the log into the walls—ice shattered like fragile glass.
Undeterred, the old man re-formed the slabs, sharper this time, like inverted cones poised to impale.
The monster bellowed in fury. It slammed the log into the earth, and in an instant the slabs shattered, the ground itself trembling with the blow.
Now its face twisted in rage. And for the first time—it spoke. The words were crude, broken, but unmistakable.
The old man descended from the air, summoning a weapon unlike any before: an Ice Jade Spear, flawless, crystalline, glowing like carved starlight. He lunged.
The monster met him head-on. Log and spear clashed. The impact thundered, blasting wind and shards of ice in every direction.
Cut. Stab. Slam. Counter. Neither yielded. In mere minutes the battlefield became a storm of destruction, overwhelming to behold.
Amara, frozen in awe, whispered to herself: What kind of beings are these… monster and man both—each like natural disasters made flesh.
The three survivors on the ground scrambled back toward Tian's group, struggling to breathe under the crushing pressure of the duel unfolding before them.
The beast roared, spewing molten magma from its mouth. The old man countered, conjuring dozens of smaller ice spears into a weaving net. They collided mid-air—steam and fire bursting across the field.
And then—the old man struck. His jade spear pierced the monster's chest. It howled but did not fall.
Chanting furiously, he summoned more spears—endless, relentless—driving them deep into the creature's body. The monster staggered, tearing many free, yet each movement slowed further.
Then it happened.
The first spear—lodged in its chest—began to pulse, threads of ice stretching outward like a spider's web. One by one, the scattered spears connected, freezing together into a lattice of crystalline chains.
Its shoulders froze. Its arms froze. Its legs froze.
The beast struggled, shrieking, breaking some—but more ice spread, faster than it could resist. In moments, its entire body was encased in a prison of glacial steel.
The old man, panting, nearly collapsing, continued his chant.
Around the frozen monster, towering slabs formed, enclosing it like a coffin. Then, above, another slab appeared—triangular, etched with glowing carvings. Slowly, it descended, sealing the prison shut.
When the final glyph locked into place, the old man drew a trembling breath and pressed his fingers downward. The sealed prison sank into the ground like a fading hologram, swallowed by the earth until nothing remained.
Silence.
The battle was finished. All of it—overwhelming, apocalyptic—had lasted barely six minutes.