Chapter 115: Crimson Steel and the Frozen Giants
The blizzard showed no signs of relenting. The wind howled like a wounded beast, carving through the valley and threatening to freeze the very blood in their veins. Mina stood at the front, her shoulders trembling under the weight of the cold, though she tried her best to hide it from the seven Vaners behind her.
Ren noticed. Through the soul connection, he could feel her internal temperature dropping to dangerous levels. Without a word, Ren reached up to his neck and unwound his long, deep-red scarf. It was the only piece of clothing he had that wasn't strictly tactical—a remnant of a life before the prison.
He stepped forward and wrapped the scarf around Mina's neck, tucking it into her collar to seal out the wind. The warmth from the fabric, still holding Ren's body heat, hit Mina like a shock.
Mina looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise through her frosted visor. "Ren? What are you—?"
"Wear it," Ren interrupted, his voice gruff and cold, yet carrying an undeniable weight of authority. "You are the Captain of this team. If the Captain freezes to death before the fight even starts, we all die. Keeping you safe is the first priority of this mission."
Mina touched the soft fabric of the red scarf. For a moment, the freezing winds of the Northern Frost-Spire didn't feel so lethal. "Thank you... I won't let it go to waste."
But there was no time for gratitude. The ground beneath them began to vibrate. It wasn't the rhythmic thud of an earthquake; it was the heavy, frantic running of something massive.
From the veil of the white blizzard, a shape emerged. It was a Giant—a Titan nearly forty feet tall. Its grey, hairless skin was scarred by the frost, and its mindless, wide eyes were locked onto the small group of humans. It let out a guttural roar that shook the snow off the nearby cliffs.
"Draw your steel!" Mina commanded, her voice regaining its sharp edge.
In perfect unison, Ren, Mina, and the seven Vaners drew their Vane-forged swords. The blades hummed with blue energy, cutting through the freezing mist.
Ren didn't wait for the monster to reach them. He sprinted forward, his boots kicking up clouds of snow. On his left wrist was the Hocker—a specialized tactical grappling device issued to elite Vaner units.
As the Titan reached out with a hand the size of a small house, Ren fired the Hocker. SHINK! The pressurized cable shot out, the titanium hook embedding itself deep into the Titan's collarbone. With a hiss of steam, the device retracted, pulling Ren through the air with violent velocity.
Ren soared upward, dodging the Titan's clumsy swipe. He landed on the monster's massive shoulder. Before the giant could react, Ren plunged his sword deep into its left eye. A spray of black, steaming blood erupted, freezing almost instantly in the air.
The Titan let out a scream of agony, flailing its arms wildly.
"Now, Mina!" Ren shouted.
Mina was already moving. Using her own Hocker, she swung around the Titan's flank like a silver streak. As the monster leaned forward in pain from Ren's attack, Mina used the momentum of her swing to propel herself toward its neck. Her blade glowed with a fierce light as she executed a perfect horizontal slash.
The Vane-enhanced steel carved through the Titan's thick, leathery throat like a hot knife through butter. The giant's roar turned into a wet gurgle. It stumbled forward, its massive weight crashing into the snow, creating a mini-avalanche.
The first Titan was dead. But the war was just beginning.
The Cost of Victory: Team B
On the other side of the mountain ridge, the scene was far more gruesome. The western pass was narrow, making it a death trap for anyone caught between the cliffs and a Titan.
Adam Lee stood in the center of a battlefield that looked like a slaughterhouse. Six Titans lay dead around him, their massive bodies slowly being covered by the falling snow. But the victory had been a bloody one.
Adam's tactical suit was stained with both black Titan blood and the bright red blood of his own men. Two members of Team B lay motionless in the snow, their bodies crushed beyond recognition by the Titans' initial charge.
One of the surviving Vaners approached Adam, his breath hitching in his chest. "Sir... they're gone. We couldn't get to them in time."
Adam looked down at the fallen soldiers. His face was a mask of cold steel, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of suppressed rage. He wasn't a man of many words, but he valued his subordinates more than he let on.
"We don't leave our own behind," Adam said, his voice low and dangerous. "Prepare the graves. We will bury them here, under the ice of the mountains they died to protect."
"But sir, the mission—"
"The mission can wait ten minutes," Adam snapped. "We bury our brothers. Then, we find a place to rest and regroup. This sector is crawling with these monsters, and we cannot fight on empty stomachs and broken spirits."
The soldiers nodded, beginning the grim task of digging into the frozen earth. Adam stood guard, his sword still drawn, his eyes scanning the white abyss. He knew that while Team A had the 'Butcher' and the 'Genius,' his team was the one taking the brunt of the casualties.
"Rest well," Adam whispered as the first body was lowered into the shallow grave. "The King will hear of your sacrifice. But I will be the one to ensure it wasn't in vain."
As the wind picked up, burying the sounds of their shovels, the two teams remained separated by miles of ice—one celebrating a flawless kill, the other mourning a costly victory. The Northern Frost-Spire was beginning to claim its toll.