The Enslaved Frost Giants

On the outskirts of Isdalia, rows of steam trains laden with firearms, ammunition, and other military supplies sat halted beside the platforms. Locomotives of this class possessed extraordinarily massive engines adorned with sculptures of draconic beasts' heads. Ferocious yet cumbersome in appearance, they were jokingly dubbed the "Giant Skull." Yet their hauling capacity was immense, capable of transporting 2,200 tons of freight in a single trip. Built specifically for bulk freight hauling, they were rightfully hailed as the "workhorses of the Empire." "Move it! Stop slacking!" "These munitions are destined for the front lines! If they aren't delivered on time, the higher-ups will have your heads!" Burly imperial kinfolk—ogres, hobgoblins, and half-giants—bustled about, hoisting heavy cargo containers and hauling them between the arsenals and the steam locomotives. Crack! "Useless trash! "His Majesty Cassius was merciful enough to pardon you, yet far from showing gratitude, you dare slack off?!" First came the sharp crack of a leather whip, followed by the hobgoblin taskmaster's furious curses. "Ugh..." Gritting his teeth, the frost giant grunted in pain but swallowed his groans, several fresh welts joining the scars already crisscrossing his back. The young frost giant slave bent low, slipped into the worn wooden yoke, and hauled the dozen-plus freight containers behind him once more. The heavy iron shackles around his ankles clinked rhythmically, but he paid them no mind. Breathing heavily, he trudged forward with agonizing effort. He had only paused for a brief rest before the taskmaster lashed him without mercy, but he had long grown accustomed to this numb, beast-like existence. "Filthy beasts! You'd better remember: your very lives were granted by His Majesty Cassius! You are nothing more than His Majesty's private property!" The hobgoblin taskmaster shrieked at the top of his lungs, his eyes bulging with rage. The whip, several meters long, cracked through the air with explosive snaps, lashing down across the frost giant slaves and carving wounds deep into their flesh. Rumor had it that this taskmaster's son had fallen in the famous Battle of the Glacier's Fall, strangled to death with bare hands by an Everfrost warrior. Ever since, the hobgoblin had volunteered to oversee a gang of frost giant slaves, finding supreme delight in beating and tormenting them. Official imperial law strictly prohibited slavery—yet frost giants were the sole exception. As everyone knew, years ago, the great Emperor Cassius had flown north, personally annihilating the frost giants of the Everfrost Tribe and putting an end to the "Frost Calamity" that had plagued the people of Anzeta for millennia. But how could generations of blood debts, with tens of millions dead and maimed, be forgiven with a mere apology? As a sovereign deeply beloved by the Anzetan populace, Cassius would never allow such a thing! After careful deliberation, to make amends for the millennia of suffering the frost giants had inflicted upon the people of Anzeta, the Emperor granted a special decree: all captured frost giants were reduced to slaves. In this way, they would atone to the people and repay their towering debt of blood. Consequently, exhausted frost giant slaves could be seen laboring across numerous major construction projects: the building of Isdalia, the laying of imperial railways, and the erection of the Wall of the Empire. They were not treated as citizens, nor did they enjoy the dignity or rights of ordinary workers; instead, they were used as beasts of burden, or even public machinery. When there was work to be done, they were dragged out to toil through the night; when there was none, they were locked away in pitch-black dungeons, subsisting on the foulest gruel—such was the wretched life of a frost giant slave. Rumors had even spread through the empire: "Beneath the railway ties lie the corpses of hundreds of frost giants. Their lingering, vengeful spirits cause the trains to rattle." Scholars across the empire vehemently condemned this practice, denouncing it as an atrocity contrary to the imperial spirit and on par with the Northern aristocracy. Even Councilor Olivia, who commanded great renown throughout the land, had spoken out against it on multiple occasions. Yet common citizens and soldiers vigorously defended the policy. Remembering the millennia of blood feuds, they believed this was the price the frost giants rightfully had to pay. Their counterargument was simple: "We could free these damned frost giants, but can they bring our dead kin and ancestors back to life?" The frost giant slave question had sparked heated debate within the Citizen Assembly several times, but each concluded without resolution, doing nothing to change the slaves' plight. Now, through selective breeding in paddocks and an ample supply of food, the frost giant slave population in the empire had grown significantly, reaching four hundred—nearly rivaling the Everfrost Tribe at its zenith. Crack! Another sharp crack of the whip rang out. "Get up, you useless waste! Don't you want your freedom?! "If you don't finish your shift, you'll spend the rest of your life rotting in the dungeon!" Cursing profusely, the hobgoblin swung his whip, nearly knocking a smaller frost giant off her feet. The "freedom" this vengeful taskmaster spoke of was actually a newly introduced imperial initiative. In essence: if a frost giant completed their assigned tasks fully, or surpassed their quotas, they would receive a special "redemption voucher." Accumulating enough vouchers granted a chance to leave the dungeons and regain freedom. Of course, it was merely an empty promise, dangling a shred of hope before the foolish giants. Internal calculations revealed that most frost giant slaves would never live long enough to amass the required sum—not to mention the ample room for bureaucratic foul play. Unaware of the deceit, the frost giant slaves felt a surge of enthusiasm at the taskmaster's words. Hurriedly slinging on their yokes, they resumed hauling their heavy loads. Their breathing grew heavier, some even growling low as they poured every ounce of strength into their labor. But the young frost giant from before did not push himself. He dragged his cargo at just enough speed to avoid the lash. In his pale blue eyes flickered a faint, deeply buried spark of hatred that went unnoticed by the hobgoblin taskmaster. His name was Yaligon Everfrost, son of Baya, former captain of the frost giant hunting party. He had survived only because he had been too young at the time. When the hobgoblin stepped away to get a drink and rest, another frost giant seized the opportunity to draw close and whispered: "Yaligon, work faster! Don't you want to earn redemption vouchers?" Standing just four and a half meters tall, with a sparser white beard, she was evidently a female frost giant. "Kaya, you're too naive." Yaligon scoffed coldly. "Redemption vouchers? It's a joke. Do you honestly think these imperials will let us go? "Let me tell you: that damned red dragon wants us to work until we drop dead!" At the words "red dragon," perhaps out of conditioned reflex from years of abuse, Kaya shuddered uncontrollably, curling inward in sheer terror. Her throat trembled, but fighting to keep her wits about her, she whispered, "Yaligon, are you insane?! How dare you mention him?!" Yaligon remained steadfast. Gazing at the robust female frost giant, whom he found quite captivating, he murmured softly: "Kaya, do you trust me?" Nervous and terrified, Kaya looked into Yaligon's pale blue eyes and nodded resolutely nonetheless. Yaligon whispered, "Back then, that elder left a hidden measure in me as well. I've kept the power of our ancestral totem hidden all this time..." Stepping forward, he grasped Kaya's rough, powerful hands and leaned close to her ear. "Trust me, Kaya. I will get you out of here. "The chieftain's son, Koman—the frost giant who carries the ancestral bloodline—should be in the Anstica Mountains to the south. I will join him and restore the glory of the Everfrost Tribe. "Together, we will tear down the Cinder Empire, liberate our kin, and slaughter these puny—" Crack! With a crisp snap, fresh bloody gashes split across Yaligon's battered back. "Damned beasts! Are you in heat?! Get lost! Go handle your urges in the breeding paddock down in the dungeons! "Who gave you permission to talk while working?! Who?!" Seeing the two frost giants huddled close, the hobgoblin spat furious curses, spittle nearly spraying in their faces. Whistling the whip through the air once more, he brought it down hard on the insubordinate slave. Smack. But this time, Yaligon broke all precedent: he reached out and caught the lash. His face contorted into a vicious sneer, eyes blazing with pure hatred. "Hobgoblin, you're asking to die!" In that instant, he ripped away his mask of numbed subservience, laying bare the brutal, combative nature of a frost giant. Yaligon had never submitted! Yet the hobgoblin taskmaster was a veteran of bloody campaigns and was not intimidated in the slightest by the frost giant's aura. "Damn it! The beasts really are rebelling. Good, a perfect excuse to slaughter the lot of them..." Dropping the whip, he instantly reached into his pocket, drew a controller, and slammed the button. Blinding lightning surged from the shackles binding every frost giant present. Enveloped in crackling arcs of electricity, the giants charred black and wailed in agony. Within moments, over a dozen frost giants collapsed unconscious to the ground, motionless. Across Yaligon's flesh, icy-blue totem patterns flared to life. His muscles swelled, veins bulging like cords. "Roar—!" The frost giant bellowed toward the heavens. The metal shackles around his ankles froze solid and shattered into pieces. The hobgoblin cursed, "Cassius above, an Everfrost remnant! We really didn't wipe them out thoroughly enough!" Bang! Bang! Bang! Taking the threat seriously at last, the hobgoblin swiftly drew his pistol, firing repeatedly at the giant while retreating backward. At the same time, he activated the communicator pinned to his chest and barked, "Emergency! Frost giant slave riot! Frost giant slave riot!" Snatching up a boulder as a makeshift weapon, Yaligon smashed the shackles binding Kaya's ankles, then locked his glare onto the retreating hobgoblin. "Hobgoblin! Lackey of a reptile! I'll make you pay! I'll return everything you've done to us tenfold!" "Your empire will be crushed by the mighty frost giants! The name of Everfrost will echo across Anzeta once more, becoming your living nightmare!" Bang! Bang! Bang! Ignoring the giant's roar, the hobgoblin emptied his magazine into him. The bullets struck the giant only to be deflected by an armor of condensed frost, failing to inflict any real harm. Nearby hobgoblins and ogres drew their weapons, surrounding the rebelling frost giant and pouring a barrage of fire into him. "The fall of your empire begins with you!" Emboldened by the power of the Everfrost, the giant refused to yield. Braving the hail of gunfire, he raised the boulder and charged at the hobgoblin taskmaster. He had only one goal: to crush this vile overseer into meat paste! Facing the charging behemoth, the hobgoblin showed no fear. Instead, he laughed mockingly and threw his arms wide: "Stupid, despicable beasts! You truly understand nothing of the Empire's greatness! Nor the power of His Majesty Cassius! "Hahaha, come on! Kill me! I am a first-class citizen of the Empire! If you kill me, every frost giant nearby will be buried with me!" Goaded by the hobgoblin's jeers, Yaligon was consumed by rage. Breathing heavily, fire blazed in his pale blue eyes. Raising the massive stone with all his might, he hurled it down toward the despised hobgoblin. Right then, a ringing dragon roar pierced the air. "Roar—!" An indescribable aura of dread crashed over Yaligon. Trembling from head to toe, his arms froze mid-strike—had the Red Dragon Emperor arrived? But the hobgoblin sneered, taunting ruthlessly: "Heh, a Redscale Conqueror. Looks like your rebellion ends here." The boulder slipped from Yaligon's hands. He forced his head up, only to see a wyvern dive toward him, wings spread and jaws gaping in a screech. Astride the wyvern sat a knight clad in heavy armor, couching a lance. It was the Dragon Roar Charge—the Redscale Conquerors' signature assault. Watching the diving wyvern knight and enduring the dragon's aura, Yaligon gritted his teeth and thought: These lackeys of the red dragon can't harm me! I am a totem warrior protected by ancestral power, the hope of the Everfrost Tribe! Tensing every muscle, his mind honed to a razor's edge, he braced to knock both knight and mount from the sky the moment the Redscale Conqueror charged. Just then, an even mightier, incomprehensible power descended, crushing down upon his shoulders. The totems etched across Yaligon's skin dimmed instantly. The solid ice armor encasing his body abruptly shattered into dust. Eyes wide and jaw slack, the frost giant stared in utter disbelief, muttering, "No, impossible... this is the power of the ancestors..." Schrrk—! Stripped of protection, the lance effortlessly tore through blue flesh and impaled the frost giant's thick chest, its blood-soaked tip bursting out from his back. "Holy crap, that was a mini-boss! Challenge Rating almost pushing 10! Usually, you'd need a whole party and a hard slog to take that down! "Tsk tsk, this 'Dragonblood Viscount: Severance' is nuts—wiped all his buffs clean in one shot! Too bad it only works here..." Leaping down from the wyvern's back, Mantou removed his heavy helmet and browsed his interface, his face brimming with delight. The frost giant, run through by the lance, knelt before him, devoid of any dignity even in defeat. This rebel slave—who considered himself the Everfrost Tribe's last hope and proclaimed he would overthrow the Cinder Empire—met a shoddy end at the hands of a passing player. And in the foreseeable future, countless more frost giants would perish in the construction of the Empire's grand blueprint, paying for their past sins with their lives.