Frost Shaman

"Demons? Taste the power of the Holy Light!" Mantou tapped the release button with his index finger. Bombs rained down from the belly of his wyvern, shrieking through the high altitude. These bombs were the Empire's latest make, the "Sacred Funeral." Celestial runes were carved across their metallic casings, granting them immense lethality against fiendish creatures. *Boom!* *Boom, boom, boom!* A barrage of explosions detonated as blinding orbs of light blossomed amid the demonic ranks, each sphere reducing over a dozen demons to ash, completely annihilating them. Mantou peered down at the vast swaths of scorched earth he had carved out and watched the reward notifications refreshing on his interface. He chuckled heartily. "Hahaha! Money well spent! These bombs cost me over a dozen gold coins, and damn, do they pack a punch!" "Heads up, demons are closing in on your position." Singo's warning crackled through the headset alongside hissing static—the chaotic power of the Abyss was interfering with their comms. "Hmph, can they even catch me? Wait, what the f—" Mantou looked up. Hundreds upon thousands of vulture-like vrocks beat their wings, uttering harsh, grating shrieks as they swept forward like a dense storm cloud. "Where did so many demons come from?!" With the airspace ahead already overrun, Mantou gripped the control stick, yanked it right, and stomped down hard on the rudder pedal with the ball of his foot. *Crack!* The air tore with a sharp sonic pop. The wyvern snapped its wings wide and banked hard to the right, twin plumes of brilliant flame blasting from the thrusters behind it to propel the mount to top speed. Soon, however, another swarm of vrocks rushed in from the front, blotting out half the sky and boxing in Mantou and the other wyvern knights. One of the Redscale Conquerors attempted to pull up and climb, only to plunge headlong into the flock. The vrocks tore him apart, sending entrails and chunks of flesh tumbling from the sky. The voracious scavengers fought frenziedly over the spoils, leaving behind only bleached bones pecked completely clean. "They're this savage?!" Mantou watched in horror. Giving up on forcing his way through the encirclement, he squeezed the trigger, opening up continuous fire with the machine guns mounted on the wyvern's back. "Die, you bastards!" *D-d-d-d-dat!* Bullets sprayed in a torrent. Wounded vrocks wailed, black feathers shedding like hail. Yet even as the barrels grew scorching hot, the swarm showed no sign of thinning—if anything, their numbers only swelled. *Caw—!* The fiends craned their necks, letting loose raspy, cacophonous squawks. Then, to a discordant, chaotic chant, they brandished their sharp talons and flapped their ragged wings, circling the wyvern knights in what looked like a frenetic, ritual dance. "What is this...?" Watching the grotesque dance and hearing the dissonant chant, Mantou felt a splitting headache. His vision began to blur, and he pressed a hand to his temple. "Mantou! Snap out of it! Close your eyes and plug your ears, or you're gonna crash!" The familiar roar in his ear jolted him awake. Mantou hurriedly shoved earplugs in to keep the chanting from seeping into his mind. At the same time, he averted his gaze, refusing to watch the writhing bodies and bizarre dance of the vrocks. Glancing to the side, he saw several wyvern knights succumbing to vertigo just as he had. They tumbled from their mounts and were instantly shredded to bare bones by the demonic flock. Cold sweat drenched his back. Heart pounding, he typed rapidly into the chat: "What the hell is that?" Singo's reply popped up on the interface: "Dance of Ruin. When twelve or more vrocks gather and circle, they can trigger this ability. It can completely shatter an enemy's mind." "What do we do then? We're trapped." "Trust me. Fall in behind me in a moment—I can lead you out of this pocket. Good chance to test my new ability anyway." "Got it." "Now! Three o'clock! Charge with me!" With a fierce shout, Singo's wyvern unleashed a blinding radiance from its maw, channeling the sacred power of the sun. *Boom!—* A thick pillar of light lanced through the sky, instantly incinerating several vrocks in its path and punching a massive hole through the dense demonic encirclement. "Move! Not much time!" Singo commanded his wyvern to tuck its wings, darting forward like an arrow from a bow right into the breach blasted by the beam. Mantou and the surviving Redscale Conquerors followed close behind, surging through the gap at breakneck speed as howling vrocks closed in from the rear. Yet Singo's wyvern radiated such an intense solar glow that any vrock drawing near hissed as its flesh was scorched, belching black smoke. The fiends shrieked in agony, unable to get close. Even in the face of the burning sunlight, however, the vrocks relentlessly gave chase, packing tightly around the wyvern knights. "Kill them!" "Tear these humans to shreds!" Mantou could smell the charred stench of burning demon flesh mingling with their rank, rotting foulness. *Accelerate! Accelerate at all costs!* Mantou slammed the boost switch. The four steel pipes behind him flared with dazzling flames, delivering immense thrust as his mount's wings cut through the air with a crisp whistle. At the very last second before the vrocks engulfed them, the wyvern knights broke through the perimeter, soaring across the sky trailing brilliant trails of light. "You won't escape!" "Hunt them down!" Refusing to give up, the vrocks beat their wings in chaotic waves like a surging tide, rushing toward Mantou in the upper sky. Right then, with sharp thuds echoing through the air, luminous spheres of light rained down. Over a hundred demons instantly vaporized, wiped from the sky without leaving behind a single speck of ash. Mantou looked up in astonishment. A light airship belonging to the Machine Cult cruised overhead. The heavy elemental cannons on its undercarriage angled upward and unleashed a barrage of glowing spheres into the horde, obliterating scores of vrocks in an instant. "Well, well, isn't that Sing-dog? How'd you get so washed up, letting a flock of vrocks push you around like this?" A smug voice boomed from the airship. As the hatch lowered slowly, the burly, imposing figure of Gangtie Kuangchao came into view. This man had completely strayed from the Machine Cult's original mission, degenerating into an outright combat junkie. Not that the Machine Cult needed his leadership anymore; Kuangchao held only the nominal title of guild master, stripped of all actual authority. Scientists from across the globe kept the behemoth of over a hundred thousand members humming along smoothly, methodically advancing various projects and directing the sect's affairs. Rumor had it that many of them carried official state backing. By sheer coincidence, the true masters of the Machine Cult—the five Archmagi who wielded supreme status and authority—happened to hail from the real world's five major world powers. In every practical sense, Gangtie Kuangchao had been sidelined into a figurehead. Yet he knew full well that as an ordinary guy in real life, he lacked the capability to manage such a colossal organization. He was more than happy to wash his hands of administration and throw himself entirely into thrilling, blood-pumping battles. At this moment, Gangtie Kuangchao was clad in thick crimson scale armor, his frame towering and robust, with muscles bulging like wrought iron. His right arm had even been replaced by a cybernetic bionic limb equipped with buzz saws, power guns, a chainsword, and various other lethal implements. "Damn it, the Machine Cult crowd is way too cocky. It's just pay-to-win. If someone gave me enough funding..." Mantou stared at Kuangchao's exorbitantly expensive kit, gritting his teeth in jealousy. Singo shook his head and sighed. "Tsk, that's the muscle of a mega-guild for you. The Machine Cult isn't even playing the same game as us anymore. Gangtie Kuangchao is just what they show on the surface. Behind closed doors... who knows what kind of terrifying toys they've cooked up." "Forget comparing ourselves to them. Let's move. Time to resume bombing the demons on the front line!" The wyverns spread their wings and sliced through the sky with piercing screeches, diving toward the vanguard of the demonic horde. Gangtie Kuangchao grinned. Gazing down at the raging demonic tide below, he leaped off the airship without any harness or parachute, spreading his arms and dropping straight toward the thickest cluster of fiends. "For the Emperor!" Several Dragonscale Marines leaped after him, shouting in unison: "For the Emperor!" *Boom!* The ground shook with a deafening rumble as dust billowed skyward. Gangtie Kuangchao slammed viciously into the fiendish horde, mashing a dozen demons into paste. Right on his heels, boom after boom resounded through the air as twelve Dragonscale Marines touched down around him, churning up violent clouds of grit. Through the swirling dust, towering figures steadily rose to their feet, exuding a staggering, domineering aura. In an instant, countless greedy, savage gazes locked onto them. The demons showed zero fear toward these uninvited guests dropping from above; instead, they saw them as fresh prey. In the minds of these chaotic monsters, nothing could withstand the tide of the Abyss—not even dragons. "Tear these mortals apart!" "He's mine!" The demons swarmed from all sides. Their overlapping whispers and grating cackles were enough to drive an ordinary mortal mad. Yet the Dragonscale Marines scanned the demons with equally rapacious eyes. In their view, the fiends were nothing more than walking EXP and Contribution. Gangtie Kuangchao flashed a toothy grin. "Ready, boys?" "Energy weapons fully charged," a squadmate reported over the headset. Gangtie Kuangchao tapped his finger against the trigger guard. The barrel of his "Wrath of Zeus" electromagnetic rifle glowed with faint, eerie blue light. The demons closed in rapidly. Kuangchao could smell the rank stench washing over him and even make out the slime coating their hideous bodies. Now! "Open fire!" Kuangchao's roar was drowned out by gunfire as twelve beams of lightning ripped through the air. The front rank of fiends disintegrated into black ash amidst explosive arcs of electricity, but even more demons lunged forward in a frantic rush, like a dark, crushing wave. The Dragonscale Marines' firepower was brutally fierce—a single electro-explosive round could reduce four or five demons to cinders. Yet the fiends charged with suicidal abandon, rapidly engulfing the Dragonscale Marines. The marines had to rev their chainswords, hacking indiscriminately at any demon near them while picking off distant foes with electromagnetic rounds. "You think you can kill me?" Gangtie Kuangchao laughed wildly, blasting a demon in front of him into scrap. "Puny mortal!" A goristro brandished a heavy warhammer and let out a guttural bellow, barreling toward him in a ferocious charge. "Death to the minotaur!" Kuangchao leaped several meters into the air and brought his power sword slashing down, bisecting the massive goristro cleanly from crown to crotch in a single, immaculate stroke. Just then, distant howls echoed across the battlefield. Over a dozen abyssal hounds galloped over the terrain. These three-meter-tall beasts possessed skin patterned like cooled lava, with spinal bone spikes piercing through their hides, smoking faintly in the chill wind. They moved with terrifying agility, evading even lightning discharges with ease. The lead hound closed the distance, arriving within a hundred meters of Gangtie Kuangchao in the blink of an eye. *Howl!—* The beast roared, tensing its muscles before launching itself like a coiled spring, leaping over a dozen meters into the air to pounce upon him. Feeling a blast of bloody, scorching air, Kuangchao focused his senses, drew his power sword in a reverse grip, and dropped backward into a slide. *Schrrrk!—* The blade cleaved through flesh. The power sword bit deep, carving across the beast's scaly underbelly. The high-frequency vibrating edge sliced through its belly like butter, spilling steaming entrails across the ground with a wet splat. *How is this possible?!* *This mortal injured it so easily?! Even its prized armored scales couldn't stop him!* The hound whined in agony. It whipped around in fury, eager to maul the damned mortal again. Yet with every step, more blood and viscera spilled from its ruined belly. After only a few paces, the beast crashed heavily to the ground behind Gangtie Kuangchao. Smug and triumphant, Kuangchao straightened his back. "Thought you could pounce on me? One sliding tackle and I'll—" "Brother Kuangchao!" Vice Captain Chen Yan's voice cut through the howling wind. "Big one at three o'clock! Energy readings have spiked past the critical threshold!" "Past critical? Is it a balor?" Kuangchao's expression darkened, his mood turning grim. A biting gale swept across the landscape, churning with endless blizzard winds that bleached the world before them frost-white. The frost spread rapidly, glazing the ground beneath their feet. Within the whiteout, a massive dark silhouette loomed in the sky, arresting everyone's gaze. It was an Abyssal dragon coated entirely in frost. Mounted upon its back stood a tanar'ri frost giant clutching a scepter. "Mortals, cease your pitiful struggles! Lord Kostchtchie shall freeze all that lies here!" Draped in heavy robes, the frost giant looked down upon the earth. His sunken eyes radiated an abyssal chill so piercing that a mere glance felt like freezing needles against the skin. That was the Frost Shaman of Kostchtchie. Through the driving snow and wind, more mutated frost giants emerged in the distance. Bearing warhammers and spears, their clouded eyes burned with greed and savagery. Corrupted by the Abyss long ago, they had degenerated into pure monsters of Chaos.