The cold mist swirled as the wreckage groaned, metal sheets collapsing where the old man had crashed. A thick cloud of frost and dust billowed outward, obscuring everything in a dense haze. For a long moment, there was silence—then a sharp crack echoed through the air.
From the twisted steel, a figure emerged.The old man stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his once-pristine icy armor now fractured, jagged shards missing from his chest where Zed's burning fist had landed. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, stark against the pale blue glow of his frost-forged skin.
He lifted a hand, touching his cheek where the heat had seared into him—a dark burn mark now marred the once-impenetrable ice. His fingers trembled for just a fraction of a second before curling into a fist.
His lips pressed into a thin, furious line. "Impressive." His voice, though calm, carried an undercurrent of simmering rage.
