Lucien's furious roar split the air, and a surge of icy mist erupted from his body, his King's Presence reaching its peak before rapidly condensing around him. His form became encased in a shimmering layer of frost, the sheer pressure of his aura sending shockwaves through the air. With wild eyes, he lunged at Isolde, his movements erratic and driven by rage rather than precision.
Isolde remained poised, her body shifting effortlessly, sidestepping his slashes with a fluidity that made her seem untouchable. Lucien's ice-forged sword crashed down again and again, shattering the stone beneath their feet but never finding its mark. His frustration mounted with each missed strike, his breath visible in the freezing air.
