A thin mist clung to the Icefang village as Aelar Frostveil stood at its edge, peering into the tundra's expanse. The dawn light barely pierced the haze, casting a pale glow over the snow, and the air hummed with an unnatural edge—mana, twisted and restless. His dark blue frostweave armor was scratched from yesterday's fight, silver-white ponytail swaying as he adjusted his sword. Kaelith paced beside him, silver-streaked fur bristling, glacial eyes narrowed, sensing the same disturbance Aelar felt. The Order's letter—"Stir the mana, wake the deep"—gnawed at him, a riddle demanding answers.
Elara joined him, staff tapping the snow, her pale blue tunic dusted with ash from the fire. "You're brooding again," she said, voice soft but edged with concern. "What's the plan?"
"Scout the source," Aelar replied, glancing at her. "That storm, the Behemoth, now this mist—it's tied to the Order. We find it, we stop it."
Torin trudged up, his Frost Boar, Gruk, snuffling the ground, icy spines glinting. "Gruk's been antsy all morning," he grunted. "Something's out there—big."
Gorrim approached, axe resting on his shoulder, Varg the Frost Hound sniffing the air beside him. "Varg's hackles are up too," he said. "Whatever they're waking, it's close. You leading this hunt, Frostborn?"
Aelar nodded. "Small group—me, you three, ten warriors. Beasts scout ahead. We move quiet, strike hard if it's trouble."
Elara gripped her staff. "I'll keep us covered. But if it's mana-driven, we're walking blind."
"Then we adapt," Aelar said, meeting her gaze. "Let's go."
Into the Mist
The squad—five Frostveil guards and five Icefang warriors—followed Aelar north, Kaelith, Varg, and Gruk fanning out ahead, their growls cutting through the silence. The mist thickened as they trekked, snow crunching underfoot, visibility dropping to mere feet. Aelar's hand rested on his sword, senses sharp, the hum of mana growing louder.
Torin muttered, "Can't see a damn thing. Gruk's nose better not fail us."
"He won't," Aelar said. "Kaelith's picking up speed—something's near."
Elara raised her staff, whispering, "Frost veil." A thin layer of ice mist spread around them, sharpening their outlines against the haze. "Better?"
Gorrim grunted. "Aye. Clever trick."
Aelar smirked. "Keep it up, Elara."
Kaelith's howl pierced the mist, urgent and sharp. Aelar drew his sword.
A wail erupted, chilling and ethereal, as a Prime-tier Frost Wraith coalesced from the mist. Its form shimmered—fifteen feet tall, a skeletal frame of ice and shadow, glowing blue eyesockets pulsing with mana, skeletal claws trailing wisps of frost. The air around it warped, snow spiraling inward, drawn by its presence.
"Sylvara, stats!" Aelar thought.
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Target: Frost Wraith (Prime)
Race: Magical Beast
Beast Tier: Prime (Level 8)
Stats:
Strength: 55
Agility: 65
Intelligence: 20
Mana: 60
Skills: Wraith Scream (Level 4): Piercing cry that disorients and chills. Phantom Slash (Level 3): Fast, ethereal claw strikes. Mana Drain (Level 3): Siphons mana from nearby foes. Frost Vortex (Level 2): Creates a swirling frost storm.
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"Spread wide!" Aelar shouted. "Kaelith, howl! Elara, barriers—focus the center! Torin, Gruk—left flank! Gorrim, Varg—right!"
Kaelith's Frost Howl roared out, clashing with the Wraith's Wraith Scream—the dual cries shook the air, guards clutching their heads, but Aelar gritted his teeth, Mana Manipulation steadying his flow against the drain. Elara slammed her staff down, a towering frost barrier rising before the Wraith, its jagged edges glowing—she followed with frost patterns, sharp ice shards launching at its chest, cracking its icy ribs.
Aelar triggered Frost Shroud, mist billowing around him, slowing the Wraith's Phantom Slash as it swiped—claws grazed his armor, frost biting, but he ducked, Ice Crafting a jagged spear mid-step. He hurled it, the construct piercing the Wraith's arm, pinning it momentarily. "Kaelith, charge!" he commanded. The wolf surged with Blizzard Charge, snow swirling as he slammed into the Wraith's side, Ice Armor deflecting a counter-slash, jaws snapping at its leg—ice shattered, mana leaking.
Torin roared, "Gruk, go!" The Frost Boar barreled left, spines flaring as he rammed the Wraith's flank, knocking it off balance. Torin thrust his spear in a spinning arc, striking its shoulder—ice chipped away, the Wraith recoiling. "Keep it moving!" he yelled, dodging a claw as Gruk bit its leg, tusks grinding against frost.
Gorrim swung his axe right, Varg darting beside him. "Varg, harry!" The Frost Hound leaped, jaws tearing at the Wraith's trailing mist, distracting it as Gorrim's axe hacked its hip—ice splintered, mana sparking. "Tough bastard!" Gorrim cursed, rolling from a Phantom Slash, frost grazing his arm.
The Wraith unleashed Frost Vortex, a storm of snow and ice spiraling outward—guards flew back, Elara's barrier cracking. Aelar channeled Mana Manipulation, weaving Glacial Chains through the chaos—twenty tendrils now, half coiling its arms to halt the vortex, half lashing its torso like a net. "Elara, reinforce!" he shouted. She thrust her staff, a second barrier layering over the first, holding firm as frost patterns rained down, piercing its chest.
Aelar darted in, Swordsmanship guiding a flurry of strikes—blade slashed its ribs, then spun to sever a claw, frost-blood misting the air. The Wraith's Mana Drain pulsed, tugging at his reserves—he countered with Frost Bite, lunging to sink his teeth into its misty arm, cold mana surging back into him, bitter on his tongue. It screeched, clawing at him—he rolled, chains tightening, pinning it down.
"Together!" Aelar yelled. Kaelith's Frost Howl stunned it again, Gruk rammed its chest, Varg tore its leg, and Torin's spear thrust deep into its side. Gorrim's axe arced high, cleaving its skull—ice shattered, mana exploding outward. Aelar finished it, Ice Crafting a massive blade mid-air, driving it through the Wraith's core with both hands—the beast wailed, dissolving into mist, a pulsing violet core dropping.
Aelar claimed it, mana flooding him. The system pinged:
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Host: Aelar Frostveil
Ascension Tier: Grandmaster (Level 5)
Stats:
Strength: 82
Agility: 92
Intelligence: 68
Mana: 130
Skills: Frostborn Legacy (Innate, Level 6) Glacial Chains (Level 10) Frost Bite (Level 3): Moderate cold damage bite, minor mana regain (mana cost: 5). Frost Shroud (Level 6) Mana Manipulation (Level 9) Ice Crafting (Level 8): Complex, durable ice constructs. Swordsmanship (Level 9) Beast Taming (Level 5)
Companion: Kaelith
Stats: Strength 70, Agility 60, Intelligence 25, Mana 50
Skills: Frost Howl (Level 6), Blizzard Charge (Level 6), Ice Armor (Level 5)
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Aelar staggered, wiping frost-blood from his face, the mist thinning around them. "Everyone alive?" he called.
Elara leaned on her staff, panting. "Barely. That thing was a nightmare."
Torin rubbed Gruk's flank, the boar snorting. "Took a beating, but we're good. Nice spearwork."
Gorrim flexed his arm, grimacing. "Varg's fine—I'm bruised. You fight dirty, Frostborn."
Aelar smirked. "Winning's not clean. Look—" He pointed to a faint glow beyond the mist, a jagged ice formation pulsing with mana. "That's it."
Elara squinted. "A rift? It's leaking—stirring beasts like the Order wanted."
Torin growled. "Close it, then. Gruk's had enough surprises."
Aelar nodded. "Elara, can you seal it?"
She stepped closer, staff humming. "Maybe. It's unstable—give me time."
Gorrim watched, Varg growling. "Order's playing with fire. What's next, dragons?"
"Don't jinx it," Aelar said, half-serious. "Rest up—we'll guard her."
Resolve in the Cold
As Elara worked, Aelar sat with Torin and Gorrim, beasts resting nearby. "They're desperate," he said. "Waking beasts to slow us."
Torin nodded. "Means we're a threat. Good."
Gorrim scratched Varg's ears. "Alliance held today. You're proving your worth, Frostborn."
Aelar glanced at Elara, her focus intense. "We all are. This rift's just the start."
The tundra whispered, mana pulsing—a storm yet to break.