The entire process took even less than half a second.
Then, Surtur flailed his massive body recklessly. Amid deafening howls of anguish, the Blazing Flame coalesced into a terrifying greatsword as tall as a skyscraper, smashing everything it touched like a fire stick swung in a frenzy.
Kris stood with her hands clasped behind her back. In the instant the blade came within mere meters of Klaus’s grizzled hair atop his aged head, he raised his hand at a speed too fast to perceive.
The Blazing Flame’s edge halted completely, as if restrained by some invisible force. Just as Laer caught sight of the “barrier”—seemingly held up by nothing more than fist aura alone—withstanding Surtur’s furious strike, Klaus vanished. She whipped her head around and saw his hand already pressed against Surtur’s calf…
Yet it was as gentle as lightly setting his fist down, betraying no hint of destructive power whatsoever. An invisible shield, defying all reason and common sense, shielded Klaus from harm.
The next second, something even more unbelievable happened to Laer.
Surtur’s leg exploded into fragments—but Klaus hadn’t made a single move before gently placing his fist on that skin as tough as a stone wall!
Laer gave a wry smile.
It was said that every Hero in this party had been granted corresponding powers by the Gods.
Take that woman, for instance. Laer was certain—if her eyes hadn’t deceived her—that she was the Blade God.
A blade that could sever anything, no matter the form or type. Anything she defined as a “blade” could slice through space and stars alike.
Though such a feat existed only in theory, witnessing it firsthand left one slack-jawed.
But what was Klaus’s God?
He himself was merely Mortal Tier. Casually shattering Surtur’s limbs was nothing short of a madman’s fantasy…
As the woman delivered her final slash to Surtur’s head, the pitiful Flame Giant roared one last time before disintegrating into countless rock fragments. Fiery rain pattered down across the devastated, frigid Ice Plains, the pieces turning to charred stones the instant they hit the ground.
Laer lifted her head and gazed warily at the old man before her. “You’ve come to…”
“Take this, Dark Filth girl.” Klaus cut her off, tossing a black stone still radiating residual heat into her arms. Laer reacted swiftly, propping up Celi’s body with her legs while catching it with one hand.
“Surtur’s… core?!”
“So that’s its name—Surtur, huh? Heh heh heh. This old man’s little outing has been quite the eye-opener. That thing’s a real menace; nearly threw my back out.” Klaus let out a booming laugh and waved his hand dismissively.
Laer stared at his weathered face, at a loss for words.
Then, the back of a katana smashed into his head.
“You old coot, quit flirting with the girl. Can’t you see she’s got someone already?”
“What’re you on about? Does this old man strike you as some filthy pervert?”
“Tch.”
The woman shoved Klaus aside. He clutched his waist in mock agony and shuffled away. She then walked over to Laer, who was sitting on the ground, and squatted down. “Dark Filth girl, you aren’t hurt, are you? Speaking of which, where’s that God? Maryvega, right? She with Orman or something?”
Laer shook her head and stayed silent.
The woman chuckled good-naturedly, reminding Laer of some chatty vegetable vendor she’d met in a human town.
“Relax—we’re on your side. We just got held up and arrived late. Name’s Su Linna. Pleased to meet you.”
Laer sighed and nodded. “Laer.”
She regretted it the moment the name left her lips.
These two humans might not find it unfamiliar.
If they still remembered the First Playthrough.
But the woman didn’t seem to, which filled Laer with profound relief.
“Laer? Nice name. We’ll meet again someday.”
“Someday?”
“You bet. If you keep pushing forward, miss, I’ll have to stop you.” Su Linna rose to her feet, glanced at the ruins of the Winter King’s Palace, and sighed. “No one can take down Orman right now. Just give up.”
“Mm…”
“But if the Evil Dragon were here? Now that’d be fun!”
Su Linna’s face lit up with sudden excitement.
Klaus promptly grabbed her by the collar, however, and hauled her off amid a barrage of her curses: “Let go, you damn lecherous old geezer!”
Laer knelt there in a daze, her arms tightening around Celi. Sensing that familiar power, she turned toward its source—what had once been the Winter King’s Palace—and said:
“Please be safe and sound, Lady Xuefei.”
……
A smile crept across Orman’s face.
The Winter Queen, unable to accept Isabella’s death, had her personality gradually warped by despair. An unknown power surged endlessly from within her body.
She intended to go all out against Orman with her final burst of strength.
“That’s right, exactly like this. If you can defeat me and survive, that will be true growth. Begin your path to self-redemption, Miss Winter Queen.”
From this vantage point, all that could be seen was Nina’s body dissolving into a mass of black shadow, her hollow eyes blazing with green light in furious rage. They tore at the fabric of spacetime itself, while the chill radiating from her echoed like the wailing of ghosts and wolves through ancient, mist-shrouded forests. The cold pierced not just the body but the soul to its very core, unbearably sharp. Blizzards laced with raging winds whipped up hundreds of devastating tornadoes, scouring the Royal Palace once more and obliterating everything that had ever existed there. The servants who had once lived at the Winter Queen’s side and attended her learned of this through the Magic Vista. Tears streamed down their faces, but all they could do was pray that their Queen would somehow survive the catastrophe.
Orman wrenched himself free from the encasing ice. To avoid ending up as some preserved specimen, he leaped to his feet.
Just as he assumed the Winter Queen would launch an attack to kick off their decisive battle, something utterly bizarre happened…
Orman touched the tiny water droplets on his sleeve, held them up to his eyes, and frowned as he muttered:
“It’s melting. The ice is starting to melt?”
Clearly, not even that flame giant Surtur had been able to melt the Winter Queen in her state of despair-fueled distortion.
Snapping back to attention, Orman realized the twisted Winter Queen had vanished without a trace, and the storm had died down.
Orman smiled once more. If his previous expression had been one of appreciation, this one was pure admiration.
“Heh…”
He turned around to see the Silver-Haired Girl crouched fifty meters away, gently soothing the now-unconscious Winter Queen. His eyes widened in shock. At the same time, he drew his Holy Sword and pointed it at the dangerous girl sprouting dragon horns.
She exuded an aura of peril no less potent than the “Evil Dragon” the Creation God had described to him. What Orman hadn’t anticipated, though, was that the Evil Dragon was nothing more than a girl.
A girl bearing the unmistakable traits of the Dragon Clan, radiating an overwhelming sense of oppression.
She laid Nina gently on the ground, rose to her feet, picked up the Magic Orb, and parted her lips as if communicating with someone unseen. Then she closed her eyes. From start to finish, she never so much as glanced at Orman.
