CHAPTER 772: SLAYERFROST SWORD

Caelthenas felt the cracks spreading across her abdominal armor, and her breath hitched—sharp, panicked.

"Stop—!"

She staggered back, frantically channeling energy to reinforce the failing section of her core.

But Ethan was too close.

Far too close.

She had no choice but to split her power—half to defend against the relentless barrage of Energy Discs, the other desperately trying to patch the breach in her armor.

And that one exposed spot—

That single, vulnerable point—

Remained wide open.

Ethan’s attacks were merciless. Precise. Like a scalpel guided by instinct, or fate itself. Every Disc struck the same place, again and again, with surgical intent.

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!!

The armor finally gave way.

The sound of it shattering rang through the cavern like a scream made of glass.

Caelthenas reeled back, panic overtaking her face. She stumbled, her movements clumsy and desperate—nothing like the ancient, regal terror she’d been moments ago.

She looked like a beast with its belly exposed—cornered, furious, and afraid.

But Ethan didn’t let up.

He moved like a predator who’d tasted blood, relentless and locked in.

He drove her back, step by step, until—

CRACK!

Her back slammed into the cold stone wall.

Kaelira’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.

She knew Caelthenas. Once a candidate for the Sol’Rakka throne. A rival Kaelira had never managed to fully suppress, no matter how many battles they fought.

And now—

Ethan had her pinned.

Even Kaelira, the Desert Queen, had never done that.

Caelthenas scrambled to summon more power, trying to shield her broken core with the spider limbs curling protectively in front of her.

But it was no use.

That crack had become a beacon—Ethan’s attacks drawn to it like iron to a magnet, like law to consequence.

BOOM!!!

The breach tore wide open.

And in the next instant—

A dozen Energy Discs surged through the gap, straight into her body.

"—AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

Her scream tore through the cavern, raw and inhuman, echoing off the stone like a soul being ripped apart.

Her body began to fracture from the inside out, like a statue crumbling under its own weight.

She clutched her chest, fingers digging in as if she could hold herself together by force of will alone.

But the breach had become a vortex.

Energy poured in, wild and uncontrollable.

She couldn’t stop it.

She couldn’t seal it.

She couldn’t survive it.

BOOM—!!!

With one final, shuddering cry, Caelthenas exploded into a storm of light and ash, her form disintegrating into a thousand shards that scattered into the dark.

Kaelira sucked in a sharp breath.

Caelthenas...

The rival who had defeated her more than once.

The woman who had nearly claimed the Desert Queen’s throne.

Gone—just like that. Killed by Ethan.

She had never bested Caelthenas in a direct fight. Not once.

But Ethan had done it. And he’d done it with nothing more than early-stage 25Tier.

For the first time, Kaelira felt something deeper than surprise stir in her chest.

A quiet, undeniable awe.

The moment Caelthenas shattered, her ancient, brutal power didn’t just vanish—it surged outward in a final, violent pulse.

And then—

It rushed into Ethan.

RUMMMMMBLE—!

The ground beneath his feet trembled.

The energy poured into him like a river breaking its dam, flooding his body with raw, unfiltered force. His blood boiled. His bones rang with a low, metallic hum. His core expanded, stretching wide to contain the storm.

His Tier didn’t just nudge upward.

It leapt.

From early 25Tier—

To mid-stage.

And not just that.

The power now radiating from him... was stronger than Kaelira’s.

By a margin.

Ethan exhaled, a low, breathy sound of stunned satisfaction.

He hadn’t expected this. That a creature as dangerous as Caelthenas would become such a gift.

He was still reeling from the rush when something caught his eye—

A glint among the scattered fragments of her remains.

Like ice. Or starlight.

He looked down.

A sword.

Long and slender, forged from what looked like pure crystalized frost. The blade was translucent, impossibly clear, yet pulsing faintly—as if it were breathing.

But what truly made his breath catch—

Was the way its energy resonated with his own.

Perfectly.

No resistance. No friction. Just... harmony.

Before he could even think, his hand reached out.

And the moment his fingers closed around the hilt—

BOOM!!!

A surge of pure, razor-sharp energy shot up his arm, threading into his veins, weaving itself into the power he’d just absorbed.

No rejection.

No backlash.

It was like the sword had been waiting for him.

Like it had always been his.

Ice-blue and gold light flared around him, wrapping his body in a glow that shimmered like dawn on frost.

THUD—!

A sudden, foreign force detonated inside Ethan’s body—violent, invasive, and cold as death. Not the chill of winter, but something far worse.

It was pure killing intent.

So sharp it felt like it could carve through his soul.

Ethan gasped, breath catching in his throat like he’d inhaled a blade. A thin layer of frost bloomed across his skin, racing up his arm and curling over his shoulder and neck.

"Shit... what is this...?"

It felt like he’d been hurled into a pit forged from slaughter itself—every breath dragging him deeper, every heartbeat pulling him under.

Kaelira saw it happen and her expression snapped to alarm.

"That’s—no! Ethan, stop!"

She rushed to his side, but the moment she got close, the frost-laced killing aura lashed out like a living thing, wrapping around her too.

Their energies collided—then locked.

HUMMMM—

HUMMMM—

HUMMMM—!

In an instant, the Slayer’s frost surged between them like awakened runes, no longer just corroding—but fusing.

The killing intent didn’t just invade—it intertwined.

It wove itself into their powers, threading through muscle and bone like a thousand icy blades, piercing and merging all at once. And instead of tearing them apart—

It was being absorbed.

Their power levels began to climb—visibly.

Ethan froze, chest heaving, the surge of strength nearly choking him.

Kaelira’s cheeks flushed, her breath quick and shallow. She’d never felt anything like this before—this strange, dangerous fusion.

"This... this power... it’s too dangerous..."

They hadn’t even had time to stabilize the sudden influx when—

RUMBLE—!

The ground beneath them began to quake.

Something massive was stirring in the dark.

And then—

The ice-crystal sword, still half-buried in the stone floor, was wrenched free.

A massive hand tore it from the earth.

Frost exploded up the blade, and from the settling dust stepped a towering figure.

Encased in armor sculpted from pure ice, every plate etched with runes of slaughter, he looked like a war god carved from winter and bloodshed.

His voice was low. Cold. Final.

"You... who are you, to dare absorb Lord Vaedoroth’s Slayerfrost Sword?"

Ethan didn’t answer.

He inhaled sharply, forced the killing intent inside him into focus, and hurled it forward—compressed, sharpened, wrapped in golden energy.

A storm of gold and frost roared toward the figure.

But the man took a single step.

Just one.

And the entire wave of killing aura shattered—like a pack of wild dogs silenced by their master’s glare. The storm collapsed into glittering shards of ice, drifting harmlessly to the ground.

"I," he said, raising the sword with a sound like cracking glaciers, "am the Butcher King."

The title hit like a hammer.

Killing intent surged from him in a tidal wave, each word slamming into the world like a war drum.

"The breath of slaughter is mine. It was born from me. It obeys me."

His ice-blue eyes locked onto Ethan, glacial and contemptuous.

"And you dare—"

He stepped forward, voice dropping to a growl.

"—use my power to kill me?"

THUD!!!

The Slayerfrost Sword snapped back into his hand, summoned by some invisible command.

He raised it high.

Frost surged from the blade, flooding the cavern in a wave of ghostly blue light.

RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE—!!!

The storm broke loose.

A killing frost swept across the world like a cliff of ice crashing down from the heavens.

And everything—everything—was about to be buried.

...