The Frost-Blight Sovereign was dead, its massive, eighty-foot-long carcass rapidly freezing to the polished mirror of the plateau. But the true source of the mountain's terrifying atmospheric pressure remained untouched.
Dead center on the flawlessly flat summit stood the colossal, two-hundred-foot-tall spire of hyper-compressed black ice.
It was a localized evolutionary anchor, a terrestrial battery that had spent the last eight months violently siphoning the ambient mana of the entire northern territory. The obelisk pulsed with a deep, rhythmic, blinding internal light. Every throb sent a massive, suffocating wave of heavy, raw energy washing over the plateau.
Ren walked toward the towering structure, his Level 28 frame completely absorbing the oppressive gravity of the spire.
