The sky didn't just light up; it screamed. The volley from the Dreadnought's thermal cannons descended in pillars of concentrated solar wrath, turning the falling snow into a blinding wall of steam. As the beams neared the floating ice platforms, the air itself began to ignite, the oxygen fueled by the intense artificial heat.
Alicia braced herself, her blue aura expanding into a jagged shield, but she knew steel and spirit could not hold against a siege engine of this magnitude. Clevatess, however, did not move to block. He stepped off his platform into the empty air, his midnight-black tunic billowing as if he were standing on solid ground.
He raised his hands, and instead of a shield, he created a void.
The violet mana erupted from his palms not as a wave, but as a series of spinning, crystalline spheres. As the solar beams struck the spheres, they didn't explode. They were bent. The Absolute Zero didn't just freeze the energy; it refracted it, twisting the pillars of light until they arced back toward the sky, missing the platforms by a hair's breadth.
You are fighting the sun with a mirror, Clevatess whispered, his eyes locked on the glowing hull above. But even mirrors can break.
He slammed his hands together. The refracted beams, now tinged with a cold violet hue, converged into a single, massive spear of redirected energy. It struck the Dreadnought's main thruster with the force of a falling moon. The explosion was silent at first, followed by a shockwave that sent a ring of frost rippling through the clouds.
The great iron beast groaned, its black plating buckling as the internal solar core began to bleed heat into the freezing atmosphere. It listed heavily to the side, the golden chains snapping like thread.
Clevatess landed back on the ice platform, his raven-feather mantle settling around him. His breathing was heavy, the gold embroidery on his sleeves glowing with a frantic, pulsing light that suggested the King's stay in this realm was taking a toll on his ancient soul.
The ship is falling, Nelluru shouted, pointing as the Dreadnought began its slow, terminal descent toward the jagged peaks. But the throne... the throne is still inside!
Clevatess watched the dying giant of iron as it slipped through the mist. The victory felt hollow. He knew that the Queen hadn't just sent a ship to kill him; she had sent a distraction.
As the Dreadnought vanished into the lower clouds, a low, rhythmic vibration began to emanate from the very earth beneath the glacier—a sound that Clevatess recognized from an age he thought he had buried.
It wasn't the sound of a machine. It was a heartbeat.