The cold crept through Adam's flesh.
He fought amid a surging horde of frost undead, striking them down again and again as they closed in from all sides.
Each strike shattered frozen bones and sent icy fragments flying, but the cold was beginning to seep deeper. It crept into his muscles and bones, stiffening his joints and making every movement heavier, rougher than before.
But he forced himself onward, circulating fire mana around his body to keep the fire at bay. Each punch burned through ice and rotten flesh alike, dropping one undead only for another to take its place.
Surrounded by cold and death, Adam pressed on, fighting through the numbness as the battle dragged on without mercy.
By now, he had already realized the Winter Lord's battle plan.
The Elder had decided not to fight him head-on, instead letting his undead army wear him down until the bitter cold from the Snowstorm finally took care of him.
