Jack's scaled hand tightened around the black frost axe, his clawed fingers sinking deeper into the weapon's surface.
The axe that had nearly killed him moments ago, that had been forged from Pho's mastery over ice, symbolized decades of dominance over this section of Floor 24.
A deep crack started to split the axe.
It started from where Jack's hand gripped it all the way up to the blade.
The sound echoed through the ruined throne room like breaking bones, each crack accompanied by falling dust that had once been part of the weapon's structure.
Pho's blank white eyes widened, his three-meter black form tensing as he tried to pull the axe free.
His enhanced strength from Black Ice Soul should have been more than enough to break any grip and reclaim his weapon.
But, the axe didn't budge.
Jack's red eyes gleaming with savage satisfaction that went beyond mere victory.
This wasn't just about breaking a weapon.
