The new passage from the crumbled altar stretched upward, its icy walls narrowing into a tunnel that echoed with the faint drip of melting frost. Qin Mo led the way, the Frostflame Core's heat a flickering beacon against the deepening cold, the bells' chime from his pouch a steady pulse that tugged at his chest. The FFD System hummed, its warning a quiet undercurrent in his mind.
[FFD System: Frostflame Balance: Heat 30% / Cold 70%.]
The tunnel opened into a cavernous chamber, its ceiling vaulted with jagged stalactites that gleamed like teeth in the dim light. At the center loomed a frostborn sovereign, its massive form towering over the ice, its body a fusion of crystalline armor and swirling mist. Its eyes burned a deep indigo, and its spear, wreathed in a storm of frostfire, crackled with an ancient power that made the air hum. The team froze, the weight of its presence pressing down, a challenge unlike any they'd faced.
Ling Shou staggered to his feet, his face pale from the altar's toll, his voice weak but urgent. "This one's different," he rasped. "A ruler of the frostborn—its fall could weaken the towers." Qin Mo nodded, his blade rising, the Frostflame Blade igniting with a mix of heat and cold that steadied his resolve. "Then we take it down," he said, his voice cutting through the chill.
The sovereign roared, the sound shaking the chamber, and charged with a speed that belied its size. Qin Mo met it head-on, the Frostflame Blade clashing with the spear, the impact sending a shockwave that cracked the ice beneath. The cold surged, sapping his heat, but the Frostflow passive held, his movements fluid as he parried a second strike. The sovereign's mist swirled, obscuring its form, and a tendril of frostfire lashed out, forcing him to roll aside.
Yi's frost threads surged forward, coiling around the sovereign's legs, but the mist softened their grip, the creature breaking free with a snarl. "It's too strong!" she shouted, dodging a swipe of its spear. Ren darted in, his daggers flashing as he struck at its side, the blades carving shallow wounds that steamed in the frigid air. The sovereign swung its weapon in a wide arc, the frostfire wave forcing Ren back, the ice splintering where he'd stood.
Lian stepped up, her relic glowing brighter as she notched an arrow, the rune-carved stone from the third spire pulsing in her hand. "My ancestors faced this," she said, her voice steady with determination. She loosed the shot, the arrow humming with ancestral energy, piercing the sovereign's shoulder. The wound glowed, the mist thinning, and Qin Mo seized the chance, channeling the Frostflame Surge. The wave of ice and fire crashed into the creature, shattering its armor, but it roared, its spear thrusting toward him.
He twisted, the spear grazing his arm, the cold burning through his cloak. The shard drank the pain, fueling his next strike, and he drove the Frostfang Strike into the sovereign's chest. The blade sank deep, the essence flooding into him in a torrent that made his vision blur, his knees buckling. The team rallied—Yi's threads pulled the sovereign off balance, Ren's daggers slashed its legs, and Lian's second arrow struck its core, the relic's energy resonating with a crack that split the ice.
The sovereign staggered, its roar fading, and Qin Mo pushed through the exhaustion, the Frostflame Harmony syncing his movements with the team's. The new skill surged, a resonance of heat and cold that amplified their coordination, and with a final thrust, he pierced its heart. The creature collapsed, its mist dissolving into the air, the chamber trembling as the towers seemed to groan.
[New skill: Frostflame Dominion (Prototype). Balance: Heat 28% / Cold 72%.]
Qin Mo dropped to one knee, the new skill tingling through him—a power that felt like a crown, heavy with potential. Yi rushed to his side, her threads retracting, her face flushed. "You did it," she said, her voice rough with relief. Ren sheathed his daggers, his eyes flicking to Wei, still weak but safe. "That was too close," he muttered, his hands trembling.
Lian approached the sovereign's remains, her relic dimming as she pulled a shard from the ice—a piece of its core that pulsed with the same energy. "This confirms it," she said, her voice low. "My family sealed these rulers to protect the balance." Ling Shou nodded, his strength returning, his gaze heavy. "The towers weaken, but the Tax won't stop," he warned. "The bells grow louder."
Qin Mo rose, the pouch at his side warmer, the chime a relentless call. The chamber's runes flared, a new path opening, its entrance framed by cracked ice. The team gathered, their breaths visible, the fight's adrenaline fading into a wary alertness. The sovereign's defeat was a victory, but the shadows ahead hinted at greater trials, each step drawing them closer to the bells' heart.