Godfrey looked down, where Isaac and Lucy rested beside their summons, while Percival stood a few hundred feet away, looking back at him. The third-year student had his hands in his pockets, his jacket flapping softly.
Godfrey was about to wave at Percival when he saw Grace charging up a strike. His eyes, and those of his friends, widened as Grace breathed a huge stream of thick white mist; a mist that froze an army of undead!
"Is he mad?!" Percival exclaimed. He watched as Godfrey stood there while the breath reached him. It covered him in a huge heap of snow, turning him into an awkward sight.
A hunter drinking water spat it out and began to choke. A female hunter beside him had just been talking about Godfrey, only for him to become a snow dump in the next moment.
"Snowman." Isolde giggled, her cheeks gaining a pink hue as her heart pounded hard. She knew Godfrey had the capability to escape, but he stood there. That level of trust made her feel warm.
