The battlefield froze.
Shards of ice crawled across the cracked ground as Vamos rose again, his presence colder than death itself. His eyes glimmered with frost, voice low and cutting like a blade across every spine.
Vamos (calm, chilling): "Not yet."
Darok didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, his fist roaring like a hammer, ready to end it in one blow.
BAAAM!
But Vamos slipped past it—effortless, like a ghost. His body tilted just enough, his foot gliding across the frozen dirt. Then—
CRACK!
A silent uppercut shot upward, smashing into Darok's chin and snapping his head back.
Darok staggered, but before he could retaliate, Vamos slid back, frost aura exploding violently around him. It spread like a blizzard, sharp and suffocating, colliding with Darok's heavy smoke-like pressure. The two forces clashed in the air, ripping through the battlefield with invisible shockwaves.
Darok (thinking, teeth gritted): This cold… it's sharper than before. My body… it's slowing…
Then Vamos moved.
A lightning jab. Darok saw it, prepared to deflect—his body already shifting to parry—
But mid-strike, the jab twisted. In an instant, it transformed—fluid, seamless—into a frost-coated hook carrying the full weight of Vamos's adaptive strike.
BOOOOM!!
The hook slammed into Darok's temple. His head snapped back violently, his vision flashing white, consciousness teetering on the edge.
Darok (thinking, fading): That power… unreal…
The battlefield went silent for a breath. Even the fangs and Crimson Eclipse fighters froze mid-brawl, feeling the weight of the impact.
Vamos stood tall, his breath icy, his voice carrying across the chaos.
Vamos (cold, defiant): "Don't you dare look down on me. I am Vamos… No.2 of Azure fangs. Remember it."
The frost swallowed the battlefield once more.