Vastarael stood—or what could barely be called "standing"—in the middle of it all. His legs trembled beneath the weight of his own broken frame, his knees slightly bent, threatening to give out, yet they never did. His entire figure was mangled beyond recognition, looking more like a mutilated corpse than a warrior.
His upper body was completely exposed now, his once-pristine garments shredded into unrecognizable tatters long ago. His chest and arms were a mass of cuts, bruises and frostbite, the icy burns eating into his flesh. His peony tattoo was still fine.
His ribs were visible because parts of his skin and muscle had been ripped away during the fight. Blood mixed with the freezing winds, staining the ice-red beneath him, only to be frozen into crimson shards moments later. And yet, through it all, his body kept regenerating, stitching itself together like some horrifying patchwork doll.
His face was perhaps the worst of all. Half of it had been caved in during the earlier clash when Permafrost had slammed his hammer directly into Vastarael's face. The entire left side of his head was a grotesque sight, but even that was healing. Slowly and horrifyingly, Vastarael's skull began knitting itself back together, the sound of cracking bone echoing through the frozen wasteland like distant thunder.
His breath was shallow and raspy, clouds of condensation forming around his mouth as he exhaled. But his face was silent. Deadly silent. He wasn't speaking. No snarling, no roaring, no witty comebacks. Nothing.
Pain? His body was screaming in it. But he had endured worse in his first life. In fact, compared to the laboratory experiments, fighting a Divine while regenerating was a massive relief.
He did have that ability in his past life and he still had it here.
Permafrost's Grasp was no longer lounging on his icy throne. The so-called Winter Labor had been forced off his seat and into a more defensive stance, his once-arrogant expression replaced by unease.
For the first time, Permafrost seemed to register Vastarael for what he truly was. He was calamity that simply refused to stop. His tattoos still glowed and the domain was still his, but even he couldn't ignore the fatigue setting into his movements.
His ice no longer formed as quickly and the fractures in his armor-like tattoos had not healed. The advantage was still his—he was a Divine, after all—but the cracks in his confidence were growing.
Vastarael didn't respond. He only moved.
It started with a step forward, his bare foot crunching against the frozen ground. Then another. Each step left behind fragments of sapphire and blood, trailing like shattered glass in the snow.
Permafrost readied his hammer, the tattoos on his body flaring in defiance and with a roar, he slammed it into the ground. Ice erupted from beneath Vastarael's feet, massive spikes shooting upward to skewer him.
Vastarael didn't dodge. He let the spikes impale his abdomen and chest, the sound of ice piercing flesh reverberating across the battlefield. Blood sprayed outward in gruesome arcs, freezing almost immediately as it touched the air. But before Permafrost could revel in his advantage, the sapphire on Vastarael's body responded.
The spikes that had pierced him began to freeze in reverse, sapphire overtaking them, crawling up their length like vines. With a sickening crunch, Vastarael broke the ice spikes himself, ripping them out of his own body as his regeneration filled in the gaping holes they left behind.
He hurled the broken chunks at Permafrost with devastating force, each piece shattering like a bomb against the Labor's defenses.
Then he was upon him.
Vastarael lunged, his sapphire-coated fist slamming into Permafrost's midsection. The sheer force of the blow sent the Winter Labor flying backward, skidding across the ice and slamming into a pillar. The impact cracked the ice behind him, the ground itself groaning under the strain.
Permafrost coughed, blood misting the air as he struggled to his feet. His glowing tattoos were flickering now, their light dimming with every second.
"You're insane!" Permafrost bellowed, his voice tinged with desperation. "Do you even realize the state you're in? You're nothing but a walking corpse!"
Vastarael still didn't answer. His silence was more terrifying than any retort. Instead, he clenched his fists, sapphire spikes erupting from his knuckles as he prepared to charge again.
The two clashed once more, the ice and sapphire tearing at each other.
Permafrost's hammer swung with cataclysmic force, each strike creating shockwaves that threatened to collapse the entire domain. Vastarael, however, didn't block or parry anymore. He took the blows directly, letting them smash into his arms, his chest and skull. Every hit shattered parts of his body, but each time, he regenerated. Stronger. Faster.
Having hardened sapphire bones made the impact less fatal but it still hurt. But he didn't care.
For every blow he endured, Vastarael returned one in kind. His fists, coated in sapphire and driven by sheer willpower, began to break through Permafrost's defenses.
By now, Vastarael's regeneration had entered a terrifying rhythm. His body repaired itself as fast as it was destroyed, an endless cycle of destruction and rebirth that showed no signs of stopping. His stamina was growing. His body, his essence, his very existence thrived on the brink of destruction.
Meanwhile, Permafrost was slowing. His attacks had grown sloppy. His domain, once an impenetrable fortress of ice, was cracking and crumbling. For every strike he landed, Vastarael landed two, and the disparity only widened with time.
"You're… not human," Permafrost gasped, blood dripping from his lips as he stumbled back. "You're a monster."
Vastarael finally stopped moving for a moment, standing amidst the carnage, his sapphire-encrusted form gleaming against the icy backdrop.
His body twitched as it healed itself, bones snapping back into place and torn flesh sealing itself shut. He returned back to his handsome expression as he summoned his glaive.
"Haah... I said that I didn't want to hold back but I still made a plan. Now that you're halfway weaker than you were, perhaps it's time for me to attack. Plenituse First Technique..."
Permafrost didn't blink. Instead, he coated his entire body with ice before Vastarael instantly went for the neck. He blocked his attack with his gigantic Divine Hammer and stepped back.
He didn't see the attack but his icy armor shattered in an instant.
"You are one hard opponent to kill. But let's continue..."
Across from him, Permafrost steadied his Divine Hammer, the massive weapon crackling with ethereal frost.
The air around them seemed to hold its breath until Vastarael struck.
With a burst of speed, he lunged forward, Calimostria slicing through the air with an audible whine. Permafrost reacted instantly, raising his Divine Hammer just in time to intercept the glaive. The collision sent a shockwave through the battlefield, cracking the ground beneath them and sending shards of ice flying in every direction.
The sound of sapphire grinding against enchanted metal echoed like thunder. Vastarael's seven cores were reinforcing his body with essence, making him surpass the limits of a mere First Phase Ascender.
Vastarael pivoted on his heel, spinning his glaive in a wide arc toward Permafrost's side. The Divine twisted his massive frame, his hammer coming up in a defensive sweep to block the strike. Sparks erupted from the point of contact.
Permafrost retaliated with a brutal swing, his hammer aimed squarely at Vastarael's midsection. Vastarael barely managed to leap back, the hammer smashing into the ground where he had stood a fraction of a second ago. The impact created a small crater and ice spikes erupted from the ground, seeking to impale the Aeterium prince.
He didn't hesitate. Vastarael leaped above the spikes, twisting mid-air as Calimostria flashed downward like a lightning bolt. Permafrost raised his hammer, the weapon acting as a shield, but the force of the strike sent him sliding back across the frozen ground.
Vastarael landed lightly, his glaive poised in both hands. This time, he lunged again, this time aiming for Permafrost's shoulder. The Divine ducked under the strike and sung upward with his hammer, aiming for Vastarael's exposed side.
The prince twisted at the last moment, the hammer grazing his ribs and sending a jolt of pain through his body. But he didn't falter. His regeneration kicked in almost instantly, the damaged tissue mending itself before Permafrost could press the advantage.
Vastarael retaliated with a spinning slash, Calimostria's sapphire blade cutting a gleaming arc through the air.
The glaive struck Permafrost's icy armor and the crystalline edge sliced clean through it, leaving a deep gash in the Divine's side. Permafrost staggered back, his free hand instinctively pressing against the wound as shards of broken ice fell from his body. His tattoos flickered erratically, their glow dimming further with every passing second.
"First Plenituse Technique..."
The glaive shimmered, the sapphire blade now glistening with a thin layer of water. Permafrost's eyes narrowed as he watched the liquid flow along the blade, refusing to freeze despite the frigid temperature. Vastarael moved again, faster this time, his glaive a blur as it slashed toward Permafrost.
"Viridescence."
The Divine raised his hammer to block but the water-coated blade slid along the surface of the hammer with precision, bypassing his defenses and slicing into his forearm. Permafrost snarled, stepping back as blood mixed with shards of ice and fell to the ground.
The fight became a blur of motion, the two combatants trading blow after blow with relentless ferocity.
Vastarael's glaive danced in his hands despite the chaos of the battle. Permafrost's hammer was equally devastating, its swings creating massive shockwaves that shattered the ice around them and sent icy debris flying.
But for every wound Permafrost inflicted, Vastarael regenerated. Cuts that would have crippled any other warrior healed in seconds, the sapphire aura around him seeming to grow brighter with each exchange. Permafrost, on the other hand, was slowing down. His movements were now labored and desperate.
"You're… not human."
Permafrost muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief as he swung his hammer again.
Vastarael ducked under the strike, his glaive flashing upward in a counterattack that severed one of the glowing tattoos on Permafrost's chest. The Divine roared in pain, staggering back as the tattoo's light faded and his icy armor began to crack further.
Vastarael pressed the advantage, his strikes coming faster and harder, each one aimed to exploit the weaknesses in Permafrost's defenses. He didn't use any of his Circlecraft or magecraft, knowing that even a moment's distraction could cost him the fight. Instead, he relied on his physical prowess and his glaive.
The ice around them began to crumble as the battle reached its peak, the frozen wasteland unable to withstand the sheer force of their clash. Vastarael's glaive tore through the icy ground, his strikes severing frozen mountains and sending massive chunks of ice tumbling into the abyss.
Permafrost swung his hammer in a wide arc, the weapon smashing into the ground and creating a massive shockwave that sent Vastarael skidding backward. The prince barely managed to regain his footing, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
"You're running out of time," Vastarael said, his voice cold and steady as he leveled his glaive at Permafrost.
The Divine growled, his icy armor cracking and falling away in pieces.
"You think you've won? You're a fool if you think I'll fall to a mere First Phase Ascender!"
Vastarael didn't respond. He simply moved. His glaive flashed and the frozen battlefield was consumed by the final, devastating clash.