Before Azaron could move, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor swung his scythe once again, another surge of energy erupting outwards, but this time, it came with a chilling force as he converted the energies he had absorbed into pure ice energy, refining and compressing it into something far beyond ordinary elemental manifestation.
The battlefield that had been extremely hot, burning, and searing immediately seemed to invert, turning into a sprawling mountain of jagged ice shards, frost spreading with terrifying dominance as the very air crystallized.
Azaron watched the ice race towards him, his gaze steady and unreadable; he didn't need to be told to know this was not regular ice, as the attack surged forward, stretching for kilometres with endless expansion, he simply snapped his fingers, and in the next instant, space itself froze instantly as though time had been paused, but it hadn't.
