Clang!
A golden lance pierced through the barriers of space and viciously stabbed into the body of a colossal creature clad in ink-blue armor. The ferocious beast, which trudged through the blizzard like a moving mountain, only had time to let out a deep, mournful cry before toppling sideways into the heavy snow. Bitter winds howled through the gaps in its scales like the wails of the dead, while the rapidly fading light in its pupils proved its death...
This was the surface of Gaal, the Ink-Blue Moon—one of the three moons in the sky above the Faerun plane. The enormous beast that had fallen here was merely a Master-level Frost Mammoth. These giant magical creatures, typically over five hundred meters tall and born with Formal Level strength, were native species of Gaal. Their habit of feeding on low-temperature elemental crystals made them harmless by nature.
However... being "harmless" did not always mean being safe. For example, the Frost Mammoth lying on the ground now was already the final member of its herd to die. When its body crashed down, the trembling, collapsing white earth was almost completely covered in the corpses of these icy beasts.
Every mammoth that had fallen here had been effortlessly killed in a single strike. Whether they had suffered before dying was uncertain, but at least they had all died very quietly.
By now, the executioner sitting atop a Frost Mammoth's corpse could calmly polish his gleaming lance while listening to the howling gale.
"Whew, I've had enough of this frozen wasteland! This world is way too monotonous and boring. There are blizzards everywhere, fierce winds everywhere, and the only things walking across the plains are these slow, stupid giants... Just as I thought, all that nonsense in those bardic novels about 'Ice and Snow