Ian and Snake Rock's armor faced each other. Without a word, Ian walked forward calmly.
Wherever he passed, frost drifted outward. Even the several-meter-deep river froze solid. Black mud and translucent water turned snow-white beneath the boy's feet, while rows of icy spikes rose around him, radiating dense water-aspected Origin Matter.
Ice blossoms bloomed across the ground.
In contrast, the Frostwisdom vents behind Ian no longer spewed cold air. Instead, they released searing steam, creating vast clouds of mist that blanketed the entire riverbank.
Snake Rock was at a loss. He was clearly piloting armor and clad in armor himself, with weapons and potions in abundant supply. This was the best-equipped and wealthiest he had ever been in forty years—but even so, before the White Folk boy, he still felt naked, as though everything about him had been seen through, without the slightest sense of security.
Snake Rock never fought unprepared battles. That was why he had been selected as commander of the Mountain Folk expeditionary force against Layan City. Yet precisely because of that, he had never imagined he would have to fight someone face-to-face.
One on one, face to face.
"Don't come any closer!"
Sweat poured from his forehead as Snake Rock lost his composure and shouted.
The more-than-four-meter-tall armor raised its drill-equipped right arm. The rapidly spinning blade drill could bore through earth and stone, and it could directly pulverize armor and armored suits as well—but this dangerous weapon inspired no sense of danger. Instead, it only reflected its master's unease.
Ian seemed not to hear him. The spinning drill was reflected in his cyan eyes, rotating so slowly it looked like an old electric fan. All it would take was a casual reach of the hand... and it could be stopped.
At that thought, he smiled.