A massive pit a hundred meters across had been driven straight down tens of thousands of meters into the ice. Every scrap of Mystic Ice along the way had been absorbed by that mithril sphere. These ice blocks, frozen for who knew how many years, contained immeasurable chill—yet the mithril sphere devoured every last bit of it.
Then the ground began to tremble faintly. The mithril sphere slowly started to turn, countless magical patterns flashing rapidly across its smooth surface as it ground against the surrounding ice with sharp squeals. Rings of cold air spread from within it, the near-solid chill condensing into invisible ice blades that swiftly tore open an enormous space beneath the ice.
Then came a terrifying explosion.
Layer after layer of the mithril sphere exploded apart. Vast magical patterns and runes formed from azure-blue cold air as thick as overlapping city walls surged in every direction, forcibly ripping apart the underground ice, shattering it, reducing it to nothing. The one hundred and eight divine-grade longswords wailed at once. The cold air crashed into the swords and, within the crimson radiance pouring from them, forcibly blasted open an utterly insignificant crack.
Those long-dead dragons, long since stripped of life, threw back their heads and roared together. Streams of searing dragon breath poured forth madly, forming a colossal fireball that blocked the terrifying tide of cold. But Ais Te had prepared for so long—how could she possibly allow that chill to be forced back?
With a casual point of her finger, the Deep Blue Heart released a dazzling thousand-meter-wide cold radiance and spun as it plunged downward. Rings of icy light spread outward, and the surging tide of cold, strengthened by the Deep Blue Heart, immediately multiplied its might dozens of times over. A tsunami-like roar erupted from