The moment he saw the true form beneath the block of ice, the gray-robed wizard's legs gave out. He dropped to his knees with a thud, pressing his forehead against the cold stone slabs.
"Lord Stigma, I meant no offense. Please spare my life."
The others froze.
Wait... this thing was a Stigma?
Their gazes shifted to the ice statue holding the block of ice, then back to the Formal Wizard kneeling on the ground.
Even the Formal Wizard had knelt. What else was there to say? Kneel!
At that thought, their legs gave out too. They dropped to their knees one after another, pressing their foreheads against the slabs and begging for mercy.
By then, the successive disturbances seemed to have "activated" the block of ice as well. The white frost on its surface began to melt.
The ice grew thinner, shrinking from two meters thick to one, then from one meter to half a meter...
The human figure inside became increasingly clear.
It was a man with white hair, white eyebrows, and white eyelashes.
His hands emerged from the ice and gripped its edges. With one forceful push, the ice shattered, and he stepped out.
There was not a trace of moisture on him. His clothes were dry, and so was his hair.
He stood at the edge of the pit, looking down at the people kneeling and trembling on the ground.
The eyes of the Frost Stigma were filled with boundless indifference.
He gave a cold snort.
It was quiet, yet everyone heard it clearly, and a surge welled up from within their bodies.
The Formal Wizard kneeling on the ground felt his blood turn cold. Something swam through his veins like countless fine needles, flowing from his heart toward his limbs.
His body began to shake