The air in the Inner Sanctum tasted of ozone, blood, and the biting ash of a blizzard that refused to die. Alvian wiped a smear of blood from his lip, his eyes locked onto the two remaining pylons humming with violet energy. His health bar hovered in the yellow, a dangerous threshold for a glass cannon build, but his mind was a glacier—cold, unmoving, and utterly focused.

"Phase Two," Alvian repeated, his voice a low growl that cut through the shrieking wind.

Malagor, the SnowMage Lord, floated above the dais, his form flickering as the backlash from the destroyed pylons destabilized his invulnerability matrix. His face, a mask of frozen arrogance, twisted into pure, unadulterated rage.

"Insolence! You think breaking my toys will save you?" Malagor roared, raising his staff. The skull atop it screamed, spewing a cloud of necrotic frost. "I am the herald of the End! I am the Winter that never yields!"

[Boss Skill Activated: [Winter's Grasp]]

[Effect: Roots all targets within 50 meters and inflicts [Deep Freeze] (200 Damage/sec).]

Ice tendrils erupted from the floor, seeking to snare the squad.

"Move!" Alvian barked.

He didn't run. He calculated. The cooldown on his [Shadow-Stride Boots] ticked to zero.

'Activate [Shadow Step].'

His figure dissolved into a blur of darkness just as the ice claws snapped shut on the space he had occupied a millisecond before. He reappeared instantly in the shadow of the rear right pylon, twenty meters across the room.

Valeria was not so lucky with teleportation, but she had brute force. As the ice grasped at her greaves, she roared, her claymore glowing with a holy light.

"[Titan's Stride]!"

She stomped, sending a shockwave of physical force through the ground that shattered the ice tendrils before they could solidify. She charged the front right pylon, her shield raised to deflect a volley of ice shards Malagor fired in panic.

"Elara, keep Valeria upright! Arin, suppress the boss!" Alvian commanded through the comms.

"I-I'm trying!" Arin shrieked, firing a continuous stream of fireballs. They did negligible damage to the boss, [-15], [-20], but the visual noise was enough to distract Malagor's AI targeting for a split second.

That second was all Alvian needed.

He stood before the third pylon. It was a towering crystal of corrupted mana, vibrating with the heartbeat of the mountain. He didn't have the charges to upgrade his weapon, and his [Runic Aegis] was on a short cooldown. He had to do this the hard way.

He gripped the [Behemoth's Earthshaker Greataxe]. It was heavy, clumsy, and completely unsuited for an assassin. But right now, he didn't need finesse. He needed mass.

"System, divert all Energy to Strength. Maximum output."

[Warning! Mana channels straining. Sustained overload will cause internal damage.]

"Do it."

His muscles swelled, the veins in his arms bulging like steel cables. He swung the massive axe, the purple blade singing a song of destruction.

"CRUNCH!"

The axe bit deep into the crystal pylon. A spiderweb of cracks exploded across its surface.

[-2,400!]

Malagor shrieked as if he had been struck physically. The link between him and the pylon flared.

"Get away from it, vermin!" The Boss abandoned his assault on Valeria and turned his staff toward Alvian. "[Frost Nova]!"

An expanding ring of absolute zero energy rushed toward Alvian.

"Alvian, dodge!" Elara screamed.

He couldn't. If he moved, the pylon would regenerate. He had to commit.

He dropped the axe and switched to his dagger. He stabbed his own hand, the pain sharpening his focus, and slammed his bloody palm onto the cracking crystal.

"[Frost Descent +2]... Invert flow."

It was a gamble. A usage of the skill he had never tested. Instead of projecting the blizzard outward, he pushed the command into the crystal, trying to override its frequency with his own perfected frost mana.

The system screamed warnings.

[Critical Error! Mana collision imminent!]

The violet light of the pylon clashed with the pure white blue of Alvian's skill. The pylon vibrated violently.

"Shatter," Alvian whispered.

"BOOM!"

The crystal couldn't handle the conflicting laws of magic. It detonated. Alvian was thrown backward, skidding across the ice, his health dropping to 15%.

[Pylon 3 Destroyed!]

Across the room, Valeria reached her target. She didn't use magic. She used rage. She hammered the final pylon with her shield, then her sword, then her shield again, a rhythmic beat of violence.

"BREAK!" she screamed, delivering a final, two-handed overhead chop.

The fourth pylon crumbled into dust.

Malagor fell.

The levitation spell failed as his power source was severed. The Boss crashed onto the black ice of the dais, his staff clattering away. The violet aura of invulnerability shattered like glass.

[Boss Status Updated: [Vulnerable] / [Manic]]

"Now! Kill him!" Alvian shouted, forcing himself up despite his screaming ribs.

The squad converged. It was a slaughter. Stripped of his ritual protection, Malagor was just a mage with a high health pool. Valeria slashed his legs, crippling him. Arin, emboldened by the boss's weakness, poured fire into his face.

Alvian moved in for the kill. He approached the fallen Lord, who was clawing desperately toward the Master Seed floating above the dais.

"The Winter… cannot… end…" Malagor gurgled, black blood leaking from his mouth.

Alvian stepped on the mage's hand, crushing the fingers reaching for the Seed. He looked down, his eyes devoid of pity.

"Winter ends when I say it does."

He reversed his grip on the [Wyrm-Tooth Dagger].

[Shadow Weave +2] activated for a split second, just long enough to trigger the ambush bonus damage.

"SLASH!"

The obsidian blade severed Malagor's head from his shoulders.

[Ding! You have slain SnowMage Lord - Malagor (Level 35)!]

[You have achieved a feat: [Slayer of the Cult]!]

[Experience Gained: 450,000!]

[Level Up!]

[Level Up!]

Alvian stood over the corpse, breathing heavily. Level 23. The rush of power was intoxicating, washing away the pain of his injuries.

Valeria lowered her sword, slumping slightly. "It's over," she breathed, looking around the sanctum. "We did it."

Elara fell to her knees, sobbing with relief. Even Arin let out a shaky laugh.

Alvian didn't laugh. He didn't sheath his dagger. His eyes snapped to the floating Master Seed.

Malagor was dead. The ritual should have stopped. The violet clouds above should have dissipated.

But the heartbeat was louder.

"Thump… THUMP… THUMP."

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