The frost giant Yurisann charged straight into where the monk Snowman had been standing, but struck nothing—sliding past without a hitch, dragging a long furrow in its wake. Behind it, fireballs burst one after another, rising in successive waves. Klein, his body slightly stiff, used the surges to leap and pivot, never being pulled away by the "King of the North," always staying within five meters of him. When Yurisann halted, still remaining invisible, Klein suddenly felt an ill omen in his mind, a clear image forming. He immediately lunged forward, nearly crawling along the ground to squeeze beneath the frost giant's body. At the same time, Yurisann's long, powerful tail swept out, sweeping across and striking the elven singer Chathas and the noble of the Solomonic Empire, Mobeet. Wheee! The wind roared suddenly, hurling Mobert aside, who narrowly avoided the ice-frost dragon's tail. Chastel, though aided by the gust, retreated slightly along the sweeping motion to absorb the force, yet still was struck on the side, her thick shimmering scales cracking and fracturing under the impact, her ribs shattering one by one, sending her reeling backward. Supported by the wind, she landed on the snow with a relatively gentle crash—not a fatal blow. For Mobert, Andersen, and the others, such an impact would have been instantly lethal. Fortunately, the "Storm" pathway granted protective shimmering scales and incremental enhancements at each sequence, so Chastel sustained only serious injuries, remained conscious, and retained sufficient mobility. At that moment, King of the North, Yurisun, tilted his neck and opened his mouth, exhaling a soft, pale blue ripple. The ripples of light swept over Snowman, turning the austere monk into an ice sculpture. Edwenna, Dragonzeler, and Anderson were either blocked by the massive dragon's body, or using other extraordinary abilities, or too far away to reach them in time for rescue. Thud! The frost giant lowered and turned, its footsteps shaking the ground. At this moment, its condition had clearly deteriorated—its right shoulder bore a severe wound. Though the pale blue, frozen blood had temporarily stabilized the injury, the corresponding front claw was nearly paralyzed, making movement difficult. Several of its dream-like scales had shattered, now dim and lifeless, as though it had lost a significant portion of its vitality. Nevertheless, it had decisively wounded or impeded the three opponents, and its condition had improved considerably—especially the serious injury to the towering Groserel, which now freed it from constant pursuit and allowed it to launch unimpeded attacks. Witnessing this, Edwenna's gentle blue eyes deepened into a rich, dark hue, and a thick tide of ill will flowed steadily within her. Her right palm clenched tightly. "King of the North," Urielos, once again raised his head and roared, his voice filled with intense pain, with pale blue liquid streaming from the corners of his eyes and mouth. At this moment, the ice frost dragon's mind was overwhelmed by the explosive surge of emotions impacting his ethereal form. Seizing this opportunity, Edwenna's eyes brightened, becoming exceptionally pure, and the morning light surrounding her rapidly coalesced into a sword. She would embody the role of the "Guardian," stepping forward to block "King of the North." She believed that Germain Spalro had surely moved into position beside Urielos with a purpose—only time remained to be revealed! At that very moment, a figure emerged, radiating the glow of dawn, advancing directly toward the ice frost dragon. It was the great Groserel! His chest was indented, his gray-blue skin pale, and the broad sword in his hand showed spider-web-like cracks—yet he bravely faced the enemy. Groserel seemed to be burning with life, radiating light and heat, and he launched a decisive strike toward his target. "The giants never yield!" With each roar, Grolsier blocked the frost giant dragon's blows, and even as one of its forelimbs was disabled, he managed to evade the icy blue breath. "Imprison!" Dragon Zeler rushed forward, restricting the movements of the "King of the North." Edwenna found her rhythm, waiting until Yurisahn angrily broke free from his restraints before igniting his fury, ensuring continuous control and eliminating the need for rapid, high-impact charges. Anderson alternately launched blazing lances and created condensed fireballs, inflicting maximum damage on the opponent with relentless precision. Once Moberet regained his strength, he continued to steal ideas and abilities, disrupting the frost giant's attacks. Yurisahn attempted to extend his wings, stirring up snow and ice to rise into the air twice, but each time was hampered by Zeler's successive "Flight Prohibitions," making the efforts slow and labored—eventually, he had to give up. Klein, gradually adjusting the "spirit thread" as it constantly shifts position at his feet and beneath him, had reached the twenty-second mark yet still failed—because the spirit power of the "King of the North" was both immense and wild! Then, a tremendous crash echoed as the broadsword in Groserel's hands, already dampened by the frost breath of the great dragon, was struck again by the dragon's forepaw and shattered completely into countless fragments, scattering in various directions. With a series of sharp *pffft* sounds, the invisible wall before Groserel, nearly at its limit, was pierced, and several fragments deeply embedded themselves into his head and chest. The nearest "Judgment Knight," Longzeler, likewise failed to evade, his side armor shattered and his flesh torn and mangled at the point of impact. "Giants never retreat!" Groserel roared once more, as the dawn light surged across his body and a pure blade of light appeared in his hands. With blood darkening his face nearly to black, he once again blocked the great dragon's next assault. At this moment, Caine, manipulating the "spirit threads" with the grace of plucking strings, finally caught a glimpse of the dawn of initial control. Three seconds! Two seconds! One second! The movements of "King of the North" Yuris-An stalled abruptly, as if every joint in his body had been coated with rust. The great ice dragon instantly became alert, sensing the threat emanating from beneath it, and, while his thoughts were still momentarily sluggish, made a decisive decision to sit down—crushing that cunning and venomous foe into a pulp! Suddenly, however, a momentary lapse in his mind caused him to forget what he had intended to do, while twenty meters away, Moberet Soloyasde's legs gave way, and he sat down unexpectedly, settling onto the accumulated snow. Caine seized the opportunity and moved steadily—neither too fast nor too slow—approaching the outer side of the ice dragon's hind leg. His invisibility effect began to fade, since the simulation could not match the original; his hands half-stretched, his spirit leaping as if guiding a massive puppet. Thud! Uriel's thoughts, already sluggish, regained the decision made moments before. It slowly bent its hind legs, and its body collapsed like a mountain peak, yet only stirring a drifting blanket of snow and dust. No... not good... must... that... Its thoughts flowed in a clear, sequential order, one after another, and its heart contracted sharply, gathering a terrifying, pale-blue, nearly white radiance. This was an extraordinary ability intrinsic to its life—capable of creating a realm of extreme cold, a hell of frost—previously used to freeze everyone, including Kline and his companions, to the point of immobility. Had it not been for the restrained nature of the monks, particularly Snowman, the number of extraordinary beings who would have perished earlier would have been far greater. Yet now, under Kline's control, every action of Uriel was visibly slowed. Edwena, thus, keenly perceived the previously elusive source of danger. She promptly grasped her right hand and reignited the powerful emotional surge of the ice dragon. The body of the King of the North shivered slightly in a slow, deliberate motion, and the delicate, pale-blue light that had been gathering there dispersed uncontrollably, yet it did not disturb the surrounding environment. "…Ah…," the great ice dragon murmured, its mouth opening slowly, emitting a broken, wavering cry of pain. The elven singer Chastel recovered slightly, managed to rise with some effort, and immediately, despite her pain, drew her bow. Her hair once again spread out, and thick, leaden clouds reappeared in the sky above, where two distinct silver-white electric glows intertwined and surged upward, coiling into a fearsome, serpentine arrow of electricity that wrapped around and around the bow. Chastel's face contorted as she released the bowstring. The silver-white electric light shot straight into the chest and abdomen of Yurisahn, tearing a jagged wound—within which, flames erupted and lightning serpents surged, causing further destruction. At that moment, Anderson's eyes lit up, and a layer of blazing white flame surged over his body, transforming him into a streak of light that precisely struck the wound. Dark streaks rapidly appeared on the frost giant dragon's chest and abdomen, as though someone had hastily sketched there—Euris' thoughts, under the intense stimulation, no longer moved slowly, and he struggled to flap his wings and rise into the air. "Flight is prohibited here!" Dragon Zeler, the Knight of Discipline, promptly added more restrictions. Thud! The King of the North landed again, and the dark streaks across his chest and abdomen fully cracked, with a steady flow of pale blue blood and ruptured internal organs cascading out. Anderson then leapt off the dragon's body, his body flame now extinguished, gently covered by a thin layer of transparent ice. "So cold... so cold..." he held the "Death Short Tooth," stiffly jumping outward, his body continuously trembling. Klein, nearly dislodged from the ice giant's grasp just now, regained a sense of initial control, slowing down Uriestan's desperate wish for all present to perish together, while also suffering theft and explosion. The dragon's long neck rose slowly, emitting a slow, mournful cry, and its body gradually collapsed inch by inch. Throughout this, Klein did not attempt to stop Chastel and the others from continuing their assault, knowing clearly that transforming the ice giant into a puppet would not merely take five minutes—there were countless unforeseen complications in between. A series of pale, nearly white radiance surged within it, stirring the flesh and swiftly flowing through, rapidly transforming the massive dragon corpse into a thick, towering, snow-covered double door. No one needed to be reminded—every extraordinary being present instantly recognized it as the gateway to the outside world. "Finally, finally... it's done..." Groserel laughed, his voice gradually softening. Thud! With a sudden forward lunge, his towering form nearly four meters high crashed to the ground, one knee pressing firmly into the earth, and the morning light radiance flowing over him swiftly dispersed, his breath nearly fading away. "Groserel!" Chastel and the others hurried toward him, some struggling, others moving swiftly. Groserel slowly surveyed the scene, clenched his fist, and smiled warmly. "We've done it!" he said. "Giants never retreat..." His voice cut off abruptly, and his head, crowned with a vertical, single eye, lowered.