The silence in the dungeon broke like glass.
Lif lunged.
No restraint.
He launched his entire body at the towering man in pristine white armor—his foot driving forward like a cannonball aimed at the heart. The stone beneath Lif cracked as he pushed off it with all his weight, his eyes burning with rage, focus, pain.
The kick connected dead center against the man's chestplate.
The impact boomed like thunder.
The entire chamber trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling. The chains on the walls rattled violently.
But the man didn't move an inch.
The polished white armor didn't even dent.
Lif stared, teeth gritted in disbelief.
"…Weak," the man muttered flatly.
Then without even shifting his footing, he grabbed Lif by the arm and hurled him across the room like a ragdoll.
Lif's body spun through the air—blood trailing like ribbons—before slamming into the far wall.
But he didn't fall.
His feet hit the stone, propelling himself back at the man even faster than before. His fist swung wide, screaming through the air.
The man calmly raised a hand and parried the blow with ease.
Lif twisted mid-air, landed low on his palms, and swept his leg toward the man's ankles. But before it could connect, the man brought his boot down with a brutal crack, stomping straight onto Lif's shin.
Lif let out a sharp grunt of pain, his knee buckling.
One of the guards gripping his blade spoke, "Should we finish him off, General Atralth?"
Atralth didn't even look at him.
"Leave. Both of you."
"But sir—"
"Go."
The tone made the guards freeze. Then, slowly, they backed away into the shadows, leaving the chamber echoing with tension.
Lif was already upright again, panting, his arm trembling. A strange blue tint began crawling up his forearm—starting at his wrist, like something beneath the skin wanted out.
Atralth finally looked at it, narrowing his eyes. "Still trying?"
Lif dashed at him again, unleashing a flurry of wild strikes—hooks, jabs, elbows, knees—but every move was dodged or blocked like Atralth was swatting at leaves in the wind. He was faster now, more desperate.
Atralth moved with eerie calm.
Lif ducked under a swing and managed to land a punch to the general's side—but the sound was more like a metal clang than a hit. Atralth didn't react.
He responded with a heavy uppercut that grazed Lif's chin and lifted him off the ground, but Lif twisted mid-air and landed again, this time with a spinning kick to the head.
Didnt even faze him
Atralth finally shifted his footing.
Kicking lif in the side.
Lif's body ached, his breathing ragged. But he refused to stop. His fists lit with pain. His body screamed at him to stop—but that strange blue hue spreading up his arm kept growing stronger. It was no longer a tint—it was frost.
Tiny flakes of snow danced around him.
He lifted a boot and drove it hard into Lif's chest. The sound of air leaving Lif's lungs was sharp. His body flew back like a cannonball, crashed into the far wall, and fell forward, coughing violently.
"Child's play," Atralth said with a cruel smirk.
Then his voice turned ice-cold.
"Even your parents put up more of a fight."
The words froze the dungeon.
Lif lay still.
His fingers twitched.
Then his voice came—quiet, low, almost a whisper. But laced with venom.
"…Do not speak of my family."
Atralth chuckled. "Or what?"
But before he could blink—
Lif appeared.
Right in front of him.
Atralth leaned back just in time to avoid a punch to the jaw—but as the fist sailed past, the glow from Lif's arm intensified. The bluish hue suddenly exploded into jagged form.
SHHKK—!
A sharp icicle burst out from Lif's fist mid-swing, slashing Atralth across the cheek in a clean line.
Blood flew.
Both of them froze.
Lif stood panting, arm raised, staring at the jagged icicle protruding from his knuckles.
It shimmered in the dungeon light—beautiful, pure.
Then it shattered.
The icy fragments scattered to the ground, melting instantly on the stone. Lif's breath trembled as he looked down, feeling the cold coursing through his muscles and veins.
A new sensation.
Was this it? Had he finally been chosen?
He stared at his hand. It was shaking—but not from pain.
He looked up slowly toward Atralth.
The man stood still, a line of blood dripping down his face.
And he was… blushing.
"…Tch."
Atralth wiped the blood off his cheek slowly, then stared at it on his fingertips. His chest was rising and falling faster now.
The flush on his face deepened.
Even the guards watching from the shadows exchanged confused glances.
Lif took a step back, face twisted in disbelief. "What the hell…?"
Atralth's voice came low and steady—almost like a whisper of longing.
"…Thank you. I forgot how this sensation feels."
Then—
THUD!!!
Atralth's boot slammed into Lif's chest with the force of a collapsing mountain.
The sound of ribs breaking echoed through the dungeon like a scream.
Lif's body flew backward into the wall. The entire palace above seemed to tremble. Cracks snaked through the stone. Blood sprayed across it.
Lif slumped to the ground, motionless.
Unconscious.
Atralth stared down at him one last time, the strange flush still on his cheeks. He didn't even glance at the guards as he turned to leave, his footsteps echoing down the hall beyond the chamber.
There was a long, awkward silence.
Then one of the guards leaned over to the other and whispered
"…So he's a masochist"
Hello author here, this is the volume one, season one, whatever you wanna call it finale, i hope you enjoyed the first volume of the tale of the ice king. Season 2 of the tale of the ice king will come soon, probably next week... But till i decide when to make it, please do remember to continue Reading, i never wrote fantasies before so im trying my Best and seeing You guys are kinda enjoying it makes me very happy, have a blessed day readere and ttotik will return soon