Frost itself is the epitome of elegance and beauty.
Even in the act of killing, it's breathtakingly beautiful.
The alley was enveloped in pristine white, devoid of any other color.
"Ar… Arthas?"
Seeing Arthas standing motionless, Hestia asked worriedly.
"Are you alright, Arthas? You defeated it, but the magic stones are gone…"
Looking at the pulverized Silverback Gorilla, Hestia said regretfully.
Dungeon monsters, upon death, disintegrated into shimmering fragments. It was as if parts of them returned to the Dungeon itself.
The Dungeon was alive, sentient. Arthas believed this; the dead monsters had simply returned to the Dungeon.
As for why he hadn't encountered monsters, Arthas was certain: the Dungeon feared him, not him personally, but his power.
Where did this power come from? This godlike power.
Arthas shook his head, chuckling. Was he the reincarnation of some ice god?
He felt a sudden weight in his hand; he hadn't felt this before wielding the sword, but after killing the Silverback Gorilla, he found it difficult to hold.
What… this weak physique can't even hold my own weapon?
Arthas chuckled. There were no weak Gods. Or maybe… Gods were this weak?
"I'm fine, it's just heavy."
Turning to reassure Hestia, Arthas smiled.
"That's good. Arthas is a mage; using a sword is difficult. I should have stopped Hephaestus from making a sword."
Hestia looked self-reproaching. Hephaestus had asked her before starting, and somehow, Hestia had chosen a sword over a staff.
"It's fine. Maybe this is best for me."
Looking at the sword, Arthas didn't mind.
He wasn't heavily reliant on weapons; this was merely a bonus.
As he was about to leave with Hestia…
A wave of cheers erupted.
The residents, witnessing the fight, expressed their excitement. They emerged from their homes, cheering from their windows. The street was filled with energy.
Though surrounded by cheers, Arthas didn't show much excitement; he shushed the crowd.
"Let's celebrate later. The Goddess is tired."
Arthas said softly; the residents noticed Hestia, limp, in his arms.
Hestia lay weakly against him, her eyes closed, her face pale.
"You worked hard, Hestia."
Knowing she'd exerted herself for him, Arthas felt touched.
As he carried Hestia away, the residents remained silent, watching him leave with respect and admiration.
...
A pair of eyes observed everything.
Witnessing Arthas wielding the weapon, the glittering frost, even the Goddess of Beauty couldn't help but exclaim.
"How captivating… the ugliness of death and destruction, yet so beautiful. Even Freya couldn't create such beautiful frost."
Arthas's frost surpassed even Freya's.
"Who are you? You can't be merely Freya's descendant."
Freya shook her head, increasingly curious about Arthas.
"How enviable… Hestia, to embrace such beauty, such gentle warmth."
On a rooftop.
From a high vantage point overlooking Arthas, Freya muttered.
She saw Arthas carefully carrying Hestia away.
"I can't help myself."
Freya, the Goddess of Beauty, showed a captivated expression, her body trembling, her legs tightly pressed together.
"Unlike anything before. This intense possessiveness… I want to extinguish my flames with your frost."
Freya, with a captivating expression, watched Arthas leave, her eyes narrowed.
Her silver hair flowed in the sunlight as she left.
"This childish game is amusing, Arthas. Next time… let's play adult games."
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