Frozen Flame of Dawn-Chapter 40 - 19: Defending the Village–The Ice Fortress_2

Amira’s Command From the Wall

The bodies of beasts littered the ground. Blood soaked the dirt. Villagers huddled inside the frozen square, their eyes wide with awe as they stared at Amira standing on the wall, frost curling around her.

She looked like an icebound queen. Her breath was slow. Her eyes focused like a hawk’s.

"Selena, watch your footwork. You’re pushing too hard on your right leg. Balance it."

"Jared, stay on the defensive until you see an opening. You’re swinging too wide."

"Kai, watch your left! You’re overextending!" she called out over the comm. She saw it before he did—the third hound circling behind him.

Kai spun just in time, his spear coming up to block the snap of jaws. "Thanks, Cap!" he said, gritting his teeth as he shoved the hound back.

Her eyes moved to Quinn, watching his sparks of fire. "More control, Quinn. Power’s nothing without precision. Focus."

Her team’s mistakes were clear. But so was their progress. They weren’t fighting like before anymore. They were evolving.

Her eyes didn’t linger on them long. They’d learn. They had to. She scanned further, her gaze falling on the small group gathered closer to the center of the square.

That’s when she spotted them — Rhea and her medical team.

Rhea was hunched over a villager, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hands stained with fresh blood. Her movements were sharp but precise as she cleaned a gash on the man’s arm with a soaked cloth.

Beside her, Mira knelt beside two young kids, one of them crying while she dabbed at a small cut on his knee. Her face was a mask of concentration, but her hands trembled slightly.

The team was doing good work, but they were scattered. Their supplies were laid out on the ground — herbs, bandages, vials, and bottles — all exposed, all disorganized.

She raised her comm to her lips. "Rhea, Mira, stop what you’re doing." Her voice was sharp, authoritative, and it cut through the static like ice.

As their attention shifted she asked "Set up a proper camp on north side, don’t work in disorganized manner. let the injured come and treat them properly."

After few hours - The Calm Before the Stampede

The sun hung low on the horizon, its fading glow painting the sky with hues of deep red and orange. Smoke still lingered in the air, its pungent smell carried by the light breeze.

The aftermath of the earlier battle was evident — beast corpses lay scattered around the village square, blood seeping into the dirt like fresh ink on parchment. Amira sat atop the ice fortress, her silhouette framed against the fiery sky like a queen on her throne.

Her legs were crossed, her posture straight but relaxed. Her hands rested lightly on her knees, palms up, eyes half-lidded as if in meditation.

Cold mist curled from her fingertips, swirling gently around her like lazy phantoms. Her mind was sharp, alert, yet her body remained still, steady as the ice she had summoned.

Her senses stretched outward. She didn’t need to look to see. Her mind’s eye swept over the land like a hawk flying high above.

Every movement, every shift of energy within a 1-kilometer radius pulsed like ripples in a pond. She could sense it all. A bird taking flight.

The slow, measured movements of her soldiers cleaning up the remnants of battle. The shaky footsteps of villagers being guided into the protection of the square. It was all there.

But she didn’t push too hard. Using her mental energy at full capacity was draining. Instead, she focused on circulating her energy through her body, slowly but steadily. Each slow breath she took drew in the cool air.

Each exhale sent that energy flowing through her veins, coiling it tighter and tighter, like a spring being wound.

Her fingers tapped lightly on her knee. The sensation of power building inside her was like filling a reservoir drop by drop. It wasn’t fast, but it was effective. She needed it.

She’d used too much of her energy constructing the fortress. Her gaze stayed distant but sharp, scanning everything without moving a muscle.

The village square had finally quieted down. The cries of villagers had faded, replaced by the steady hum of movement and low murmurs.

"Captain, east side’s clear! No more hostiles!" Voss’s voice crackled over the comm.

"North side’s clear too, Cap! No more movement!" Drevin added a second later.

Amira nodded to herself, tapping her comm. "Copy. Regroup at the square. Check for stragglers. Stay alert."

Her breath was steady. Her mind eased slightly. It was almost over.

But her peace didn’t last. Her eyes snapped open. Her fingers twitched, and her breath drew in slowly.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

It wasn’t subtle. The ground shook in rhythmic pulses, small tremors becoming stronger with each thud. Amira’s fingers curled slightly, frost gathering at her fingertips like instinct. Her mind pulsed outward, locking onto the source.

"No. Not now."

Her heart didn’t race, but her focus sharpened in an instant. Her eyes shifted to the west, toward a distant patch of treeline just beyond the edge of her range. She saw them before they broke through.

Buffaloes. But not buffaloes.

Massive. Thick. Hulking beasts. Their hooves slammed into the ground like war hammers, dirt and stone flying with every step. Twice—no, three times their normal size.

Their eyes glowed an eerie orange, and steam shot from their nostrils like vents from a pressurized boiler. Their horns were no longer smooth—they were jagged, twisted into rough spikes.

Five. No, eight of them. All charging in a straight line toward the fortress.

"West side! We have movement—MUTATED BUFFALO CHARGE!" Amira’s voice snapped like a whip over the comm. "All units on the west—positions now! You see those horns, you keep your distance! Rear units, aim for their legs. Sam, Asher, Sophie, you each take two. I’ll slow them down. You take them out."

"On it, Captain!" came Sam’s voice, steady but tense.

Amira’s hands shot forward, fingers splayed. Frost surged from her fingertips, and the air hissed as moisture condensed into sharp shards of ice.

The ground beneath the charging buffaloes exploded with ice spikes, each one sharp, jagged, and unyielding. They jutted up in front of the beasts, forcing them to slow, shift, and stumble.

THUD-THUD-CRACK!

One of the buffaloes crashed into a spike, its massive horn getting caught. It bellowed in pain, jerking its head to free itself. Another beast swerved to the side, stumbling over uneven terrain created by the ice spikes.

"They’re splitting! They’re splitting!" Sam’s voice echoed in the comm.

"That’s the idea, Sam. Don’t rely on the spikes! Aim for the legs, people! Drop ’em!" Amira barked, her eyes darting between her teams.

Sam’s Team

"This one’s mine! Get that spear ready, Marco!" Sam barked, his spear raised and ready. His arms flexed, gripping it with both hands. His gaze didn’t waver as he watched the buffalo thrash against the ice, its horns locked against a large frozen spike.

"You better hold that thing steady, Sam, or I’m not jumping in," Marco yelled, planting his spear in the ground at an angle. The wood creaked under the pressure, but he held firm.

The buffalo snorted, its breath like steam from a furnace. With a violent twist, it yanked its horns free, roaring with fury. Its eyes locked on them.

"It’s coming! Hold it, Marco!" Sam gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his brow.

The buffalo charged, its head lowered. The spear caught it dead center in the chest. It didn’t pierce deep, but it was enough to slow it.

"NOW!" Sam shouted.

Marco didn’t wait. Using the buffalo’s own momentum against it, he twisted the spear, forcing it to turn its body. Sophie sprang from the side, her knife glinting like a flash of silver lightning.

SLASH!

Her blade struck the buffalo’s exposed flank, cutting deep through the muscle. Blood sprayed the dirt in thick droplets. The beast stumbled, its legs trembling from the pain.

"Fall, you oversized meatball!" Sophie hissed, twisting her body to drive a second blade into its hind leg. The beast collapsed to its knees.

"Got it down! Take it out!" Sam ordered. Marco yanked his spear free and drove it down into the back of the beast’s neck. It shuddered once, then went still.

"One down, next! Move!"

Asher’s Team

"Two on me! Two on me! Yara, cover my left!" Asher barked as two buffaloes stormed his way.

"I’m not a miracle worker, but fine, I’ll see what I can do!" Yara snapped, reloading her gun as she moved into position.

Asher gripped his spear tighter. He felt the surge of strength in his arms. It wasn’t just adrenaline. It was his newly awakened power. His body felt stronger, as he controlled his energy to build solid sand cover around his hands and feets. His muscles flexed, his grip solid as stone.

"You want to charge me? Come on, then!" Asher grunted, his eyes narrow, locked on the charging beast.

As it barreled toward him, he didn’t back down. His boots dug into the dirt, his body bracing for impact. His legs surged with new power.

"HOLD!" he roared, driving his spear down at the perfect angle.

The beast’s momentum met his unyielding strength. The ground beneath him cracked. For a moment, it seemed like the buffalo would win, but with a sharp push, Asher tilted the spear, shifting its weight. The buffalo staggered, its charge broken.

"Yara, now!" he roared.

She didn’t hesitate. Her hand flicked forward, and from her palm, a small lighting burst forth. It wasn’t much, barely more than a spark, she made her shot, the bullet covered in that spark to the beast eyes, distracting it just long enough for Asher to thrust his spear through its throat.

While the others fought, Amira’s eyes locked on something... different.

At first, it looked like just another buffalo. But then its fur shimmered like polished steel. The blows from Jared’s team weren’t even scratching it. Their spears glanced off like they were made of twigs.

"Cap, this one’s bad news!" Jared’s voice was frantic. "Its skin—it’s like metal! Nothing’s getting through!"

"Forget it! Move! Focus on the others!" Amira barked.

Frost swirled at her feet. She didn’t wait for a response. She lifted her hands, pulling cold air around her as her breath became a sharp mist.

The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.

With a sharp step forward, she slid off the top of the wall. Her boots hit the ground in a low crouch, and she was already sprinting. She moved faster than any human should have been able to, her eyes locked on the metallic beast.

Her strategy was simple. Break it.

Her arms moved in sharp, controlled movements. Her fingers flicked, and from each flick, a small, sharp ice shard shot forward like a dart. She didn’t target random spots. She aimed for one point—just one—on its neck.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

The beast snorted and roared, thrashing as it swung its head, but she was too fast. Every time it swiped at her, she was already gone, her body darting to the side. Her movements were liquid, smooth, untouchable.

"What’s wrong? Thought you were tough," she muttered, flicking another shard. Her eyes stayed on the same spot.

Her strategy was working. The constant cold was weakening the spot, turning the hard metal brittle.

"Almost there," she breathed. Her eyes were locked in, focused. One more strike.

Her fingers twitched. One more shard flew out—perfect precision.

CRACK!

The metal fractured.

"NOW!"

She lunged, her dagger drawn. She slammed it into the exposed weak point, but it didn’t go deep. She snarled, pulling herself up onto its back. Her knees dug into its sides as she crouched on its back like a rider.

Her hands gripped the handle of the dagger. Her eyes narrowed.

"This is where you break, beast."

Frost surged from her hands. It poured into the dagger, flowing directly into the beast’s body. Ice spread through its veins like wildfire.

The beast shuddered, its movements slowing. Its breath became a ragged, foggy wheeze. Its legs buckled. Its head dropped.

Amira pulled her dagger free, jumping off its back. She wiped the blood from her face, her eyes sharp as ever.

Her gaze shifted toward the treeline. She knew it wasn’t over.

*****

Meanwhile, across the city in the towering Rienfeld building, inside its top floor, excess dripped from every surface. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a panoramic view of the city, golden accents lined the marble floors, and the air reeked of leather, cologne, and faint traces of perfume. Everything here existed to remind people that this was Cain Rienfeld’s domain.

Cain sat at the center of it all, reclined in a sleek leather chair. His white dress shirt hung half-open, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His jacket was tossed over the chair, and his tie hung loose around his neck. He exuded ease and control, every inch of him screaming "untouchable."

In front of him, perched on the desk, sat a woman with long, silky hair that cascaded over her shoulder. Her eyes were sharp, her smile playful but knowing. She traced lazy circles on his chest, her nails light but deliberate.

"You always find time to play, don’t you, Cain?" she teased, tilting her head with a grin.

"Time’s only a problem for people who don’t control it," Cain replied smoothly, his fingers trailing down her arm. His grin was slow, confident. "And me? I control everything."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Control, huh? Wonder how long that’ll last."

Before Cain could reply, knock, knock.

The sound cut through the air like a stone dropped into still water. His grin vanished. His head snapped toward the door, eyes sharp as glass.

"Ugh, what now?" he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he’d just been told his vacation was canceled. He glanced at the woman. "Stay. I’ll handle it." He flashed her a wink. "Don’t get lonely."

She rolled her eyes, grinning as she leaned back, arms crossed like she was settling in for a show.

"Come in," Cain called out, his voice sharp with irritation.

The door clicked open, and in stepped Theo, Alaric’s personal secretary. Crisp black suit, not a wrinkle in sight. His posture was rigid, every movement efficient, like he’d calculated the exact number of steps to the desk. His gaze flicked to the woman, then to Cain, and stayed there.

"Good morning, Sir Cain," Theo greeted, bowing his head.

"Spare me the formalities, Theo," Cain sighed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "What do you want? And it better be good."

Theo adjusted his glasses and tapped on a sleek black tablet in his hand. His eyes moved quickly over the screen before meeting Cain’s.

"Your elder brother has assigned you a task, sir," Theo said evenly.

Cain’s brow lifted, his grin returning. "Finally," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "About time he gave me something real to do. What’s the mission?"

Theo cleared his throat, tapping the screen. "You’re to oversee the escort of a research center. Your job is to ensure its protection and safe arrival of all resource and important workforce here." He glanced up. "The Elder Master requested that you manage it personally."

Cain’s eyes gleamed, and a sharp smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Finally." He shot up from his chair, arms stretched wide like he’d just been crowned king.

"About time they stopped treating me like a kid!" He spun toward Theo, pointing like he’d just won a bet. "Did you hear that, Theo? I’m running the show. No oversight. Me. In charge."

The woman clapped slowly, her grin sly. "Look at you, Mr. Big Shot. Took them long enough to recognize your ’potential.’"

"Damn right," Cain said, throwing a wink her way. He turned back to Theo, eyes sharp with that dangerous edge that made people nervous. "Put Grant in charge of the escort team. He’s the strongest."

Theo’s face tightened, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

"Sir, with respect, I advise against it," Theo said carefully, knowing full well what came next.

Cain’s grin vanished. His gaze narrowed, sharp as broken glass. "What was that?"

Theo took a steady breath. "A single team won’t be enough. The roads are unstable, and beast activity on that route has surged. One team is risky."

Cain clicked his tongue like a parent scolding a child. "Always with the ’danger’ talk, huh, Theo?" He tapped his temple. "That’s why I’m in charge, and you’re taking notes."

"Sir, I’m only suggesting—"

"Fine," Cain cut in, holding up a hand like he was being generous. "Go to the Dragon Unit headquarters they are the best. Tell them I want two extra squads for escort support."

Theo’s jaw tightened. "Sir, the Dragon Unit is already engaged with city patrols. They might refuse."

Cain stepped forward, slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on Theo like a wolf spotting prey. He stopped inches from Theo’s face, his grin as sharp as ever.

"They’ll listen," Cain said softly, his voice a blade sliding into silk. "You’ll flash the Rienfeld crest, tell them it’s from grandfather’s, and if they hesitate…" He tilted his head, his grin widening. "Remind them who signs their paychecks."

Theo exhaled slowly. He’d seen this look before. The look Cain got before he did something reckless.

"Understood, sir," Theo muttered, lowering his head. He turned and made for the door.

"See that?" Cain called after him, throwing his arms wide toward the woman. "Power moves, darling. Power moves."

The woman gave a short laugh. "You’re so dramatic, you know that?"

Theo didn’t stay to hear the rest. As he stepped into the hallway, the door closing behind him, he muttered under his breath, "They’re going to hate me for this."

He adjusted his glasses, his gaze hardening. "But they’ll hate him more."