Chapter 20 The Frozen Graveyard
As I stood at the edge of the lake, the sight before me turned my stomach.
The Groomcroaks had completely overrun the waters, their bloated, warty bodies wallowing and croaking as they churned up the once-clear surface.
The lake’s gentle shimmer was gone—now it was murky, polluted, and stinking of decay.
I activated my Advanced Search skill. A pale-blue notification screen blinked to life in front of me, displaying a simplified layout of the lake.
Red dots pulsed across the map—each one a Groomcroak.
Clusters filled the water, while a smaller number lurked on land.
And there, in the very center, a single massive dot glowed like a heartbeat. The Molgurath.
A voice came from the shadows of the trees behind me. “You’re still here.”
I turned sharply, quickly closing the radar screen. Sir Darruk stepped out from the darkness, his armor faintly glinting in the dim light. I hoped he hadn’t seen what I was doing.
He walked up beside me, arms folded. “Are you still planning to fight those things?”
I smiled faintly. “Yeah. I am.”
“Lady Sylendra already told us she’d guide us to another lake—one where we can start over. Didn’t she tell you that?”
“She did,” I admitted. “But… can I ask you a question, Sir Darruk?”
He gave me a puzzled look. “Uh… sure.”
“What do you think will happen if this place becomes a barren wasteland, and the Groomcroaks have nothing left to feed on?”
The realization hit him instantly. His expression hardened. “Then… they’ll have to find somewhere else to live.”
I nodded. “And if they’re not dealt with here, they’ll just keep destroying everything in their path.”
He stared at me for a moment before asking, “So… what are you going to do about it?”
“I have a plan,” I said, my tone steady. “But I need you to take everyone as far away as you can.”
His brow furrowed. “You sure you can fight them on your own?”
I gave him a smirk. That was all the answer he needed.
Darruk drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “All right. But when I’m done evacuating everyone, I’m coming back with my soldiers. You hear me?”
“Got it.”
“Don't die out there alright kid” He gave one last look at the lake before turning and disappearing into the forest’s shadows.
I stood there for a moment, breathing in the damp, foul-smelling air. Above me, the first light of dawn began to spill across the horizon, tinting the clouds in shades of gold and crimson.
I tightened my grip, eyes fixed on the lake.
“Let the fun begin.”
I left from the shore, boots thudding against the damp earth as I vanished into the treeline. The air was thick with the smell of wet moss and decay, every breath carrying the stench of the Groomcroaks’ corruption.
The Advanced Search map still burned in my mind—each red dot marking prey that needed to be erased.
The first one came into view quickly. A mid-sized Groomcroak sat crouched in the mud, its tongue snapping out to snatch an unlucky squirrel from the underbrush. It never saw me coming.
The Flare Sword hissed to life in my grip, its crimson glow cutting through the morning mist. I stepped in, slicing across its throat in a clean arc. The creature collapsed with a strangled croak, its blood steaming where the blade’s heat seared through flesh.
“One down,” I murmured.
I kept moving, weaving between gnarled roots and hanging vines.
Each kill was quick—until I found one the size of a wagon, crouched low with eyes that burned like molten gold.
The thing lunged before I could close the gap, its tongue snapping out like a whip.
I rolled aside, the strike tearing a tree trunk in half.
“Persistent, huh?”
I switched to the Glacier Sword. The air around me dropped in temperature instantly, mist curling from the blade.
When it lunged again, I slashed through its tongue mid-strike, the frost spreading up its jaw.
It shrieked, thrashing wildly, but I drove the blade into its chest, ice locking its body in place before it shattered under its own weight.
Hours bled away as I stalked each red dot on the map.
Some fell to quick strikes from the Flare Sword, their bodies burning into nothing but ash.
Others forced me into drawn-out duels, their powerful legs sending them leaping through the canopy or smashing the ground hard enough to throw me off balance.
By midday, my arms were sore, my clothes spattered with mud and gore. Still, I pressed on. The sun’s arc drifted toward the horizon, the forest growing heavy with the deep orange light of approaching evening.
The last one—a hulking brute with jagged black spines—roared as I cornered it near a rocky outcrop.
It charged, the ground shaking beneath its weight.
I met its momentum head-on, crossing both swords in an X.
Flare’s heat and Glacier’s frost slammed into the creature at once—fire and ice tearing through hide and bone.
The Groomcroak gave one final, gurgling bellow before it collapsed in a smoking, frozen heap.
I exhaled slowly, lowering my blades.
The forest was silent now. Every red dot on land… gone.
The last sliver of the sun dipped below the treeline, shadows stretching long across the lake. The water rippled, and out there—waiting—the rest of the swarm stirred.
I emerged from the treeline, my boots crunching against the dirt as I returned to the lake’s shore.
The sight before me twisted my stomach again a part of the lake had almost turned black and murky, thick with slime as the Groomcroaks writhed and splashed about, their guttural croaks echoing like a curse across the valley.
The corruption was spreading fast, eating away at everything it touched.
I didn’t waste a second.
Planting my feet firmly, I raised the Glacier Sword high, pouring a torrent of mana into its blade. The steel pulsed with a frigid blue light, the air itself trembling under the surge of power. Frost crawled along the ground at my feet, racing outwards as if the earth itself feared what was coming.
“—Ice Age Prison!”
I slammed the blade deep into the shore.
A deafening crack split the air as freezing energy erupted outward. In an instant, the entire lake stiffened—ripples locking into jagged waves of crystal-blue ice. Groomcroaks thrashed and shrieked, but their cries were cut short as ice swallowed them whole.
Then a blizzard followed.
A wall of howling wind roared across the waters, snow spiraling upward in a violent storm. My clothes whipped around me, stinging flakes biting into my skin as the storm grew stronger and stronger, engulfing everything in sight.
And then—silence.
The storm cleared as suddenly as it had risen. What remained stole my breath away.
The lake was gone, replaced by a frozen wasteland of jagged ice and towering crystalline pillars that pierced the heavens.
Every Groomcroak that had tainted these waters was now sealed within the glacier, their monstrous forms locked in silent, grotesque statues.
Some were frozen mid-leap, claws extended; others entombed deep below the surface, trapped forever in their icy prison.
I rested a hand on the hilt of my sword, the blade still buried in the frost, and whispered, almost to myself:
“Now… let’s see how long you can last.”
The lake was silent now, a frozen graveyard glittering beneath the pale light of the setting sun.
I let out a slow breath, savoring the stillness, and pulled open my Online Shop with a flick of my hand.
A small bottle of water appeared with a shimmer of light.
I closed the menu, twisted the cap off, and downed it in one long pull, the cold liquid refreshing my dry throat.
With a practiced motion, I slipped the empty bottle into my Item Box and exhaled, the frosty air leaving my lungs in a faint white cloud.
Just as I steadied myself, the last sliver of sunlight dipped below the horizon, and night swept over the lake like a dark curtain.
Gripping the hilts of my swords, I stepped forward.
Each crunch of my boots echoed faintly across the ice. Beneath me, distorted shadows of the Groomcroak stared up from their crystal prisons, their bodies locked in grotesque poses. Rows of jagged ice pillars surrounded me, like a forest of frozen tombstones.
Then—
WHIP!
Instinct screamed. I twisted aside as a grotesque, slimy tongue lashed past my cheek, slamming against the ice with a sickening crack. My eyes darted toward the source—and there they were.
A cluster of Groomcroaks. Half-frozen.
Their bloated lower bodies were fused into the ice, but their torsos writhed above the surface, croaking madly as their glowing amber eyes locked on me. Their tongues lashed wildly, desperate and erratic, snapping like whips across the frozen surface.
“Tch… figures some of you pests wouldn’t go quietly.”
I drew both swords—Flare Sword in my right, Glacier Sword in my left. Flames flickered along one blade, frost shimmered along the other.
The first Groomcroak lunged, its tongue shooting toward me like a spear.
I parried it with the flat of the Glacier Sword, frost instantly spreading along the tongue.
With a grunt, I spun and severed it with a clean strike of the Flare Sword.
The creature shrieked as fire seared its flesh, then I drove the blade straight into its chest, the smell of charred swamp-flesh filling the air.
Another one struck from behind—its tongue darting low. I vaulted into the air, twisting mid-leap, and came down hard, both swords flashing in an X-shaped slash. The monster split in two, frozen blood spraying across the ice before instantly solidifying.
The rest roared, thrashing desperately. Their tongues lashed from all directions.
I ducked, sidestepped, rolled, and countered in a dance of blades.
Fire ignited the night as my Flare Sword scorched through thick hides, while the Glacier Sword encased tongues and arms in brittle ice, leaving them vulnerable to a swift decapitating strike.
Each kill echoed like a hammer striking glass—another creature falling, another grotesque statue added to the frozen battlefield.
By the time my boots crunched to a halt, my breath was steady, mist curling in the cold air. Behind me lay the scattered corpses of the half-frozen Groomcroaks, their upper bodies broken and burned beyond recognition.
And before me—
The towering silhouette of the Molgurath, sealed in a massive block of ice at the very center of the lake.
Its hulking form loomed like a nightmare caught mid-slumber, its monstrous frame locked in place, eyes dim but hateful even through the frozen prison.
I tightened my grip on my blades.
“…Your turn.”
As the words left my lips, a low, rumbling sound echoed across the frozen lake.
The ice that bound the Molgurath shuddered violently, cracks spiderwebbing across the massive prison of frost. A sharp CRACK split the silence, followed by another, louder—until the entire formation burst apart in a thunderous explosion.
Shards of ice shot into the air like deadly blades, a violent gust of wind sweeping across the lake and nearly knocking me off balance.
I raised my arm to shield my face as the storm of ice fragments slashed past, whistling like arrows. When the gale finally began to settle, a chilling silence returned—broken only by the slow, guttural rumble that made the ground tremble beneath my boots.
I lowered my arm and looked up. There it stood, no longer imprisoned. The Molgurath—towering, grotesque, and radiating raw malice—fixed its glowing red eyes on me. The frost still clung to parts of its scaled body, steam rising as its immense power burned through the remnants of my spell.
Despite the suffocating pressure that pressed down on me, I felt a smirk tug at my lips. I tightened my grip on my swords and roared, ‘ALRIGHT—brING IT!’