True strength lies not in the force of the blade, but in the resonance of understanding—of oneself, one's enemy, and the world around them.
Unknown:
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Before she could gather herself to push the matter, a new voice cut through the tension like a blade, deep and commanding.
"Take out your sword, boy," Her Father Voice was heard, his words heavy with intent and resolve.
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Ymir, realizing how effortlessly he was being tossed around like a ragdoll, decided it was time to wield his weapon—Frostbane.
The sword was not merely a weapon but a testament to dread itself.
Its hilt, carved from the bones of ancient frost dragons long extinct, was etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with a cold, blue light.
The blade, forged from what appeared to be translucent ice, radiated an unsettling metallic hum—a fusion of frost and enchanted steel.
Razor-sharp shards of ice lined its edges, shimmering with a dangerous allure as they perpetually grew and melted in a haunting cycle.
Every swing of Frostbane left trails of frostfire in its wake—a chilling, blue flame that burned with a coldness more profound than the void itself.
Ymir lifted Frostbane effortlessly with one hand, the runes along the blade harmonizing with the glowing sigils that adorned his massive frame.
His voice rumbled like an avalanche cascading down a frozen mountain. "This blade has ended empires. Let's see if you fare any better."
Leveling the weapon at Amel, its frigid aura seeped into the air, chilling the atmosphere within the Perfect Cube to a bone-numbing frost. "And now, boy, take out your sword."
Amel stood unflinchingly, his gaze steady and resolute. His lips curled into a faint, taunting smirk as he replied, "Make me."
The audacity of the human stunned Ymir momentarily, his glowing, icy-blue eyes narrowing in disbelief.
"Hummsfed," he growled under his breath, his frigid exhalation forming frosty swirls in the air.
Ymir tightened his grip on Frostbane, weighing the possibility of simply ending this farce. He had offered the boy a chance—a fleeting sliver of mercy—but Amel's insolence had discarded it outright.
"So be it," Ymir snarled, stepping forward with an ominous resolve that made the ground beneath him tremble.
As the frost giant prepared to swing Frostbane, Amel raised one hand, palm outward in a calm yet commanding gesture of pause.
"What is it now, boy?" Ymir demanded, his patience dangerously close to shattering.
Amel's voice remained calm, almost infuriatingly so. "I have a question."
Ymir hesitated, his towering figure rigid, before letting out a low, guttural sigh. "Speak."
Amel tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. "I don't understand why you want to fight me in the first place."
The question gave Ymir pause, the frost giant's towering form momentarily still as the words settled in the frosty air.
For a brief moment, he said nothing, the tension between them growing thicker. Then, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"How about this," Ymir said, his voice heavy with arrogance yet laced with intrigue, "if you manage to land another hit on me, I'll cease this fight and tell you everything."
His words reverberated within the confines of the Perfect Cube, a challenge soaked in equal parts disdain and curiosity.
"Now, ready yourself."
Ymir raised Frostbane high, its frostfire aura roaring to life like a spectral beacon, casting eerie blue light across the confines of the unbreakable magical cube.
The sword's hum deepened into a menacing vibration, promising devastation with every pulse. Ymir's colossal frame tensed, his every movement honed by centuries of battle-hardened instinct.
Amel stood firm, unwavering, his brown eyes locked on Ymir with unrelenting focus.
He made no move to draw a weapon. Instead, he raised his hands, palms outward, his fingers twitching slightly as though conducting an invisible force.
The air around him began to shimmer and vibrate, carrying a low, almost imperceptible hum that resonated through the cube—a subtle disturbance in reality itself.
"You think you can stop me with empty gestures, boy?" Ymir snarled, his voice a thunderclap that shook the enclosed space.
The frostfire along Frostbane's edge flared violently, and the temperature plummeted even further.
Frost spread across the cube's floor in jagged, web-like patterns, creeping toward Amel's feet like a living thing.
Amel remained unfazed. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply.
When he exhaled, it was as if the entire atmosphere around him shifted.
His gaze, when it met Ymir's again, was no longer merely focused—it was piercing, carrying the weight of an unspoken truth, a quiet power that couldn't be ignored.
"You said if I landed another hit, you'd tell me everything," Amel said, his voice calm but laced with unyielding resolve. "I'll hold you to that."
Ymir sneered but said nothing, his grip on Frostbane tightening.
The giant prepared to strike, yet something in Amel's tone made him hesitate for just a fraction of a second—a hesitation that would cost him.
Amel brought his hands together in a sudden, forceful clap.
The sound that followed wasn't loud in the traditional sense.
It didn't boom or echo like Ymir's voice. Instead, it carried a haunting resonance that bypassed the ears entirely, piercing straight into the mind.
The eerie crack reverberated through the Perfect Cube, a sound that seemed to ripple through the very fabric of reality itself.
The frost creeping toward Amel froze in place, as though caught in the wake of an invisible force.
Even Ymir, with all his immense power, felt the crushing weight of the sound pressing against him—not just physically, but mentally.
The vibrations seemed to bypass his body entirely, resonating deep within his mind, like an unwelcome force invading his very thoughts.
Ymir froze. His massive form flinched as the invisible waves struck him with unrelenting force.
He growled, shaking his head violently in a futile effort to dispel the disorienting effect, but his movements became sluggish, his strength faltering like a great glacier beginning to crack under pressure.
Amel stepped forward, his posture unwavering, confidence radiating from every motion.
His arms spread wide, his body vibrating with a rhythmic, controlled energy that seemed to pulse in harmony with the space around him.
The air shimmered like a mirage, and the Perfect Cube itself reverberated, amplifying the frequencies into a relentless cascade of sound waves that built upon each other, rising to a crescendo of power.
"Sound is power," Amel said, his voice calm yet carrying an almost hypnotic resonance that cut through the frost-laden air like a blade.
"Every material, even your enchanted Frostbane, has a frequency at which it vibrates. Find that frequency, and you can break it—or, in your case, make it resonate against itself."
With precise, deliberate motion, Amel extended one hand toward Ymir, his fingers splayed.
From his palm, a concentrated sonic pulse erupted—unseen but undeniably potent. It struck Ymir square in the chest, sending ripples of vibrations tearing through his enormous frame.
The runes on Frostbane flared wildly, their once-steady glow spiraling into chaotic bursts of light. The blade trembled in Ymir's grip, no longer a weapon of might but a living entity writhing in pain.
"W-what… is this?!" Ymir bellowed, his thunderous voice now strained and uneven, betraying the first cracks in his unyielding confidence.
He staggered backward, his colossal frame struggling to remain upright.
The icy edge of Frostbane began to fracture, fine cracks spreading like spiderwebs across its surface.
The frostfire that had once burned eternally sputtered, flickering weakly, like the dying embers of a once-roaring flame.
Amel took another step closer, his every movement deliberate, the hum of his vibrating aura growing stronger with each stride. "Your body," he said, his voice sharp and steady, "your sword… even the magic binding this cube—they all follow the same rules."
He advanced further, his outstretched hand radiating power, the air itself trembling around him as if recoiling from his control. "Resonance. Harmony. Disruption. All I needed was the right frequency."
Ymir's glowing eyes widened, realization dawning on him in an instant—but it was too late.
The sonic vibrations converged into a singular, focused pulse as Amel thrust his hand forward with unerring precision.
The pulse struck Ymir square in the chest, and the giant's colossal frame buckled under the force. The impact hurled Ymir backward like a ragdoll, slamming him into the wall of the magical cube with a deafening thud.
The surface of the cube rippled violently, its unyielding magic absorbing the shock but holding firm, keeping Ymir trapped within its confines.
Frostbane slipped from Ymir's grasp, its once-intimidating glow now dimmed.
The blade clattered to the ground, riddled with cracks, its imposing aura reduced to that of a broken relic.
Slumped against the cube's wall, Ymir's chest heaved with labored breaths that echoed in the tense silence. The giant—a warrior who had vanquished legions and shattered empires—was now still, stunned, and silent.
Amel stood tall, his hand still extended, though the faint tremor of sonic energy had begun to dissipate into the air.
His expression was calm, yet triumphant, a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
Slowly, he lowered his arm. "I believe that counts as a hit," he said, his tone composed but tinged with resolute satisfaction.
Ymir coughed, then let out a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed with both exhaustion and begrudging respect. "You… boy… you actually did it. Struck me down without ever drawing a blade."
His voice carried an unfamiliar mix of astonishment and admiration, as though he were reassessing the man who had bested him.
"You owe me answers," Amel replied firmly, his eyes locked on the giant.
Despite the lingering tension in the air, his voice was steady, cutting through the moment like a blade. "Why are we fighting? What's the point of all this?"
Ymir nodded slowly, his glowing eyes dimming as he steadied his breath. "You've earned your answers, boy. But heed my words—the truth you seek may not bring the closure you hope for. It may lead only to more questions."
Amel's gaze hardened, his voice unyielding. "Truth is never easy—it's always sharp and painful, like spikes. But we have a choice: let it hurt us and bleed, or embrace it and let it shape who we are. I'm ready to hear your story."
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Meanwhile, Uzrul stood frozen, her wide eyes locked on the scene before her. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what she had just witnessed.
What the fuck… she thought, her heart pounding in her chest. This isn't something a normal person should ever be allowed to see.
For the first time in her life, she had seen her father—a being she had thought invincible—fall. And worse, he had been defeated without even landing a single blow.
Beside her, Yuno's voice broke the tense silence, carrying a faint trace of pride. "See? I told you he'd be fine," she said, her tone casual but layered with satisfaction.
Uzrul turned to Yuno, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. "You… knew he could do this?" she asked, her voice tinged with both awe and confusion.
Yuno smirked, crossing her arms in her signature confident stance. "Let's just say I had a feeling. Amel isn't someone you can easily put into a box—unless it's one of his own making."
Uzrul looked back at the cube, her father slumped in defeat, and Amel standing tall, victorious.
For once, she found herself without a snarky comeback. All she could do was watch, her thoughts swirling. Who is this man?
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We are at Chapter 69 On Patreon! Link: patreon.com/TenaciousJay002
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