The men didn't dare move.
When did he come back?!
It had been years since they last saw him, and they had even thought he must have been dead.
But no.
He was very much alive and worse than ever.
Ice.
"Such mischievous people," Ice was mumbling, "I go on a holiday for a while and they sprout like mushrooms all over."
He looked at the two rows of men, squatting on the floor, their hands placed on top of their heads. They were actually shivering, not daring to disobey Ice at that moment. Those who had tried to fight were all dead.
They weren't wimps. Not really.
They would have fought. Really.
The problem was, the way those that died … it was just too gruesome. And weird. Ice looked at them, and they froze. They actually just stood there, not moving an inch while Ice took out this bad-ass sword and started to slice at them.
One by one.
A sword!
Since when did Ice use a sword?!
