As opposed to Frostine, General Anya and her battle mount Freya landed softly and gracefully upon the ground, letting out no more than a slight tap as Freya's large body made contact with the soil.
Anya glared at the pit before her with chilling ferocity, this monster was the cause for so many deaths among her subordinates, a debt that she planned to repay.
"Get up!!" She spoke with such unbridled bloodlust that even Frost hovering in the distance felt his skin crawl, his instincts warning him of the extreme danger.
Frostine let out a groan as an all-encompassing pressure pressed down on his body and his alone. The surrounding soil, trees and leftover snow were completely unaffected. An A-rank combatant had far better control over their aura than those of B-rank.
Frostine felt his body ache as his muscles forcibly contracted and blood seeped out from his many wounds, Anya's demand to get up was proving difficult for the mighty frost monarch.
