Zarmon watched carefully as Snow's magic grew. He knew this next attack would be a crazy one.
"Blizzards of Icicles? Uh?" he frowned but suddenly smiled. "You can't defeat me with such low–"
His words were cut short when a piece of icicle sliced through his neck. However, as the highest-ranking demon in the order of the table, this simple cut didn't mean anything, or so he thought, until he couldn't heal.
Each time the wound closed, it would reopen and freeze, like an endless cycle.
Seeing his shock, Snow said, "You might be a powerful demon, but you don't actually know the powers of your opponent. Your pride would be your downfall."
Zarmon did not utter a single word. However, he fixed his eyes on Snow with fury.
"Ice Magic!" Snow repeated, "Blizzard of Icicles… Rain!"
The night clouds became gloomy, and the temperature dropped drastically.
