Dungeon of Niflheim

As Frost stared down the bandit leader, pressuring him to make a choice Avira was pretty much forgotten. All the brutish man could think about was how to preserve his own life and escape the young elf who could kill him with a single blow.

His earlier assumption about the group's relationship couldn't have been more wrong. Frost instead of dropping his weapon and pleading for Avira's safety instead egged him on, pressuring him to act on his threats, to kill her.

Frost repeatedly referred to Avira as someone useless, a naïve woman who lost against a foe far weaker than herself and in no time at all, a shameful display. If she couldn't even take care of a single bandit then how would she ever take on her insidious brothers.

The machinations of two highly supported princes and their near limitless subordinates would be far more devious than those of a mere bandit. Avira truly would just end up being killed at the hands of another if she couldn't handle the man currently shaking in his boots from Frost's mere presence.

He wasn't even using his aura, just his natural charisma was more than enough to pressure the bandit leader.

As the men stood in silence waiting for the other to make a move Avira was able to recollect herself and find her bearings. Frost's harsh words though heart piercing woke her from her delirium. Her mental acuity slowly returned allowing her to take stock of her current situation.

Her two thighs were completely shot for the moment, the bandit knew exactly what he was doing, the pain alone sent intense spasms throughout her body every other second. The physical pain was far greater than anything she'd ever experienced; she was afraid and couldn't help but cry and scream.

The battle was over so quickly and so abruptly that her adrenaline hadn't started pumping, she was feeling the full level of pain.

Pain especially intense pain like what she was currently suffering was a significant moment for those who risked their lives.

Soldiers may feel strong and courageous when standing side by side with their brothers and sisters, led into glorious battle under the umbrella that was their valiant generals, but once those boons were lost and the solider was alone, bereft of comrades and wounded, a person's true worth would be revealed.

Some cringe from the pain, cry, scream, holler for their parents as the intensity overwrites everything they trained for. The fear of death turning them to desperation.

That is not the point that decides one's worth, however.

Pain and fear of that pain as well as death is natural. Those experiencing it for the first time like Avira couldn't be expected to just grin and bear it, ignore their wounds and ultimately focus on the task at hand. It was natural for their souls to tremble, for them to turn to their baser instincts.

No, what determines a person's true worth is the moment after, when the pain is no longer a surprise, when their mind is able to acclimate to the intense change. If they then still choose to scream, cry and behave in a pathetic manner then they will never be able to take to the field of battle again, at least not effectively.

The moment things start to go sour, or if they're up against a superior foe they'll run, desperately trying to avoid that traumatic, pain filled experience regardless of how such an action would affect others.

The same held true perhaps even more so for adventurers, they who faced death on a regular basis, who regularly stared into the awaiting maws of monsters could never allow themselves to crumble, to falter in fear as the moment they did, death would come calling.

But if a person is able to calm their mind, to focus on the task at hand and regain control of their mind and body once the initial period of surprise had passed then these people could be called true warriors.

Avira was experiencing this opportunity at this very moment. Her mind that was previously numbed because of the pain as well as the sudden change in attitude within the bandit was starting churn. Frost's harsh words woke her up, forcing her to either remain useless and worthless or to fight, to clean up her own mess.

Frost barely managed to conceal a proud smirk as he noticed the light in Avira's eyes come back to life.

'That's it V, remember the battle isn't over until you draw your last breath.' The more he watched the more interested he became. Avira was like a diamond in the rough, unpolished but holding immense potential. He wanted to see her bloom, to flower into a warrior that could fill her brother's with abject fear.

Only someone like that could effectively take control of the Northrend empire and become his ally.

"Little bandit maybe you can stand here all day, wasting daylight but my friend and I have places to be so you can either uphold your threat and kill her which in turn will result in me killing you or you can drop your weapon, all your valuables and prostrate yourself on the snow and beg for mercy….and then I'll kill you." Frost playfully offered the bandit two choices, briefly alluding that the second would waive the death penalty, only to crush his hopes a few seconds later.

"If you're going to kill me then why would I bother with the second option, might as well as bring this bitch down to hell with me!" The bandit leader roared, his wrath allowing him to overcome his fear.

"As I said the choice is yours….well it was." Frost's smile grew making him look like a demon, his eyes shining as Avira made her move.

"Huh!?" The bandit leader was confused for a moment, a moment that this time Avira took advantage of.

"[Wind bullet]" With her mind focused again Avira was able to utilise her magic albeit with noticeable difficulty. With her left hand tightly wrapped around her wand she rapidly conjured four bullets of wind and fired them at the bandit leader's body.

Don! Don! Don! Don!

The four wind bullets slammed hard against the bandit's leather armour, leaving divots along his cuirass. Nothing was broken but the sudden and well targeted force heavily bruised his ribs and right shoulder. The bandit leader was thus pushed away from Avira after dropping his spiked club.

'Fuck!!' He internally screamed knowing full well that he was a goner, Frost with his strength wouldn't let such a prime opportunity go. He turned away from Avira and locked eyes with Frost hoping to see how he'd die but strangely Frost wasn't moving, instead he remained where he was with a look of amusement.

He then suddenly felt the surrounding air writhe and a chill ran down his spine. Turning back to Avira he could see her lips moving and could hear some sort of aria being spoken but he failed to recognise the spell, but his instincts were screaming danger. He tried to regain his balance and move but his feet were suddenly wrapped in chain bolas, he thus fell forward into the snow.

And the moment he crashed down Avira finished her casting.

"[Pillar of raging wind]" She chanted the complete aria, utilised her wand to its maximum capacity and even overextended her mana veins all to cast this half step 4th circle spell, the strongest and most cruel spell in her arsenal.

A green magic crest with a diameter of 4 metres appeared beneath the bandit leader locking him in place. The crest then rose 8 metres encasing him in a green pillar.

At this point Avira glared at the bandit with hate filled eyes. She imagined the amount of women this man had ruined and abused as well as the hundreds perhaps even thousands that were kidnapped by his bandit enclave as a whole. The image sickened her to her stomach. She could have just as easily become one of them, a woman who could only survive by bringing pleasure to the man who destroyed her.

"There's a special place in the hells for a being like you!" She screamed with such hatred that it felt grating to the ears.

The next second the green pillar encasing the bandit leader conjured up a storm of wind blades that gradually picked up velocity.

"Ahhh!" The bandit leader screamed as blades of wind carved up his skin, drawing small amounts of blood, like minor paper cuts. These wounds continued to build and build until not a single section of his flesh wasn't flayed. The entire torturous process took 3 minutes, after 3 minutes the bandit had been cut up into minute chunks, his organs and blood desecrating the snow where he once stood.

Such a display brought a shiver to Borris' back while Frost was all smiles, he even nodded his head and clapped in admiration. A slow painful death by a woman he deemed nothing more than his next breeding sow.

Once the spell was finished and the battle was officially over Frost walked next to sitting Avira. He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes.

"What did you learn?" He asked playfully.

"….to not show mercy." Avira replied through a clenched jaw, her thighs still in immense pain and her heart still wounded by Frost's words even though she now realised the reason he said them.

"Good, now take a health potion so we can continue our journey to Icethorne." He said with an amused smile.

"…..No praise, no apology for being so mean?"

"???? You took down a man far weaker than yourself and you want to be praised for it, look at the state of you do you really think you did good."

"Urgh" Avira couldn't help but groan as Frost's words stabbed her heart.

"And an apology, for what? Me calling you useless when you pretty much were or for me buying you time to resolve the situation yourself like a big girl."

"Urgh! Urgh!" That one hurt a lot, she nearly coughed up blood.

Avira glared at Frost with reddened eyes finally realising how much of an asshole he could be. His words though correct were still harsh and his actions could be considered cruel but very effective, she truly had no leg to stand on.

Frost couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as he watched Avira's cheeks puff up from her inability to argue. She was so darn adorable.

Eventually however he gave her what she wanted and even deserved.

"You did good V, I'm proud of you." He said in a soothing manner while tussling her hair which caused her mind to go poof and a crimson hue to don her cheeks.