I Only Tame Dragons

Chapter 185 The Battle of Fists

The crowd roared as Gore's aura flared to life once more, his body surrounded by a crimson glow. His wounds closed, and his stamina replenished.

But Frigid didn't flinch. He stood firm, his icy gaze steadfast.

Gore charged, faster and stronger than before, his blade slicing through the air. For a moment, it seemed as though he might finally break through Frigid's defense. But as his blade collided with the ice, the arena was filled with a deafening crack—not from Frigid, but from Gore's weapon.

The enhanced blade shattered into countless pieces, the energy from the artifact unable to compensate for its weakened durability. Gore stumbled, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at his empty hands.

Frigid stepped forward, his icy form towering over Gore. The temperature in the arena dropped even further, frost spreading across the ground in every direction.

"You relied too much on borrowed power," Frigid said, his voice calm and cold. "But no amount of strength can shatter true resilience."

Gore fell to his knees, his breath visible in the freezing air. The crowd was silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone present.

"Yes." Von said fisting his hands.

"Looks like the plan worked," Horizon said, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

The crowd winced as Gore staggered backward, clutching his ribs. The freezing air around Frigid seemed to sap his energy with every second, and his once-fluid movements had become sluggish and strained. His breath came in shallow gasps, mist swirling around his mouth as he fought to keep up his pace.

"Still think you can win?" Frigid's voice was calm and low, like the rumble of a distant avalanche.

Gore growled, his eyes blazing with determination. "I don't lose to overgrown ice cubes."

He lunged again, his fists a blur as he unleashed a relentless flurry of strikes. Frigid weathered the assault with eerie composure, his body absorbing the hits like a shield reinforced by layers of frost. Occasionally, he would throw a counterpunch, each one slow but devastatingly heavy.

One such punch caught Gore on the shoulder, spinning him off balance. He stumbled, his boots skidding across the frost-covered ground. The chill in the air was beginning to seep into his very bones, sapping his strength and dulling his reflexes. Even his enhanced stats couldn't completely counteract the debilitating effects of Frigid's aura.

The crowd began to notice the shift. Gore's punches were coming slower, his movements more labored. Meanwhile, Frigid remained as steady as ever, his health bar barely touched thanks to his passive regeneration. The gap between the two fighters was becoming glaringly obvious.

But Gore wasn't finished. With a guttural roar, he threw everything he had into one final assault. His fists glowed faintly with the remnants of his critical-strike abilities as he launched himself at Frigid. He landed a series of powerful punches and kicks, each one aimed at weak points in Frigid's icy armor.

The hits connected, dealing more damage than before. Frigid's health bar dipped noticeably, and cracks began to form in the icy exterior of his armor. The crowd gasped, and for a moment, it seemed like Gore might turn the tide.

But then, Frigid retaliated. He stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over Gore. With a slow, deliberate motion, he swung a heavy fist that collided with Gore's side. The impact sent the assassin sprawling, skidding across the frozen arena floor.