"The power of frost!"
The Wolf God's voice cut through the air like a winter gale.
Ice King Laufey was not the only one capable of wielding the frozen elent—this ancient being could command it just as effortlessly.
He had lived for countless ages, a figure from the sa era as Odin himself. Over the centuries, he had mastered more than a few elental forces. Now, he chose to call upon the ice.
When fire ets ice, he knew, frost often takes the advantage.
With a sharp, echoing crack, jagged spikes of ice erupted from the ground. They spread upward in an instant, eting the raging flas head-on—an elent against its opposite.
But unlike Zenkichi's controlled flas, the Wolf God's frost showed no concern for its surroundings. The reinforced steel flooring of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base split apart as the ice surged forward, tearing through tal and concrete alike. He was no agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and he had no interest in sparing their property.
"Die!" the Wolf God roared. To ensure no mistake, he unleashed ninety percent of his full power—enough to freeze a battlefield solid in seconds.
"Seriously? That's how you're going to play it?" Hawkeye muttered from the sidelines, his eyes narrowing.
Around him, the other agents stood frozen—not from the ice, but from shock. The sheer force the Wolf God unleashed was staggering. More than one of them silently wondered if a single strike from this being would be enough to kill them outright.
They could feel it in their bones—this was a level of danger far beyond anything they had faced before.
"A long ti… it's been far too long since I felt a real sense of crisis," Zenkichi said with a small, almost eager smile.
He answered the Wolf God's frost with fire. The blaze around him surged higher, brighter, as if the flas themselves were challenging the ice to see which would claim the battlefield.
"Boom!"
The two forces t in an instant. Fire and frost collided with a deafening crack, and the world seed to hold its breath. Then ca the explosion—a wave of heat and cold tearing through the air as the clashing powers destroyed one another.
The steel beneath them buckled. A massive crater opened where they had stood, steam and smoke rising in chaotic spirals. The flas had lted the ice, the ice had smothered the flas—neither had gained the upper hand.
The result was a draw, for now.
"My base…" Nick Fury's voice was low, but the strain in it was clear. His one good eye was fixed on the crater, and his jaw tightened.
Repairing that amount of damage would cost more than most people could earn in a dozen lifetis—and S.H.I.E.L.D. was already running low on funds.
And this battle wasn't over. He could already see the writing on the wall: more destruction, more property lost, more money burned away.
For a mont, he wished he had superhuman strength himself—just long enough to knock both combatants unconscious.
"This is all money…" he muttered bitterly. He wasn't Tony Stark with Stark Industries behind him. He was just the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., stuck watching the organization's budget go up in smoke—literally.
"You are strong," the Wolf God said at last, his voice deep and deliberate. His gaze locked fully on Zenkichi, the chaos of the battlefield forgotten. "Worthy of fighting ."
Nick Fury might as well have been invisible.
"If you leave now," Zenkichi replied coldly, "I can let this go. You'll walk away with your life. But if you keep standing in my way, all your years of survival will an nothing—you'll end them here."
The words weren't shouted. The tone alone carried the weight of a man ready to make good on the threat.
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