The throne room doors groaned as they swung open. A gust of cold air swept past us, carrying the scent of rusted metal and machinery

  The chamber beyond was vast. Frozen pillars stretched toward the distant ceiling, their surfaces slick with ice. Shattered stained glass windows lined the walls, depicting scenes of regal figures and battles long lost to time. A deep blue frost covered the marble floor, creeping over the remains of once opulent carpets and broken banners that hung limply from the rafters.

  And at the center of it all sat a throne of steel and ice.

  The figure upon it stirred. A massive, hulking shape, easily eight feet tall, shifted within the shadows. His armor groaned as he moved, the plates warped and fused with thick coils of metal tubing. Gears clicked within his limbs, the faint hiss of steam escaping from vents along his back. His helmet, half covered in frost, revealed a skeletal jaw beneath, his face torn between flesh and metal, as if both had tried to consume the other.

  Jorvask the Frostforged Chieftain (lev 157)

  The last leader of a dynasty that had stood for centuries and when the Unanchoring began he did not flee.

  He fought.

  He turned to the forge, to machines of steam and frost, building armored constructs and weapons that burned with scalding heat and froze with deathly cold. If the corruption could not take root in fire, and if it withered beneath the weight of eternal ice, then he would seal it away.

  But the corruption was relentless.It seeped into the cracks of his armor,fusing machine and flesh

  A deep, broken voice echoed through the chamber.

  "I tried... I tried to save them..."

  The voice was distorted, fragmented between static and guttural resonance. He raised one gauntleted hand, steam hissing from the seams. "The corruption took them. It tried to take me. But I... resisted."

  I stepped forward cautiously, my eyes drawn to the elaborate contraption built into his back. Thick pipes connected to a central boiler-like device, glowing faintly with internal heat. A steam engine, integrated into his body.

  Oh, that was cool.

  Before I could stop myself, I spoke excitedly

  "That’s a freaking steam powered exosuit.

  I feel bad for the dude, I really do but that’s a freaking streampunk power armor "

  "Alex," Vael’dargar said sharply.

  "Right, right. Not the time."

  Jorvask Alowly pushed himself to his feet. The movement was smooth, fluid despite his size,

  steam assisted joints making it almost eerily graceful. He took a step forward, the ice beneath him cracking.

  "I built the forges. I crafted the machines. I halted the corruption with ice and steam and yet..." His voice wavered. His breathing turned ragged.

  A deep tremor ran through the floor.

  "...it was not enough."

  He moved.

  Faster than anything his size should have been capable of.

  I barely had time to react before he was on us. His first attack was a sweeping backhand, powered by the hiss of steam and the weight of a war engine. Joro barely blocked it in time, his tower shield screeching under the impact as he was sent skidding backward.

  I lunged lunged, my hammer raised for an overhead strike , but the chieftain twisted unnaturally, his steam powered joints letting him pivot in ways that should’ve been impossible. He retaliated with a powerful stomp. The ground beneath us exploded in a sudden burst of superheated steam, forcing us to scatter.

  "Shit, that’s hot!" Joro hissed, leaping back.

  "That’s what steam does, genius!" Llin snapped.

  She vanished into the shadows, reappearing behind the chieftain. Her dagger flashed toward the gaps in his armor, only for Jorvask to twist again, spinning his entire torso around unnaturally fast. A burst of frost erupted from his gauntlet, catching Llin mid step.

  She slipped. Hard.

  With a very undignified yelp, she hit the ice, sliding across the battlefield.

  "By the system , I’m fucking starting to hate ice!" she shouted as she skidded past me.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I had exactly half a second to be amused before Jorvask locked onto me. He raised one arm, gears shifting, vents hissing, and with a deafening CLANK, a blade shot out from his gauntlet as he punched. Long, jagged, and cold

  I manifested a shield just in time.The impact made me recoil , frost started surging up the shield as I pushed against him. My feet slid backward, the ice making it impossible to get solid footing. His strength was absurd, his body a seamless blend of machine and flesh.

  "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Vael’dargar called, effortlessly dodging a blast of frost from his other arm.

  I grinned despite myself. "Maybe a little!"

  He swung again. I ducked, shifting my weapon, this time summoning my warhammer mid motion. My swing connected with his side, denting the metal, sending him staggering.

  Hey Why mess with something that clearly works ?

  Sylvan took the opening. A gout of fire surged toward the armored froskari back, slamming into his boiler system. The metal glowed red hot.

  For a moment, I thought that was it. Then he roared , a sound that was more mechanical than sentient .

  He twisted a dial on his chest plate.

  Steam hissed, vents opened and the ice beneath us cracked. The battlefield changed.The temperature plummeted.

  The ice beneath us thickened, jagged frost spreading outward in a web of deadly spikes. The boss breath came in short, ragged gasps. His words were barely coherent now.

  "...cold... holds it back..."

  His arms split apart, the metal retracting, reforming into massive ice forged chains tipped with jagged hooks.

  "Oh, that's bad," I muttered.

  The first chain lashed out. I barely dodged, feeling the air freeze in its wake. The second shot toward Sylvan, Joro threw himself in the way, taking the hit on his shield. The impact sent him flying.

  The chieftain charged, his movements wilder, more erratic. His ice chains whipped across the battlefield, shattering pillars, carving deep gashes in the frozen ground.

  I switched tactics.I manifested a bill hook , something versatile and flexible.

  Bel’s arrows slammed into the boiler vents, making him stagger. Llin, recovered from her earlier slip, zipped across the battlefield, carving deep gouges into his frost armored legs.

  And Vael’dargar…even in the middle of the fight I couldn’t help but be amazed at her precision, she barely moved but none of the chains came close to hitting her

  The froskari snarled.

  His steam vents overloaded, exploding outward in a burst of white hot vapor.

  For a moment, the battlefield was nothing but mist.

  Then, a deafening crack.

  The air crackled as the final pieces of ice shattered, falling in a glittering rain around the chieftain’s towering form. The massive armor that had once been so imposing now lay in pieces, chunks of metal littering the floor, steam hissing from cracked seams. His once regal armor, infused with frost and steam, was now a shattered mockery of itself, but it didn’t matter anymore. The chieftain’s eyes, cold and wild, glowed with an unsettling madness.

  His chest heaved with the effort of breath, and in that moment, all semblance of tactics and strategy melted away. He was a beast now, driven only by rage and the twisted magic that coursed through his veins. His fists, once encased in carefully crafted gauntlets, were now raw and exposed, the thick steam hissing between his fingers with each movement.

  His first swing came at Joro, the tank who tried to block the attack with his shield. But the chieftain wasn’t using weapons anymore, he was using his fists, The punch landed with a deafening crash leaving a bloody smear on the shield sending Joro sprawling back, . The chieftain grinned, his mouth now a twisted rictus of insanity, steam venting from his damaged boiler with every breath he took.

  "Is this all you’ve got?" Llin taunted from the sidelines, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  The chieftain’s eyes flicked toward her, and a savage roar tore from his throat. He lurched forward, a jarring motion, using his massive fists to swing at anything in his path.

  Bel darted out of the way just in time, firing an arrow that only managed to embed itself into the chieftain’s exposed leg. He barely flinched, the wound freezing over almost instantly, the corrupted flesh shifting unnaturally. He didn’t care about the pain anymore, he was a monster , a being lost to his own madness.

  Llin slipped behind him, aiming for his exposed back. She slipped on a patch of ice again just as she lunged, her feet going out from under her. “Son of a bitch !” she yelled, her words swallowed by the chaos. She barely avoided being crushed as the chieftain stomped down with a foot that could’ve flattened her in an instant.

  The chieftain kept losing pieces, bits of steam powered plating ripped away with each new attack, leaving his frostbitten skin more exposed. Tubes and wires, once snugly contained within his armor, were now wrapped grotesquely around his corrupted flesh, pumping a steady stream of steam into his body like lifeblood. His body was a twisted fusion of flesh and machine, steam pouring out of ruptured pipes and frost creeping up his limbs, freezing everything it touched.

  "He's not even trying to block anymore," Sylvan observed, fire crackling in her palm as she sent a stream of flame toward the chieftain’s exposed side.

  The chieftain howled in frustration, his back arching as he swung his arm wildly toward her, steam exploding from his joints like an angry dragon’s breath. His movements were slower now, but far more vicious, lacking any restraint. His punches hit the ground with a bone rattling thud, each one sending shockwaves through the air.

  I, standing a little too close to the madness, watched with wide eyed awe as the chieftain took another swing at Sylvan, narrowly missing as she ducked under his blow.

  Vael’dargar shot me a look, one eyebrow raised. “Focus, Alex.”

  As the chieftain’s armor continued to break apart, he became less of a warrior and more of an unstoppable force of nature. The boiler on his back was the last piece of intact machinery, the source of the endless steam that powered him. But even it was starting to crack.

  The chieftain threw another punch, and this time, his entire forearm tore away, steam erupting from the exposed pipes. His skin, blue, frozen, and cracked, was now fully visible, corrupted , the once proud king nothing more than a broken, desperate creature clinging to whatever was left of his sanity .

  The air around us was thick with steam. The chieftain’s remaining armor was nothing more than a few pipes clinging to his body, pumping steam directly into him.

  He roared again, the sound now guttural and unintelligible, as he threw himself toward us, no longer caring about tactics or strategy. Just one brutal, mindless assault after another.

  The chief stood at the center of the battlefield, his body barely holding together. His frost coverd body crumbled. His steam boiler ruptured, glowing with dangerous heat.

  His voice, broken and hollow, rasped out one final phrase.

  "...not enough..."

  I moved.

  I manifested a glaive, dashed forward and struck.

  The blade sank deep, piercing through the broken metal, straight into his heart

  The chief froze.

  For a long, silent moment, he stood there.

  Then, with a final, shuddering breath he fell.

  The ice cracked beneath his weight. Steam hissed from his broken body.

  Silence.

  Then, Llin groaned from where she lay on the ice.

  "I am so done with frost," she muttered.

  I chuckled weakly. "At least you got to fight a steam powered ice king."

  I looked down at the fallen warrior, my gaze lingering on the broken machinery littering the ground.

  "I mean," I said, grinning, "that was pretty awesome."

  Llin sighed,storing her dagger

  "At least we know one thing for certain," she muttered.

  We all turned to her.

  "We’re taking his loot."