Chapter 168: Kasa Youshuang
"Woo—!"
The long, mournful blast of a horn echoed across the frozen wastes.
Sunlight pierced through thin clouds, cutting through the cold wind, as frost-laden glaciers shimmered under a sharp, icy gleam. This was the so-called "Frozen Forbidden Zone"—Wahala Glacier—the ancient homeland of the Frost Giants, where they had endured for millennia.
Within the deep fissures of the glacier, solid ice formed crude beds. Scattered around were garments of animal hide, bone spears, and crude stone blades—remnants of the Youshuang Tribe’s long-standing settlement. In this frigid realm, sunlight barely touched the earth during winter. With no crops to grow, the Frost Giants relied on herding stolen livestock for food, hunting across the tundras and snow-laden peaks. Outside the ice caverns, mammoths were penned, and several Tundra Land Drakes lumbered in the distance.
“That… was a horn blast?”
“By Solem, it’s the Everfrost Horn!”
A Frost Giant in a horned helmet raised his double-bladed axe, feeling the blood resonate within him. His voice roared with fervor. Towering over eight meters tall, his body was a slab of glacial blue, scarred and weathered, his pale white beard resembling a drift of frost. Frost and ice columns twisted around his frame like living chains.
He was Kasa, the Bonebreaker, of the Youshuang—the current chieftain. The mightiest warrior of his people, Kasa was only eighty-three years old—prime of life for a Frost Giant. He had once broken a full-grown white dragon’s neck with his bare hands. His name had become legend among the tribe. All Frost Giant warriors revered him without question.
Yet Kasa carried a burden—the loss of the tribe’s sacred relic: the Everfrost Horn.
It had been over six hundred years since the horn vanished. A traitorous deserter—known only as The Defector—had stolen it, using its power to journey south… and ultimately, to defect to humanity.
Frost Giants lived an average of just over two hundred and thirty years. In those six centuries, nine chieftains had died. Beyond endless small raids, the Youshuang Tribe had launched thirteen massive invasions into the south—known as the "Frost Disasters"—yet the sacred horn remained lost. A symbol of ancestral glory, it had not been heard since.
Now, the tribe numbered five hundred and thirty-two adult Frost Giants. The younger warriors, strong and hungry, were rapidly depleting the glacier’s meager resources. Kasa had planned to mobilize the entire tribe for a great invasion in ten years. But now… the Everfrost Horn had sounded.
“This is too significant,” he muttered. “We must consult Elder Nur.”
Deep within the ice cavern, in the coldest, darkest chamber, Kasa found the ancient Frost Giant.
Even the usually reckless Kasa restrained his excitement, speaking with measured reverence:
“Elder Nur… is it time?”
“Yes,” came the low, gravelly voice. “We shall reclaim the sacred relic. We shall restore our Ancestral Glory.”
The voice was cracked, aged—but resolute.
Elder Nur, the Wooden Staff of the Youshuang, stood bent and frail. His pale blue skin bore ancient runes—so strange, so intricate. Closer inspection revealed they mirrored those etched upon the Everfrost Horn.
He was the tribe’s shaman, a living relic of memory. Over three hundred and seventy-four years old, he had served under five chieftains and participated in six southern invasions. He was the most revered elder, said to commune with Solem, the dormant god of the Frost Giants.
Nur leaned on his staff, trembling as he rose. His eyes remained closed, one hand outstretched, as if feeling the pulse of the wind.
“I feel it… the strength of the Everfrost Horn. It guides me. It calls.”
He whispered, “It is the voice of our ancestors. Great Lord Kolba is calling us.”
Kasa erupted in joy. His grip on the double-bladed axe trembled. After centuries of waiting, his dream—his destiny—was within reach. He would become the greatest chieftain in a thousand years.
“Wonderful, Elder Nur!”
“I will summon every warrior! We will march on the southern humans, reclaim our sacred horn! This time, I will erase the shame! I will restore the honor of Lord Kolba!”
Nur murmured in agreement:
“Yes… the people have waited long enough…”
But then, his face darkened. His body shuddered, as if seeing a vision too terrible to speak of.
“I… also saw… Cataclysm. A fated Cataclysm.”
“Cataclysm?” Kasa frowned.
Nur narrowed his eyes, pondering deeply before replying:
“Yes. I do not know what it means. It could be a horde of humans… a dragon… or something else entirely.”
Kasa laughed—a booming, confident laugh. He slung the axe over his shoulder and grinned.
“Elder Nur, you worry too much.”
“Do you think there’s any cataclysm that could threaten us? We are the Frost Disaster—the very name the humans fear! Even a dragon would fall beneath my hands!”
His eyes blazed with unwavering confidence.
“Only we bring ruin. No one dares to strike us.”
“May it be so,” Nur said softly, his voice fading as he was helped slowly from the chamber.
“Kasa. Since you have made your decision, inform the tribe. The southern humans have enjoyed peace too long. A new Sacred Conquest begins. And this… will be your first as chieftain.”
“Yes, Elder Nur.”
While Nur remained calm, like the stillness of a frozen lake, Kasa was ablaze with excitement—his heart pounding with anticipation.
For Frost Giants, a successful large-scale raid meant spoils that could sustain them for decades. In their barren, frozen world, such raids were not just survival—they were glory. They were the mark of a great chieftain.
“Reclaim the Everfrost Horn!”
“Annihilate the southern humans! Burn them! Steal everything!”
Standing atop the glacier’s peak, Kasa raised his double-bladed axe with one arm, shouting to the heavens.
Below, hundreds of Frost Giants lifted their mismatched weapons—axes, clubs, spears—roaring in unison, their voices shaking the ice.
Yes, they longed for ancestral glory. But for most, the true desire was simpler: to kill, to plunder, to feast upon the wealth of the soft, rich southern people.
Raiding was in their blood—innate, unchangeable.
Unlike the more peaceful Cloud Giants or Storm Giants, the Frost Giants believed only one truth: Strength is all.
“I will lead my people back to the Everfrost Horn,” Kasa vowed, gazing down at the sea of roaring warriors. “We will reclaim what was ours.”
“Everything that stands before us… will be crushed.”
(End of Chapter)
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