As Bruce looked around, he exhaled.
The distortion that had dragged at his limbs like hardened resin no longer existed. The air was still cold. This was the Everwhite Abyss, after all. But it was no longer as oppressive as before.
Bruce turned slowly, boots crunching against fractured ice.
What he saw made his brows lift, just slightly.
Two of the humanoid Aegishell turtles stood several dozen meters away, completely frozen.
Not restrained. Not slowed. Not encased in a superficial glaze of frost. Frozen.
They were statues of war arrested mid-motion. One stood with its warhammer half-raised, the weapon suspended inches from descending, crimson eyes still glowing faintly beneath a translucent sheath of crystalline ice. The other leaned forward, shield angled defensively, as if it had intended to intercept an incoming strike. The edges of its shell were locked in thick, glass-like frost, veins of pale blue running through the seams of its armor like luminous fractures in marble.
