Warehouse of the Apocalypse
Garrick stared, wide-eyed.
I grabbed a few stab-resistant vests, put one on, then sprayed water over the surface. A thin layer of frost formed almost instantly, hardening into a crude shell.
Ice armor.
"Ice spears. Ice armor!" Garrick swung one experimentally, grinning. "How does your brain even work? This is better than an axe!"
Rhys tested the tip against the ground. The frozen surface cracked easily under the strike. He nodded, satisfied.
Only one person stood apart. Tamsin stayed back, watching us turn tools into weapons.
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