Northern continued to glare at Rughsbourgh with a dark grimace. He wore the night over his face like armor and looked like the incarnation of a grim reaper who wanted nothing but to harvest the soul of vile evil and disaster—someone who did everything but die.
His mind remained sharp, despite being in a severely weakened state from the battle with the Leviathan. Rughsbourgh had just exhibited a power that was utterly foreign to Northern.
From what he could see, the only explanation Northern could devise was Spatial Manipulation.
It would be brutal if Rughsbourgh's talent was spatial.
'Come to think of it… teleportation.'
The memory struck him suddenly, and Northern grew even more certain. The letter he had received from Rughsbourgh possessed some strange ability that had teleported him. The circle of light he had seen in the hall moments before he was also teleported to the rift, along with the others to the Dark continent.
Indeed, Rughsbourgh wielded spatial ability. He was powerful enough to teleport a hundred people to a distant land without even being present at either location.
Of course, extensive preparation must have preceded such a feat.
Northern was certain.
However, he still had to ask… how did Rughsbourgh know to teleport them back to his soul?
A gentle sound reached Northern's ears, pulling him from his thoughts. Someone had risen behind him and was stepping forward.
Northern's frown deepened as he watched her.
Annette's eye blazed—not the usually visible one, but the one that typically hid beneath her hair. It burned with pure fire, making it seem as though everything inside her body was aflame, and this was the only outlet. Her skin exuded smoke as well.
Rughsbourgh regarded her with an indifferent expression. His eyes remained cold for several seconds. Then suddenly, they widened slightly in recognition.
"Ah, the child. Kamune's daughter. The Isha'r family of fire. My, my…"
Rughsbourgh gestured low with his hand.
"You were barely this tall the last time I saw you. Look at you now! You have even mastered Essence Fire."
He clapped slowly.
"Of course, of course. I expect nothing less from the strongest vassal clans of the Empire. However…"
Then the life in his voice, his eyes, and the air around him withered.
"...what are you doing?"
Annette froze, dread seeping through her from within. Rughsbourgh's eyes fixed on her with indifference, yet she felt utterly exposed and vulnerable before his gaze. As though that damned stare was shredding her clothes and slicing through her flesh.
She bit down on her tongue, then her lips, bit down until blood began trickling from the corner of her mouth. But it wasn't enough.
She couldn't move—fear paralyzed her completely. She kept biting the inside of her mouth, digging her nails into her palms as she clenched her fists. But the pain couldn't distract her from the terror.
She had thought she wanted to land at least one blow, for all the people who had died. But Rughsbourgh's mere presence, his gaze, made her feel like an ant. He was the vast, endless sky, and she was just that tiny crawling insect—no matter where it went, it remained beneath the sky's watchful eyes.
Her burning eyes slowly dimmed, flickering weakly as she lowered her head, sweat dripping from her face to the ground.
Northern watched her and scowled.
Then he moved.
Before Rughsbourgh could react, a massive explosion of air erupted behind him, followed by a shockwave that seemed to warp space itself.
Rughsbourgh's eyes widened in bewilderment. That indifferent, condescending look vanished instantly, replaced by disbelief and shock.
The force of the blow escalated, sending him tumbling through the air. The ground detonated, and a massive crater formed as Rughsbourgh was hurled away.
Even after he vanished mid-flight, reappearing elsewhere, a massive crater continued to be carved by the attack's force—as if the substance it was meant to hurl had simply removed itself from that space.
Rughsbourgh slowly approached Northern and touched his ribs where the punch had landed.
A small bruise marked the area—one that was gradually healing as he examined it.
Rughsbourgh lifted his gaze from the bruise and fixed his eyes on Northern, still visibly shaken.
"You struck me? So fast… so powerful. How did you manage that?"
He narrowed his eyes, white light emanating from them as he scrutinized Northern intently.
"You… your soul is different from moments ago. What did you do? How did you absorb another soul?"
Northern didn't respond. Instead, he focused on his hands, gripping his wrist with his other hand, frowning.
The blow had completely shattered the bone in his wrist, and he felt searing pain in the area. Of course, for someone like him, this level of pain was still manageable.
However, something else occupied his mind.
'It's different… it feels faster, and deeper.'
It was difficult for him to explain the sensation, even to himself. But what he knew was that the process of changing names had undergone a remarkable transformation.
Before, the new names felt like extensions—soulless mimicries. Even now it could still be considered mimicry, but this mimicry wasn't just an extension or reflection of sorts. This time, the mimicry possessed a soul, and because it had a soul, the mimicry could achieve perfection.
Northern was still far from perfect, but changing to Titan's Reckoning had been a much swifter, more authentic process than ever before. Northern even felt he could reach for his other talents through DIY—though it would probably require tremendous effort.
This was a monumental step toward perfection.
'I like my new soul.'
There were still more aspects to explore, of course. He could feel it in every fiber of his being—he was transformed.
Granted, he was still exhausted, physically strained, and his essence was depleted. He had only one clone remaining in Limitless Void. And after Rughsbourgh had somehow managed to banish his summons back to Limitless Void, he was being extremely cautious about any interaction with that realm.
The last thing he wanted was for Rughsbourgh to discover a path to his soul.