Northern sighed as he stared down at the molten crater, smoke billowing from its depths. He couldn’t sense any movement. It had taken barely a flicker of effort to destroy the clone—less than he’d expected.
’I guess I am very dangerous... hehe...’
He snapped out of his thoughts with a jolt.
’Right! Chaos Prince.’
Northern turned to leave but froze as something stirred below.
His brows furrowed as he whipped around.
’Surely... he can’t have survived...’
To Northern’s horror, the corrupted clone was rising from the molten crater, its body steaming and scarred but regenerating with disturbing speed. The black veins had spread further, creating intricate patterns across its flesh like living tattoos of madness. Those crimson eyes locked onto Northern with predatory intelligence that made his skin crawl.
Northern stared, shock and dread warring across his features.
"You... you look better than you did moments ago..."
’Is he evolving?’
The clone stood before him, offering no response—just a far more villainous and menacing glare than Northern had ever worn.
His appearance, everything was so different that Northern knew in that instant: by any means necessary, he had to kill this vile thing here and now, or he’d regret it for the rest of his life.
He flexed his fingers, frost crystallizing around his left hand while flames danced around his right. Then he forced out a grim smile.
"I didn’t expect I’d have to use two talents simultaneously against you."
Of course, he’d thought this wouldn’t take any time at all. He’d catastrophically underestimated Kryos’s madness.
’A fatal lapse in judgment.’
He launched forward, ice crystals trailing from his left fist as he drove it toward the clone’s chest. The impact should have frozen the corrupted flesh solid, but the clone twisted at the last second, allowing the ice to graze its ribs while countering with a vicious backhand.
Northern ducked under the strike and spun into a fire-wreathed uppercut, but the clone had already adapted. It caught his wrist mid-swing and headbutted him, the impact sending both fire and ice spiraling chaotically through the air.
Northern’s eyes widened, blood trickling from his split lip.
"What the hell—"
Northern jerked his head back with tremendous force, roaring.
"You bastard!!"
The clone snarled as Northern’s forehead smashed into his, snapping his head back.
Northern gestured sharply with his right hand, unleashing a barrage of wind blades that sliced through the air. The invisible razors should have carved the clone to ribbons, but it moved with uncanny precision, weaving between each blade as if it could see the wind itself. One blade nicked its shoulder, and immediately the clone’s wounds began weeping black ichor that hardened into armor-like scales.
Northern snarled in disbelief.
"You’ve got to be kidding me! Come on!"
The clone lunged again, but this time Northern was ready. Lightning crackled to life around his arms, forming ethereal chains that he lashed out like whips. The electrical bonds wrapped around the clone’s limbs, and Northern yanked hard, intending to slam it into the ground.
Instead, the clone absorbed the lightning, its black veins glowing electric blue before it redirected the energy back through the chains. Northern screamed as his own lightning coursed through his body, muscles spasming as he was flung backward.
The corrupted version of himself stood there, crackling with stolen electricity, its fanged grin stretching wider. It had stolen his technique and made it its own in mere seconds.
Northern rolled to his feet, genuine terror creeping into his chest. This thing wasn’t just surviving his attacks—it was becoming completely immune to them.
He shook his head, voice trembling as he whispered.
"What kind of monster am I?"
The clone stood motionless, electricity still crackling harmlessly across its blackened skin. Then it tilted its head with that same predatory intelligence, studying Northern like a puzzle to be solved.
Northern launched another barrage of wind blades, larger and more concentrated this time. They sliced through the air with lethal precision, but when they struck the clone, they barely left scratches. The wounds that did form sealed themselves almost instantly, black ichor hardening over them like natural armor.
Northern trembled, backing away.
"This is impossible..."
The clone suddenly moved—not with any elemental technique, but with pure, terrifying physicality. It closed the distance in a heartbeat, moving so fast that even Northern was stunned. He’d only seen a handful of people move that way, and certainly none of them had been this unstable.
A massive fist crashed into his guard, and despite blocking with both arms wreathed in ice, the impact sent him skidding backward across the wasteland.
Northern shook his arms, feeling the numbness from the blow. The clone hadn’t used any abilities—it had just hit harder than his power level should have allowed.
Northern realized with dawning horror:
’Is this bastard getting stronger?’
Perhaps drawing more power than should have been possible thanks to its maddened state?
Northern hissed in frustration.
’Damn, I can’t believe I’m terrified of my own potential when I’m enraged...’
He unleashed a torrent of flame hot enough to melt stone. The fire engulfed the clone completely, turning the air itself into a furnace. For a moment, Northern dared to hope.
Then the flames parted, and the clone walked through them unharmed. Its skin was charred black, but it was regenerating even as Northern watched. More disturbing still, it seemed completely unaffected by the heat that should have been cooking it alive.
Northern let out a dry, bitter laugh.
"I’m... speechless..."
The clone’s grin stretched wider, revealing those razor-sharp fangs. It lunged forward with inhuman speed, and this time when Northern tried to counter with lightning chains, they wrapped around the clone’s limbs but had no effect. The electricity that had sent it flying moments before now barely made it flinch.
Northern was seized by the throat and lifted off his feet. The clone’s grip was like iron, and those red eyes stared into his with malevolent intelligence.
The clone tilted its head right, studying Northern, then left. While Northern stared down with a cold expression, his blue eyes glowing dangerously.
Then something shocking happened. The clone spoke.
With a distorted version of Northern’s own voice, hoarse and guttural.
"Fight... me... me... fight... fight... fight."
Northern was stunned. The macabre passion glinting in the creature’s eyes was recognizable. Northern could say he knew where the madness rooted from.
His obsession with combat.
One that the relentless days in the Red Kingdom had sown deep within him. By chance, were the remnants of battle-consumed madness from that time what Northern was now dealing with? Had the Chaos Origin truly originated madness in him, or had it merely taken hold of what had been there before?
’Even if it’s what had been there before, he was still the one who put it there... Koll was his servant...’
But then, could he really say Koll had originated madness in him? Northern felt like he’d been slowly walking down that road on the battlefield. Losing his death angel... somehow, that had been the string that snapped and made him lose all sanity.
Northern felt like he’d always had the tendency. If so, and if the Origin had only capitalized on that tendency, could it be said that Kryos had truly become an Origination?
Or had he just ascended to becoming an Origin in power alone? Maybe a Tyranny truly couldn’t be an Origination—maybe at most they could just appear to be one.
All of this was just a momentary epiphany, of course, so Northern still had to process all of this with the Chaos Prince.
Right now, though, he needed to defeat this mad clone by any means necessary.