Northern leaned against a rock, wincing in pain as the ground shook from the battle between Kryos and the Chaos Prince. He considered calling upon Bairan to end this, but the idea didn’t sit right with him.
Northern had much to ponder after that last attempt. He didn’t know the state of his summons now—and he now knew exactly who Bairan was. But that wasn’t the main reason.
He hesitated to call upon the Sword King because this was something he had to do alone. There’s no commanding respect when your summons accomplish what you cannot.
There was no shame in relying on them—but not out of desperation or weakness, only necessity. Right now, his mangled state violated that necessity. It would be pitiful to summon Bairan.
And Northern was done being pitiful.
Extinguishing Chaos and Void was a solid step forward. Becoming an Origin was an unexpected boon, yet he was still getting beaten like never before.
His eyes worked at blinding speed—without them, matching Kryos would have been impossible.
’Now that I think about it... that cringy bastard doesn’t even have eyes like mine, and he’s still keeping up.’
Did that mean the Chaos Prince was fundamentally stronger?
’Of course... what did I expect? He’s probably over ten thousand years old.’
Northern fell silent. Then it truly struck him—the weight of the battle he was fighting. He’d been trading blows for hours with a being millennia old.
His mouth opened slightly in shock, as though he were only now grasping the depth. Wasn’t that like fighting a god? And with a mortal body, no less.
Northern’s body was sturdier than most, but against a deity-like creature, it was still plastic—too fragile, easily broken. And Kryos had proven that.
All his talents and abilities were useless. Full Impact, Frostheart, Burning Storm’s talent. Everything, useless!
Kryos adapted to each one at an alarming rate. Nothing worked twice. Northern had gotten inventive, mixing abilities on the fly, reusing old ones—but the Origin’s breaking point remained out of reach, and Northern was the one falling apart.
He hated that he wasn’t more imaginative. He had too many flaws to boot—a naive boy who didn’t know what he was doing. Even on Earth, he’d been the same. Nothing had changed in this world.
On his deathbed, he thought he’d learned a lesson. But here, he’d quickly forgotten all his mistakes and reverted to the same person.
His story wasn’t about a protagonist who learned from his past life and carved a greater path in the new one.
Hell... he didn’t even consider himself a protagonist. Just one unlucky bastard, starting from that mess with the god nexus and that old hag, then tumbling into some ancient world.
Northern chuckled dryly.
’What the hell? Is my life flashing before my eyes?’
He was healing, but slowly. Now, well-rested and alert, Northern felt his life in grave jeopardy—and his will to live was waning.
He did want to live. But he felt tired. So tired. His back, his body—everything ached like mad.
Even with his failing eyesight, he could still perceive his surroundings clearly. He shifted his head slightly, and a spear shattered the rock beside his neck.
He couldn’t even bring himself to frown.
Slowly, a gentle, pristine foot in white and golden boots touched the ground.
"Still managing to dodge in your state."
Northern looked up at the Origin, his appearance appalling to behold.
Yet his voice was jovial, dripping with sarcasm.
"Would you prefer I sat lifelessly and waited for death?"
He chuckled, the sound strained.
"Even Death would sweat trying to claim me. Nothing comes easy, after all. Besides, I haven’t even fallen in love. Hell, why am I remembering that now? I haven’t had sex in this life. Only tried it once in my last one—and oh hell, it ended too quickly. That damned wife of mine never let me try again, even though I promised to last longer. She said I wasn’t cut out for that side of the world."
He stared at Ul with his dangling eye.
"Do you think so too, Ul? That I’m not cut out for it... Wait! Have you ever had sex before? Do Origins even have private parts? Hmm, I’m suddenly curious."
Ul looked at him with utter disgust, raising her chin.
"You... are the one I missed."
Northern let out a short laugh.
"Hehe... I’m not sure what you... mean."
Ul moved closer, her hips swaying.
"There was a coreless child who should have died. But due to his carelessness, he gained a unique attribute—and more... he was marked. So I missed him. You are that child."
Northern laughed again.
"Uhm, not sure what you’re trying to tell me, but all this sounds like a compliment right now."
He hesitated.
"You wouldn’t be kind enough to compliment me, would you, Ul?"
Ul grimaced darkly.
"You think this is a joke."
Northern grinned, unsettling and lingering before he replied.
"Come stand in my shoes and see if everything doesn’t look like a joke to you. I’m just a seventeen-year-old boy, fighting a being over ten thousand years old, alongside his son—who’s probably just as ancient. Did I mention the son was eaten by the father, then crawled into my soul and got revived thanks to some White Walker boy I hated killing but had to..."
Northern giggled.
"Sounds like a joke to me. Doesn’t it to you?"
Ul stood before him, looking down at him as if he were a detestable worm.
Northern managed to raise his head just enough to meet her gaze.
"What? Why are you looking at me like you need to take a shit?"
Ul extended a hand over him.
"Your body is healing, but far too slowly. I can’t have you dying here. You have too many answers to give me and my brothers..."
"Such as?"
Ul’s face contorted further into a beautiful rage.
"Why a god’s mark lingers on your soul."
Northern glanced warily at the spear’s blade beside him, then returned his gaze to Ul.
"How can you even tell?"
Ul’s voice dripped with dark finality as she swept her hand through the air in a star-like pattern.
"You will be trapped in a space where time moves quickly. It will accelerate your healing, but will also seal you from reality. You will age rapidly, and have no strength to resist interrogation once I am finished with this street thug."
As she spoke, a spatial prism shimmered to life around Northern. He was frozen, speechless, staring with his one bloodied eye.
The prison shifted through different angles, constructing a transparent cage from which nothing could break in or out.
Ul gave him one last glance of pure disdain, then flew away.