Chapter 353 Deadly Dance
Their fight was a maelstrom of darkness and fury, a whirlwind of chaos that seemed to defy the very laws of nature.
Northern, clad in the menacing Night Terror armor, mirrored the dark knight in a grotesque dance of death.
Their weapons clashed and sparked, a symphony of violence that sent ripples through the air, pushing it to the brink of tearing apart.
Northern's four eyes darted with supernatural speed, tracking every minuscule movement of his opponent.
It was strenuous, but he was locked in, not a second thinking about the strain.
He could see her attacks before they fully formed, the minute shifts in her stance, the tightening of her muscles, and the glint of her daggers in the dim light.
Each strike was a calculated response to her ferocity, his blades a blur as they met her relentless assault.
Both their hands swung and lashed like whips, blurring as they swam through the air, leaving multiple afterimages.
It mattered not the length of the weapon they both wielded.
They stood opposed to each other in close proximity and lunged attacks from unconventional angles, hurling through directions that should make the human bone bend and break.
The ground beneath their feet trembled with each impact, sand and debris kicked up in a storm around them.
The battlefield was an arena of destruction, every step they took carving scars into the earth.
The dark knight, her single red eye blazing with malevolent light, moved with a fluid grace that seemed almost otherworldly.
Her spear was like an extension of her very hand, slicing through the air with a lethal precision that left no room for error.
Northern could feel the malevolent energy radiating from her, a palpable force that threatened to overwhelm him, no… destroy him.
But stubbornly, he held on. With every parry and riposte, he pushed back against her, matching her blow for blow.
The twin blades of Gengar flashed and flickered like a whirlwind of steel, meeting her every strike with equal ferocity.
Time seemed to slow as they danced their deadly dance, each moment stretching into an eternity.
Northern could feel the sweat beading on his brow within the helmet, the strain of the battle etching itself into every fiber of his being.
Yet, he refused to falter; this was not some determination-grounded moment, where he couldn't afford to slack back a second because he was keen on survival.
No.
Northern was purely and absolutely enjoying this battle.
Both of them were fighting like crazed warriors, running with clashing blades across the landscapes.
Both of them were Emissaries of darkness, each one representing their own definition of what it is.
Although surely, one was bound to come out the true definition of what a darkness is and should be.
Would it be Northern? Or would it be the mad woman?
Somehow, it didn't look like both of them looked forward to finding out.
These ones were just locked into battle, fighting with every strength they could muster.
At this stage, Northern was no longer struggling; he was beginning to match her attack for defense, and sharp enough to even counterattack and put her in a spot.
Although he didn't quite have the hang of prediction yet, since his opponent was no novice.
She had an uncanny way of switching her movement just to throw him off and catch him off guard.
Northern had fallen into it a couple of times in this fray, only to be saved by Night Terror's impenetrable metal.
As long as he was wearing this armor, Northern doubted if anything would actually be able to penetrate.
The deadly weave of metal between the two of them, of course, progressed without a pause in breath.
The mad woman was like a machine; Northern felt like he was fighting a nonhuman.
It made no sense; her movements did not reduce, not even one bit.
Northern had tried to press different advantages on her, but she was so skilled and intelligent that she would tightly bring herself out in ways that fathomed even him.
He admired her battle intelligence and couldn't help but wonder how much she would have trained to get to where she was right now.
Northern, in the middle of a life-and-death battle, couldn't help but once again realize the importance of hard work, time, and training.
Up until now, he had experienced an enviable level of growth thanks to Formless.
But in the end, the basics mattered, and he felt he needed to ingrain that in himself for as long as he could.
Perhaps when the basics were integrated into his core, he would find [Formless] easier to use.
He really hoped that would be the case.
But first, he had to get past this battle.
Finally, it was time to carry out his plan.
As the woman's spear lashed at him from the side, Northern spun Gengar, blocking towards the side. But the force was so strong that he couldn't hold himself down.
He felt the bones and skin on that entire side tremble and writhe with so much pain as he careened away from the woman.
Fortunately, it was just the time that he needed space away from her.
But the pain in his left arm was no joke.
Northern groaned as he stood up.
The lady, clad like a dark knight, was slowly making her way towards him with the tip of her spear grazing the sandy ground.
Northern slowly raised one hand and called out silently, with pride:
"Black Lance."
Whooosh
All of a sudden, the air around the lady was threatened as a corporeal spear seemingly forged out of darkness appeared above Northern.
He exhaled and tilted his head as he said:
"Farewell."
Then he swung his hand forward.
The black lance whistled through the air, parting it as it made its way for the lady; the red light in the lady's visor brightened in an instance.
No doubt even she was shocked.
Black Lance was an incredibly powerful attack woven from Chaos itself.