Chapter 465: The Soul Of A Tyrant [Part 2]
Northern turned his head down, inspecting the souls with keen perception.
[Soul Summon]
Name: [Malaketh]
True Name: [The Witch King]
Attributes: [Old One], [5th of the Tomb Kings]
Soul Rank: [Evanescent]
Soul Core: [White]
Talent: Circlet Of Iron
Talent Class: [Immeasurable]
Talent Abilities: [Chaos Grimoire], [Ancient Spellcraft], [Derision]
Northern scratched his cheek as he observed the information.
"A Paragon with only three talent abilities?"
Northern started counting on his right hand as he continued, "A Drifter has one talent ability,
a Nomad has two, a Master has three, a Savant has four, a Sage has five. I presume an Ascendant has six, and a Paragon has seven."
Then he dropped his hands and looked at the panel, "So, why does this Paragon have only three talent abilities?"
He rubbed his chin as he thought about it. Faced with no answer, he went on to the next panel. [Soul Summon]
Name: Aenerony
True Name: [Metal King]
Attributes: [Old One], [7th of the Tomb Kings]
Soul Rank: [Ephemeral]
Soul Core: [Orange]
Talent: [Titan Tamer]
Talent Class: [Immeasurable]
Talent Abilities: [The Great Vortex], [Winds Of Magic], [The Great Wall], [Ancient Fall], [Beast Of Burden], [Chaos Tamer]
'This one is an Ascendant and has six talent abilities. Which means there's something wrong with this other one,' Northern's eyes drifted between the two soul forms as he spoke.
There was no apparent difference between them. Their bodies were black and void, outlining only their humanoid frames.
The rest that Northern went over had quite a semblance to the first two.
3rd of the Tomb Kings, 4th of the Tomb Kings, 9th of the Tomb Kings. Then there were lesser ones instead of Old Ones who were not attributed to the Kings-these ones were close to a thousand if Northern meticulously counted.
Then there was the single soul that stood out amongst all of them. He was, at a glance, taller than the rest of the crowd; he also had that form of void, but his frame was more prominent and muscled.
Northern, with a breathtaking exhalation, summoned the profile of this particular one, reminding himself as he did.
'It's a Tyrant.'
Name: [Revant]
Attributes: [Fallen Ascendancy], [Vestiges of Tyranny], [Tyrant's Requiem], [Despair Manipulation], [Soul Consumption], [Dominion of the Broken]
Soul Rank: [Celestial]
Tyranny of Despair: [Fallen Tyranny]
Northern cocked his head a little bit left, then a little bit right.
'That's all?'
No soul core.
No talent and talent ability.
This was all that the system had to offer as information.
And Northern had a nudging feeling that this was probably all there was to know about Tyrants. They don't have a soul core; hence, they don't have a talent.
He resumed rubbing his chin.
'I guess Tyrants not having a soul core is plausible considering that the Chaos Prince could assimilate with the Void.'
The one thing in common between Northern and the Chaos Prince as regards their relationship with the Void was the one thing Northern didn't have.
If he had a soul core, the Void would have destroyed it already; he would either have died or, worst-case scenario, been rendered a crippled Drifter.
A crippled Drifter is a rare case in which their cores crack. This crack leads to essence reflux; they are unable to direct their essence, and overexerting it could permanently destroy their souls.
Death was the least they had to be worried about.
A crippled Drifter could turn out to be an insane Drifter, controlled by Wilding Essence. Cases like this were unpredictable.
In some, it would cause sleepiness; some would become psychotic; some could even become monsters, experiencing incredibly rare morphological mutations.
The rates of these worse effects were incredibly rare, but it's not unheard of. This would have probably been his condition if he had absorbed the Void while he had a soul core.
But he didn't, which proved the requirement to become one with the Void. This also meant
that the Chaos Prince also did not have a soul core.
He was well aware that the Chaos Prince was half-Origin, half-Tyrant. There might have been something exceptional about him in addition.
But the absence of a soul core in this Tyrant was enough premises for his deductions.
He sighed and swallowed afterward. Then he dismissed the panel, resting his head on his
hand.
'Damn it, I have a headache...' His mind was silent for a while, then he wondered again, 'What exactly do I do with these souls? Will they even be able to materialize with my clones?'
'Or do I have to evolve the cloning talent and see what more can come out of it?'
He sighed once again, worried about what to do, unsure whether to call it a blessing or a
curse.
The soul of a Tyrant was amazing. Having such a possession was a next-level game to him. But not being able to use it?
And especially now that he was returning to the Central Plains?
That would be so much of a letdown.
Sure, he didn't need it to show his wrath to the damned principal, but Northern believed it
would be a big boon if it was useful.
He rubbed beneath his white bangs and blew them up a little bit.
They were so long that when pulled down, a strand reached his upper lip. And sometimes they
even obstructed his view.
Northern leaned forward a second later and summoned a clone.
The clone appeared with no beautifying effect, and next, he summoned the Tyrant.
Unlike the clone's blank entry, it was dark, ominous, but beautifying.
The soul stood next to the clone, dwarfing it.
Northern stared for a moment, wondering, 'How in the hell did a Tyrant get killed by the Soul
Taker sword... or should I say, who could have dared?'
The soul's visage alone was imposing and intimidating, far more than any other soul summon
he had ever gained.
The thought of turning the Tyrant into a void summon filled him with so much happiness. And he could only hope that what he was about to try would turn out to be a great success. Northern examined both bodies and then commanded, "Okay... let us start."