Chapter 593: Sword King
A perfect creature that would exist only to hate Raven-an existence incapable of forgiving her.
Its reason for growth would be solely to kill her, and that would become the foundation of its developing personality.
Northern was curious about what kind of summon it would grow to become.
He transferred the painful memory of enduring all the stress of the sleeping mountain and the damned rift, of fighting the sky abomination and sacrificing his way home to kill the monsters -only to discover that Terence and Raven had known all along.
In fact, that may have been the main reason they approached him in the first place.
They, knowing full well what they had been planning, took advantage of an innocent child like him.
'Wasn't she supposed to be eighteen or something? And that darned saintess-both of them are shameless wenches,' Northern cursed.
Transferring the memories made them resurface along with his feelings of hatred and regret. All those feelings combined would build the foundation for his new summon's soul.
They had tricked and used him, made him feel worthless. After everything, he couldn't help but think himself the dumbest person alive.
The facts had been obvious, but he had turned a blind eye to it all in his desperation to go home.
He couldn't believe he had even trusted her enough to turn his back to her.
As the memories returned, there were so many things he couldn't help but hate himself for.
His hatred for her grew even more vile and pronounced. And with all gladness of heart, he would give that hatred a will and a name.
'Should you step foot onto this land's soil, I have a creature who will know no satisfaction or joy until he kills you.'
Northern grinned as the [Mind's Eye] closed and disappeared from his forehead.
He stared at his clone, waiting for its reaction. The replica stood motionless, but there was a change in the creature's gaze.
There was a different light, something more alive that he had never seen in any of his clones. Its eyes had suddenly gained focus and radiated intelligence.
But the clone remained silent. Its gaze stayed fixed on Northern's face, somewhat confused.
A corner of Northern's lips curled up.
"Now for the final touch."
Northern summoned a particular soul he had been eyeing and studied its panel:
Name: Bairan
True Name: [Sword King]
Attributes: [Old One], [3rd of the Tomb King]
Soul Rank: [Ephemeral]
Soul Core: [Yellow]
Talent: [Breath Of Eternity]
Talent Abilities: [Eternal Pulse], [Veil Of Remembrance], [Soul Imprint], [Moonlit Whisper Style], [Single Raw Path]
The panel appeared just as he had first seen it.
'If it's someone like this, Dark Mortal should find better use in his hands. I will be able to learn from him while becoming more familiar with other weapon forms.'
The main purpose in choosing this route wasn't just to create another summon, but to create one who would be useful both as a fighting servant and as a teacher.
There was something about these Old Ones-the souls he got when Soul Taker broke. They were definitely from an ancient civilization.
Although Northern couldn't tell yet whether it was Trael or the underworld, he was sure they had been influential in their time, as much as kings.
The true name "Sword King" sat well with him and seemed to provide all the conviction he needed to give the dormant soul a will.
Everything was ready, but any problems would stem from what Northern didn't know about these souls.
This was why he remained skeptical. But he resolved himself one final time and began the process.
With his consent, the soul of Bairan merged with that of Hentu, creating an ominous spinning of black shadow.
With the spin came a violent gale that disturbed the gentle dance of the Void flames burning before Northern's throne.
The flames rose viciously in response to the tempo of the gale before falling again. Northern watched as each Void construct linked to another. There was a consumption of each one, and with his guidance, the consumption ensured neither Soul essence was viciously consumed to nothing.
This was also why he hadn't added his clone yet. Because he wanted the clone's will to have more control over whatever this new creature would become, he made it wait out of the struggle. When both souls had grown weaker, he would add the clone, which would then dominate the other two, allowing the body and mind formation to take place.
After a while of swirling darkness, something began to appear within its deep bosom.
Light drilled forth from its deepest depths.
Northern looked at the clone. His eyes were command enough, as both he and the clone shared a link.
The clone walked into the swirling darkness and was swallowed by it.
Northern folded his arms and watched with slightly narrowed eyes, tension sparking in their
depths.
After a few more minutes, the darkness reduced its swirling and began shaping into a humanoid form.
The darkness thickened and became more defined, looking glossy and lustrous as arms formed, fingers extended, and the unstable head became more definite.
The glossy surface began carving out facial features as if an invisible hand sculpted them
delicately.
With time, everything became defined, and when all features had been sculpted, Northern opened his hand.
A single white flame ignited on his palm. As his hands moved closer to the creature, its chest opened, as if the flames were clearing their own path.
Northern placed the Chaos Flame inside the creature, and immediately, the thick darkness
covered it.
Several lines of radiant light began rapidly streaking across the creature's body.
When it finished, the veins of light began shimmering even brighter, and the thick darkness seemed dried out.
As the light intensity grew brighter, the darkness began peeling off and falling, dissipating
into dust.
This continued until a clean ivory skin was revealed from the peeling darkness, snow-white hair cascading down the shoulders to the middle of the back.
A sharp, angled white brow shaped out, slightly twitching, but the eyes remained closed.
As the human's eyes opened, white light flooded his entire form and slowly dissipated. As the light disappeared, a deep red cloak wrapped around him, billowing like a shadow. Beneath it, a black robe layered over a crisp white shirt, with a narrow black tie peeking through the open collar.
The cloak's inner lining was pale gray, softening its edges as it draped over his shoulders.
His cropped, light gray pants stopped just above his black boots, which glinted under the
light.
Tiny charms dangled at his hip, swaying with the soft and slow wind, and a single red pendant rested against his chest, catching the eye with a quiet, fiery glint.
Northern was awestruck-the man radiated more elegance than he had ever encountered in
his two entire lives.
The man's sky-blue eyes met his azure ones, quickly measuring him in a blink. Then a slight
frown bent the man's fine brows.
"I don't have a sword. I need a sword."