Chapter 660: The Essence Of Mistake
Northern dared not underestimate the insidious destruction that the sword style posed. However, while he watched, he had entered an epiphany and realized something sad.
The Moonlit style, if he was to learn it how Bairan was teaching him, would never allow him to reach the true height of its power.
This also applied to why he couldn't glimpse into what he had been able to once mistakenly glimpse into.
The keyword here was "mistakenly."
That was the encompassing message of the Chaos Art and his unique attribute Formless.
Anything without a form was where he thrived. Chaos was without a form; that was why it went hand in hand with Formless so much.
Although Chaos did look like it had a form-there was a seemingly order to destruction after all-true, primal destruction has no order; it is the perfect disruption of order.
The Chaos that Northern handled was the inorderliness that existed for order to exist; it was the Formlessness that pre-existed as a prerequisite for the world to gain form.
A sentient existence, first born of the slumbering origin of void.
The Moonlit Whisper was undoubtedly an amazing sword style. But in his hands, it was more or less like every combat style he had insulted and looked down on.
All the while, Northern had been searching for a way to grow stronger, thinking he could learn from other combat styles and forms to absorb them into his own formlessness.
But he was wrong all along...
The way to get stronger with both his formlessness and Chaos art was not to absorb other styles and weave his heritage into them.
It was by unraveling them.
If he thought about it, Chaos' main function allowed him to unravel ligatures and tamper with their Chaos construct.
All Eyes just so happened to be affected by this distinct function of the little Chaos in him, and it evolved to Chaos Eyes.
Extensively investigating all other parts too, the act of his body integrating his skills, adapting and changing form as he advanced through different soul ranks.
His true name that had been silent so far.
Everything about him seemed like a concept that existed on the premises of a mistake, not planned to happen, a variable, a disruption to order.
And all of this started with him not having a core...
'No...'
Northern's mind drove way back before his birth; the memory was not fresh in his brain, but he did not forget about it either.
The dude that had met him in the white plane after his death. The reason why he could say he got another chance to be reborn.
Did it all start then?
'No... there's something... something I am overlooking.'
However, Northern could not, at this moment, tell what it was. The feeling of forgetting something, though, left him a bit frustrated.
But at the very least, he now knew what to do going forward, how to become the best warrior without even having to use his talent.
And thus, he might not even need Bairan again. Which brought him to finally have to decide on something he had thought about a long time ago when Bairan first came around.
Talent: [Breath Of Eternity]
Talent Abilities: [Eternal Pulse], [Veil Of Remembrance], [Soul Imprint], [Moonlit Whisper Style], [Single Draw Path]
Talent Description: [In the lost civilization, Soul Scribes carried the essence of a belief, how only through the three fundamental values of existence can true power truly be touched.
[Patience: To persevere, wait endlessly with a solemn mind and tireless will.
[Perception: Even though in the wait, one's senses are keen, watching religiously in the wait, so as not to miss the flow of time and the appointment that came with it.
[Perfect Timing: This was a culmination of the two values. Once patience and perception is achieved, Perfect Timing comes as a fruit of reward.
[Unlike most sword styles that focus on aggressive slashing or defensive blocking, the Breath of Eternity channels the time and memory of each strike, creating effects that can reshape the battlefield and unsettle opponents.]
No matter how many times he read through the ability, the description always came off as weird. Every time he forgot it was a sword style.
Bairan's actual talent was a sword style itself; the Moonlit Whisper was only an ability of that Supreme style.
'And yet it is so strong...'
That an ability could be as powerful as that, Northern could not take a guess how truly powerful Bairan would have been back in his prime and in his era.
'He did mention that they called him The Strongest even though he wasn't where he wanted
to be.'
Northern remembered that clearly. At least, he had an insight into how strong Bairan was.
The problem he had been faced with now, since he decided to take a study of the sword king's talent was...
Northern leaned into the chair and crossed his leg over his table.
After the cleaning, the office was radiantly sparkling. He had given Jeci and Lynus alone the permission to step out of the Limitless Void.
And she in particular was standing beside him, just in front of the bookshelves. Her eyes closed, one hand standing a crimson spear next to her while the other rested next to her body. What exactly was she doing there? Northern had no idea... when she had first appeared, he threw a glance at her, raising one of his brows in confusion.
But she stayed silent and closed her eyes; overtime he just minded his business here.
Northern glanced at her once more and sighed, returning his eyes to the floating panel before his eyes.
'It's still not coming out.'
Bairan's talent was peak, a broken one. He literally had been lusting after it after reading it extensively. In fact, if he could copy it, he would have done so already and not needed to submit himself to training.
But the question to copy the talent was not popping up; it usually came automatically when a person used their skill.
However, even when Bairan used his skill, it did not appear; this plagued him with frustration
for a while.
Having to see what he wanted so badly and yet not being able to have it. His chest would bite him at times; other times it was as if his chest were folding.
But he had to deal with it anyway. The talent was just too amazing; every time he looked at it, he was stabbed with an almost physical pain of jealousy.