Chapter 752: Illogical
Northern's sword carved through the grotesque abominations with ruthless precision, his movements deceptively fluid. One moment, he was barely shifting-an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist. The next, a clean, effortless arc of steel sliced through sinew and bone.
There was no hesitation. No wasted motion.
A creature lunged. He skewered it mid-air. Another twisted its broken limbs toward him-his blade severed its head before its malformed jaw could snap shut.
A third abomination was unfortunate enough to get close. Northern didn't even bother with his sword this time.
Black flames erupted from his free hand, engulfing his forearm in searing, unnatural heat. He drove it forward, straight through the creature's chest.
A heartbeat later, the flames detonated, erasing its entire torso in an instant. His arm tore through the dissipating remains, emerging behind it, dripping with sizzling, half-burned ichor.
With a violent wrench, he ripped his sword free from another corpse and twisted, his blade cleaving through the leaping jaw of a monstrosity that had hoped to catch him off-guard. It hit the ground in a spasmodic heap.
His senses stretched outward—he could tell the others were still fighting, holding their ground, barely.
The girl was adapting. She had shed the sluggishness that had almost killed her twice. Her strikes came faster, more determined, more refined.
But still... not fast enough.
'Is this her limit?'
Or was she still holding back?
Not everyone could be like him.
Power was something he had in abundance-so much that he barely considered limits anymore. Where others had to conserve their essence, ration their strength, balance their abilities, he could afford to be reckless.
He had no need to hold back.
And yet, they still refused to leave.
Northern's irritation simmered, his strikes growing sharper, crueler. He cleaved through another creature with an almost resentful motion.
'Why are they so damn foolish?'
Did they think he wanted to sacrifice himself?
Or worse did they think he was actually at risk of dying?
He couldn't understand them. Couldn't grasp their insistence.
Then a thought struck him.
'Maybe they just don't know how strong I am.'
Maybe they needed to see it for themselves.
To understand that they weren't allies.
They were obstacles.
A hindrance.
And once they realized it, they'd finally get out of his way.
A slow, wicked smile curled beneath his mask.
'Let's test that theory.'
An abomination lunged.
Northern met it head-on, swinging his sword in a single, effortless motion. The blade passed cleanly through its midsection-an almost casual dissection.
And he didn't stop there.
His free hand flicked forward, and the ground pooled with darkness, liquid and writhing like sentient ink bleeding into the earth. It spread with unnatural speed, creeping like veins through cracked stone.
Gareon and the girl stiffened, their bodies recoiling in alarm. They had been holding the line, backs pressed to each other, but now-this? This was something else.
The girl shot Northern a glance.
"This you?"
Northern lifted his head, his voice crawling forth, cold and absolute.
"Witness this."
His fingers snapped—a sharp, unnatural sound that seemed to ripple through the air.
"I didn't ask you to leave because I am incapable of leaving myself."
His voice deepened, reverberating like a distant tremor.
"I asked because I alone am more than enough to handle these insects."
Their eyes widened.
And then the slaughter began.
From the blackened ground, jagged lances of lustrous black steel erupted, impaling the creatures in one fell motion. They shrieked, twisted, gutted like meat on a skewer.
Gore ained. Maroon ichor spilled like rivers, flooding into the creeping darkness, absorbed as if the shadows were hungry.
A single instant. A single snap of his fingers.
And hundreds of the creatures lay in ruin.
A suffocating silence swallowed the battlefield.
The mountains stood still, as if holding their breath.
The girl's eyes were wide, frozen. Gareon let out a low, slow exhale, then-despite the tension, despite the absurdity-his lips curled into a twitching smirk.
"Well... damn me."
The girl's hands trembled slightly at her sides. No fear-just disbelief.
Drifters with destructive power existed. Yes. That much was known. But those people were
legends. Kings of battle. The unreachable heavens.
A mercenary, a mundane drifter, could live a thousand lifetimes and never once witness such a
display of might.
To see a Paragon? That was near impossible.
But a Sage?
A Sage was a mountain peak, still within sight, still within reach-but towering, untouchable.
For a fleeting moment, Gareon wondered...
He turned, his throat dry, his mind still processing.
"White..." His voice was cautious. "You don't have to answer, but... your rank?"
Northern barely spared him a glance.
"I'm a Sage."
Gareon and the girl staggered back in sheer reflex, their bodies jerking like they'd just heard
an execution order.
Northern frowned.
"What? Why do you both look like I just told you the sky is falling?"
Gareon half-laughed, almost hysterical.
"Ah...ah... a Sage? Just like that? How the hell are you a Sage? You don't even look thirty!"
The girl nodded vigorously, eyes still round.
"Sages don't look like you. They're old. Always old. Or at least... at least sixty!"
Northern's expression darkened slightly.
"And what does my age have to do with anything?"
The girl sputtered.
"Because it does! How can a commoner-no, how can anyone so young-"
Northern exhaled sharply. This was a pointless conversation.
"Believe whatever you want."
He muttered, already turning back toward the rift.
The tear in space seethed, more creatures already clawing their way through.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Now, get going. You've seen enough. I'm handling this. Go back to the caravan-I'll meet
you later."
His voice was final. Unarguable.
But then-
"No!"
Northern's expression snapped cold. He turned back slightly, his glare cutting through her
like a blade.
"Are you insane?"
The girl's feet planted, her stance defiant.
"I refuse."
Gareon nodded, setting his jaw.
"Miss here's right. You being a Sage is all the more reason we can't leave you here."
Northern's voice dropped.
"Are the two of you actually insane?"
Gareon didn't falter. "No, White. We're perfectly sane." His fists clenched. "Your life is worth a million, no, ten
million times more than two drifters. Just because you can survive doesn't mean we should let
you fight alone."
The girl lifted her chin.
"I'm not a drifter, but I'll tell you this-I won't leave you here just because you're strong. If I
do..." Her voice dropped slightly. "I'll hate myself. So I won't."
Northern stared. Dumbfounded. 'What the hell? This is not logical at all.'