Chapter 767: Stupid Mistake
Northern clutched his ears, bending down with an agonizing cry as the creature's piercing shriek assaulted his senses.
His thoughts twisted into a tangled mess, as if every strand had been grabbed and smashed together in a single instant.
'Ah, shhh... damn it!'
What was it with monsters and their relentless assault on his ears?
Blood trickled from his eardrums in dismissive streams. He wiped it away with a single finger, ignoring the rest. His expression darkened into a frown.
"I'll make you pay dearly for that, you stinking mound of rotten flesh."
Barely a second after his last word, Northern launched forward, slicing through the distance, descending upon the massive Maelstrom.
The monster sensed him with ease, its hulking, rotten form shifting. Then, with a brutal swing, it brought its cleaver sword over its head with ferocious strength.
Northern's eyes flicked to the incoming blade. He threw his hand into the air.
Lightning Chains erupted with a bright flare, wrapping around the cleaver sword, their crackling force slowing its momentum.
At the same time, Northern adjusted mid-air with surgical precision, shifting seamlessly from his dive into a lateral flight. The cleaver ignored the force of the chains, tearing through the air where he had once been, splitting wind and space alike.
Northern rolled in the air and came to a pause several meters ahead, his gaze drilling down on the creature with a sinister glare.
The rotten mass of flesh-despite being eyeless, headless in a sense-tilted its void helm slightly, observing him. Then, it moved, grabbing a thick tree, wrenching it from the ground with monstrous power.
With a circular motion, the monster hurled the tree into the sky.
Northern effortlessly ascended, dodging the massive projectile. But before he could exhale, several more trees were already barreling toward him.
They weren't difficult to dodge—just a matter of threading through them with precise maneuvers. The ones that came too fast? He shattered them with his smoking fist.
The battlefield expanded. The once-dense forest had been forcefully thinned, darkness diluted by the sudden openness. Yet neither of them cared. Each was wholly fixated on annihilating the other.
Northern dodged another incoming tree, then suddenly vanished.
He reappeared behind the monster. Before the creature could register his shift, Fang of the Woodkeeper bit deep into its rotten flesh, carving downward in a ruthless arc. A splurge of black ichor sprayed into the air.
Northern was swift, decisive. His movements-efficient, and precise.
He flew backward as the monster released a deep, guttural cry, staggering forward.
The Lightning Chains cracked like demented whips, wrapping tightly around one of the creature's legs. The moment it stumbled, Northern took advantage of its chaotic movement and yanked—pulling its leg backward, causing the monstrosity to crash face-first into the ground.
Then, he descended upon it like a mountain of wrath.
Fang of the Woodkeeper struck again, viciously carving into the creature's back.
Not just that.
Northern clenched his fist, raw power condensing into his knuckles, distorting the air around it. A slight shockwave trembled in its wake.
Then-he blasted his fist through the creature's back.
Taking advantage of the immobilization, Northern bulldozed as many titanic punches as he could into the monstrosity's flesh-his eyes burned dangerously, blue light seeming to flare wickedly as each strike descended on the monster with a callous intensity.
Northern for some reason felt his rage soar as he rain down boulders of blows on the creature.
He continued, a thunderous sound rolling through the forest until the creature's body fell still, unmoving.
Northern arched a brow.
Although he did not hear the system announce it. The damned mound of rotten flesh was dead.
The boon of having a second name-of evading Ul's judgment of his anomalous existence- was incredibly soothing.
A wide grin spread across his face. He leapt from the corpse and hovered in the air for a moment, staring at the decayed mass of flesh.
Then, he took off.
He froze mid-air, suspended in the cold winds of the sky, carefully scanning the distance.
His Splintered Eyes found what he was looking for in an instant.
His brows twitched.
"Huh? That's strange."
The beast of burden wasn't moving.
Grimacing, Northern blasted through the air, tearing across the sky, arriving at Roma's
position in half a dozen seconds.
He landed as lightly as a leaf on the massive mount and peered down.
Roma wasn't on the beast.
Instead, she stood on the ground, speaking with a small group of people. She had just finished conversing with them and was now helping them climb aboard.
Northern's frown deepened.
'What is the hell is this reckless insect doing?'
Roma noticed him and waved, her voice sharp with authority.
"How about you lend a hand instead of just sitting there staring?"
The woman at the forefront of the group-one of the five struggling to climb-had a large
stomach.
No, beyond large.
'She's pregnant?'
There was no mistaking it. The strain on her face, the way she pulled herself up the mount-it
was clear as day.
She reached the top without assistance and bowed her head slightly.
"The young lady said you are more than happy to help us," she said softly. "She also
mentioned that you are a Sage, and we have nothing to fear."
Northern stared at her, his expression bleak.
Not entirely sure what the hell was going on.
More people were climbing the beast of burden now. The mount was broad enough to seat at
least twenty without anyone worrying about falling.
In its full capacity? It could easily fit five hundred. Perhaps more, if space was managed well.
A frail voice suddenly cut in.
"Young man! Tach sent you! We were sure only death awaited our poor fates until seconds
ago!"
An elderly man stepped forward, clasping his cold hands together-almost too cold, nearly unsettling. He held Northern's hands tightly, shaking them with a smile that wrinkled his
entire face.
"Thank you so much."
The other three humans bowed, their expressions softened with relief and gratitude.
Northern, however, only stared.
A creeping sense of regret settled in his gut.
Wondering if he had made a very, very stupid mistake in deciding to follow Roma on this
journey to the blockade.