Chapter 793: Power Gap
Kion stood frozen. A few seconds stretched into eternity. His mind was a shambles of thoughts, fragments scattered in the wake of what he'd just witnessed.
What exactly had happened?
Even now, he couldn't put it into words. Couldn't even trust his own senses.
His entire body felt cold. His eyes trembled. His mouth remained slightly open, the breath in his lungs refusing to move.
Every emotion he could name—and countless others he couldn't—swelled inside him, threatening to crush him under their weight.
The eel monster. The one they had struggled against for what felt like an eternity. The one they had fought not to defeat, but to survive.
Because destroying it had been impossible.
None of them had entertained the thought—not even for a second. And yet…
This boy. This Drifter.
He had swooped in. And ended it.
Like snuffing out an ant beneath his heel.
Kion's mind screamed at him to understand—to make sense of it.
'How…? How does this make any sense?'
Was this truly the gap between a Master and a Sage?
When a Drifter became a Master, they fully came into the glory of their capabilities. Strength, privilege, and status were guaranteed. It was the safe zone for a Drifter. The point where they no longer needed to scrape and struggle for every ounce of power.
Because by then, the world needed them.
Masters were wanted, revered. Comfort and luxury were within reach. The dangers remained, yes—but they were manageable. Expected.
And so, most stayed.
Why wouldn't they?
A Savant was still within reach. Reasonable. Feasible. But a Sage?
That was different.
For most, it was impossible.
That was why the majority of Drifters remained Masters for life. A select few—those deemed truly exceptional—managed to reach the rank of Savant. Even then, they chose to stay there. To preserve their lives. To enjoy the wealth and status their power had granted them.
One in a million refused to settle.
One in a million chased the peak.
Those few became Sages.
And of that number, an even rarer breed emerged. One in a hundred of them dared to go further.
However beyond the Evanescent rank?
That was closer to impossible than it was to possible.
A Sage and a Master were worlds apart in terms of strength. That was an undeniable fact. But Kion wasn't satisfied with that answer.
Northern had defeated that monster too easily.
Too easily to be a Sage.
His mind jolted. A terrifying thought formed.
'Could… could he be an Ascendant?!'
For a moment, his thoughts scattered. The idea felt too overwhelming to hold in place. Then he forced himself to breathe, to calm down.
'What am I saying…? This guy doesn't even look like he's thirty. How could he be an Ascendant?'
He exhaled heavily, pressing a palm to his face, as if to wipe away the absurdity of the thought.
Meanwhile, Northern stood before them, listening in silence as they explained what had happened.
He sighed. His gaze swept over them, unreadable. There was nothing to say.
Then his eyes dropped—to the fragile bundle in his mother's arms.
A flicker of thought stirred.
'Now that I think about it… wasn't I born in the middle of a disaster too?'
His memories surfaced with perfect clarity.
The three sisters who hid him—who never came back.
The darkness that moved with its own sentience.
The ominous force that loomed, suffocating and vast.
He had only caught a glimpse of it. But even then—even as an infant, mere hours old—he had felt it.
Felt its power.
And calling it 'powerful' still felt like an understatement.
He looked away, shaking off the weight of the memory.
"Well, I think you guys should cross the bridge now…"
His expression remained neutral, but inwardly, he thought—
'I really hope all goes well this time around.'
With one last glance at them, he turned and activated Chaos Eyes, scanning the battlefield, his vision easily tearing through the veil of ashen clouds.
"I have to go back to the—"
He stopped abruptly.
And smiled.
'…Wow. They ended it on their own.'
—
The moment Northern had lost his footing, skidding backward in a stagger, the Tree Turtle didn't hesitate.
It had lunged—aiming to crush him in that moment of weakness.
But in the span of a heartbeat, a brilliant idea bloomed in his mind.
And he vanished.
Teleporting away from the battlefield.
Simultaneously, a rift split open in space.
Through it, a swordsman emerged—his pristine white hair catching the wind, moving in a slow, melodic sway.
Before Bairan could even register his surroundings—
A monstrous, forest-like titan was lunging at him.
Northern did not exactly like the fact that he had to do it but Bairan was the only one he could bother without feeling too guilty.
Of all of them, he was the most sentient, the most reasonable.
Not that the others weren't reasonable. They just… weren't as open with their emotions.
But since Bairan's arrival, that had started to change.
Black Mamba, most especially.
Despite his stoic, sword-king image, Bairan had turned out to be eccentric, unpredictable— and, surprisingly, fun to be around.
That was why Northern knew he'd take this well.
More importantly, he needed to confirm if there was truly a difference between the monsters from the dungeon and the ones that roamed the surface world?
And if there was—just how deep did it go?
And it turned out—he had made the correct decision.
Bairan, despite claiming to be tired, had killed the monstrous turtle.
Jeci and Lynus had handled the rest of the minions.
Now, all three of them were already marching toward them.
Roma wiped away the blood trailing from her nose, her gaze shifting to Northern.
"Rian, I'm curious about something…"
She lingered for a moment. Then, finally, she asked—
"If you're here… does that mean you've already killed that creature?"
Northern pulled his attention away from the wall of ashen clouds and glanced at her.
"Oh, right. I had a subordinate take care of it."
Roma blinked.
"A subordinate? You have a subordinate? Have they been traveling with us?"
Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she barely noticed as another drop of blood rolled down her nose.
Northern's gaze sharpened. He leaned in slightly.
"You've been bleeding consistently… are you sure you're okay?"
As he spoke, his hand moved—cleanly wiping away the blood from her nose.
Roma hadn't expected that.
And her entire face went red.
A heat rushed up her neck, spreading to the tips of her ears.
For a second, her brain completely stalled.
Then—dizziness crashed into her.
Her body wavered. Her lips parted, as if to speak—
But before she could utter a word, the world spun violently around her and her balance gave way.
Northern caught her before she hit the ground.