Northern’s body steadied in the air, cutting through with devastating speed. Sound barriers shattered in his wake, rupturing like fragile glass as his lithe form pierced through them—an airborne javelin hurled by a titan.
The Paragon wasn’t far behind. His method of flight differed strangely from Northern’s, something Northern suspected was tied to his talent—its mechanics interwoven with motion itself.
Paragon Raizel moved in bursts, detonating shockwaves that hurled him forward with titanic force, each eruption propelling him across hundreds of meters before he needed to generate another.
Each time he surged forward, he momentarily overtook Northern, spearing through the sky like a cannon round. But it was only ever for a few fleeting seconds—inevitably, Northern would surpass him again.
Together, they were forces that terrified and governed the wind, though neither bore authority over the elementals of the world. They were not Luminaries, after all.
Then Northern saw it.
A creeping sense of foreboding thickened the air, pressing in like an invisible hand around his throat. The further they had traveled, the heavier the atmosphere had grown—darkening, twisting, until now.
This place was the crux of that darkness.
He halted mid-air, stopping so abruptly that the wind bucked and twisted, recoiling at the sudden defiance of motion.
Raizel reached him a second later, suspending himself in the same impossible manner—only, his stillness was different. His motion, precise and absolute, disturbed nothing. Where Northern had interrupted the wind, Raizel seemed to command his body alone, as if his talent applied only to himself, never the world around him.
Northern stared forward, his face grim.
The Paragon, in contrast, was unmoved. There was no trace of alarm in his expression—only an unsettling calm, as though he were witnessing something profoundly intriguing.
Northern had fought a Behemoth before. But this—this was something else.
It was bigger.
It felt bigger.
Less a monster, more a natural disaster—something beyond form, beyond recognition.
The rivers below weren’t merely disturbed—they convulsed. Waves folded and collapsed upon themselves, stretching unnaturally, curling like the grip of some unseen gargantuan. The water twisted in chaotic destruction, not as if something were inside it, but as if the water itself had become the monster.
It was like watching a storm rolling through both sky and river at once, black and writhing, an entity of pure devastation given form.
The sight coiled dread through Northern’s veins. His body went cold.
And yet, beside him, Raizel smiled.
Northern turned to him, unsettled. Why? How could he look at that and find amusement?
Finally, he asked.
"Have you ever fought something like this?"
The Paragon folded his arms and shrugged.
"Well, no."
Northern tilted his head.
"And… you’re smiling?"
Raizel turned, sparing Northern a glance.
"Aren’t they rather an interesting existence? Besides, thinking about how to defeat such a creature has me tasking my head. I like that it’s very challenging. It’s been a while since I’ve been this challenged."
’Nuts. This guy has gone nuts.’
Northern had met three Paragons in total—a divine feat in itself. Some people lived and died without ever laying eyes on even one.
Yet, somehow, the events in his life—each a brush with death, each a moment that could have shattered worlds—had led him face to face with these pinnacles of strength.
Either he fought them.
Or he fought with them.
And every single one of them had one thing in common.
They were self-conceitedly crazy.
’They really are. Unapologetically, too.’
For a brief moment, Northern wondered—if he reached their level, would he become like them?
Funny, how he couldn’t see the truth about himself in moments like these.
He sighed, shaking off the thought. Now was not the time.
Not when they stood before a Catastrophic Behemoth.
The least he could do was focus.
’But… this is just a Catastrophic Behemoth, and yet, it feels far stronger than the Crimson Lord—a supposed Apex Belial. Either I’m missing something, or this has to do with the rift and its ties to Chaos.’
Either way, this thing demanded his attention.
And Northern planned to give it his all.
Not that it looked like he had a choice.
He turned to Raizel, studying the man’s composed, unshaken demeanor. For a few seconds, he hesitated—then he asked:
"What do we do from here? How do we even attack something that looks like water?"
Raizel was silent, his gaze locked on the rolling storm of an abomination. His expression remained unreadable.
Finally, he blinked. Tore his eyes from the beast. Looked at Northern.
"I think the first question we should be asking is…"
His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
"How do we survive a tsunami?"
Northern tilted his head.
"What do you mean?"
Raizel’s gaze returned to the churning disaster before them.
"Behemoths are different from the lower rank monsters. They share a bond with the world—albeit in a defiling manner. But a bond is a bond nevertheless."
Northern’s brows furrowed.
"Paragons also share that bond, but in a more submissive manner," Raizel continued. "We feel the world. Connect to it. That connection influences our essence—its nature, its form.
"And because of that connection, we can do something called Essence Manifestation."
He paused, taking a slow, unhurried breath.
Ahead of them, the raging waters trembled forward, albeit slowly—like a predator savoring its approach.
"To put it simply," Raizel resumed, "a Paragon can create principles and laws, though they remain subjective to certain conditions of the world."
Northern’s mind processed those words, and suddenly—understanding dawned.
’So that’s it. That’s the answer.’
The thing that set Paragons apart.
The reason for their strength.
Essence Manifestation.
A Unique ability—one rarely ever seen.
Maybe… he’d get to see one today.
Raizel continued, oblivious to Northern’s thoughts.
"But for a Behemoth—especially when they evolve to a Catastrophe level—it becomes far more menacing."
His eyes gleamed.
"Their Manifestation isn’t subjective to the world’s conditions."
He paused grimly.
"It drives them."
Northern’s chest tightened.
He turned his gaze back to the monstrous tide before them—its abyssal waves stretching higher and higher, swallowing the sky, devouring the river.
Raizel exhaled.
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"This tsunami, Ral…"
His voice was measured. Calm.
"…is as dangerous as any tsunami in the world. Or perhaps—even worse."
His head tilted slightly.
"Have you ever been hit by a tsunami, Ral?"
Northern’s breath hitched.
Raizel’s smile sharpened.
"Get ready to be hit by one."