Chapter 822 Colors of Victory
The sound of victory rippled through the city, dancing with vibrant colors that shimmered against Lithia's dark sky.
For the first time in months—since the dawn of their destruction—there was something worth celebrating. None of them had imagined they would survive battling both an Apex Destroyer and a Catastrophic Behemoth in a single day.
And yet, against all odds, they had.
Even more astonishing was the death toll—less than a hundred. Not a single civilian had perished.
Despite the lingering echoes of devastation, the city pulsed with pure joy.
Northern had been assigned a room once everything had settled. As someone who had fought and defeated a Behemoth alongside a Paragon, respect naturally followed.
People—Drifters—looked at him with eyes of envy. Their gazes glittered with awe, the same way they looked at the Paragon. Northern felt submerged beneath their admiration, an undercurrent he couldn't quite ignore.
It was a bit irritating to be under such scrutiny, but Paragon Raizel was an insistently persistent man. He had paraded Northern beside him, boasting about his ability to create multiple versions of himself—each one as powerful as the original.
Northern never expected the Paragon to be such a big-mouther. Compared to him, even Aster seemed like a novice.
But now, all of that was behind him.
He stood by the window of the makeshift bedroom he had been given, watching over the city.
For once, the people didn't look sullen. They acted as if Lithia wouldn't face an even greater catastrophe tomorrow—or perhaps even in the next minute.
But Northern knew better.
The monsters were still out there, lurking just beyond the horizon, waiting their turn to strike.
And then there was the Shadow Enthrall—a damned nightmare that had escaped his grasp of death. He had no means of tracking it down.
Northern frowned, forcing the thought aside.
His gaze shifted to the heart of the city, where people feasted like ravenous beasts, tearing into massive chunks of meat. Their usual demureness had vanished.
'Who cares about being demure when death lurks at every corner?'
Northern folded his arms, exhaling softly.
His eyes landed on Braham, who held a large cup of beer, speaking animatedly with a round-faced man—remarkably well-fed despite the ongoing calamity.
Northern had already checked on Roma. Her condition was improving.
Her skin had regained its vibrancy, her face no longer pallid.
He could tell the nature's essence was truly healing her, working through the wooden coffin she had been encased in.
Many others had recovered as well.
According to Braham, most of the nearly-dead Drifters had fully healed and were already up and ready to enter battle.
Northern couldn't help but be amazed at the rat's capabilities—Braham was the most resourceful person he had ever met.
Still, Northern remained hesitant about copying his talent.
He knew that if he copied it and evolved it, it would become incredibly useful.
But the issue was—it seemed to benefit others more than it would benefit him.
He already had Chaos healing him constantly. A separate healing ability was unnecessary.
Yet, the sheer brilliance of Braham's talent made it difficult to ignore.
Satisfied, Northern had left his Spirit Linen with Braham. As long as his summon remained there, he didn't need to be present to copy the ability.
When the time came, he would simply take the talent and dismiss the summon.
That said, he had two more months until his penalty was finally over—until he could finally ascend to Ephemeral.
The past four months at the academy had been resourceful. He had mastered blacksmithing to its brim and had even begun laying the foundation for a construction within the Limitless Void. In that regard, it was rather fortunate that he had come across Hao in Lithia.
And Elliot.
The clone he had assigned to Hao had become remarkably useful. People, especially merchants, had grown fond of him amidst the disaster.
Hao had spoken briefly with Northern, describing him as too nice—so much so that it sometimes troubled him to leave the clone on his own.
Although Elliot was supremely obedient to Hao, he was also empathetic. He didn't mind being used as long as he could help others.
And Northern remembered—he had once been like that too.
That was what had led to his downfall.
But at least Elliot—a clone—was immune to things like downfall and demise.
Northern might have pitied him otherwise.
Aside from his naivety and unnecessary bravado, Elliot had grown into a remarkably intelligent and creative engineer. His knowledge and creativity in the field were astonishing, and he had already taken on several projects.
In fact, he had even opened up another avenue for Hao to monetize.
The services Braham had pushed Hao to offer involved Elliot's skills as an engineer.
Even in the midst of disaster, Elliot was constructing a luxurious space for the Healer, with other Drifters assisting.
At first, Northern had been irritated.
Braham clearly had his priorities misplaced, but the problem was—no one dared to reprimand him for it.
Not even Paragon Raizel.
Either the man didn't know, or he simply didn't care.
As for those who did? They sucked up to Braham, too afraid to cross him, lest he decided not to heal them.
Everyone desperately sought his favor.
And it disgusted Northern.
That was why he had already made a promise to himself:
One day, he would deal with Braham.
One day, he would strip him of his influence and make him a forsaken wretch.
But not today.
Not anytime soon.
For now, he just wanted to rest his body.
Tomorrow could be eventful or uneventful, but regardless—he had another tournament to fight.
Then, he would wait for Roma to wake up, give her one final piece, and leave Lithia behind.
Northern glanced at the door opposite him, his brows furrowing slightly.
There was one more annoying thing he had unwittingly trapped himself into.
Steadying his breath, he spoke evenly.
"Jeci. I'm quite sure Paragon Raizel offered to provide you with a room. What are you doing standing by the door like that?"
The spearwoman stood stoically before shifting ever so slightly, her sleep-deprived eyes finally meeting his.
"Having been freed from the embrace of your soul at last… I find myself preferring your proximity to anyone else. And please, do not take this the wrong way, my liege."
She hesitated, choosing her next words carefully.
"If I were to speak plainly, I'd say… standing here like this… feels like home."
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