"Tonight..."
Northern muttered the same word Paragon Raizel had just spoken.
There was nothing wrong with moving tonight. In fact, it suited him just fine. If there was anything that gave him pause, it was what had transpired in the last hour—and the duel still raging in the Milhwa contest.
He had planned meticulously for that contest, yet he hadn't been able to actively participate. Though, given everything that had unfolded, this wasn't the worst outcome either.
With a slight furrow of focus, he met Paragon Raizel's gaze and responded.
"Alright... there's no problem, then. Where do I start?"
Paragon Raizel grinned, satisfaction gleaming in his ethereal jade-green eyes.
"Good. I like the look on your face."
He tore his gaze away from Northern, turning his attention to the city below. The sun had fully retreated behind the horizon, swallowed by the deepening shadows of the night. A strange, thicker, and more sinister darkness had settled upon the city. The hollow cries of the waves thrashing against the shore echoed through the streets, occasionally drowned out by the terrifying bellows of massive underwater abominations lurking beneath, as if waiting for the chance to tear the city itself apart.
Raizel let the scene sink in for a moment, then exhaled and spoke.
"I've already given Zion and Mack their orders. Others are rounding up the people as we speak. Right now, what I need is for you to open that portal of yours and provide them with shelter inside your..."
"Limitless Void."
Northern helped him with the words.
"Yeah. That thing. Whatever it is, it's incredibly resourceful."
Paragon Raizel paused, his gaze locking onto Northern with renewed intensity, as if attempting to decipher something hidden beneath the surface.
Northern, feeling the weight of that scrutiny pressing against him, shifted slightly before speaking.
"So... do I open it here? Right now?"
The Paragon remained silent for a dozen seconds, his gaze drifting into the darkness that blanketed the city. Then, recovering from his momentary contemplation, he turned back to Northern.
"Yes. Right now. There, in the middle of the city."
He pointed toward the grand fountain that marked the city's heart, standing just in front of the city hall.
Northern followed the direction of Raizel's gesture and hesitated.
He had never attempted what he was about to do. Never before had he opened Limitless Void for others to enter freely, and he would be lying if he said the idea didn't unsettle him. The thought of possible repercussions gnawed at him—was he exposing something that shouldn't be exposed?
Still, he hoped otherwise.
Northern sighed.
"No problem, then. But let me settle a few things before I open it."
Raizel's eyes shimmered with amusement, his lips curling into a dashing smile.
"Oh, please. Be free."
Northern gave him a final glance before vanishing into thin air.
Raizel blinked, momentarily confused, though not entirely surprised. The same small, delighted smile remained frozen on his face as he stared into the empty space where Northern had just stood.
He said nothing.
Just watched.
Meanwhile, Northern reappeared within Limitless Void, his gaze sweeping over the vast, endless realm.
As much as he was willing to provide shelter, he wasn't about to let people freely roam his soulscape.
Limitless Void was nearly a realm of its own, but that didn't change one fundamental fact—it was still his soul. And the soul, no matter how fortified, remained the most vulnerable part of a being's existence.
Just that, in his case, that vulnerability was buried beneath countless layers of true Void.
Even so…
Northern wasn't about to take chances.
He could place them in Void Palace. That place was reinforced, a structure designed to shield against threats—both external and internal.
But the very thought made him hesitate.
If anything, the idea made him even more skeptical.
Because Limitless Void itself began at Void Palace.
Void Palace was the very foundation of his soulscape—the core of everything.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Void Palace was the soulscape.
And that was precisely why he couldn't allow them to be there.
So his first task was clear. He needed to carve out an illusionary space within Limitless Void.
Something that mimicked Void Palace... but was nothing more than a construct, not as potent as the Void Palace.
A shadow of a place.
An imitation of security.
'Of course, it can't be as potent. It's merely an illusion of a place.'
How could he make this possible?
Everything within Limitless Void bowed to Northern's will. That meant he could create a structure so real and yet so unreal—a paradox of existence bound by his imagination.
There were independent constructs within Limitless Void, entities that existed beyond his direct influence but could still be affected by him. Void Palace was one such structure—an unshakable foundation, just like the remnants of absorbed realms.
On a broad scale, none of those could be harmed. They existed as fixed realities within his domain.
But anything birthed purely from his will…
That was fragile.
If Northern were to suffer serious injury or experience an unprecedented shock, a construct dependent on his will alone could weaken—or worse, crumble entirely.
A soul attack could be even more devastating. He had no doubt that if his soul were to be struck, anything conjured from his willpower inside Limitless Void would fracture, perhaps cease to exist altogether.
Still, the solution remained clear.
He could create a realm within Limitless Void—a sanctuary woven from illusion.
The people would mistake it for something real.
But should anything happen to him in the outside world, their so-called safe haven would be the first to suffer.
Northern briefly entertained the thought of caring about the risk… but he really couldn't.
Of course, he was confident in his ability to protect himself.
No—confident wasn't the word.
He was absolutely certain.
Nothing could happen to him.
Northern lifted his gaze toward the crimson-stained sky above Limitless Void's mountains. Then, raising one hand, he traced a thin, illusionary line from the heavens down to his feet.
The line pulsed—faint, wavering—then thickened, expanding as if unveiling something that had always been there.
And as the fabric of space shifted, a new world was born.
A world of his own imagination.
A realm created in a jiffy.