When pushing physical limits through intense training or battle, the body inevitably rebels against the strain.
Muscles scream in protest, fibers tearing microscopically with each grueling contraction.
It’s a brutal process that tests the boundaries of endurance.
In the case of Northern’s clone—a soulless construct beholden to its creator’s will, it moved and struck without any corporeal awareness of its own suffering.
No searing lactic acid buildup to dull reflexes. No shuddering spasms wracking limbs pushed beyond capacity.
It functioned as a cold, mechanical extension of Northern’s consciousness – a ruthless weapon devoid of self-preservation instincts.
Despite the clone’s indifference to sensory input, the biological stresses remained inescapable facts of harsh laws that bounded a human’s physical body.
Each desperate parry, every ferocious slice through scale and bone took an accumulating toll far beyond what a normal man could withstand—and now, Northern was the one bearing the sense of consciousness of all those pain now that the clone was gone.
His tendons strained like overstressed cables, threatening to fray apart under the relentless torque and friction.
Muscle fibers combusted in microscopic ruptures with each explosive movement, flooding surrounding tissues with scorching metabolic waste.
Even his skeletal structure groaned in protest at the battering forces thar had radiated up from sword impacts.
After all, it was an exact copy of Northern down to everything that was bound to his soul. Even Northern could tell how inexplicable different it felt when the clone appeared.
It’s durability increased and the link felt clearer than ever before, its response to Northern’s mental command was also super fast, thaj before, and the the responsive stimuli Northern got from it was very clearer and synchronized to his head faster than before.
Everything was better. So it only made sense that the pain he felt as those memories were sculpted into his muscles should he much more apprehensive.
Northern’s body shrieked involuntarily as a turmoil of pain inundated it. He suddenly couldn’t move, his whole body was like a mass of stone that was cemented to the ground.
Pain tore across his muscles like a mad lightning navigating its way through thousands of storm. Northern let out a guttural cry as he fell to the ground, attracting the attention of a few.
Including Mr Fluffy who was busy deal ground level damages on heels and running before clawed feet flattened him to a steak. The pup ran as fast as it could, skillfully maneuvering its way to Northern.
His death guardian who also heard the same cry, with an increased ferociousness, weaved crude waves of axe attacks, plummeting its foes into the air until it got to where Northern was kneeling.
Both monster stood by Northern as they faced the rest of the horde.
‘Damn it! Damn it!’
Northern did not expect this. He didn’t think that the pain was going to be so severe. It was unlike anything he had ever felt.
Before now, he had at least been able to bear it. But this was different.
Northern, stomped his hand on the ground, pushing his whole weight up but it was to no avail. His body was immovable.
‘Crap. You must have really exhausted yourself trying to match up to Night Terror’ frёewebηovel.cѳm
Northern stared down with rough lines beneath his eyes. Perspiration formed all over his face, slowly dripping to the ground–his chest went high and low with second interval.
He was ultimately tired. And it wasn’t even his own tiredness.
Northern threw his gaze into the dark sky, letting out an odd laughter, oblivious to the ongoing massacre.
His body ached him so much, tiredness clawed at him from every angle of his body but his head was booming with an immense amount of information.
The memories of his clone muscles and the amount of information he was able to sync with through the link much more through his own eyes. Everything perfectly blended together.
Right now, Northern just fought an arduous combat with the Night Terror, to take down the enemy’s general.
His vision dimmed as a murky veil descended, fuzzing the edges until the raging battlefield blurred.
A hollow ringing grew in his ears, muffling the cacophony of shrieks and steel into a dull, indistinct roar.
‘…crap. I think I’m going to…’
Strength rapidly drained from Northern’s limbs, no longer able to maintain his consciousness.
His sword slipped from numb fingers as knees buckled, unable to support his weight a moment longer. His body slumped gracelessly to the blood-soaked ground, crumpling like a discarded marionette with severed strings.
Through the darkening tunnel vision, Northern glimpsed Night Terror spinning in a whirlwind of slaughter.
The terror lashed out with feral economy of motion, each arcing swipe of claw and fanged maw leaving behind a fresh trail of deep, oozing gashes.
Dark vital essences flooded forth in obscene torrents, painting the battlefield in garish streaks as if an artist’s morbid canvas.
The four-eyed monster seemed an unstoppable cyclone of annihilation amid the horde, shredding through matted fur and rigid scale with pitiless ease.
Its brutality was at once horrific yet perversely breathtaking to witness – a terrifying spectacle of nature’s purest unleashed fury.
As the last of its foes collapsed in rent, mutilated heaps, Night Terror whipped around with uncanny swiftness.
Unearthly crimson orbs immediately found Northern’s prone form, instantly honing in on the new potential threat with predatory intensity.
A deep, feral growl rumbled like approaching thunder as the terror curled its immense bulk protectively over the fallen human.
Saliva-slicked fangs bared in a rictus snarl, daring any of the insignificant lesser monsters to make one careless move towards its inexplicable charge.
Despite sizing up as little more than a meager snack, Night Terror shielded Northern with the same ruthless focus it applied to eviscerating adversaries moments before.
Of course, Northern’s death guardian and Mr Fluffy also intended to do the same, Night Terror was just faster—it could be seen in the way they paused with shock written upon their faces.
The rest of the battle did not take much effort as the start, with their general dead, majority of the lizards were just scrambling away.
And the monster’s of the Kingdom of Red Mine kept themselves busy, slaughtering them.
It was a play of viciousness, that left a bitter taste in the mouth of anyone that dared to be an onlooker. Blood flowed through bodied forming streams.
The Kingdom of Red Mine had lost several soldiers too, but they stood the victor of this battle… for now.
