Northern stood up, vigor draining out of his body as he did. He tried to walk but faltered his steps.
In that moment, a wounded monster let lose, wilding towards his direction.
With a cold indifferent gaze, Northern turned, avoided its obvious attack and cleanly swipped off its before completely turning.
The voice of both Ul and the system sounded so distant, the clangor and cries that bathed the battlefield sounded to muggy. Everything was far away.
Sort of numb…
He closed his eyes and dismissed his clone.
Of course, regardless of how he felt, he still had to deal with the pain. But Northern this time could not find the strength to groan as a crude fatigue invaded every tendon of his.
He dropped to his knees, the Mortal Blade slipping out of his hands.
Somehow, the war went on without him.
Drowning in the slaughters of vicious creatures.
Both sides unrelentlessly carving out flesh, gore spilling in a boorish ethereal artistry.
The so peaceful forest was now an a plateau of lifeless body, heaped upon each other with no space in between.
A sickening sight to behold.
In the center of it Northern rested on his sword, slowly breathing… every breathe absorbing the cruel facet that outlayed around him.
Tarnishing his soul… tempting to drive him to utter madness, to becoming a corrupt slaughterer.
Slowly… he was… losing himself.
Regardless of how he felt, despite the emptiness within, he still has to fight.
He has to cut through the ranks of monsters. He has to fight harder, faster and stronger than every other monster.
Better than any other general.
Northern swung an arc upward, tearing a frightening gash on the monster’s torso.
Even though his muscles ached with every movement, he didn’t stop moving.
His cold eyes did not waver. They were deftly locked onto their prey… at some point, as he approached, the monsters shivered, overhwhelmed by the cold tendrils of fear before they were cut down a second later.
Northern’s presence became that of an empty vessel of destruction, traversing the battle field and laying to waste every single creature it passed.
‘Maybe if I fight better than others… I would at least be able to keep more people from dying.’
Northern moved through the chaos with an almost subconscious determination. His body moved on its own, fueled by a deep-rooted desire to protect and save as many lives as possible.
The pain that seared through his muscles and the fatigue that weighed him down became distant sensations, overridden by his unwavering focus.
His sword cleaved through the ranks of monsters, each swing precise and lethal.
With each strike, he left behind a trail of dismembered limbs and severed heads.
The monsters trembled in fear at the sight of him, their once ferocious demeanor reduced to quivering masses.
Even the generals of the kingdom of Red Mines, who had held their ground valiantly until now, found themselves paralyzed with terror. Thanking their stars he was not their opponents.
Northern’s face remained blank, devoid of any emotion.
His eyes were cold and unwavering, fixated on his target with an intensity that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to meet his gaze.
He moved with a fluidity that defied his exhaustion, the onyx blade dancing in his hands like an extension of his very being.
The battlefield around him became a canvas of carnage, bodies piled upon bodies.
Northern stood amidst the chaos, his sword resting on his shoulder, his breathing slow and deliberate. Each breath he took seemed to absorb the brutality that surrounded him, threatening to consume his very soul.
‘I have to fight, I can’t stop now… I can fight more…’
He pushed himself harder, faster, and stronger than ever before, determined to keep more lives from being lost… even if they were lives of monsters.
It didn’t matter to him at all.
He couldn’t even tell if he was doing the right thing, the wrong thing… or he was just running mad.
With every swing of his sword, he created a path of devastation, ensuring that no monster escaped his wrath.
As the battle deeper into the night and the dark clouds hung heavier than before.
Northern’s movements became a blur of deadly precision as he dispatched his enemies with ruthless efficiency.
The monsters that once posed as formidable opponents were no match for his relentless onslaught. His blade found their weak points with unerring accuracy, slashing through their flesh with a sickening ease.
As the battle reached its climax, Northern’s body finally succumbed to the strain.
His vision blurred, and his legs gave out beneath him.
With a final swing of his sword, he felled one last monster before collapsing to his knees. The Mortal Blade slipped from his grasp, clattering to the blood-soaked ground.
The sounds of the battlefield faded into the background as Northern’s consciousness wavered. He had fought with every ounce of his being, he had protected them as much as he could.
But even as his physical limit hindered him, Northern worried.
Was it enough… would he be able to save enough monsters from such cruel fate.
In his foolish attempt to prove something wrong about this rift? He was instead falling deeper into its trap.
The battle continued to rage on, but Northern was lost to it. His body lay motionless, a testament to the toll that the fight had taken on him.
The battlefield was littered with the broken bodies of monsters, evidence of the devastation he had wrought.
As the battle drew to a close, Northern’s unconscious form was discovered by Mr Fluffy who whined repeatedly running around him and trying to lift him with its muzzle.
The little mutt in fact… was not so little anymore.
The other monsters and generals came around, and carried him away from the battlefield, their faces etched with a mixture of admiration and concern.
They knew that odd ally and general had fought with a determination and strength that few could match.
And so, Northern’s presence lingered in the minds of those who had witnessed his valiant struggle.
And as he lay in his slumber, Northern’s dreams were haunted by the echoes of battle, souls cursing and pulling him into a fiery abyss of never ending darkness.
