Northern lost track of how much time had passed, after the death of his favorite monster… well, second favorite. He found himself succumbing to a strong desire to stop trying.
And it wasn’t that hard to succumb to.
With the prospect that wars offered, his growth, most importantly–Northern didn’t see this as him succumbing to some trap of some sort.
He didn’t even think this was the doing of the rift.
After seeing his death angel died, he began to think deeply a single thing.
What would happen one day if the Kingdom of Red Mine are not able to defeat its foes.
They would be ravaged instead, slaughtered, their bloods ghastly carpeting the cursed fields of wherever their doom descended.
The thought of it made chills claw his spine.
‘I don’t want to die’
And so Northern began to fight harder.
The first instance he was consumed by rage, every part of his body felt numb, uncontrollable. His present limit was tested and a great potential was brought out in the middle of that bloody war in the dark forest.
Afterwards, Northern suffered the weight of pushing himself to the limit…. Albeit subconsciously.
He couldn’t move for days… sorry, nights.
He laid in his round room, ate on his bed, times when he had to move were when he needed to use the toilet.
The loo in another dimensional was no different from the one in Tra-el, the design was sort of scary though. It was like a monster’s mouth.
He felt like he was putting his dump into the mouth of a monster.
Apart from that time Northern would occasionally carry himself to the side of the window and sit on the table beside it.
Many times he just laid there and thought of the future. Until he recovered.
When he recovered, he didn’t take it easy with himself.
The need to get stronger now bore upon his soul like a mountain of dread.
So that the kingdom of Red Mine will stand victorious forever, he began to train.
He began to spar with every monster, walking a slow road to being familiar with his own movements.
Thanks to the outstanding effect of the link with his clone he was pretty much extraordinary already.
But when he started to put deliberate effort to training. Northern began to see the need to spend more and more hours in it.
The movements felt natural, he could pull them off almost by instincts but he was unable to be versatile with them. The reason was none other than the fact that he was unfamiliar with them.
It was like knowing a thing all your life, such that you can spell it out when asked, but have not really thought about that knowledge and get to discover the true meaning behind it.
And in discovering that true meaning sometimes brought one’s understanding to a different level. A level where true potential is being tapped into and versatility is applicable.
But Northern was unable to… frёewebnoѵēl.com
Of course, this he got to discover by repeated defeats from all generals.
Funnily, even though they defeated him over and over again, they didn’t seem to mock him.
It looked like they’ve now accepted him as one of their own.
Although communication with them still felt a bit off. They could only understand Northern by repeated gestures, he also could only understand them when they repeatedly pointed at whatever it was they were trying to say.
It was hard at first but it later became the norms.
Northern could also tell the slight intelligence they had and appreciated their effort in communicating with them.
Before long, he became a part of them more than how humanly he felt.
Of course, he didn’t result to lowly mannerism such as them. As far as sanity to went those were the little he had to hold on to.
The cries of monsters on battlefield became a daily activity.
In fact it seemed like the battles increased, Northern lost count of how many battles he had been in.
Through all the battles, he was always at the forefront, unyielding in bis attempt to plunge out victory for the kingdom of Red Mine.
Every monster was left at the mercy of his onyx blade, bloods flowed, flesh severed. Over and over again… till the memory of it became a blur.
At some point Night Terror returned.
But Northern couldn’t even count how many wars he had led before the terror came back.
Moreso, it didn’t seem the same. It was stronger, fiercer and bore an aura of rivalry towards Northern.
At times it looked like it was always trying to catch up to Northern on the battlefield.
‘Goddamnit, I used to look up to you?’
Northern would watch it make mistakes, and pay obedience to him.
Despite suspecting where this strange Night Terror could be from, he didn’t do anything about it. Didn’t felt like he needed to.
In fact, the memory felt like a dream… an illusion, something he must have cooked up in his head at some point.
This wars felt more like reality.
The joy of victory was overwhelming.
Watching his foes fall to his crude blade was an ecstasy.
The awe and honor the monsters reveried him with was reality. The loftiness of his presence amidst them… that felt right.
Unawared… that slowly, he was being consumed by a madness.
What ever justification his reasons were… war was war.
Bloodshed is bloodshed.
And he didn’t want this one to end, for every battle one, he looked forward to the challenge of an even stronger horde of monsters.
The kingdom of Red Mine practically became impenetrable but the battles did not stop.
And Northern stopped questioning.
He grinned and laughed as he separated heads, as bloods splatter on his face, he licked his lips with flames of madness burning in his blue eyes.
There was no more retribution at this point.
Northern was deep into the act of war, all the more, growing at it… frighteningly.
He didn’t stop training. Getting used to his own movements… began to use his clone less.
At a point, the voice of both the system and Ul did not reach him anymore.
Maybe he forgot he has a clone.
He forgot he needed to hunt for talent fragments.
He forgot he was in the rift.
He became a lost boy.
And one day… he forgot his name too… or that he even ever had one.
