Their environment roared in agony as Northern collided with Rughsbourgh—or to be precise, the space before Rughsbourgh.
With his speed reaching unprecedented heights, he moved beyond fast. The first strike nearly caught Rughsbourgh off guard, saved only by a Luminary’s reflexes that surpassed light itself.
He snapped away as swiftly as possible, escaping with merely a shallow cut across his neck. Northern had aimed to sever his head pletely.
In that instant, Rughsbourgh coated his entire body with a spatial shield. Northern’s blade now met resistance that felt like air itself defying his strikes whenever they fell upon Rughsbourgh.
Still, their environment absorbed the devastation. The ground convulsed with each falling blade, and the two warriors raced with such lethal velocity that earthquakes rippled through the earth, carving deep grooves as they moved.
Rughsbourgh had no need to dodge Northern’s attacks—his shield protected him perfectly. However, desperation to shatter Northern consumed him. As they blazed across the battlefield with blurring speed, fire and ice spears bombarded him from every direction.
He hurled his own assaults—space warped and detonated around Northern, yet none found their mark. With Void Force brutally nullified by Rughsbourgh, Northern’s senses sharpened to razor-edge alertness. His spatial awareness operated at unprecedented levels while his brain strained to match the torrential flow of processing.
Especially since his speed had transcended all previous limits. His mind should have shattered under the crushing velocity his body achieved. Though his form moved faster than light, his processing speed still lagged behind.
Thus, Northern’s brain worked in overdrive, adapting at a fevered pace. Omniform frantically reconstructed his cognitive architecture to perfectly synchronize with his speed.
Consequently, Northern’s thought processes accelerated with each movement. The attacks Rughsbourgh had effortlessly blocked now became genuinely menacing.
Rughsbourgh felt the space around him quiver under the crushing weight of each strike.
Initially, Northern’s movements held no wasted motion—clean, razor-sharp, and devastatingly direct. Pinpoint precision with lethal efficiency.
However, they grew increasingly perilous as time elapsed. Their synchronization with the surrounding bombardment became deeply troubling.
Northern exploited the flames masterfully—just as they collided with the spatial barrier, he deliberately hammered down with crushing force, nearly buckling the shield entirely. His manipulation of residual flames proved intensely skillful. Explosions would erupt and flames would spiral upward, forming blazing tornadoes that consumed everything momentarily.
In those fleeting moments, Northern would unleash devastating binations—his blade weaving through air with cold, malevolent purpose.
Each arc left pale streaks of light trailing in its wake. His movements became impossible to predict. Rughsbourgh couldn’t even track them anymore. He could only anticipate and stage preemptive strikes. Even that strategy crumbled.
Northern evolved rapidly—even after bringing his sword from the most unconventional angle, with Rughsbourgh launching forward with a spatial bomb, Northern’s blade was already slicing toward Rughsbourgh’s throat again, vibrating with such intensity that chills raced across Rughsbourgh’s skin.
Northern accelerated relentlessly, and Rughsbourgh found no counter to this escalating menace. His speed posed a monumental challenge already, but became infinitely more dangerous and maddening as it continued surging.
At some point, Rughsbourgh’s frown deepened, questioning:
’How?’
The velocity Northern achieved was staggering. It was insane—for someone at his level, a terrifying acplishment. It almost convinced Rughsbourgh that Northern possessed a speed-based talent.
However, the ice and fire attacks proved otherwise. So he suspected Northern could replicate talents. Plus, he vaguely recalled the peculiar circumstances surrounding his evaluation.
As they clashed like titans in a vast ocean, Rughsbourgh smiled.
Northern grimaced as he drove another strike downward, but it only streaked through empty air.
"What amuses you?"
He seized an ice javelin—it was already upon Rughsbourgh’s eyes before his sword pleted its descent. A massive shockwave erupted outward, followed by white mist from shattered ice that shrouded them both.
The battlefield had suffered more scars and wounds than both batants bined since the battle began.
Grooves of countless varieties carved deep into the ground—craters, fractured earth. The leveled forest existed in a pitiful state, looking wretched and stripped bare.
Neither warrior seemed to care.
"It’s refreshing to face such bat. Makes me want to unleash everything."
Northern frowned.
"I wele that notion, because it’s only a matter of time before I pierce this shield of yours."
Northern dissolved into fragments of light that reassembled while Rughsbourgh still watched. He crouched behind and lunged forward with an attack from below, both hands gripping the frigid blade.
The blade streaked through air in a blur—its tip touched the spatial shield, causing white and black sparks to erupt. Space folded like cloth at that moment, light pouring out like blood before the blade streaked away.
Rughsbourgh staggered forward, turning from Northern—a movement that only began after the blade had already passed. Northern was insanely fast.
And Rughsbourgh was utterly helpless before his velocity. Now, to make matters worse, Northern was threatening the integrity of his spatial shield.
’He would slice through space?’
Rughsbourgh frowned as he studied Northern, who remained locked in focus, his gaze inhuman, the light radiating from his eyes chilling.
’That makes no sense...’
Northern turned toward him directly, gripping his sword with both hands. His gaze seemed distant, yet he remained present—just entranced.
Northern’s movements had never been haphazard. Especially since he’d been unlearning the Chaos art and filling those gaps with something else.
First, he was learning to use formlessness as the foundation of his battle art. He wanted to create a floor of vast, endless ocean—this would bee his footwork. Upon this foundation, he would build with multiple sword styles.
In essence, he was constructing a battle art that could never reach the climax of its prowess. Even as he built upon it, the styles would sink into formlessness, making his foundation and footwork richer and wider. The more he built, the broader his foundations became.
It would appear as though he never left the foundation of his battle art, while his foundation would surpass the climax of some Paragons’ battle arts.
Forming the foundation proved rather simple. Because Formlessness happened to be the very essence of Northern’s soul—a concept he had subconsciously mastered.
And fortunately, Omniform was growing more active since he’d tasted what it could acplish.
Unlearning Chaos art was simultaneously difficult and easy—most of its essence also explored formlessness, but in a catastrophic manner.
It was easy because formlessness existed within it. It was difficult because that formlessness was destructive. Chaos proved a treacherous thing to unlearn.
Still, Northern had traveled far in such brief time. Formlessness was being the foundation, but for the work to reach pletion, he must successfully infuse the sword style he knew best.
Cold, misty air seeped from the corners of Northern’s lips as he exhaled and murmured:
"Moonlit Whisper..."
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