’If I remember correctly, Paragon Raizel had a lethal battle style.’
Northern whipped his hands forward, momentum shielding them as he slapped away the shadow monster’s head that lashed toward him.
’His battle style... Can I replicate it?’
The problem was that he hadn’t paid enough attention to Paragon Raizel’s bat art—he was just starting to use Demon of Emulation at the time.
Besides, a Paragon’s bat art was far more terrifying. With the little he’d glimpsed of Eli’s technique, Northern couldn’t even begin to prehend how he would unravel Paragon Raizel’s intricate and reckless battle art.
Making things worse, he hadn’t been able to fully glimpse Eli’s battle art. Whatever he’d seen was barely surface-level.
That’s why he’d decided to emulate what he could and end the battle as quickly as possible.
Of course, either way, he would have won. But the fight would have dragged on needlessly.
Right now, what he truly wanted to do—even if he couldn’t exactly emulate Paragon Raizel’s battle art—was emulate something of the same nature.
Something that carried the essence of recklessness. Something rooted in understanding his talent’s nature—the core and its connection to its name.
Northern closed his eyes for a moment as he parried the monster’s heads with bare hands. Each parry caused air to explode around them. The Shadow Enthrall remained stubbornly persistent.
Eyes closed, he recalled how Burning Storm had fought that night in Lithia.
While he struggled to remember, his hands moved with their own life, smashing heads with heavy momentum wrapped around his fists.
It was as though the air had been forged into a titanic fist, and every time his hand moved, the reinforced air followed, crushing the Shadow Enthrall’s heads as they flew at him.
Blood splattered at intervals, but the heads healed at a terrifying pace. The ground fractured, cracks spreading wider as they clashed relentlessly.
Northern simply closed his eyes and locked in. His mind wandered to the past, trying to create a stable mental image of what he’d witnessed.
One thing he understood: Paragon Raizel’s talent was fueled by motion. Therefore, his battle art had to follow the same rule.
It required constant movement, tremendous force, and endless momentum. Yet none at all.
Because while motion served as his talent’s essence, stagnation didn’t hinder it. Burning Storm gained as much from moving as from standing still.
The unfortunate part was that kinetic energy absorbed from stillness couldn’t be stored long. It was minimal, but Northern didn’t think it should be ignored.
He wasn’t a genius—he knew how to build houses and roads, understood how structures worked together, and could apply that knowledge to his advantage.
But Northern didn’t consider himself a genius with motion mechanics, especially something requiring such intricate and delicate exploitation of power, force, and impact. That demanded careful handling, and he knew little about such plexities.
Still, he didn’t plan to surrender so easily.
His eyes remained closed, hands moving in mesmerizing patterns as they blurred, slapping away heads that persistently flew at him.
One head pulled back into the air and opened its maw. Northern frowned but kept his eyes shut.
Then the monster unleashed a torrent of purple liquid that crashed onto the ground, melting it at an alarming rate.
However, Northern didn’t move—his entire body was barricaded by a shield of momentum.
His eyes remained closed as he thought deeply, mapping out the first series of movements in his mind. He was creating a mental blueprint and transmitting the information to his body.
It was like dancing—the difference between those who could dance and those who couldn’t was that when visualizing a dance move, the person who couldn’t dance lacked the proper movement sequence to execute what they envisioned. That’s where the skilled dancer excelled: even without formal training, they could still execute an envisioned dance move.
Northern wasn’t a novice fighter—he was skilled. He might lack the mechanics to fully emulate Paragon Raizel’s battle art, but he wasn’t lacking in bat fundamentals.
In fact, he knew those intimately, even before Bairan had begun teaching him methodically, or before Sura had instructed him that one time.
Finally, he exhaled and slowly opened his eyes. Cold air flowed from his mouth as he breathed out.
The monster had finished its first barrage of melting liquid. Two more heads had joined the assault, mouths gaping wide.
Northern’s left foot slowly left the ground.
As the head screeched and unleashed a liquid jet, Northern vanished and collided with the neck.
He smashed through with brutal force, but in the same breath, he moved like a gale—the shockwaves that exploded from all the heads had barely a one-second interval between them.
He landed back on his feet, skidding backward. He looked at the Shadow monster, frustration etched across his face.
’Tsk, that was disappointing...’
He vanished forward and smashed into the monster’s chest. His entire body was wrapped in momentum that carved a path—it sliced into the Shadow Enthrall’s body and emerged from the other side with the monster’s cores clutched in his hands.
He looked back. A massive, gaping hole stared back at him from the creature’s torn body.
"A failure..."
Northern had successfully killed the Shadow Enthrall, but he’d known he could kill it. His goal had been to somehow emulate Paragon Raizel’s battle art and discover how he could use Endless.
What exactly Endless was...
But this was a failure. Even though he’d slain the monster, the battle art hadn’t emerged as he’d envisioned.
He was dissatisfied. Both the first and second attempts bore no resemblance to Paragon Raizel’s technique.
He sighed and watched the monster collapse to the ground, all heads severed, purple blood pooling beneath its massive corpse.
He stared toward the west, where he presumed Titan’s Reckoning was battling another body.
"This should be easy... why isn’t he finished?"
Titan’s Reckoning possessed devastating brute strength—this should be the simplest task for him. That’s what Northern believed.
But somehow, he wasn’t done.
Because if he were finished, and the other two were as well, Northern would have seen the notification that the monster had been slain.
But he wasn’t seeing anything yet.
This made him exhale as he began walking toward Titan’s Reckoning’s area.
As he continued, he met Titan’s Reckoning halfway and frowned.
"Uh, asshole, what are you doing?"
Titan’s Reckoning smiled.
"I finished early, so I thought I’d e check on you."
His smile infuriated Burning Storm—there was something mocking about that smirk.
"Those two nameless assholes must be what’s delaying us."
"No, they aren’t. They actually finished earlier and were recalled by our master."
Burning Storm looked at him for a moment and sighed.
"Your master, by the way... that inpetent fool could never be my master."
He massaged the bridge of his nose and looked around.
"If the three bodies have been defeated, then why is the darkness still here?"
Titan’s Reckoning looked around with a soft smile.
It was a question that baffled him too. They’d only found three bodies and assumed that defeating them would automatically end this—the darkness would vanish.
However, even after defeating all three bodies, the darkness persisted.
"If the darkness isn’t vanishing, that simply means we haven’t killed the Shadow monster."
Burning Storm glared.
"Think I don’t know?"
Titan’s Reckoning nodded with his ever-present soft smile, which now irritated Burning Storm even more.
"Why the hell are you smiling? What are you smiling about?"
Titan’s Reckoning looked at him, still smiling.
"Would you rather I frown like you, age quickly, and die? No thanks. I heard it takes two muscles to smile. I strain plenty of muscles when fighting. The last thing I want is to waste seventy-two making an ugly expression. But then, dimwits who ride on momentum and force would never understand what actual momentum and force generators go through."
He shook his head and looked away.
Burning Storm glared at him, fire practically blazing from his gaze.
"You bastard! What did you say?! I dare you to say it again!"
Just as they faced each other, ready to clash, the atmosphere of the darkness shifted, making them pause.
Both looked at each other with silent understanding.
Burning Storm grinned. So did Titan’s Reckoning.
Both slowly turned, saying in unison:
"Monsters... so damn gullible."
Burning Storm looked at his hand with a serious expression, then his eyes slowly glowed green. This was the first time his eyes had glowed since Northern got the name.
Not only that—the air around him felt scorching.
Titan’s Reckoning also clenched his fist, ready for battle.
The Shadow Monster had to be somewhere—they’d both figured that out. They’d also realized the bastard had tested them with its clones.
That was the only explanation for why the darkness hadn’t vanished. Since the monster was intelligent enough to test them, it was probably also cunning enough to exploit their disagreement.
And that’s where they had it trapped.
The bastard revealed its watchful eyes for a moment, and both Burning Storm and Titan’s Reckoning sensed it.
Of course, neither expected what happened next.
First, a Shadow Hydra coalesced from the darkness, then a second, another, and another.
They continued appearing endlessly, filling the entire landscape.
Hundreds of Shadow Monsters, each with six heads, rose into the dark sky, screeching like trapped and demented thunderclaps.
Both Burning Storm’s and Titan’s expressions paled.
"Oh... crap."
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