Northern was insanely angry.
The Leviathan’s hand still hung from the rift, fingers slightly curled. Its position had shifted. Black smoke seeped from its skin, and where it lifted, black flas crawled along its surface, healing the exposed whitish muscles beneath the ravaged flesh.
Northern stared, disgusted and deeply irritated.
A clone had just exhausted all the Void essence gathered from the Void Palace and there was nothing to show for it.
He closed his eyes again, diving deeper into the sanctum of his mind.
Then he began.
He rembered it clearly. During the raid with Paragon Dante, he had sohow unraveled the true form of Chaos Fla—transforming it from black to white.
The effect had been so catastrophic, it completely erased a creature’s existence.
How did he do it?
Chaos Fla had always been a fragnted ability, broken into Black Flas and Black Lance.
It often felt closer to the Void than to Chaos itself—until the first ti Northern rged the two. That was when it beca clear: Black Fla and Black Lance were never ant to be used separately.
They were two halves of a whole.
A puzzle, only complete when put together.
Chaos Fla wasn’t either of them. It was both of them. Together.
Earlier, he had used only a part—Black Lance. Its damage was conceptual. It could cleave through the impossible. And yet, it hadn’t worked.
The hand had remained.
Northern was bothered—but not consud by doubt.
Black Lance was a conceptual attack. It dealt physical devastation and instantaneous death. But if sothing existed that could alter its own essence—its nature, vast and adaptive—it could theoretically block, or even survive, Black Lance.
The Abysmal Belial had shown him that much. So he wasn’t entirely surprised.
But still... for the Leviathan’s hand to remain intact—and worse, to heal—was maddening.
The flas healing it bore a striking resemblance to the forr state of Black Fla.
Black Fla now was a bluish-black, a beautiful and dangerous fla. Black Lance, by contrast, retained its color—an inky darkness that devoured light.
And yet, when combined…
They produce white flas.
It was strange. Illogical. And yet—real.
On one hand, Black Fla ignited, burning and dancing wildly in his palm, surging with chaotic intensity.
In the other, Northern held Black Lance, humming with suppressed violence.
He brought the two together.
As they moved toward one another, ripples ford—one to his left, one to his right—as if the very air had beco water, disturbed by the drop of invisible stones.
The ripples expanded, converged.
And in that instant…
Impact.
A violent force exploded outward, displacing the wind in a burst of raw energy.
Northern’s clothes flared, whipping in the turbulent air as the darkness around him lit up—bathed in white fire.
The flas in his hand burned viciously, as if trying to escape his grip, straining against containnt. They roared, desperate and alive, like wild animals clawing at the cage.
Northern gritted his teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow as he fought to contain it.
The flas pulsed in his palm, fierce and unforgiving in their heat. Northern watched with a tense frown as his skin burned away—only to regenerate chaotically, then burn again the next second. It was a rciless loop that wouldn’t end so long as the Chaos Fla remained in his grasp.
But Northern didn’t relent.
He doubled down—pressing the full weight of his vast soul and body against the white fla.
It was, by all accounts, a foolish act. Chaos Fla was a fragnt of Chaos itself—second only to the Void in sheer destructive force... though even that was debatable.
Trying to ta it was madness.
But taming it wasn’t his goal.
He wasn’t trying to dominate it—he was instructing it.
Chaos, Void, and he had struck an agreent.
And the imprint of that pact was carved into his very body and soul. Pressing them onto the stubborn fla was his way of reminding Chaos—
"Rember... I’m supposed to be in control here."
And just as Northern predicted—it worked.
The fla still danced wildly in his hand, dangerous and alive, but the searing pain ceased. It no longer burned him, though its ferocity remained as vicious as ever.
Now, Northern felt it—control.
Bit by bit, he extended the fla outward.
He pulled his hands apart. The Chaos Fla stretched, elongating into a brilliant, burning arrow. He held it over his shoulder, gaze fixed coldly on the Leviathan’s hand.
Then, his Chaos Eyes opened.
Instantly, the fla surged—its glow intensifying, responding to the activation of Chaos Eyes. Northern felt his grip tighten on the strange embodint of finality. It was his now. More than ever.
All his Chaos Eyes converged, narrowing on the grotesque limb hanging from the rift.
He frowned.
Azure sparks flared in his eyes.
In that mont, the pressure around the Leviathan’s hand collapsed. What had been sagging, dragged down by gravity, now floated unnaturally—its weight erased.
The air around it began to behave erratically. The wind itself fled, swirling and recoiling, as if repulsed by the anomaly.
A strange zone had ford—an invisible gravity-less field enveloping the hand completely.
But Northern wasn’t done.
That was only the first step.
He moved to the next.
"Echo…"
The arrow in his grip humd, vibrating with primal satisfaction.
Northern took one last glance at the Leviathan’s hand—then slowly began to fly backward.
[You have changed your na.]
He infused himself with Colossal Force, his fra bulging with overwhelming, titanic power. He clenched the arrow tighter, as if choking the very soul from the Chaos Fla.
Then, with a mighty surge of power, he whipped his arm backward—and hurled the arrow with everything his titanic body could offer.
A seismic sound erupted.
It tore through the air, ripping apart the sound barrier, unleashing a deafening shockwave that pulsed outward with unstoppable force.
The arrow scread through the air like a wrathful cot, dragging a trail of blinding white fire behind it. Space trembled in its wake. Even the stars recoiled—twitching ever so slightly—as if reality itself was instinctively flinching.
The wind didn’t howl. It fled.
Silence followed the arrow’s path, a vacuum of sound where nothing dared to exist.
Then it struck.
The Chaos Fla Arrow collided with the Leviathan’s hand—and for a mont, there was nothing.
No explosion. No sound. No light.
Just... silence.
Then ca the collapse.
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