Northern's gaze drifted forward to the man standing alone in the barren expanse.
Lieutenant Dante's black hair whipped in the cold wind sweeping across the ruins. Night had long since fallen, and the winds had grown biting as always. No one had noticed their chill before, masked by Burning Storm's overwhelming presence.
Now that the ferocious storm-bull had perished, the winds spiraled back like ghostly fingers reclaiming their territory.
Neither of them felt their touch. Northern possessed a body that defied nature itself, granting him uncanny resistance to weather and even stranger phenona. Lieutenant Dante was a Paragon.
Dante stood frozen, his mind struggling to make sense of the figure in the distance.
Slowly, the color drained from Dante's face. His eyes widened as recognition dawned—the identity of the person standing before him becoming terrifyingly clear.
A chill crept through his bones as mories flooded back—watching this strange boy fight and kill without rcy or hesitation.
Dante's lips parted, words rising in his throat—then vanished as Northern's foot crashed into his stomach. The world flashed white, reality itself montarily erased.
The impact sent ripples through the air—concentric circles of force expanding outward. Air blasted from Dante's back as his body tumbled across the ground like a discarded puppet.
Northern advanced with glacier-like focus. He overtook the Lieutenant's helpless form, seized it in his grip, and dragged him through the earth. Stone fragnts scattered like rain as flesh t ground.
With one fluid motion, Northern launched the Lieutenant skyward, his body arcing helplessly against the night.
Northern rocketed upward, a blur of movent, and drove his fist into the Lieutenant's suspended form.
The air split with a thunderous crack. Dante's body beca a missile, crashing through debris before skidding to a brutal halt against the ruined earth.
Above, Northern hung in the sky, his eyes cold stars observing the destruction below.
Each of his strikes could shatter mountains and tear through fortress gates like paper.
Every blow contained montum—compressed, then unleashed in devastating bursts. He needed no buildup, no running start; his hands simply generated force beyond comprehension the mont they moved.
This sa montum principle fueled his impossible speed. Already unnaturally swift, Northern's velocity increased with every stride.
Montum now answered to his call. He could simply reach out and seize it, bend it to his purpose. With each subtle shift of his body—and those around him—more energy flowed into his reservoir, though it wasn't limitless.
But Burning Storm offered even more intriguing talent abilities beyond this.
Northern examined his hands, turning them slowly before his eyes.
'I feel... so... powerful.'
Never before had such strength coursed through his veins. It felt right—it felt Supre.
Northern descended from the sky, his form drifting downward like judgnt itself. Lieutenant Dante had finally stopped moving, his broken body coming to rest just before the complex entrance. The massive structure trembled one final ti from the impact of Dante's crash.
Northern's feet touched the ground before the Lieutenant, his face darkening into a scowl.
"I have always known you were up to sothing sketchy."
Lieutenant Dante rose to his feet with unnatural smoothness, as though the devastating blows had barely touched him.
A soft, sinister laugh escaped his lips.
"Nice to et you again, boy."
His brows knitted together, shadows gathering across his face.
"And to what do I owe this pleasant surprise? As far as I know, you have no business here."
Northern's gaze turned to ice, his eyes focused sowhere beyond the present mont. Slowly, he shifted his attention toward the spot where Raizel's body lay motionless.
"You do. After killing my ntor, you have business with ."
Dante's eyes stretched wide, realization striking like lightning.
"What?"
The pieces clicked into place like a deadly puzzle. Paragon Raizel had ntioned a disciple. He'd spoken of crossing paths with Dante.
Dante had dismissed these details as trivial, unworthy of his attention.
Now, clarity washed over him like a cold wave. The boy Paragon Raizel had taken under his wing was the sa one Dante had encountered at the rift—the one with the uncanny ability to mirror his talent.
'And what did he do to Raizel? Why are his punches so damn powerful?'
No blood flowed from Dante's body. As a Paragon, his flesh was nigh invulnerable, shrugging off attacks that would obliterate ordinary n.
But these blows—they felt capable of shattering reinforced alloy walls.
Every impact point throbbed with searing pain, demanding his attention. Focusing on anything beyond the constellation of bruises required monuntal effort.
"To think that fate can be so unreasonable."
He swayed slightly, fingers tightening around his sword. His gaze lowered, the eye marked by an old scar remaining perpetually closed.
Northern stood precisely ten ters away, as though asuring the distance between predator and prey.
Silence stretched between them before Dante finally spoke.
"Can I use my one wish...?"
Northern's lips curled into a humorless smile.
"Seriously. It's quite shaless of you to ask, considering the disaster you have caused in this place. One wish?"
Northern's expression hardened into sothing ancient and rciless.
"Or perhaps, this was the reason why you prepared such a scenario back then? Because you felt if you couldn't control , you could restrict . By honoring my wish, you expected to honor yours."
Lieutenant Dante regarded Northern with a face carved from stone—an unreadable mask that betrayed nothing of the calculations surely racing behind his eyes.
Northern's voice cut through the silence.
"It's a pity then, Lieutenant Dante, that I do not place value on things I can't afford. Honor, loyalty, those are principles I am too poor and selfish to uphold. If you're deserving to be killed by ... one wish or not. You will be killed by ."
Sothing dark and knowing passed across Dante's features like a shadow across the moon.
"Hmm. Say boy, do you think you control your Destiny?"
Northern's brows drew together, but before he could respond, Dante pressed on.
"Many people believe they control their destiny, yet they live life on autopilot, following paths laid out by others. When they crumble, they bla circumstances or others, never taking responsibility for their choices."
The Lieutenant paused, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips.
"Destiny is a concept that has fascinated humanity for hundreds of centuries. Is it pre-written or do we have the power to shape it? I believe the truth lies sowhere in between."
He shifted his weight, his gaze drilling into Northern's frost-filled eyes.
"Destiny is not a fixed road map, but a path that unfolds based on our actions, decisions, and mindset.
"Many people passively accept what life throws at them, believing that their future is controlled by external forces. They follow the routines and expectations set by society, rarely questioning their purpose.
"However, this passive approach limits potential. Your Destiny is not sothing you find. It's sothing you create. To take charge of it, you must move beyond comfort zones, embrace challenges, and take responsibility for your life.
"Success in shaping your Destiny requires courage, it requires perseverance. It takes boldness to reject societal norms that don't align with your dreams and strength to push forward."
His voice fell silent, the words hanging in the air between them.
"Boy. The Central Plains is a dying continent, a continent we have killed..."
He raised his hands, studying his open palms as if reading a future written in the lines.
"With my very own hands, I have decided to carve my destiny. Defy what is societal normalcy, and I am ready to tear down any obstacles, either you, the Kings and their nations, or the Ruler of Reimgard himself."
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