Even though Northern had managed to tear his way through the world's crushing fear and reached the heart of the battle, he still had to pause—even he couldn't afford to venture any closer.
There was something fundamentally wrong with the space surrounding their clash. It resembled what Kryos had done to the terrain when he'd frozen everything solid, but amplified to a level of savagery that defied comprehension.
The very land, the atmosphere itself, had been perverted into weapons of mass destruction. When something descended upon Ul, it wasn't merely Kryos's sword—it was the entire world crashing down, yet simultaneously not the world Northern recognized.
It was as though Kryos had conjured a realm of pure, undiluted madness. His strikes birthed vicious laws of insanity that transformed empty air into jagged spikes or wove cages around Ul while his devastating blows hammered down upon her.
