Northern was utterly despairing. He gritted his teeth against the ground where he lay. He wanted to stand up, pick himself up and rush to the Central Plains to scream at his summons, "It is I, your Master—don't forget that, you nut-headed piece of shit that I love…"
But things clearly weren't going to be that simple. He couldn't live—not without sending Kryos and his son back where they came from.
He scowled darkly and slowly straightened. With considerable strain, he began to rise. When he was finally standing, he became acutely aware of his entire body and felt lighter than before.
It was as if a massive stone had been lifted from his soul. The lightness resonated deeply within the physical yet transcended it entirely.
He fixed his scowl on the Chaos Prince, who stood with his chin slightly raised and his hand clenched.
After noticing Northern had risen, the Prince sighed as if savoring the sweet taste of power.
