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Chapter 43 Warfront [part 2]
Within seconds of collision, the battlefield lay shrouded in a thick fog of dread, the air heavy with the stench of blood.
The ground was churned into a nightmarish landscape of mud and gore, trembling beneath the weight of countless monstrous forms locked in a brutal struggle.
Amidst the chaos, towering above the rest, two distinct creatures clashed with savage ferocity, their roars echoing across the desolate expanse.
Razor-sharp claws tore through flesh and bone, leaving a trail of mutilated corpses in their wake. The ground trembled with each thunderous footstep, as if the earth itself groaned in agony beneath the onslaught.
It had only been a short time, not even a minute, yet gruesomeness gripped the ground, squeezing out folds of gore. Bodies fell in great numbers, and the clashes rang viciously through the air.
From every side, every angle, monsters ferociously bared their fangs and wielded crude, inhuman swords, hacking and slashing at one another.
Northern had never been on a battlefield before—of course, he was unaware of its cruelty, the urgency that every second, every minute held.
And for someone as thoughtful as him, wasting even a second was dire.
Before he could react, a voracious monster leaped over him, landing a precise cut on his back. As he belatedly noticed, Northern tried to dodge by running forward, but another monster lunged its claws from below, blocking his path.
He had to sacrifice either his front or his back—
But there was no time to make a decision. Everything he did had to be instinctual, and for someone like him who had never been on a battlefield, it was a wicked and unfair situation.
As Northern rushed forward, he instinctively shot his onyx blade to block the coming claw, and a figure appeared behind him with a blow, raising a vicious axe over his head. The clash of the figure's axe with the monster reverberated through the air.
The figure proved superior in strength, tossing off the monster and swinging its axe horizontally, cleanly severing the creature's head.
By that time, Northern had plunged his blade into the jaw of the monster he was facing.
He turned back, his face contorting into an irritated frown.
"What the hell... this bastard protected me?"
His angel of death stared at him indifferently, spinning its axe gruesomely and burying it into the throat of the monster that had appeared behind him—while maintaining a dark, indifferent gaze towards Northern.
'This bastard... why do I feel like he's challenging me?'
Northern hoisted an arc with his sword, tearing down the torso of the beast that suddenly threw itself at him.
<You have killed a Disaster Beast: Razorlf>
<You have gained an item>
[You have slain a Disaster Beast: Razorlf]
[You have gained +3 talent fragments]
"...maybe it's because of the war setting. I can't believe I'm easily killing a disaster beast."
Of course, these ones were much weaker than the Black Ruger that he and Shin had fought back in the forest.
But being able to defeat a beast-ranked monster was a feat that Northern, as a walker, should not be capable of.
However, it couldn't be denied that this was a battlefield—a different environment from a one-on-one battle.
The muscle memories of the clone also played a significant role in Northern's growth.
Speaking about the clone…
Northern's eyes peered forward with unwavering focus, drops of sweat crawling down his pale skin as he blocked, dodge and shot forward with struggles.
'I can't rely on my clone everytime… I also need to face this.'
Of course, there were tremendous results that came with using the clone, the part that it's learnt movement because Northern's instinct was one that could never be made up for by any other perk Northern had.
With a large portion of his talent fragments depleted, Northern's strength had diminished significantly. It was no different from before he became awakened.
Although he could move well, thanks to years of ceaseless foundational training with Shin and the clone's recent combat with the Friggian Walker, he still lacked the swiftness to execute his moves with precision and accuracy.
Many times, when he faltered, Mr. Fluffy would impede his foe's movement by arrogantly biting their legs with it sharp fangs.
Then Northern would cut through the critter, harvesting fragment talents.
Northern's heart pounded in his chest as he weaved through the throngs of monstrous adversaries.
Each movement was fueled by an instinct for survival, his onyx blade slicing through the air with a desperate grace.
The monsters closed in on him from all directions, their snarls and growls reverberating in his ears.
He ducked and dodged, narrowly evading a set of razor-sharp claws that swiped at his face. The monsters' movements were swift and unpredictable, a chaotic dance of death.
Northern shot forward beneath it, plunged his sword upward and pierced through its jaw. The teneborous blade erecting from beyond.
With the passing seconds, fatigue piled up in Northern's muscles, likewise surges of adrenaline coursed through his veins, sharpening his senses by every minute.
He could feel the heat of their breath on his skin, the earthy smell of their sweat mixing with the metallic tang of blood.
It was a twisted nightmare, where every step could be his last—
faced with such an horror, Northern's focus was frightening.
His eyes did not waver from his enemy, and his strike were ridded of unnecessary movements.
It was straight to the point. He either blocked, or took advantage of even the least of openings, cleaving through the guts of the monster.
His hands were tightly gripping the blade, each stroke was strenuous and weighing on his muscles but he couldn't stop–
Not once did they stop moving.
As he shot forward from a crouch and stabbed into the heart of the monster faster than it could reach for a swing, an artistic spray of crimson blood covered both him and dying beast.
He ignored blatantly as the two matter-of-fact voice overlapped each other yet again.
As another monster lunged into his field of view– being caught by surprise, Northern stumbled, but managed to hoist a clumsy swing that missed its mark, the monster barrelled closer, its crude claws thirsty for blood.
He tripped over fallen debris, barely catching his balance before a sharp claw whizzed past his throat.
The near miss etched details into his mind—the exact position to hold his sword, how much to turn his torso to put force behind the blow.
With each passing minute, his movements grew sharper.
A beast charged with jaws unhinged. Northern pivoted, steel singing as it sliced through fur and flesh. Red blood sprayed across his face, the red cuts on his pale skin exuded vapor as they closed.
The headless monster collapsed, its convulsing mass still snaring Northern's ankles. He hacked ruthlessly until its coils loosened. Two more of them bounded forward to take its place.
The young warrior was a whirlwind—ducking, dodging, blade singing as it met each scythe-like claw.
A misstep sent him reeling, the sweep of nails rending fabric and skin. Blood blossomed across the Eternal Twilight. Fiery pain drowned his senses. He choked down cries clawing up his throat.
There was no time for weakness here!
The monsters, smelling fresh blood, moved in for the kill.
Northern glared at them through sweat-stung eyes, chest heaving, grip tightening on his sword now slippery with blood and gore. Even though it looked like he was cornered, he refused to give in to the temptation of summoning his clone to settle this for him.
Moreso, this monsters must never know he is capable of creating a clone. Most especially Night Terror—
Northern grinned at the thought of Night Terror, '...you'll play a huge role in laying waste to that bastard for me. So no, I'm not going to let him know my hidden card'
A familiar dark figure plowed through the melee towards him.
Glimpses of a whirling axe and gouts of blood flashed in Northern's periphery. His angel of death carved out swathes of death with elegant nonchalance.
Northern grinned and leapt to action alongside them, the onyx blade ringing in harmony. He matched the hideous monster's ruthless skill blow for blow, keeping his eyes on the monster's movement, at the same time on his enemy.
His focus at that point was scary, it was like he was in the zone. Even though he was sweating heavily, a testament to how hard trying to match up with the monster was, Northern's focus did not shift, it only became more frightening.