Northern, of course, with Chaos Eyes and a dawning understanding of swordsmanship itself, could execute a sharper and swifter attack.
He parried a spear thrust, the weapon clanging against his blade, and countered with a quick, downward slash that severed his opponent's arm.
The White Walker screamed, a chilling sound that echoed through the hall, and Northern finished him with a swift strike to the neck.
[Congratulations, you have…]
Northern's eyes parted into two on each part and were lighted with a predatory glow as he moved through the darkness in the hall.
Each flicker of movement, every nuance in the White Walkers' stances, was laid bare before his eyes even when he seemed not to be watching.
He was taking his time to experiment with the lessons he had learned from the voice with the keywords:
"Hold your sword like a bird, firm enough that it won't escape but gentle enough not to crush it"
