Northern stood, folding his hands, clad in the vicious Night Terror armor. Every part of the air around him exuded primal terror.
Augmented by the essence of Chaos to inflict misery and fear upon his opponents, no one was free from that overwhelming aura of his.
As long as they felt the despair of the difference in strength, they would come to feel the presence of fear, one that emanated from the armor.
Right now, Sura, who stood as the pinnacle of this rift, a creature to be reckoned with from the underworld, stood frozen in fear, trembling at the sight of the man—boy rather—an ordinary Nomad that stood before him.
The boy stood still, not attacking but just looking with a downturned smile.
Eventually, Sura discarded the spears, waving away the rest and shooting them towards the wall of his castle. They shattered into fragments, destroying the wall into even smaller pieces as Sura had said they would.
