His insides churned in turmoil, Chaos surging through his veins like a relentless storm. He could feel it moving, an untamed force racing through his body with ferocious speed—the raw, unbridled might of a primal predator. It shredded through every external influence within him, annihilating all foreign interference.
The process made movement agonizing. His body burned in several places, searing with an unbearable heat, and a maddening urge clawed at him—he wanted nothing more than to submerge himself in an ocean of freezing waters.
But this was Chaos.
It had claimed his body just as the Void had claimed his soul.
The two primal forces had reached a strange, tentative compromise, coexisting in an uneasy truce. For now.
And that was a good thing.
Because it granted Northern certain boons—such as this, for example.
He stood there, his expression strained, unmoving. None of them had moved since the fight had been announced.
