The remaining two tentacles coiled together before Northern, as if studying him with silent calculation.
Northern scratched his hair, heat creeping up his neck.
"How do I explain this..."
He gestured awkwardly.
"I never meant for your buddy to die. Just wanted to slow him down a bit. But I doubt any of you care—after all, you're just appendages."
Yet he found himself questioning that assumption. The tentacles moved with purpose, behaved as if they possessed minds of their own. Still, the frozen, bone-chilling glare of the Leviathan loomed behind him—a stark reminder that his true enemy towered like a living mountain.
'Should I just unleash Chaos and Void? One snap of my fingers, and this could all end.'
But at what price? Now that Northern understood the devastating toll of Chaos and Void, he shuddered at what such raw power might demand in return.
