Northern lost track of how much time had passed, after the death of his favorite monster… well, second favorite. He found himself succumbing to a strong desire to give up.

And it was a feeling that wasn't that hard to succumb to.

With the prospect that the wars offered, his growth most importantly, Northern didn't see this as him succumbing to a trap of some sort.

He didn't even think this was the doing of the rift.

After seeing his death angel die, he began to think deeply about a single thing.

What would happen one day if the Kingdom of Red Mine was not able to defeat its foes?

They would be ravaged instead, slaughtered, their blood carpeting the cursed fields of wherever their doom descended on them.

The thought of it made chills claw at his spine.

'I don't want to die.'

And so Northern began to fight harder.

At the first instance, he was consumed by rage; every part of his body felt numb and uncontrollable. His present limit was tested and a great potential was brought out in the middle of that bloody war in the dark forest.

Afterward, Northern suffered the weight of pushing himself to the limit… Albeit subconsciously.

He couldn't move for days… or rather, nights.

He lay on the bed in his round room and ate on his bed; the only times he moved were when he needed to use the toilet.

The loo in this other dimension was no different from the one in Tra-el; the design was sort of scary, though. It was like a monster's mouth.

He felt like he was putting his dump into the mouth of a monster.

Apart from that time, Northern would occasionally carry himself to the side of the window to sit on the table beside it.

Many times, he just lay there and thought of the future. Until he recovered.

When he recovered, he didn't take it easy with his body.

The need to get stronger now bore down on his soul like a mountain of dread.

So that the kingdom of Red Mine could stand victorious forever, he began to train.

He began to spar with every monster, walking a slow road to being familiar with his own movements.

Thanks to the outstanding effect of the link with his clone he was pretty much extraordinary already.

But when he started to put deliberate effort into training. Northern began to see the need to spend more and more hours on it.

The movements felt natural; he could pull them off almost by instinct, but he was unable to be versatile with them. And the reason was none other than the fact that he was unfamiliar with them.

It was like knowing a thing all your life, such that you can spell it out when asked, but never really thought about that knowledge and got to discover the true meaning behind it.

And in discovering that true meaning, it sometimes brought one's understanding to a different level; a level where true potential was being tapped into and versatility was applicable.

But Northern was unable to do any of this.

Of course, this he got to discover after repeated defeats from all generals.

Funnily, even though they defeated him over and over again, they didn't seem to mock him.

It looked like they had now accepted him as one of their own.

Although communication with them still felt a bit off. They could only understand Northern by repeated gestures, and he could only understand them when they repeatedly pointed at whatever it was they were trying to say.

It was hard at first, but it later became the norm.

Northern could also tell the slight intelligence they had and appreciated their efforts in communicating with him.

Before long, he became a part of them and resonated less with his human side.

Of course, he didn't resort to lowly mannerisms such as them. As far as sanity went, those were the little he had to hold on to.

The cries of monsters on the battlefield became a daily activity.

In fact, it seemed like the battles were increasing; Northern lost count of how many battles he had been in.

Through all the battles, he was always at the forefront, unyielding in his attempt to flush out victory for the kingdom of Red Mine.

Every monster was left at the mercy of his onyx blade; blood flowed, and fleshes were severed. Over and over again… till the memory of it became a blur.

At some point, Night Terror returned.

But Northern couldn't even count how many wars he had led before the terror came back.

Moreso, it didn't seem the same. It was stronger, fiercer, and bore an aura of rivalry towards Northern.

At times it looked like it was trying to catch up to Northern on the battlefield.

'Goddamnit, I used to look up to you?'

Northern would watch it make mistakes, and pay no mind to him.

Despite suspecting where this strange Night Terror might be from, he didn't do anything about it. He didn't feel like he needed to.

In fact, the memory felt like a dream… an illusion, something he must have cooked up in his head at some point.

The wars felt more like reality.

The joy of victory was overwhelming.

Watching his foes fall to his crude blade was an ecstasy.

The awe and honor the monsters reveried him with was reality. The loftiness of his presence amidst them… it felt right.

Unaware that, slowly… he was being consumed by a madness.

Whatever justification his reasons were for engaging in it… war was war.

Bloodshed was bloodshed.

And he didn't want this one to end, for every battle won, he looked forward to the challenge of an even stronger horde of monsters.

The kingdom of Red Mine practically became impenetrable but the battles did not stop.

And Northern stopped questioning.

He grinned and laughed as he severed heads and blood splattered on his face, he licked his lips with flames of madness burning in his blue eyes.

There was no more retribution at this point.

Northern was deep into the act of war, and was even growing with it… frighteningly.

He didn't stop training, getting used to his own movements, and he even began to use his clone less.

At one point, the voice of both the system and Ul did not reach him anymore.

Maybe he forgot he had a clone.

He forgot that he needed to hunt for talent fragments.

He forgot he was in a rift.

He became a lost boy.

And one day… he forgot his name too… or that he ever even had one.