It was a rough guess, but Northern couldn't deny what he was feeling. The sensation hit him like a punch to the gut—strong, familiar, yet twisted into something demented and wrong.
It felt like Chaos.
'How?'
Northern froze mid-air, his mind racing. At first, nothing made sense. Then he remembered the sources of Chaos he'd absorbed from the Blood King's rift, and the one Bairan had recently defeated. The pieces clicked together, forming a picture he didn't want to see.
Still, it felt impossible. He wouldn't bet his life on the Crimson Cloud being some corrupted version of Chaos. Not yet.
He sighed, and suddenly two more Northerns appeared beside him.
'I wonder if I'll survive this time…'
At the same time, he created three more clones in the Limitless Void. He would have loved to summon ten more, but he needed to balance his essence recovery with usage. Three clones already strained that delicate cycle.
