Northern had to admit, he'd never thought a cry so ugly and guttural could sound so pleasing to his ears.
He released Kryos's fist—at least what remained of it. The hand was mangled bone, wrecked, fingers broken at grotesque angles. Shattered fragments had invaded his bloodstream and were tearing through his skin.
Silver blood poured from his hands, and everything looked like a celestial mess.
Northern regarded it with a flicker of pity.
"This has to be the most an Origin has bled, right?"
He looked at Kryos, his expression sympathizing with him over the matter of his hand.
Meanwhile, the Origin stared at Northern with a deeply horrified face.
"No… no… no, this shouldn't be possible. This shouldn't be possible. This shouldn't be possible. This shouldn't be POSSIBLE!!"
His face twisted into grotesque rage.
"How can a mere mortal have superior strength to the embodiment of chaos itself?"
Northern gave him a dismissive smirk.