Northern's eyes flashed cold with a vicious grin. It was obvious that Revant had gained tremendous power by realizing his potential through the variations he'd created. He could now switch between his Prime Tyrant form and a new being called Hollow King, though all existed within the same person.
Haemal charged again, despair radiating from him in suffocating waves, his fist cocked back for another strike.
Northern sidestepped the blow—clean, efficient.
Then drove his knee into Haemal's ribs with bone-cracking force. The Echo staggered, but Northern was already moving—elbow to the back of the skull, slamming Haemal's face into the gray ground.
The Tyrant tried to rise. Northern stomped on his spine, pinning him flat.
Haemal's aura intensified, despair clawing at Northern's mind like fingers prying at his skull. Northern felt it—the weight, the emptiness, the soul-crushing hopelessness.
He ignored it.
