The Peak Of Destruction

The collision was deafening.

Ice shattered against writhing, slimy flesh, crystal spears exploding into glittering shards that caught the morning light like descending asteroids on a bright day.

But the Black Eel's tentacles didn't stop.

They pressed through the crystalline storm, each impact rippling the air with brutal shock waves.

Northern's eyes narrowed.

'It crushed through my ice?'

The monster was stronger than expected—stronger than the bald Drifter had given account for.

Each tentacle moved with impossible precision, striking not just at his attacks, but at the spaces between them—

Probing. Testing. Seeking weakness.

This wasn't mindless violence.

This was calculation.

A small smile curled on Northern's face…

'Nevertheless, nothing changes.'

The air temperature plummeted.

Northern twisted mid-fall, his armor gleaming with a dark light, pulsing like a heartbeat.