Northern flew through the battlefield like a trail of mist, imperceptible to many, even his own allies. But wherever he flew, his enemies faltered and his allies found respite.
His allies, in this sense, were none other than his summons. Black Mamba blistered through monsters, leaping from place to place with astonishing speed. Northern did not know how the summon had managed to grow two additional hands, but Black Mamba seemed desperate and on the brink of a new discovery.
More than seeing the look in Black Mamba's forlorn eyes, Northern could resonate with the emotion thanks to [Link]. He sensed what they were all feeling.
Some emotions, of course, registered more vividly than others. Black Mamba's, for instance.
Northern tried not to dwell on it, instead weaving his illusioned blade like strokes of paint, coloring the sky with a horrifying palette of devastation.
