Paragon Raizel turned to Northern with a deep frown, disbelief etching the lines of his face. He echoed the words under his breath:
"Cut it? And seal the rift?"
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.
"I can understand cutting it… but sealing the rift? Is that even possible?"
Northern offered a smug smile.
"Usually? No. But I'm not usual. I can do things people normally can't."
Raizel swept his gaze across the battlefield—at the craters, the broken stone, the still-lingering stench of chaos—and sighed again.
"Fine. I believe you."
Of course he did. He'd be a fool not to after everything he'd just witnessed.
"But how exactly do we pull this off? Can we even cut the hand of a Leviathan?"
He paused, voice dropping an octave.
"I've never faced one before. Never even heard of anyone who has. And even if it's just the hand… I don't know how to feel about this. I doubt it's going to be easy."
