Novel Full Chapter 1198: Who Said A Monster Can’t Beg?
Chapter 1198: Who Said A Monster Can’t Beg?
The remaining swarm—hundreds of spiders of all sizes—converged on the chamber entrance. Behind Northern, passages collapsed, cutting off retreat. The Crimson Weave contracted, transforming the battlefield into a web-choked killing ground.
And from the Broodmother’s abdomen, something else emerged. Larger than the Hunters. More intelligent than the Stalkers. A spider that moved with almost drifter-like awareness.
[Catastrophic Hellion detected: The Firstborn]
Northern’s head tilted as he watched the massive spider descend from the Broodmother’s body. Nearly as large as a house, with intelligence gleaming in its cluster of eyes.
“Huh. You know, I’ve been mostly using the basics.” His hands turned over, palms up. “Haven’t really tested the more… exotic options.”
[…]
“What’s that tone for, Aoi?”
[Nothing]
The Firstborn shrieked. Northern’s connection to every lesser spider snapped—a severing so complete, so instant, the silence rang in his mind. The spiders descended into frenzy and shot forward, charging as one coordinated mass, hundreds of bodies creating a living tide of chitin and rage.
“Tsk.”
[You’re using Embers of Oblivion]
Black flames materialized across Northern’s fingertips. Not the normal red-orange of fire, but an absence of light given form. He flicked his wrist—lazy, almost casual.
The black embers scattered across the charging swarm like seeds.
For a moment, nothing happened. The spiders continued their charge.
Then the first hatchling touched by an ember simply… ceased. The black flame consumed it so completely that even the space it occupied seemed to forget it had existed. The ember floated on, seeking the next target.
The effect cascaded. Each ember consumed a spider, then split into two embers, which consumed two more spiders, which split into four embers. Within seconds, a geometric progression of annihilation devoured the swarm.
Northern’s jaw slackened.
“Works just like black flames! But even better!!”
This was a Paragon’s skill evolved to EX class and enhanced by Daemon of Form. Northern was of the opinion that Sun’s Legacy was actually his strongest talent.
[You have slain 247 Hazardous Fiends]
[You have slain 89 Disastrous Savages]
[You have slain 31 Calamitous Beasts]
[You have gained 615 talent fragments]
The Broodmother shrieked. The sound made the entire chamber vibrate. New spiders poured from every crevice—reinforcements held in reserve. At the same time, the Crimson Weave intensified. Web strands shot toward Northern from every angle, moving faster than before, layered with explosive charges.
[You’re using Windless]
Northern gestured in a circle around himself. A sphere of absolute stillness formed—no air movement whatsoever. The incoming webs hit the boundary and simply… stopped. Frozen mid-flight. The explosive charges couldn’t detonate without oxygen. The Embers of Oblivion couldn’t spread without air to carry them.
“Hm. Interesting interaction.”
Northern dismissed the Windless zone.
“Mental note: black fire needs oxygen. Moving on.”
The frozen webs dropped harmlessly. The Broodmother’s eyes blazed with fury. She began pulling herself forward, forty-meter legs crashing against the floor with earth-shaking force. The Firstborn circled from the right, flanking.
Northern’s gaze traveled up—ceiling, then hands, then back to the approaching monsters.
“You know what? I haven’t tried this one since I became Daemon of Form.”
[You’re using Solar Ascension]
His body transformed. Flesh became light—pure, searing radiance that illuminated every corner of the darkened catacombs. The webs closest to him ignited instantly, vaporizing before they could burn. The temperature in the chamber spiked to unbearable levels.
Northern examined his hands—or rather, the approximation of hands made from condensed sunlight.
“Oh, certainly feels different from when I used it with Rughsbourgh. I don’t even have mass anymore!”
[You are currently existing as coherent energy. Physical attacks cannot harm you in this state]
“Can I still move?”
He tried walking. Instead, he moved at light speed, crossing the hundred-meter chamber in a fraction of a second and slamming into the far wall. Or rather, phasing through it and emerging three chambers over.
[You’re moving at approximately 299,792,458 meters per second]
“Right. Too fast. How do I—”
Northern tried to slow down. He moved backward at light speed, phasing through walls again, and emerged back in the main chamber—inside the Broodmother’s abdomen.
The monster shrieked, trying to crush him, to bite him, to eject him. But Northern was literally made of light. The Broodmother’s attacks passed through him harmlessly while her insides began to cook from the heat he radiated.
“Okay, this form needs practice. Reverting.”
[Solar Ascension deactivated]
Northern returned to human form, dropping ten meters and landing lightly on the chamber floor. Behind him, the Broodmother’s abdomen smoked, several of her internal egg sacs now thoroughly cooked.
She staggered backward, mandibles clicking in pain and rage.
“Sorry about that. Still learning the controls.” Northern’s tone carried genuine apology. “Let’s try something with better precision.”
[You’re using Corona’s Wrath]
This was Sun’s Legacy’s newest ability, after Northern himself became a Paragon. A miniature sun materialized above Northern’s head—roughly two meters in diameter, blazing with impossible heat. It began to orbit him slowly, a pocket star that turned the battlefield into a furnace.
The remaining Web Stalkers tried to approach. They burst into flames twenty meters away, never getting close.
[You have slain 47 Disastrous Savages]
[You have gained 94 talent fragments]
The Crimson Hunters tried next, their armored carapaces providing some heat resistance. They made it fifteen meters before their internal organs boiled.
[You have slain 23 Calamitous Beasts]
[You have gained 138 talent fragments]
The Firstborn, more intelligent than its siblings, simply retreated to the far end of the chamber.
Northern walked forward, his personal sun following obediently. The Crimson Weave tried to regenerate, but the heat was too intense. Webs vaporized faster than they could form.
“This looked like something I’ve had before, but different…”
[Sola Nova has been reinforced to a supernova level explosion centered on yourself that vaporizes everything but leaves you unharmed]
Northern released a breath.
“Ah. You know, Aoi, I’m starting to think I might be the embodiment of overkill… why am I so overpowered? I really went from scraps to metal fortresses. I mean, the journey was no less daunting, but you know what I mean…”
[…]
[I don’t]
“Fair.”
The Broodmother made her decision. She turned—forty meters of arachnid horror executing a surprisingly graceful about-face—and began to flee. Her legs carried her toward a passage at the chamber’s far end, clearly leading deeper into her territory.
But she didn’t run alone.
Her abdomen pulsed. Dozens of egg sacs burst open, releasing premature offspring—malformed hatchlings that should have gestated for weeks more. They swarmed behind her as living shields.
Northern stopped walking.
“Did she just—”
[The Broodmother is sacrificing her offspring to cover her retreat]
“That’s…” Northern paused, the words catching. “Actually pretty dark.”
The malformed hatchlings charged him, their bodies unstable, some already dying from premature birth. They exploded as they ran, coating the floor in acidic blood and web fragments.
[You’re using Wind Manipulation]
A barrier of compressed air formed in front of Northern. The explosions splashed against it harmlessly. When the smoke cleared, the Broodmother had already fled down the passage.
“Huh. She ran.” Disappointment colored Northern’s voice. “After all that buildup, she just… ran.”
[She is an Abysmal-level Behemoth. Survival instinct overrides pride]
“I was hoping for at least a dramatic last stand.”
Northern dismissed Corona’s Wrath. The miniature sun vanished, plunging the chamber back into dim crimson light.
“Well, can’t let her escape. That’d be anticlimactic.”
[You’re using Eclipse Step]
Northern stepped into a shadow and vanished.
He emerged in the passage ahead of the fleeing Broodmother. She skidded to a halt, eight legs scrambling for purchase. Her eyes widened—or whatever passed for widening among spider eyes—in obvious shock.
Behind her, the Firstborn caught up, positioning itself between Northern and its mother.
“Oh, that’s sweet. Protecting your mom.” Northern’s smile sharpened. “But you really shouldn’t have.”
The Firstborn lunged. Northern didn’t move.
[You’re using Afterimage Legion]
Forty-nine afterimages bloomed into existence around Northern’s form—perfect copies that lasted three seconds each. The Firstborn’s attack passed through one afterimage. Then another. Then three more. Each time it struck, it found nothing but empty air.
The real Northern stood perfectly still, watching.
The afterimages counter-attacked. Forty-nine simultaneous strikes from forty-nine different angles, each one solid despite being an echo of movement. The Firstborn’s carapace cracked under the assault. It staggered, bleeding from multiple wounds.
[You’re using Spectral Arsenal]
Northern’s casual gesture created ghost-copies of weapons he’d never held—swords, spears, axes, all hovering in the air around him. With another gesture, they launched.
The Firstborn tried to dodge. Impossible. The spectral weapons phased through its defensive maneuvers and struck true. Its legs buckled. It collapsed, twitching.
[You have slain 1 Catastrophic Hellion: The Firstborn]
[You have gained 24 talent fragments]
Northern’s shoulder lifted in a slight shrug, mentally commending the ability’s effect.
’Dante’s talent is also strong. I’ve not even evolved it to EX yet. I’ve also not evolved FrostHeart too… I should do those later.’
The Broodmother shrieked. Not rage this time. Grief.
She tried to run again, this time using her own body. Her abdomen split open, releasing a flood of eggs—hundreds of them, ranging from fully formed to barely developed. They shattered across the floor, creating a slippery biological barrier.
[You’re using Ice Manipulation]
Northern simply walked through it, ice forming under his feet with each step, freezing the eggs solid.
“I’m genuinely curious now.” His voice turned conversational, almost amused. “What’s your next move? You’ve tried overwhelming force, tactical retreat, sacrificing your children… What’s left?”
The Broodmother spun to face him. Her mandibles opened. A sound emerged—not a shriek, but something closer to speech. A psychic plea transmitted through the Crimson Weave itself.
Please.
Northern stopped. Blinked.
“Did you just… beg?”