Northern had never doubted how strong Night Terror was. But there were certain limitations he had built up in his mind for the monster—barriers that the devilish creature just kept shattering like glass.
Northern had never imagined Night Terror wielding swords. He was a grotesque monster with sixteen vicious claws, and that was all there was to him. A savage beast to his very core.
Not cutesy, not elegant, not demure.
He was an outright, unpolished, ruthless predator.
However, at some point he began to move with grace and intention, which didn't diminish his ruthlessness but somehow unsettled Northern to his core.
'He used to be so... man, he's grown.'
