Northern had not had a wink of sleep since he gained the new talent from Ultron. The talent made crafting the easiest it had ever been, though of course, his knowledge still played a big role in all of it.
All of his clones were busy scavenging the carcasses of monsters that the echoes had slaughtered during the war. Northern himself didn't know how long he'd been at this, but one thing was certain: he had created over a hundred armors and weapons.
He wasn't creating set items. He was simply getting used to the ability. He needed to build the experience as fast as possible, which was why he kept producing armors he had no intention of keeping.
The problem, however, was who exactly would call these armors useless.
Piles of composed metals littered the ground around him. Some carried a dark lusterless sheen, pale and cold to the touch. Others looked more malevolent than the Dreadreaver itself, bleeding crimson energy that curled through the air like something alive.
