As his body plummeted down, Northern watched his shadows glide through the wall with his fall. The wind suddenly shifted, and he vanished into the shadow on the wall.
The next moment, he stood in a wide, four-cornered room. Broken chains dangled from different corners, falling against the pristine white walls of the enclosure.
Sitting next to a wall was a man with long black hair and deep eyes. His face was scarred, as were other parts of his body. But there was no blood. Just bruised skin—signs of mild torture.
He leaned one hand on his raised knee. Black, lusterless shackles bound each wrist and ankle, but the chains that should have connected them to the broken links on the wall were also severed.
Northern continued forward and stopped barely three meters away from him.
His voice called out gently.
"Koll."
Koll raised his head, looking at Northern with an unreadable expression. He shifted tiredly.
"Hmmph. Have you finally come to execute me?"
