The two of them stood completely still, unmoving, not even blinking as they stared at what lay before them.
Not because the outskirts of Tezny District looked destroyed, nor because Chapena appeared damaged from the outside. Quite the opposite, the scene before them was exactly the same as before.
The houses were still standing intact. Street lamps remained lit, illuminating the darkness of the night. The roads were as quiet as ever, with only the sound of the wind carrying a cold that pierced deep into their bodies.
Zavi frowned.
'Weren't several districts supposed to be destroyed?'
He could still accept it if Forgenate, with its vast territory, remained unaffected. But this place… there wasn't a single sign of destruction. His thoughts began to spin.
Zavi stepped to the side, then slowly moved forward from the dirt road where he stood toward the stone road about ten meters ahead, its surface already covered with dried mud. His gaze swept across the road, the walls of the houses, and the slightly open windows emitting dim light from within.
Something was off.
Moreira glanced at Zavi when he noticed his movement. He followed, but hesitated, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn't bring himself to speak.
'That information must be wrong.'
The thought appeared just like that, followed by memories of a conversation he had once heard. The more he thought about it, the more something felt wrong.
Moreira stopped. His eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightened, and his fingers hidden beneath his black gloves trembled.
"Damn," he muttered softly. "Did that woman lie to me?"
He hurried toward Zavi. "Sir, please stop for a moment. There's something I need to tell you."
Zavi stopped. He turned around, lowering his hand from his chin, and looked at Moreira without saying anything. His blue eyes reflected the light from the nearby street lamp, calm yet alert.
Moreira took a short breath, fidgeting with his fingertips while holding back his curiosity.
"The information about the destruction of this district," he said hesitantly, "came from that woman."
Without waiting for Zavi to process his words, he stepped forward until he reached the boundary between districts at the edge of the road. As Moreira extended his hand forward, a flash of electricity appeared out of nowhere, traveling from his fingertips up to his shoulder the moment part of his fingers crossed that boundary.
Startled, he reflexively pulled his hand back. His jaw clenched, his breath hitched, and his fingers trembled violently, as if electricity were truly coursing beneath his skin.
"Why?" he murmured in confusion, then instinctively stepped back several steps and turned around.
Zavi walked closer. "What's wrong? Did something happen to you?"
Zavi glanced toward the road before looking back at him.
Moreira's eyes widened, his pupils shrinking. The trembling hadn't completely faded; his body still shook briefly, short but clear. He shook his head hard, trying to dispel the buzzing in his mind, then grabbed his own wrist.
"It's nothing," he said, his voice restrained. "But… something feels off."
'Yes, something was already off when that woman left without saying anything more,' he added inwardly.
He pointed behind him, toward the stone road cutting through the district. "When my hand crossed that boundary…" Moreira paused for a moment. His breath faltered. "something attacked me. It didn't hurt. It felt more like a warning."
His hand clenched again unconsciously.
'An invisible barrier up ahead?'
After thinking for a moment, Zavi decided to summon a bit of spiritual energy, combining it with his Prisoner ability. A cat appeared, its body transparent without flesh or skin, spirituality flowing from within to form a dark purplish figure, wrapped in a pale grayish-white aura.
"Move forward."
'This is really troublesome to use.'
The cat growled like a real animal that had found prey, then leapt forward following Zavi's command.
'Ahh. Sir Lamena can already control that ability this quickly?'
Moreira couldn't hide his surprise. His eyes were fixed on Zavi's fingers moving as if pulling invisible threads, like a puppet show he had once seen as a child.
"Not moving?" Zavi's eyes widened as he saw the transparent cat stop mid-leap, as if an invisible wall stood before it.
His pupils narrowed. He considered strengthening his Prisoner, first level, Error, under the condition that his hands, body, and eyes must not move even the slightest. Otherwise, fatal consequences would occur.
'Fortunately, Mr. Ulriech explained how Prisoner actually works at its first level, even though there are several other abilities at that level he didn't know. Yes, maybe becoming a Receiver has changed the way I see the world because of that damn incident, but… this power…'
Zavi fell silent, unwilling to continue his thoughts. He tried to focus, forcing himself to remain completely still, but it was nearly impossible. His unstable mind made the cat's power unstable, and his eyes felt too hot to stay open without blinking. His irises reddened, tears gathering at the bottom, as if he were about to cry, even though he wasn't.
He endured longer, but his body had reached its limit, and Zavi began blinking repeatedly.
The pain was too real. His body moved on its own, followed by a cold sensation piercing into his throat.
"Ah… ah."
White vapor escaped from his nose with every breath, and as his chest rose and fell, his thoughts began to drift, and his vision blurred over time.
The connection between the user and the cat broke at the same moment, before the creature could transfer them elsewhere in an instant.
Zavi collapsed to another place, unable to maintain his balance, and unintentionally activated the time anchor.
Meanwhile, Moreira observed his surroundings. From the corner of his eye, he caught something faint to his right, and smelled something, like a mix of incense and sharp perfume.
"What place is this?" he whispered. "This smell… I've smelled it before…" Reflexively, Moreira covered his nose with his arm while brushing away the white fog obstructing his vision.
'Where is this? Wasn't I just… wait, where is Sir Lamena now? This place can't be… Northerlheim…?'
Moreira's thoughts spiraled as he realized he had been dragged into a world without clear boundaries.
He looked around, but his vision was swallowed by white fog spreading endlessly. Only then did he realize that he had been unintentionally pulled into this place, or perhaps the opposite?
Before this, he had only observed, silent, aware of what Zavi was doing. Even though he couldn't see the cat this time, as a half Receiver, he could feel the presence of that transparent dark purplish creature wrapped in a pale grayish-white aura.
Northerlheim was a hidden place, or more precisely, a place that existed everywhere and at the same time nowhere. This place could not be entered by humans, ghosts, spirits, or monsters. No one came here by their own will. Only those who were forcibly pulled.
In this place, laws, sanctions, and consequences lost their meaning. There was no air, yet a fresh sensation still spread through the chest. There was no oxygen, yet humans could still survive, for a very long time. So long that time itself was no longer a threat, and boredom became a punishment, driving them to end their own lives.
There was no way out, perhaps, unless one knew how to leave.
Time did not exist here. What remained was only white fog covering everything, spreading without direction, without end, and an imagination that could be called the existence of Northerlheim.
After realizing that he had been dragged into a place called Northerlheim, Moreira decided to try to find Zavi, who might be able to help them escape. However, the vastness of this mysterious place, covered in thick white fog spreading without direction, made it difficult for him to determine where to go.
Ten minutes passed.
He kept counting numbers in his head, over and over, just to make sure something was still moving.
He felt nothing.
His anxiety slowly faded, eroded by something strange, a void of emotion. His body felt lighter than before, as if his burdens had disappeared, like a sheet of paper easily lifted by a wind he could not even feel.
'Am I here alone?'
His thoughts kept spinning, working harder than before.
'Impossible… if I was dragged here, then there must be something else besides me and him. Or worse, something with unimaginable power. Invisible. Its true form dragged into Northerlheim.'
He knew that in this place, up could become down. Right could become left. Nothing was truly certain.
"I've been walking aimlessly for a full minute," he muttered softly, then let out a short breath.
Moreira stopped. The corner of his lips lifted slightly, not a smile, but a reflex of caution. His head caught the sound of footsteps. His ears felt useless. The direction was unclear, the distance uncertain. Rhythmic, like music played by the hands of an expert.
His expression turned serious, each step becoming more careful. His eyes moved left and right, trying to pierce through the fog, not knowing what was approaching or where it came from.
The white fog to his right split from his perspective, yet the source came from the left. As if something was pushing the fog away. Or forcing its way through it.
Without warning
A sharp blade pierced through the fog, splitting the dense white. Its tip gleamed in Moreira's line of sight as his eyes locked onto the sharp metal.
Tap.
He rolled, and by reflex pulled a dagger from beneath his coat.
Sring!
The serrated dagger met a sword in a brief yet sharp clash, enough to break the tension without completely shattering it, replacing it with vigilance.
From within the white fog, a faint silhouette emerged. Slowly, the figure became clear. A man stood there, his sword pointed straight at Moreira.
His build was average, not too tall, almost the same height as him. He wore clothing like a noble: a brown silk shirt with fine material and a slim cut, adorned with gold and black accents, along with a coat draped over his shoulders. The figure stepped forward without hesitation.
The man's gaze was as sharp as a freshly honed blade. The corner of his lips moved slightly as his blue eyes stared at Moreira, and Moreira returned the gaze without blinking, full of caution.
"Who are you?" His voice nearly rose. "An enemy or—"
The sentence was never finished.
Wake up.
From the man's left side, yet from Moreira's perspective, from the right, another shadow appeared. Without warning. Without a single word.
A shot was fired.
Bullets pierced through the man's chest repeatedly.
The shots happened simultaneously. The sound could be imagined, yet was never truly heard, as if this place rejected sound itself, erasing it before it could reach the ears.
Bang!! Bang!! Bang!!