Northerlheim
Chapter. 48
The two of them stood completely still, unmoving, not even blinking, staring at what lay before them.
Not because Tezny District appeared ruined, nor because Chapena looked damaged from the side. On the contrary, the scene before them was exactly the same as before.
The houses still stood intact. Streetlights glowed, illuminating the darkness of the night. The streets were as quiet as ever, with only the whisper of the wind carrying a cold that pierced straight through their bodies.
Zavi frowned.
Weren’t several districts supposed to have been destroyed? He could accept it if Forgenate, with its vast territory, had remained unaffected. But this place… there wasn’t a single sign of destruction at all.
His thoughts began to spiral.
Zavi stepped to the side, then slowly moved forward from the dirt road where he stood toward the stone-paved road about ten meters ahead. His gaze swept across the road’s surface, the walls of the houses, and the slightly open windows that emitted dim light from within.
No cracks. No debris. Something strange was happening again.
Moreira glanced at Zavi from the side as he noticed his movement. He followed, but hesitated, as if there was something he wanted to say yet couldn’t bring himself to voice it.
The information seemed wrong.
That thought surfaced on its own, followed by memories of a conversation he had once overheard. The more he thought about it, the more unsettling it felt.
Moreira stopped.
His eyes widened slightly, his jaw stiffened, and his neck tensed.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Did that woman lie to me?”
He hurried toward Zavi. “Sir, please stop for a moment. There’s something I need to say.”
Zavi halted. He turned around, lowered his hand from his chin, and looked at Moreira without speaking. His blue eyes reflected the glow of the streetlamp beside the road, calm yet attentive.
Moreira drew a short breath, fiddling with his fingertips as he suppressed his curiosity.
“The information about this district’s destruction,” he finally said, “it came from that woman.”
Without waiting for Zavi to process his words, he stepped forward until he reached the boundary between districts beside the road. As Moreira extended his hand ahead, a bolt of lightning surged from nowhere, crawling from his fingertips up to his shoulder the moment part of his fingers crossed into that area.
Reflexively, he jerked his hand back. His jaw clenched, his breath caught in his throat, and his fingers trembled violently, as if an electric current were truly running beneath his skin.
“Why?” he murmured softly.
Zavi moved closer. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to you?”
Like his body had been struck by electricity? Zavi glanced toward the road before shifting his gaze back.
Moreira’s neck tightened. His eyes widened, pupils contracting. The tremor had not fully faded; his body shook briefly, short but unmistakable. He shook his head hard, trying to dispel the lingering hum in his head, then gripped his own wrist.
“It’s nothing,” he said at last, his voice restrained. “But… something feels off.”
He pointed behind him, toward the stone road cutting through the district. “When my hand crossed that boundary…” Moreira paused for a fraction of a second. His breath hitched. “…something struck me. It didn’t hurt. It felt more like a warning.”
His hand clenched again unconsciously.
Is there an invisible barrier ahead?
After thinking it over briefly, Zavi decided to manifest a small amount of spiritual energy, combining it with his Prisoner ability. A cat emerged, its body transparent, without flesh or skin, its form shrouded in a chilling white-gray aura.
“Move!”
The cat let out a growl like a real animal that had spotted prey, then lunged forward, following Zavi’s command.
Ahh. He’s already able to control that ability this quickly?
Moreira couldn’t hide his shock. His eyes were fixed on Zavi’s fingers, moving as if pulling invisible strings, like a puppet performance he had seen as a child.
“It’s not moving?” Zavi’s eyes widened as he watched the transparent cat remain frozen mid-run, as though an unseen wall stood before it.
His pupils narrowed. He considered reinforcing his Prisoner, on the condition that his hands, body, and eyes did not move even slightly. Otherwise, fatal consequences would follow.
Fortunately, Mr. Ulriech had explained how Prisoner truly worked. Yes, perhaps becoming a Receiver had altered the way he saw the world because of that incident, but… this power… Zavi fell silent, unwilling to continue that line of thought. He tried to focus, to remain completely still, but it was nearly impossible. His wavering thoughts destabilized the cat’s enhancement.
His eyes burned too intensely to remain open without blinking. The irises reddened, tears gathering at the lower edges, as if he were about to cry, yet he wasn’t.
He held on longer, but his body was already at its limit, and Zavi blinked repeatedly.
The pain was too real. His body moved on its own.
“Ah… ah.”
His breathing grew ragged as his chest heaved. His breath stuck in his throat, his thoughts drifting away as his vision blurred with every passing second.
The bond between user and cat severed at the same moment, before the creature could transport them elsewhere in the blink of an eye.
Zavi collapsed, unable to maintain his balance.
Meanwhile, Moreira scanned their surroundings. From the corner of his eye, he caught a faint glow to his right, and he smelled something, like a mixture of incense and sharp perfume.
“Where is this place?” he whispered. “This smell… I’ve smelled it before…” Instinctively, Moreira covered his nose with his arm while brushing aside the white mist that obstructed his view.
Where am I? Wasn’t I just… Wait, where is Sir Kopling now? This place can’t be… Northerlheim…? Moreira’s thoughts spiraled into chaos. He looked around, but his vision was swallowed by the white fog spreading endlessly. Only then did he realize he had been unintentionally dragged into this place.
Earlier, he had merely watched, silent, aware of what Zavi was doing. Even though he couldn’t see the cat this time, as a half-Hollow, he could feel the presence of the transparent creature wrapped in its white-gray aura.
Notherlheim was a hidden place, or more precisely, a place that existed everywhere and nowhere at once. It could not be entered by humans, ghosts, spirits, or monsters. No one came here by their own will. Only those forcibly pulled in.
In this place, laws, sanctions, and consequences lost all meaning. There was no air, yet a refreshing sensation still spread through the chest. There was no oxygen, yet humans could survive, for far too long.
So long that time ceased to be a threat, and boredom turned into punishment, driving them to end their own lives.
There was no way out.
Time did not exist here. What remained was only white mist, shrouding everything, spreading endlessly, without direction, without end.
After realizing that he had been dragged into a place called Notherlheim, Moreira decided to try searching for Zavi, who might be able to help them escape. However, the vastness of this mysterious place, cloaked in thick white fog that spread without direction, made it difficult to decide where to go.
Ten minutes passed.
He kept counting the numbers in his head, again and again, just to be sure that something was still moving.
He couldn’t feel anything.
His anxiety slowly faded, eroded by something strange, a lack of sensation. His body felt lighter than before, as if its weight had been stripped away, like a sheet of paper easily lifted by a wind he couldn’t even feel.
Where am I? Did I come here alone…?
His thoughts churned, working harder than ever.
Impossible… if I was dragged here, then there must be someone else besides me and him. Or worse, something with unimaginable power. Unseen. Its true form dragged into Notherlheim.
He knew that in this place, up could become down. Right could become left. Nothing was ever truly certain.
“I’ve been walking aimlessly for a full minute now,” he murmured softly, then let out a short breath.
Moreira stopped. The corner of his lips curved slightly, not a smile, more like a reflex born of vigilance. His head caught the sound of footsteps. His ears felt useless. The direction was unclear, the distance uncertain.
Rhythmic. Too precise. Like music played by the hands of a master.
His body tensed. Each step became more cautious. His eyes darted left and right, trying to pierce through the fog, unsure of what was approaching or from where.
The white mist to his right was split from his perspective, yet its source came from the left. As if something was pushing the fog aside. Or forcing its way through.
Without warning—
A blade pierced through the mist, cleaving the dense white veil. Its tip glinted in Moreira’s peripheral vision the moment his gaze locked onto the sharp metal.
Tap.
Sring!
A serrated dagger met the sword in a brief, sharp clash, enough to shatter the tension without fully breaking it, replacing caution instead.
From within the white fog, a vague silhouette emerged. Slowly, the figure was revealed. A man stood there, his sword pointed straight at Moreira.
He had a medium build, not particularly tall, almost the same height as him. He wore attire befitting a noble: a brown silk shirt with soft fabric and thin cuts, adorned with gold and black accents, and 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 twitched slightly as his blue eyes fixed on Moreira, and Moreira stared back without blinking, uncertain.
“Who are you?” His voice nearly rose. “Are you an enemy or—”
The sentence was never finished.
Come to your senses.
From the man’s left side, yet from Moreira’s perspective, from the right, another shadow appeared. Without warning. Without a single word.
A gunshot was fired.
Bullets tore through the man’s chest in rapid succession.
Simultaneous shots. The sound could almost be imagined, yet it was never truly heard, as if this place rejected noise itself, erasing it before it could reach the ears.
