The air was filled with a symphony of crackling ice, its haunting whispers blending seamlessly with the howling wind. The tinkling melody resonated with a cold, mournful beauty, as if the very essence of the landscape lamented its metamorphosis. Once-mighty rocks now stood imprisoned in a shimmering coat of ice, their contours frozen in eternal surrender, transformed into delicate works of frozen art in a mere instant.
Raith stood in stunned disbelief; it had happened so quickly that he hadn't been able to intervene.
Based on Raith's previous response to Noir when the question arose about eliminating their pursuer, Noir had assumed it was not permissible as long as the individual posed no threat. However, the moment Curtis sprang into action, he had crossed a line with Noir. What further infuriated Noir was the unmistakable intent to kill.
Even now, Noir, an embodiment of darkness, emitted cold vapor from his nostrils, a stark contradiction to his nature.
