Northern stared for a few seconds, not saying anything as Bairan's eyes lingered on him.
The Sword King was on his knee, his eyes fixed upon Northern, patiently—with all the patience in the world—waiting for what Northern's response was going to be.
Dante stood on guard, his hands fisted around the handle of his sword, eyes locked onto the strange being before him.
Every part of his composure was brimming with calculated awareness, showing he was actively gauging his target as much as he was getting ready to strike at the slightest threat.
Northern, however, was occupied with something else. His eyes stayed on Bairan's entire demeanor, from the unbreaking and resolved look in his eyes to his stalwart composure.
And there was just something Northern could not shake off.
The feeling of being evaluated.
He shook his head. 'No, he can't be doing that...'
