I Can Copy And Evolve Talents - Chapter 1180: Prisoner Of War
Chapter 1180: Prisoner Of War
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?”
Northern looked at him with a hint of surprise. He glanced at the floor, and a simple chair manifested out of the ground. He sat and rested his elbows on his knees—leaning toward Koll.
“Execute you? My best friend?”
Koll’s gaze darkened for a moment, then he suddenly burst into wild laughter. The laughter subsided like a receding flood, then his darkened gaze returned, shooting at Northern with a hint of disdain.
“This…” He shook the manacles on his wrists. “This is how you treat your best friend?”
Northern scoffed and shrugged.
“It’s not like you were exactly hospitable, Koll. Back in the Crimson Mine, my first habitable space was much worse than this, and you made me sleep in a ruined bedroom only to send assassins after me the next moment. So I think we both have questionable hospitality, but I’m fairly better.”
The Tyrant’s face twisted with hatred.
“What do you want? Why are you keeping me alive?”
Northern smiled at him, almost delighted.
“You’re in such a rush to die—that’s suspicious, Koll. I’m keeping you alive because you haven’t killed yourself. These reflections you can make, they come at a cost, don’t they? At first I thought it was your soul splitting, but then, I couldn’t quite understand it. I guess it has more to do with the people or monsters you’ve devoured. But this one right here… is you. A reflection of your own self, not the ones you consumed.”
Northern straightened his back.
“So, you can’t destroy it using other reflections. However, if I kill you, that may help rather than hurt you. That’s my guess. Either way, it won’t hurt to keep you alive as a prisoner. I mean, look around—there’s no door. How exactly are you going to escape? And those chains? You can go wherever you want in the entire world, but once I pull the other ends connected to the corners, you’ll be dragged here like an animal, even if you’re in the underworld.”
Northern shook his head, in awe of the chains.
“I must say, the First Origins really considered the Chaos Prince’s elusive nature when they created this chain. Owning the Tower was the only way he could have escaped it, that sly devil.”
His gaze fell on Koll, spilling disappointment.
“Since when have you been working with him? Pretending to serve another master while pursuing your own selfish reasons. Stars, I almost thought you were different.”
Koll did not respond. His glare of hatred just bored into Northern.
Meanwhile, Northern leaned back in the chair, giving Koll a disarming smile.
“All of this—you did it so you could have enough power to fight your father, didn’t you? Does the Chaos Prince know? Does he know that you’re like him?”
Koll’s eyes suddenly flinched at that moment, and his brows furrowed. Northern’s smile widened at the corner of his lips.
“What? You’re surprised I figured it out? It’s not so difficult to piece together, I mean, you’re the one who went on rambling before killing Lieutenant Dante. And we might not have been close, but I’m still going to avenge his death… just so you know. It will hurt like hell when I’m ready.”
Koll gave Northern a wide, baiting grin.
“I’ll be waiting. Perhaps you’ll taste just as delicious as he did.”
Northern glanced at him with a downcast look.
“You want to sink to cheap taunts now?”
“Or maybe that man… the red-haired one that Dante killed, I’m sure he would’ve tasted—”
Wham!
His face swung to the side and smacked the wall, immediately sending small webbed cracks spreading across its surface.
Northern slowly withdrew his hand, studying his palm.
“Crap, controlling my physical strength is harder than I thought.” His face returned to a disarming smile. “But at least I didn’t break your neck. That would’ve been humiliating—imagine someone of your caliber dying to a slap. Hahaha…” He laughed.
Meanwhile, Koll just stared down in shock, his face red and bruised.
Northern finally stood and lifted the wooden chair. He studied it.
“Hm, this should work.”
Koll slowly looked at him, unsure what he was about to do. His brows creased.
“What are you doing? I thought you weren’t going to kill me…”
Northern smirked like a vile devil.
“Of course, that’s the point of this chair. If I were to pummel you with my fists, I can’t be sure you won’t die. But then, didn’t you intend to taunt me into a rage by daring to speak of Burning Storm in that manner?”
Koll’s frown deepened.
Indeed, it had been what he’d aimed for. But he had expected that Northern would act out of anger and crush him. So why was he calmly gripping a chair and grinning like he was about to have a hearty meal after starving for a week?
“Oh, Koll, I’m going to enjoy beating you with a chair.”
Northern smacked the chair down on his head. The Tyrant raised his arms over his head, yelling and screaming:
“How dare you? You demon! You vermin! Stop this insult! Hit me properly! Please! Hit me properly! Please, Northern! Ahhh! Ahhhh!”
And Northern was grinning and responding:
“Oh, I dare. Yes, that’s me! Beg harder! You need to put more heart into begging!”
Northern beat the hell out of Koll with the chair, breaking it until nothing was left but splinters.
