In the distance, a black tower rose above the snow-covered mountains, shrouded in mist. Before it lay a sheer cliff, and all around stretched an endless expanse of white silence.
Its peak merged with the fog, making it impossible to gauge its height; it seemed to pierce the clouds as though it reached all the way to the heavens.
At first glance, it appeared to have no entrance. But as the ship drew nearer, a massive gate came into view high on the tower, resembling the gaping maw of some beast.
Aren wondered how entry and exit could even be possible. When the ship finally approached the tower, it dropped anchor.
Then came the grinding sound of the turning pulley, followed by a loud creak. Four cage-like elevators, suspended by chains, descended from above as guards pulled prisoners out of their cells.
As Aren stepped out with the three others from his cage, he saw a crowd on the deck—at least a hundred people, including himself.
"Wow!"
Aren also noticed Samantha's gaze, similar to his, was full of astonishment and awe. Seeing IMFA in reality—something he had only read about through descriptions in novels—ignited a mix of nervousness and a strange thrill within him.
"For the Holy Kingdom, it sure produces a lot of criminals…" Samantha clicked her tongue and spoke.
I don't think either you or I differ greatly from them. The only difference is I'm a foreign soul forced to bear the sins of the body I've taken over, while you're here to pay for crimes you committed. Aren couldn't help but sneer.
"Move it! No dawdling!"
A guard's voice, sharp and full of curses, rang out across the deck. The guards kept the prisoners in order, preventing any chance of chaos.
Then, the guards loaded the prisoners into the descending elevators in groups of five and handed them over to the waiting IMFA guards.
From what he could see of the guards below, Aren gained an idea of their variety. IMFA was, after all, an international prison.
Just as the prison held inmates of many races—elves, humans, vampires, dwarves, and more—it also required wardens of many races to keep them under control. From his observations, most of those descending were elves.
Pushed forward by the guard behind him, Aren boarded the elevator with his cage-mates. As they began their ascent, he studied the guards sharing the lift.
Their pointed ears, striking facial features, and otherworldly appearances made it obvious—they were elves, the very beings often written about in legends.
The white-haired female elf had long lashes framing her golden eyes, her onyx-like skin marking her as a dark elf.
Another was a male ice elf, with black hair, sclera as dark as his locks, pale blue skin, and piercing blue eyes.
There was also a light elf, a woman whose hair shimmered with both gold and silver, her eyes as green as a forest. The last was a red-haired male with molten silver eyes, his kind unmistakably a wood elf.
Aren's expression remained steady, but his gaze lingered with curiosity. After all, to see elves in person—beings so often confined to the pages of books—was exhilarating.
The dark elf and the light elf wore impassive expressions. The ice elf's gaze was scornful, while the wood elf smirked as though amused.
That red-haired elf's eyes were unsettling, like those of a psychopath who might skin a man alive on a whim. When Aren briefly met his gaze, he instinctively looked away. Now was not the time to provoke someone like that.
Not everyone shared his caution, however. An old man, who had been in the same cage, bared his crooked teeth in a sinister grin, staring wickedly at the red-haired elf. The elf turned to meet his brazen look, and the old man let out a cackle.
"Hehehe… I've tasted Elven blood before. You've no meat on you—just skin and bone—but your blood is exquisite!"
All four elves froze him with their icy stares. Samantha recoiled, covering her mouth with disgust.
"Ugh! So this geezer's a cannibal!"
Is this old man insane, or is he just trying to provoke them? Aren mocked inwardly, stepping back with a grimace to put more distance between himself and the man.
The others reacted much the same, retreating in fear and revulsion.
Cannibals were perverse individuals who hunted Nyx or other races, believing that by eating them, they could take the special powers they possessed. What began as a twisted belief eventually devolved into a grotesque craving, indulgence.
The Holy Kingdom, which sought to purge society of it, punished such madness harshly. Thus, most cannibals kept their true nature hidden. Yet this old man flaunted it openly!
The red-haired elf stepped forward and struck the old man in the face with a brutal punch. Blood streamed from the man's nose as he fell. Then, placing his hand atop the man's head, the elf drew forth a scream of agony from him.
The old man's eyes rolled back as blood streamed from his ears, eyes, and nose, his flesh seeming to tear apart from within. The horrific spectacle left everyone frozen in terror.
"That's enough, Faelith."
The calm voice belonged to the light elf, whose golden hair caught Aren's attention. At his words, the red-haired wood elf—Faelith—released the man's head, letting it drop. The old man whimpered like a wounded beast.
"Keep that rotten mouth of yours shut, human filth, or I'll tear your head from your wretched body!"
When Faelith returned to his place, a suffocating silence hung over the group. The old man cowered in his corner, and thankfully, the elevator reached its destination. The prisoners hurried to disembark, desperate to shake off the lingering horror.
But an unknown fear soon replaced it.
The crowd now stood before IMFA's gaping entrance, its maw-like gate yawning wide. A ripple of dread passed through them as they waited under the guards' watch, like lambs before slaughter.
Aren craned his neck, trying to peer past the beastly threshold. Yet all he could see was the shifting veil of darkness, roiling as though ready to swallow anyone who dared step inside.
Under the watch of the guards, they herded the prisoners toward the rippling veil of darkness.