Northern was certain of what he'd just witnessed.
He had just seen Koll eat Dante whole—everything. The clothes, the broken sword… all of it.
Koll turned, spitting out shards of metal with a look of irritation, grumbling under his breath.
"I hate having to do this..."
He walked slowly toward Northern, clinking and crunching with each step as bits of Dante's broken sword fell from his mouth. He spat one final piece with a metallic clang, then paused mid-stride, eyes locking with Northern's stunned gaze.
A wicked smile curled on his lips.
"Why do you look so surprised? If you're even mildly familiar with the Underworld's more... unsavory corners, you should've heard of the Tribe of Gluttony. We were cursed by a certain Origin. Devoured one another... until I was the last."
He chuckled… low, somber, almost hollow.
