Ace gritted his teeth, trying to move, but the shadows binding him only tightened, constricting around his limbs like living chains. He wasn't in the same void Necro had fallen into, this place felt different. The air was cold, damp, and the walls around him, barely visible in the dim light, looked like rough stone.
"Where am I?" He mumbled.
The figure before him took a slow step forward, their boots clicking against the floor.
"Relax, kid," they said casually. "Struggling won't help."
Ace's sharp red eyes locked onto them, his mind racing. The person was tall, draped in a dark coat with a hood that concealed most of their face, but he could see strands of dark green hair slipping out. Their voice was smooth, almost bored.
"Who the hell are you?" Ace demanded.
The figure crouched in front of him, tilting their head as if studying him. "You can call me Rift."
Ace's heart pounded. That name—he had heard it before. A criminal, but not just any criminal.
"Rift."
