1. Lost Moon
The city sky was drenched in flickering neon lights. A light rain began to fall, blurring the floating magical signs hanging mid-air. Izala sat atop a high-rise rooftop, his heterochromatic eyes-one blue, one gold-silently watching the street below.
He liked silence. But tonight, that silence was broken by a familiar voice.
"Tch, that was boring."
Mutsukumo emerged from a dark alley, his white and red-streaked hair clinging with fresh blood. In his hand, he still held a magical dagger, its silver gleam chilling under the rain.
Izala looked at him, unfazed. "You killed them all again, didn't you?"
"Of course." Mutsukumo scoffed, sliding the dagger back into his coat. "Those third-rate sorcerers couldn't even excite me."
They were partners-two infamous magical assassins. Mutsukumo relished violence, while Izala merely observed. Yet what shocked most people was how perfectly they complemented each other, like darkness and moonlight.
Izala didn't enjoy killing, but he never stopped Mutsukumo either. He was the only one who ever spoke to Izala, even if his words often cut like knives.
"I feel sad when people ignore me," Izala murmured suddenly.
Mutsukumo glanced over. "What kind of philosophy is that now?"
"I don't have any friends."
Mutsukumo chuckled. "Funny. Me neither."
They fell silent. The rain thickened, washing the bloodstains off the pavement in crimson streams.
"Let's go," Mutsukumo nodded. "We've got a new mission."
Izala stood, quietly following him. In the dark, two lonely souls walked side by side, searching for something even they couldn't name.
That night, Izala and Mutsukumo returned to their base-a magic bar hidden in the city's shadow district. The bar had no signboard; only those from the magical underworld knew how to find it.
Izala entered first, shrugged off his cloak, and took his usual seat at the far end of the counter. He didn't order a drink, only toyed silently with a silver spoon in his hand.
Mutsukumo sat next to him, grabbed a bottle of strong liquor, filled his glass, and downed it in one go. He didn't say a word-just watched Izala from the corner of his eye.
"I feel sad when people ignore me," Izala repeated his earlier words.
Mutsukumo licked his lips, his voice hoarse from the alcohol. "Is that why you chose to partner with me?"
Izala said nothing. Mutsukumo scoffed.
"You're a strange one, Izala. Always sitting quietly, detached from everything, yet afraid of being left alone."
Izala suddenly looked him in the eyes. His heterochromatic gaze reflected the dim bar lights.
"What about you?" he asked. "You kill everyone, but you've never hurt me."
The air thickened.
Mutsukumo twirled the glass in his hand, his gaze darkening.
"Because you don't bore me."
The answer sounded half-joking, half-serious, but Izala didn't react. He only tilted his head slightly, calm as always.
"What if one day I do bore you?"
Mutsukumo smiled, but this time, there was no mockery in it.
"Don't ever give me the chance to find out."
A long silence stretched between them.
For the first time, Mutsukumo realized-something had changed between him and Izala. A nameless distance, a strange feeling he'd never experienced before.
And he wasn't sure if he liked it.
---
Izala and Mutsukumo were given a mission by the Witch Council. This time, their target wasn't an easy one-it was Velkion, a dark sorcerer who had escaped capture for years.
"He can manipulate minds. If he casts illusions, you'll die inside your own thoughts."
The Council's warning echoed in Izala's mind as he and Mutsukumo stepped into the abandoned building where Velkion was said to be hiding.
Mutsukumo walked ahead, letting his hand skim the walls, leaving faint trails of blood. He was sensing for life in the space.
"No one's here?" he smirked. "The bastard probably ran."
"Don't get cocky," Izala said from behind, his eyes scanning the room. "This place doesn't feel like it's been abandoned for long."
Just as he spoke, the walls began to tremble. Mutsukumo lunged forward and shoved Izala aside just as dozens of black chains dropped from the ceiling.
"Welcome, hunters."
A deep voice echoed, followed by a chilling laugh. The room plunged into darkness as magical lamps burst one by one.
The illusions began.
Izala felt his body freeze. Everything around him vanished, leaving only an endless void.
Then Mutsukumo's voice rang out.
"Izala... who are you?"
Izala frowned. When he turned around, Mutsukumo stood before him, but his eyes were blank-emptied of thought.
Velkion was controlling him.
"Mutsukumo," Izala called, but there was no response.
"You're nothing, Izala. Just a faint shadow in this world."
Velkion's voice echoed-not from any direction, but from within Izala's own mind.
---
Mutsukumo felt his body dragged into a different space. In front of him, Izala stood motionless-but his eyes, once gold and blue, were now endless voids of darkness.
Velkion was trying to control his mind.
Mutsukumo didn't care.
"Pathetic," he muttered, then charged forward, blade drawn. If Velkion thought he'd be as easily controlled as others, he was dead wrong.
He grabbed Izala's wrist and squeezed hard.
"Izala, wake up."
In that instant, Izala's eyes flickered. He blinked, then suddenly bit deep into Mutsukumo's wrist.
Blood spilled.
The pain snapped Mutsukumo back to reality-and shattered Velkion's illusion.
The ruined room returned to their sight. Mutsukumo realized he was pinning Izala to the floor, blood dripping from his wrist onto Izala's face.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Then Mutsukumo chuckled.
"You've got a hell of a way to wake someone up."
Izala glanced at the wound on his wrist, his eyes showing a trace of something complex. But he said nothing and quietly slipped from Mutsukumo's grasp.
From the shadows, someone was watching them.
This mission wasn't over.
---
Mutsukumo tightened his grip on the dagger, his eyes darkening as he realized they weren't free yet. Velkion's illusion hadn't been broken-he was pulling them in deeper.
Before them, the crumbling wall split open, bricks falling away to reveal a massive iron door.
"Let's see if you can escape Velkion's Prison."
His voice came again, laced with insane laughter.
The door opened, and a formless force dragged both of them inside.
When Izala opened his eyes, he was bound.
Cold chains gripped his wrists and ankles, pinning him to a black stone chair. Around him, there were no exits-only four mirrored walls reflecting his image from hundreds of angles.
"How long have you been here, Izala?"
The voice echoed from all directions.
Izala clenched his teeth. It wasn't Velkion's voice-it was his own.
His reflection moved differently from him, smiling with eerie mockery.
"No one needs you. Not even Mutsukumo."
The mirrors trembled, and Mutsukumo's image appeared in each one. He stood beside Velkion, hands drenched in blood, eyes cold and distant.
"Izala, I've finally found where I belong."
Izala exhaled. Just an illusion. Only an illusion.
But the chains on his wrists tightened, as if to confirm it was all real.
Meanwhile, Mutsukumo had fallen into another space-a burned forest.
Corpses littered the ground. He stood amid the ruins, holding a bloodied dagger.
A figure emerged from the smoke.
Izala.
But instead of his usual unreadable expression, he wore a soft, relieved smile.
"At last, you've shown your true self."
The reflection of Izala in the firelight made Mutsukumo uneasy.
"You've always been a monster. But you knew that already, didn't you?"
Mutsukumo licked his lips. He smirked, but his bleeding palm clenched the dagger tighter.
"If I'm a monster... then what does that make you, Izala?"
Both were trapped in their own personal illusions.
To escape, they had to shatter them from within.
But the more they struggled, the more Velkion tightened his grip.
Only one of them would wake up first.
And that person would have to awaken the other-no matter the cost.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen3h.Co