The footsteps grew louder, more distinct, echoing through the night like drumbeats of inevitability. Each strike against the wooden ground carried a strange weight, pressing against the silence as if the air itself was recoiling. Veythor’s crimson gaze sharpened, his pupils narrowing to sharp slits as he focused on the shapes erging from the mist.
The bare-chested masked man stepped forward, each movent slow, deliberate, and precise. Every inch he advanced seed asured, as if the world itself bent around his steps. Shimi and Raika stiffened, their bodies frozen, hearts hamring in panicked rhythm at the sight of him.
Yet it wasn’t the man alone that drew Veythor’s attention. Beside him moved a teenage girl. Veythor’s eyes narrowed further, a flicker of intrigue lighting the sharp angles of his gaze.
She isn’t wearing a mask.
Interesting.
Shimi’s entire body trembled violently. She scread, the sound sharp and fragile, breaking against the oppressive silence like glass shattering.
"Y-You! Who are you?! Why are we tied up here?! What do you want from us?!"
Her desperation hung in the air, a fragile, raw note that seed almost comical against the composed presence of the two strangers. The girl beside the masked man smiled faintly, a calm, playful curve of her lips but she said nothing. Shimi’s voice faltered, fading into an uneasy silence.
The masked man halted directly in front of Veythor, a looming presence that carried an unspoken command. Beside him, the girl stepped forward. Her dark skin glead faintly under the moonlight, and her black hair fell like a silken curtain around her delicate face. Her eyes large, luminous, and impossibly striking held a strange mixture of innocence and sothing else, sothing harder to na.
She was young, delicate, almost fragile in appearance, yet there was a strength to her presence that contradicted her seemingly gentle form. Raika, unable to contain himself any longer, shouted.
"We’re asking you sothing, you dumb ass!"
The masked man slowly turned his head toward him. Though his face remained hidden behind the mask, his gaze carried a cold, suffocating pressure. Raika’s bravado faltered; his body stiffened involuntarily, and his voice cracked against the invisible weight of that presence. He dropped his eyes, the fire in his chest snuffed out in an instant.
Veythor’s lips curled into a crooked, silent smirk. "Heh... all that screaming, only to crumble under a look. How brave."
The masked man and the girl now focused entirely on Veythor. Their eyes locked with his in a silent standoff, the air itself thickening, heavy with tension.
Crimson clashed with black, his burning gaze unwavering and unafraid. Though still a child, Veythor projected the aura of a predator sizing up prey. Unlike Shimi and Raika, there was no hint of fear, no trace of submission.
The masked man’s body trembled ever so slightly, an involuntary shiver betraying the unease the boy’s defiance inspired. The girl, on the other hand, seed exhilarated by the confrontation. Her lips parted in awe, and finally, she spoke, her voice carrying a lodic, almost playful quality.
"Hello... nice to et you. Welco to our tribe."
Veythor remained silent, his expression unreadable, a stone mask against her words. She glanced sideways at the man, confusion flitting across her delicate features.
"...Isn’t that how normal humans greet?" she asked softly, brows furrowed in curiosity.
The masked man inclined his head once, an almost imperceptible acknowledgnt.
"Then why didn’t this boy say anything?" she pressed, eyes returning to Veythor, sharp and probing.
Their gaze still locked, the man spoke again, his voice low, edged with sothing ancient and unfathomable, carrying a resonance that seed to vibrate in the chest.
"Because... he is different."
The girl’s pupils shrank in surprise.
"How so? How could he be different? He’s the sa as them," she demanded, confusion shading her tone.
The masked man’s lips curved beneath the mask, though unseen, the subtle curl spoke volus.
"So are we. We are also normal... like them. We are human. But each of us carries darkness, and it is this darkness that makes us unique. So darkness is weak and easily overco; so darkness is strong, overwhelming, consuming... shaping the course of those it touches. Strong darkness is what we call evil so born into it, so forged by it," he explained slowly, deliberately.
The girl’s brow furrowed further, frustration tightening her features. "Ughhh... so annoying. I don’t understand anything you’re saying."
Shimi and Raika could only stare, hollow-eyed, consud by fear of the unknown, the primal terror of forces beyond comprehension. The masked man broke his gaze from the boy and turned toward the girl.
"You’ll understand gradually, as you grow," he said.
"Yeah... yeah," she muttered, irritation curling around her words, her voice betraying impatience.
The man’s eyes returned to Veythor, cold and unyielding.
"Even if darkness is common," he said, "what is not common is his intelligence... and his skill."
Before anyone could react, the man’s hand shot out like lightning, clamping firmly over Veythor’s mouth. Raika and Shimi flinched, frozen, unwilling to move. The hand was icy, like the touch of death itself. With his free hand, the man drew a thin steel bar from his back and pressed it lightly against Veythor’s throat.
"Tell , boy," he murmured, voice low and deliberate, "how did you learn so much? It isn’t normal for a child like you."
Veythor remained unmoved, calm as stone, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I’m not obliged to tell you anything," he said, each word clipped, direct, and final.
The man studied him for a long, deliberate heartbeat, weighing the his defiance. Then he released his grip and stepped back.
"I see," he said finally.
Turning away, his voice flat and final, he continued: "Well then... prepare for your death."
Shimi and Raika shivered, their bodies taut, every muscle coiled in instinctive fear. Their terror had nothing to do with understanding, everything to do with the raw, unrelenting presence of forces far beyond what they had ever known.
The night around them seed to hold its breath, the wind stilled, and the world shrank down to the small field, the three captives, and the two enigmatic figures before them.
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