As my eyes landed on the man before me, I felt it—instinctively. Even though I didn't want to. I didn't want to feel any kind of connection to anyone. But I knew what bound us. This man and I… we are one of the same.
I lowered my arms to the ground and pushed myself up with effort. The mark on my neck pulsed with a dull ache as I kept my gaze locked on him. I didn't know why I couldn't look away. Maybe it was the shared eye color. That strange, amethyst glow we both carried.
My voice was shaky at first, but I kept my tone steady.
"Why are you here?" I asked with quiet confusion… and something else. Excitement, though I didn't understand why.
Then silence. Long, stretched-out minutes passed with not a sound between us. And still, I waited—patiently.
I saw his lips part as he spoke to me. It wasn't many words, but enough for me to partially understand.
"I thought it'd be the best place because of the height of the tree," was all he said.
At first, I simply nodded, slowly. With quiet inhales, I exhaled shortly after, my breath light and controlled.
My hand remained still at my side before I took three slow steps backward. I wasn't just watching this man out of confusion and curiosity anymore—I was scanning him, piece by piece, searching for any hint of threat I might need to eliminate. But none revealed themselves right away.
The breeze of this crimson night swept through the forest, stirring my hair. A few strands slipped over my eyes, veiling my vision. I raised my right hand—gloved in blackened silk—and tucked them carefully behind my ear, never once breaking eye contact with the strange man before me.
'I haven't seen anyone else here… so why is there someone now?' The thought circled in my head as I watched him. His legs moved.
He was walking toward me.
I took another step back, instinctively—until I noticed his eyes had shifted, turning away from me and toward the red tree behind.
"Don't touch that tree," I blurted out, the words leaving me before I even had time to think.
He paused at the base of it and turned his head, locking eyes with mine.
"Why's that?" he asked.
I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I should tell the truth… or lie.
If I told the truth, I might spark even more curiosity. But if I lied—and he had some ability to detect it—he'd probably touch it anyway... most likely.
"The tree is called 'Dreamless Root' and it has properties for taking dreams from any who touch it. There aren't many left in this world due to their properties. This one in specific lasted because none dared entered this forest." I said, deciding to tell the truth and not risk sparking more curiosity than was already present.
"Who are you, then? And why were you leaning against that tree?" the man asked, his voice laced with confusion—but it was clear he was genuinely intrigued.
"Call me Lilith," I replied cautiously, still keeping my guard up as I watched him. After a moment of silence, I added,
"I was leaning against it… because I've already touched it. I no longer dream because of this tree."
The man fell silent as my lips pressed together. His gaze dropped to his waist, and I noticed his hand resting on something. At first, I assumed he was delusional—there was nothing visibly strapped to him. But then my eyes widened.
With a smooth motion, he extended his arm, as if unsheathing a blade.
That's when I saw it.
A weapon materialized—its form sculpted from a deep, midnight-blue aura that leaked from every inch of it. The blade was drenched in this energy, humming with an eerie presence. I let out a soft chuckle as realization dawned on me. This was no ordinary weapon—it was a gift, bestowed upon someone who had forged a contract with a god, an ancient being, or something similar.
But then a troubling thought took hold.
'Why do I feel such a connection to him if he's a contract holder… and not a Seal-bearer?'
It didn't make sense. The ache in the mark on my neck had only ever stirred when I was near another who possessed the Seal of the Demoness.
If this man wielded a weapon born of an ancient being or some other transcendent entity… why was the connection between us so strong? Does he also feel it?
Suddenly, I sensed something behind me.
My body moved automatically—pivoting to the right just as a sword slash cut through the space I'd just occupied. In the same breath, I activated [Phantom Embodiment], vanishing in a blur of dark mist before reappearing within the 'Dreamless Root' tree. Perched on a branch, my eyes narrowed as I looked down. The figure below stood in vivid sight, the crimson moonlight painting his silhouette clearly.
I knew that presence.
'Another False Thread bastard…' I exhaled slowly, controlling my breath and calming my heartbeat.
Below me, the strange man—the one I still didn't have a name for—reacted fast, charging toward the intruder without hesitation.
The cloaked figure sprang into the air, his blade flashing with red light as he activated [Crimson Sixfold Strikes]. Six phantom slashes split the air, arching toward the man I'd just met like glowing lines of death.
But he didn't flinch at seeing death.
Instead, he welcomed it—like an old companion returning after a long journey. I stayed still on the branch of the crimson tree, observing the man through strands of silver hair that slipped across my vision. There was something… off about him. Or maybe right. I couldn't tell.
With a flicker of motion, he darted to the side, cleanly dodging the first two strikes. He twisted low, letting the third whistle past him, his coat catching the breeze like a phantom cloak. The fourth strike grazed his shoulder, slicing through the fabric with a soft rip, drawing a shallow line of blood.
He spun, using the momentum to catch the fifth blow with the flat of his strange, glowing blade. The sixth strike came from above, and he met it head-on, steel screeching against steel as the two weapons locked midair. Then, he shoved the masked assassin back with a force that felt… unnatural.
The False Thread bastard didn't even make a sound as his boots skidded over the grass—enchanted, no doubt—but the distance between them widened. Still, the assassin recovered quickly, lunging forward again with eerie grace.
But the man I'd met earlier was already moving, he closed the gap within a second or two and the assassin slashed, attempting to parry—but he was too slow.
The blade carved upward across his abdomen. Blood sprayed, splattering the grass in a heavy arc. The assassin grunted, summoned several thin, ethereal daggers, and launched them mid-backflip. A trap mid-retreat.
Something happened—I couldn't see what—but the ethereal daggers suddenly slowed in midair before reversing course, hurtling straight back toward the assassin.
He landed on the ground, gripping his blade tightly as he slashed forward. An arc of blood sprayed across the air, paralyzing the daggers and causing them to drop instantly to the ground.
No words were spoken, but the two men stood still—watching each other, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. That's when another assassin appeared beside the first. The newcomer placed their hands on the injured one's abdomen, and a warm, golden light pulsed from their palms as the wound slowly sealed shut.
Now, both assassins stood side by side, facing down the lone man I had met just earlier.
"Do I need to help?" I asked, looking down at them all. The assassins looked up at me and I raised my hand slowly before giving them a small wave with a smile.
The man didn't reply to my question, and I looked down at him and sighed before extending my hand towards the assassins and activated [Lost SpiritChain] and from the shadows, a chain forged of writhing, ghostly energy erupted from the ground and lashed around both of their legs, yanking them downward. They slammed to their knees, the chains coiling tighter with each passing second. The lost spirits howled softly, their pressure building—pressing into their flesh, digging into their joints, making every twitch an agony.
My eyes shifted slightly as I glanced toward the man, noting the look of suspicion breaking through his otherwise calm expression as he looked at me. I raised my hand and gave a gentle wave, paired with a small smile.
He scoffed at the sight of my smile and raised hand, then turned back toward the assassins. Without hesitation, he surged forward, violet aura flowing around him. I watched as his blade pierced the first assassin—the one whose clothing had already been torn at the abdomen from an earlier strike. The blade drove cleanly through the man's heart, the tip emerging from his back before being pulled free.
The assassin collapsed, blood pooling around his body and staining the dark green grass a deep red.
My gaze lingered on the sight until I saw the man move again, this time toward the second assassin. His blade drove into the assassin's chest and pushed all the way through. The masked figure coughed up blood, but the fabric only allowed a thin stream to seep through before he too dropped to the ground—lifeless—just as my [Lost Spirit Chain] faded, its timer having reached its end.