Blood Moon Mirage

The moon hung blood-red over the ruined cliffs of the Obsidian Spires — an ancient battlefield turned forbidden land. Legends claimed this was where the first assassins were born… and where the Dragon Blades chose their rightful wielder.

Tonight, the wind carried whispers. The kind only warriors understood.

Taiki knelt in the center of a circle of carved stones. His twin blades — Scourge Sun and Crescent Moon — rested across his knees, their edges humming softly.

He was waiting.

The memory of Taiji’s voice still clawed at his mind.

“She’s not the only ghost walking.”

---

Miles below, in the echoing caverns of Shurei Hollow, Amira moved with silent determination. Her wounds had healed, but the scar over her chest — the place where Taiji’s blade pierced her heart — remained as a constant reminder of her rebirth.

She wasn’t just alive.

She was becoming something new.

The masters of Shurei Hollow had trained her in forgotten arts, long banned by the assassin guilds. Her soul was now bound to Ratel, the ancestral spirit of tenacity and vengeance. And tonight, she would break the seals.

“I must see him,” she whispered.

But first… the test.

---

Meanwhile, Taiki was not alone at the Spires. From the surrounding cliffs, warriors began to emerge — one by one. Clad in ritual black and bearing crescent insignias on their masks, they were the Wolves of Hojiro, ancient guardians of the blades.

Taiki rose slowly as they circled him.

“You are not one of us,” their leader growled.

“I don’t need to be,” Taiki replied. “The blades chose me.”

“They accept no impostor.”

“They accept no weakling.”

He drew his weapons.

And the storm began.

---

The Wolves attacked in unison, their movements flawless — but Taiki was faster. Every strike he made echoed with rage held in restraint. Every parry carved a line through the past. The Scourge Sun ignited in his grip, while the Crescent Moon curved through air like a ghost’s whisper.

Five fell.

Ten more came.

Still he fought.

Still he stood.

But as he drove his blades into the final warrior, collapsing onto the blood-slick stone, a presence surged from within him.

The Spider.

His demon soul emerged in a torrent of shadow, its eight limbs flickering behind him like phantom extensions. His eyes turned pitch black. The air vibrated with unnatural tension.

But he didn’t lose control.

Not this time.

“I see now…” he muttered, breathing heavy. “These blades were never forged to kill. They were forged to guide.”

And somewhere, far from the battlefield…

Amira’s eyes snapped open.

“He’s coming.”

---

Elsewhere, deep within the Iron Marshes, Taiji stood atop the skeletal remains of a fallen temple, speaking with a hooded figure cloaked in violet silk.

“You're sure the seal is breaking?” the figure asked, voice raspy.

“She lived,” Taiji replied, voice low. “The mistake we made was underestimating her spirit.”

“And your brother?”

“Still lost in his weakness.”

The figure paused.

“No. He’s becoming something dangerous. Finish it.”

“I will.”

“But if she finds him first… our empire collapses.”

Taiji didn’t reply.

He turned toward the distant sky, where a red moon watched in silence.

---

As night bled into morning, Taiki found himself standing before an ancient gate deep within the forest — the entrance to Kagutsuchi’s Hollow, where flame-born assassins once made pacts with elemental spirits.

It was here he hoped to find answers.

And her.

Suddenly, the forest shifted.

Leaves fell in reverse.

Sound disappeared.

And in that void, Amira stepped from the mist.

Eyes silver.

Breath cold.

Alive.

They stared at each other for a long time.

He stepped forward.

She didn’t move.