Haizen sat on the couch, his gaze wandering around their dim underground sanctuary. The faint hum of the lantern and the scattered tools on the desk painted the usual picture of calm—but that calm shattered in an instant.
A sudden, blinding light erupted from Nova's desk, filling the room with an intensity that left Haizen momentarily stunned. He shot to his feet, every nerve in his body on edge. Nova, who had been reading a book moments before, recoiled in terror as the light grew brighter, almost blinding.
"What is this?" Haizen whispered, panic creeping into his voice.
Nova scrambled to stand, his eyes wide with fear, but the light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. The room plunged back into its usual dimness, the sudden silence almost deafening. Nova wavered, clutching his head as his legs buckled.
"Nova!" Haizen lunged forward, catching his brother as he collapsed to the floor. His heart raced as he checked for signs of life. Nova's breathing was steady, and his heartbeat was strong, but he was completely unresponsive.
"Damn it," Haizen muttered, his voice cracking with worry. Gently, he lifted Nova's limp body and laid him on the leather couch. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair as his mind raced. What just happened? What had caused this?
His gaze shifted to the desk, where the book still sat, untouched but undeniably sinister. Haizen approached it cautiously, dread pooling in his stomach.
"Why is it always us?" he muttered, his voice barely audible. The memory of his village's destruction surged into his mind—a nightmare he could never escape. Back then, he'd felt helpless, just like now. And now, Nova was in danger, all because of that damned book.
Haizen glared at the artifact, trying to piece together the events leading to this moment. The book had been just another prize for a rich merchant, flaunted at a recent auction. To Haizen, it had seemed like nothing more than a symbol of greed and excess. He'd taken it because it felt satisfying to rob the arrogant man of his trinket. But now, staring at the book, he realized it was far from ordinary.
Nova's relentless research on Emperor Vixor and the history of the human kingdoms had hinted at deeper mysteries. Haizen hadn't paid much attention at the time, but now, the truth felt dangerously close. Had Nova triggered some kind of hidden magic within the book? Was this spell connected to the strange light and Nova's collapse?
Determined to find answers, Haizen reached for the book. As his fingers brushed the cover, a chill ran up his spine. He opened it slowly, his breath catching as he saw what lay inside.
The pages were not as he remembered. New words were forming before his eyes, their shapes twisting into crimson letters that glistened like fresh blood. The heading read: World of Illusions. Below it, the text described the events that had just happened—the light, Nova's collapse, and Haizen's panic.
"It's… writing itself," Haizen whispered in disbelief. His hands trembled as he turned the page, his horror deepening. This wasn't ordinary ink. The blood-red words carried an unmistakable truth—they were written in Nova's blood.
Haizen staggered back, his breath coming in short gasps. The implications hit him like a physical blow. The book wasn't just recording events; it was alive, feeding on Nova's life to create its sinister story.
Fear twisted in his gut, but anger soon followed. Haizen clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. He wouldn't let this cursed thing take his brother.
As he looked down at Nova, he noticed faint marks on his brother's temple—thin lines where blood had been drawn. The sight made Haizen's stomach churn. The book was draining Nova, using him as its ink.
"I won't let you have him," Haizen growled, his voice low and filled with rage. He turned back to the book, his mind racing for a solution. How could he stop it? Destroy it?
With trembling hands, Haizen reached for the book again. This time, he gripped it tightly, ignoring the icy sensation that seemed to seep into his skin. He had to act fast. Nova's life—and perhaps their own survival—depended on it.