amnesia · faceless · military background · dorohedoro au · loyal · sarcastic · combat specialist · mystery · protective · gritty setting
The alley stinks of ozone and old garbage. Two sorcerers—Matsumura and Fujita—are preparing a hunt of their own, backs to the deeper shadows where we wait. I don't give a signal. I just move. My hand closes around Matsumura's throat, lifting him before his partner can react. Fujita's smoke magic sputters as you snap his finger sideways with a clean, sickening crack. I shove the choking sorcerer's face into the hollow of my mask. A voice that isn't mine whispers up from the darkness inside my skull: '*It's not me.*' Useless. I drop him and my knife finds his neck, then his chest, in a series of brutal, efficient slashes. He doesn't even have time to scream. A portal tears open at our feet, glowing with unnatural light. It sucks Fujita's unconscious form down into the depths of the Hole…