Azzel idled in the tavern the next day, waiting for dusk to approach.

His ears picked up murmurs of yet another conflict between the Knights of Glory and the Ashen Veil. The rising tension in the city was palpable with the patrons exchanging hushed praises of the Knights' efforts.

"The cultists are getting bolder every day," one man muttered, his voice barely audible under the clinking of mugs, "...openly recruiting as if the Knights of Glory or the guilds doesn't even exist."

"But the Knights didn't back down and gave them a hard blow." another chimed in, "Risking their lives for us ordinary people, we all owe them more than a drink. Heh, they're more useful than those city guards."

A petite young woman sat at a table in the corner while enjoying the meals in front of her. Her ginger hair struck the patrons nearby, though her hazel eyes were intent on listening more from the conversation.

Liora quietly noted their words in her journal, her soft voice barely audible as she mused.

"The Knights have done it again, their capabilities an embodiment of how it means for light to stand against darkness. Elara Stormwind and her members do not waver, even if the odds are against them." she paused with her pen hovering on the page. "I will need to find an excuse and follow up on their patrol routes later."

Azzel took notice of Liora, though his gaze flickered back at the murmuring patrons.

'The situation is getting crazy. Thankfully, I met that stranger earlier. If I continue roaming the market, I might have caught somebody else's attention.'

Azzel found it peculiar that the city lord and his guards were withdrawn from this squabble.

'Is he ignoring it or simply interested in draining the entire city before moving out?'

Liora, oblivious to Azzel's presence, closed her journal and finished her meal. She left soon after, not bothering to stay and chat with the other patrons.

Azzel's eyes lingered on her as she departed, her figure illuminated by the warm glow of dusk.

'What could that woman be up to?' he wondered briefly before dismissing the thought.

Realizing the time, he rose from his seat and left the tavern. He felt Rudgel's gaze following him to the door.

Behind the counter, Rudgel's hands moved with quiet purpose, signaling to the barmaid who had served Azzel earlier. Without hesitation, she slipped into the back, her actions swift and deliberate, though her true intentions remained a mystery.

Azzel aimlessly roamed around the city before he went straight to a small shop in a secluded alley.

He stepped inside and gazed at the hanging masks and cloaks, from simple coverings to exquisite designs and almost lifelike features. It displayed the shop's ability to cater to those who sought anonymity in these troubled times.

An elderly shopkeeper gazed at his tensed figure, the drooping aged eyes filled with shrewdness and mystery.

"A day of secrecy, young man? Is it a matter of pursuit in fame, or infamy?"

He smiled and stood up, approaching Azzel with wide open arms. The latter did not attempt to explain himself, requesting the owner of his needs.

"I'd like a few masks for me and my companion. Something practical that hides my features and withdraws anyone's attention."

The shopkeeper grinned, contemplating as he stroked his chin.

He turned around and shuffled through a rack of masks with intricate designs and bland colors. He hovered the mask in front of his face and spoke.

"The mask favored by the cautious. The touch of soft leather drives you in comfort yet blurs enough to etch a shadow on your face. If you deem it too lacking, I can offer something far better that can enchant the crowd."

Azzel raised his eyebrow though was unsure what the shopkeeper meant by this.

"To enchant the crowd?"

"Yes, enchanted masks are not unheard, yet they remain unseen. It is an extra layer of anonymity, maybe even a touch of silence to your steps."

He pulled out a plain dark mask with a slight silver shimmer. "These, however, come at a price."

Azzel examined the mask, his pale fingers brushing its smooth surface.

"No, not this. I need one, nothing elaborate. Just something that keeps my face in the shadow."

The shopkeeper studies him deeply, sensing the weight of Azzel's presence.

"A face in the shadows… not seeking one's gaze." he grinned knowingly, reaching under the counter. "I have just the thing. A mask that moves in your silence, yet its presence still felt even in darkness."

The shopkeeper took out a plain, dark mask, crafted to cast deep shadows over the eyes, subtly emphasizing Azzel's intense gaze when worn.

"No one will look twice, yet it commands respect. Understated, yet powerful. Like you."

This time, Azzel found a deep yet mysterious connection with the mask. "This will work, and the price?"

"Five silver coins, for a face that speaks volumes in silence." The shopkeeper chuckled at his words, noticing Azzel's unyielding tone. "Consider it a discount for someone… distinguished."

"A good deal." Azzel handed the silver over without hesitation, slipping the mask over his face and feeling the way it shadowed his features, retaining a hint of authority that went beyond appearance. "This will do."

The shopkeeper received the coins and stepped back, admiring this interesting customer.

"Indeed sir, you wear that mask well. But you should remember that a mask only hides your face, not the strength that lies within."

Azzel gave a curt nod, his mask enhancing his already formidable aura. "I will keep that in mind."

"And for your friend here, a tall fellow… something that needs more presence." The shopkeeper eyed Abaddon, appraising his tall, armored frame. "This one is unique. Not many would ask of this… though it has a certain effect on people."

The shopkeeper chose a different mask. It was a bone-white mask with faint crimson markings, angular lines, and a subtle design striking and intimidating.

Azzel exchanged it with another set of silver coins before giving it to Abaddon. "This one suits you."

"Thank you, master." Abaddon bowed slightly and put on the mask, accentuating his already intimidating figure with its ghostly presence. "This mask has character. I will wear it well."

The shopkeeper sized them both up, curious about their partnership.

"Your outfits make a pair. I doubt your errands are anything but ordinary."

"No harm done in being cautious. There are too many eyes in this city nowadays. An unpredictable atmosphere, if I say."

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Azzel noticed that his speech seemed quite different from before, a contrast to his awkward and shy disposition in the earlier days.

The vendor shrugged at his words. "You are not wrong. It is not a bad idea to wander around like a ghost."

The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed as the pair, like a shadow and the other like a wraith, turned to leave, giving one last phrase.

"Take care, stranger. People like you do not need masks to make an impression, but sometimes, they need shadows to carry it."

The pair exited the shop and saw that the sun had set, its warm light replaced by the cold, moonlight.

Under the cover of the night, Azzel and Abaddon moved silently through the winding streets of Doba City.

A dark aura enveloped their figures, shrouding their presence as they melded into their surroundings. Azzel could easily summon this technique, especially at night. His vigilant gaze swept over their path, hidden behind the dark, featureless mask.

The air around them felt stagnant as if it was on the brink of erupting into a large storm, yet Azzel calmly ran on the city's empty cobbled streets, indifferent to the world's desolation.

They arrived upon the aged stone walls where sections jutted out or hung precariously, crumbling from the city's negligence. Abaddon led the way with mastered steps, avoiding the sharp eyes of the watchmen stationed on the walls. Their faint silhouettes were barely noticeable in the dim, flickering torchlights.

Their destination was outside Doba City, secluded at the edge of a quiet forest near it.

The pair shuttled through the trees, shone upon by the faint moonlight filtered by the forest's countless leaves.

Not far away stood a figure whose face remained hidden under the hood, a few branches away from Azzel and Abaddon.

"Punctual and prepared. Your efforts are appreciated."

"You wanted a meeting and we're here. What do you want?"

The stranger studied their figures. "A direct approach to business – I like that. I have a task that requires discretion, and a certain skill set."

"Let me hear it then," Azzel spoke in a lowered voice.

The stranger struts around the branch, fidgeting with their fingers.

"A relic has been taken by some low-level cultists, members of the Ashen Veil. It is of interest to me and detrimental in the wrong hands. I need it retrieved without drawing attention."

Azzel narrowed his eyes and suspected something. "If it is so important, why not take it by yourself?"

The stranger smirked. "My involvement is not important… and besides, it would be in vain to drag you two here without an offer from mine, wouldn't it? You get the resources you need, and I receive the relic I desire."

"And how did you think we are suited for this?" Abaddon suddenly asked, surprising Azzel.

The stranger faced them, hands crossed on their back. "I have been watching you, but the city does not. You are not known by many and are capable of moving unnoticed. If you are not suited for this work, no one else in the city is."

Azzel gestured for Abaddon to stand down, placing his hand on his chest. "What matters is the compensation."

He did not know when this fellow started observing them but there was no point contemplating it now.

The stranger let out a knowing smile and tossed a pouch towards them. Azzel caught it mid-air, feeling the weight of the coins inside.

"Half now, the rest upon completion. The illustration of the relic is in the pouch. If I remain invested in your results, a future collaboration is not impossible."

Azzel paused, thinking it through. Accepting this will start him on a path, possibly with no return, yet the other path was nothing short of being hard either.

Thinking of the consequences, a fierce and determined look flashed in his eyes. "Fine, we'll retrieve your relic, but you should know that coins are useless to me."

The stranger tilted their head, a faint, almost amused smirk crossing their lips. "I expect as much. What I offer is far more valuable. Bring me the relic, and the doors to the true depths of dark magic will open for you. Knowledge, power... and beyond"

Azzel harrumphed, his distrust evident. "Give me the relic's location then. No tricks or cryptic messages this time."

"The relic is stored in a warehouse in the eastern quarters of the city. I advise that you do not underestimate your enemies, for they are hidden and many," The stranger lifted their left index finger and gave out some advice. "Discretion is key. No unnecessary engagements. I trust you understand."

"We move in the shadows. Attention is the last thing we would give."

The stranger nodded, "Then I am assured. You can take your time, but not too long. I will leave you to it,", fading into obscurity but stopping momentarily. "Doba City is a place where reputations are forged quickly. Make sure that yours would be one serving you well."

They disappear into the night, leaving Azzel and Abaddon alone.

Abaddon turned his head over to Azzel.

"Master, the stranger's words have a point. If we are to follow this path, we are bound to be known sooner or later, in infamy or glory."

"Indeed. Hiding our identities is essential but the masks alone are not enough." Azzel caressed his mask, gliding through its smooth texture. "If we are to operate in the shadows, we need… a different version of ourselves. Names that hold weight but do not reveal everything."

Abaddon considered his words. His demeanor was slightly different from his usual stoic self.

"They should be simple, anonymous, but recognizable enough to establish consistency."

Azzel glanced at the foliage underneath. Under the shade of countless leaves above, their forms were roughly identifiable.

"Shade, like a shadow lurking under the watch of the light. That's it."

"It will suit your role well, master. A figure who operates in the darkness seen only in fragments." Abaddon nodded, the logic in the choice clear.

He took off his mask and noticed its pale color, the intricate designs almost forming a spectral appearance.

"Then I will be Specter. Something that follows, an untouchable presence in the dark."

Azzel glanced at him with a curious look. "You are quite the chatterbox today, are you not?"

Abaddon smiled under the mask. "And you are very confident tonight too, master."

They both fell silent and considered the weight of their identities. It could form a protective shield, separating their actions from their true selves.

Azzel broke the silence and spoke.

"Shade… and Spectre. These names do not define us completely, but they will become part of what we do. It is an identity that is real yet not enough to tie us down. Remember, when we are in action, we do not share the bond of a master and a follower, but accomplices."

The young man and his follower share a nod of understanding, using these names as practical tools rather than mere identities.

"Shall we proceed with the task, master?" Abaddon adjusted his cloak.

"We can do so now to prove our commitment to that stranger. However, moving this early might expose us. You must have noticed that tavern owner's sharp eye. Let's see how he reacts first and adjust our actions accordingly. I have a feeling that we were trailed but that fleeting sensation vanished after arriving at that mask shop."

In silence, they turn back toward Doba City, each step taking them closer to the task.

The tavern was quieter than usual with a few patrons either left drunk or wasting their time away. The flickering light from the hearth cast long shadows across the walls, giving the place a peculiar silence.

Azzel and Abaddon returned covered by the darkness, their masks safely stored in the storage ring. Rudgel's sharp eyes instantly locked on them from behind the counter as they stepped inside. Azzel felt the tension from his inquisitive gaze, hiding all of it behind an indifferent face.

Rudgel casually leaned against the counter and asked.

"You're back late. City's not the safest during the night these days."

Azzel gave a slight smile. "We are just getting to know this city, Mr. Rudgel. It does not harm to know a few things around, don't you think?"

Rudgel shifted his eyes into Abaddon whose towering body looked hideous under the dim light. He did not comment though his hands moved under the counter, contemplating something.

"Well," Rudgel said after a pause. "I hope you found what you were looking for."

Azzel nodded, offering no remarks as he headed toward the stairs. Abaddon followed silently, his presence casting a long shadow across the room before they disappeared upstairs.

After they were gone Rudgel turned his focus towards the barmaid who had been secluding herself at the back. He gave a subtle gesture, and she approached silently.

"You've trailed them for a while," Rudgel asked lowly. "What did you see?"

The barmaid frowned, recalling her recent experiences. "They did not do much... but wandered around the marketplace for a while without doing anything. It was strange."

Rudgel's eyes narrowed, his suspicion escalating. "That doesn't line up with what they've been saying. Wandering aimlessly at night doesn't suit their type."

The barmaid shrugged, shaking her head. "It was all that I had seen with my very own eyes."

Rudgel sat on the stool and leaned his back to the counter. "Keep an eye on them every night. They're hiding something."

Upstairs, Abaddon closed the door behind them. He looked at his master and worried about their next step.

"The owner is growing suspicious, master. This is not normal."

"It would be nice if he was someone ordinary and was worried about his patron's well-being, but those actions and words don't come from someone brimming with hospitality. He could be a spy from one of the factions, the Ascendant Concord perhaps." Azzel closed his eyes while massaging his temples. "We might need to find another place to settle down soon. It will cost us, though I lack anything but money right now."

The thought of the gold coins he had paid here being wasted away pained his heart.

"I felt movement from the kitchen right after we left, master," Abaddon added. "Could it be the barmaid herself? I did not catch a glimpse of her at the counter earlier. Maybe she could be the one who have trailed us earlier?"

Azzel paced around the room. "That might have been a coincidence. Either way, we can't rely on staying in this tavern any longer."

"Shall we alter our movements, master? Perhaps adjust our schedules or blend into crowds?"

Azzel stopped pacing and turned to the window beside his bed. The task at hand was to retrieve the relic and he could use it to cover their retreat.

'During the darkness where sight is limited, but my dark magic thrives...'

A plan formed in his mind, replying to Abaddon after a moment of silence. "We'll adapt to that. For now, we should ensure that nothing can connect to us beyond this room."

Abaddon bowed slightly before leaving the room, guarding it from outside. Azzel crawled to the bed and fell asleep, his dreams filled with an episode of confusing sequences.