The Flama family.
The couple moved from Gemino, and it was said that their ancestors had some noble blood. They once owned a fairly successful jewelry store in Grape Collar, and being charitable, they were very well-liked. The Flama family had four children—at the time of the incident, their eldest son had just turned twenty, and their second daughter was about to come of age. Their third son was preparing for his seventh birthday, and the youngest daughter was about two years old.
On the night the Flama family was destroyed, people saw the "seven-year-old cultist" in the flames. An old pair of hands pressed firmly on the child's shoulders, making him watch as his family burned.
The young boy just watched without screaming, breaking down, or even shedding a tear. He watched as his family's hair turned to ash and their eyes melted out of their sockets. He just watched silently, as if it had nothing to do with him.
The child chosen by the evil god and the family that worshiped the evil god disappeared from Grape Collar.
That was the old woman's version. Strangely enough, she couldn't remember any of their names but recalled their ages very well.
"Their eldest son had just been chosen as a knight for the Temple of Life, and the daughter was set to inherit the store once she came of age. Those two children—they were so young. I remember clearly…"
"That child, chosen by the cult at such a young age, was either a servant of the god or a Chosen One…"
The old woman explained indifferently, "No one mentions their names anymore. They say a cultist's name brings bad luck… and if no one mentions it, naturally, no one remembers."
"And you don't believe in the gods," Crimson mused, weighing the golden thread in his hand, feeling an uncanny sense of déjà vu.
"Not everyone in the world is a believer." The old woman continued spinning. "Except for the eldest son, the Flama family weren't believers either…"
It's all meaningless talk. Crimson continued to gaze at the golden thread in his hand.
It wasn't real gold thread, but plant fibers dyed gold with magic, fine and strong. They shimmered in the sunlight, reminding him of… the Mad Monk.
Wait, when did the Mad Monk first appear?
Thinking back, the first recorded case of the Mad Monk was discovered in August of 711. Just before the Immortal Church perished, the Chosen One supposedly died in a fire. A month later, the formidable and mysterious Mad Monk appeared in public view.
[Trace along the river of fate and return to the land of bountiful grapes.]
Before his own journey back in time, the Mad Monk made his appearance near Grape Collar, alongside Paradise. After returning to the past, the only informant was selling golden threads. Wasn't this all too coincidental?
No, it made sense.
The Mad Monk had always been hunting the high ranks of the Eternal Church. Without knowledge of the Church, he couldn't have been so seamless in his actions. His family was paraded before the public by the Temple of Life, so he showcased those adorned bodies to the Temple.
…This explanation did make sense!
Crimson clenched the thread tightly. This must be a divine revelation. His god had given him the thread of Ariadne*. If that strange young boy in the dungeon was the Mad Monk…
*Clarity: A figure in Greek mythology. A Cretan princess and daughter of King Minos, she is most famous for helping Theseus escape the Minotaur and the labyrinth by giving him a ball of thread that allowed him to retrace his steps.
Bringing back the Chosen One was optional, but if it was the young Mad Monk, the implications were different—
Every "Demon" Player had the same system quest. If anyone successfully captured the Mad Monk, they would receive a massive amount of experience points and a unique set of rare equipment.
He had to go back.
Crimson solemnly placed the thread into his pocket.
He had to return and leave his magical mark on that boy. Once he returned to the future, a simple divination would reveal the Mad Monk's location.
By then, he could bring back the Chosen One and complete the Mad Monk's quest. God truly favored him. Once he received the rewards, he'd surely offer "Golden Sword" Billy as a sacrifice to God.
Considering the timeline, there was still time before the fire at the Immortal Church. Everything was still possible.
...
Nol looked closely at Teest, who just happened to be looking back at him with a face that seemed to say, "The popcorn is finished. Can we leave now?"
Teest still had that indifferent attitude. Nol sighed internally, realizing that this wasn't something he wanted to show him.
In a corner where Teest couldn't see, Nol's fingers clenched the hem of his robe.
Remaining relics, tales from others—though not particularly vivid or direct, they dug deeper into him like thorns in flesh, compelling him to care. Nol became more and more confused about what Teest really wanted to show him… An unusual childhood? A tale of successful revenge? Or the transformation of the Mad Monk?
"I haven't changed much, if you're curious about that," Teest remarked, glancing at the old woman. "But I love my parents—for most people, having a child like me, they'd choose to sell to a mercenary house. Naturally cold-blooded guys like me should be placed appropriately, or so they say."
"But they didn't sell you," Nol commented, trying not to recall the grim heads in the courtyard.
"Yes, they said they loved me." Teest spoke nonchalantly, as if he were discussing someone else. "After all, the mercenary house isn't a good place. Humans have their own way of nurturing, as do dogs. Those people prefer ferocious hounds over humans. Luckily, my parents loved me more than gold… Though even now, I don't understand what they truly loved about me."
His parents gave him the same brown hair as his siblings, taught him to read and write, and prepared every breakfast with care. They protected the neighbors from him, and him from the neighbors.
His older brother believed that when he grew up, he could become a special kind of knight—one responsible for executions and assassinations. That way, he wouldn't indiscriminately kill, and he would be good at it.
His sister said he wasn't completely irredeemable. He could "still feel things", which was enough for them. His little sister, who could barely speak, still smiled at him, waving her chubby arms.
A good family, Teest's own treasure.
He didn't think there was anything wrong with killing, nor did he have any particular reason or impulse to kill. Back then, he was just a kid—much like how a dragon in a story could choose to burn a village or guard its treasure in slumber.
But humans would always come to take away treasures, and slumber would eventually end.
He couldn't help but look at Nol.
Without his hood, Nol seemed more mature than when they first met. His black hair was longer, shiny like dark pearls. Teest usually had no interest in the features of others, but Nol's face always caught his attention.
Thankfully, there was no pity in Nol's eyes—just the right amount of contemplation and sorrow. Nol stared intently at Teest, as if the person he was looking at was the center of the world.
This was the kind of gaze Teest yearned for—a mix of curiosity and concern, as comforting as warm water.
A rare treasure, which he couldn't afford to lose, Teest thought.
However, Nol and his family were ultimately different.
He shared blood ties with his family, but with Nol, there was only a fragile contract… But that was okay. He would resolve this issue soon.
Crimson headed straight for the dungeon of the Supplement Demons.
He expertly avoided the guards and returned to the young Teest's cage. This time, Crimson was even more cautious—previously, Nol could see his facial features from the shadows. Now, using a Player's skill, Crimson hid his entire face in the dark.
"Hello, sir." The young Teest sat innocently on a rock, his face pure and guileless. "Are you the new teacher? They told me a few days ago that my lessons were over."
Crimson didn't reply. He began to break the binding magic surrounding the cage. Inside, the young Teest sat motionless.
"Sir?" he asked, interlocking his fingers, inquiring politely and cautiously.
Crimson remained silent, determined to hide his identity in front of Teest. As he unlocked the cage, layers of shields lit up around him. At the same moment, he bit his left hand and, with his right hand, lunged for Teest's neck.
He used a certain skill, and his fingertips immediately poked several bloody holes in Teest's neck. The young Teest couldn't dodge in time. He was pushed back, hitting the hard edge of a stone with a loud thud.
[Tracing Blood Curse]
Nol's nerves tightened immediately.
It was sinister dark magic. The caster mixed their own blood with the blood of the other, requiring only a drop to easily divine the other's location and status afterwards.
He instantly realized Crimson's intention—there were anomalies with the Chosen One in the front, followed by the golden thread in the back. This guy probably guessed that Teest was the Mad Monk, and he was leaving a tracking mark!
Damn it. Another event he couldn't directly interfere with.
"Sir…" The young Teest coughed painfully, struggling to make a sound from his throat. Crimson acted swiftly and decisively, paying no attention to Teest, and pressed his bleeding left hand onto the young man's neck.
The young Teest struggled "helplessly", his foot kicking Crimson's robe. The ball of golden thread rolled to the ground.
Nol's eyes lit up. He swallowed and summoned a gust of wind with his staff. The ball of golden thread gently rolled, stopping at the young Teest's feet.
Beside him, the adult Mad Monk let out a soft chuckle.
The young Teest stopped struggling.
Crimson successfully pressed his bleeding finger on the young Teest's wound. Just as he was about to stand up with satisfaction, he heard a slightly aggrieved mutter.
"It hurts, sir," the young Teest said, with a hint of laughter in his voice. "I don't like others using dark magic on me, sir."
At the same time, Crimson noticed the golden thread around his neck.
The ball of golden thread had dispersed at some unknown point, moving like snakes in the shadows, their paths crude but deadly. Those threads were undoubtedly cursed. They cut directly through Crimson's protective shield, leaving a ring of blood marks on his neck.
…Unfortunately, it was still too naive. Players couldn't die after all.
Pretending to be frightened, Crimson recoiled, and the young Teest unconsciously lowered his guard. Just as he was about to pull on the threads, Crimson lunged forward, grabbing the young man's head and smashing it against a rock.
Bang!
Caught off guard, the young Test's head brutally collided with the hard stone, blood instantly covering half of his face.
"Shh—" Crimson uttered with a smirk. "Be quiet, little demon."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
While talking, Crimson, holding tightly onto the young boy's white hair, ruthlessly smashed his head against the rock—this killer was extremely ruthless, yet he skillfully avoided fatal blows.
With every thud, Nol's entire being froze.
Having lived for so many years, this was the first time he felt genuine murderous intent towards another human.
With skin torn and blood splattering, the young Teest's head drooped limply, his eyes tightly shut, and the blood on his forehead almost dripping down. Only then did Crimson release him with satisfaction. The moment he let go, he staggered.
While he had been focused on knocking out Teest, that golden thread somehow wrapped around his ankle.
Even now, they were creeping up his leg, trying to hold him in place.
"Thank you for the lesson, sir." The young Teest opened his eyes amidst the blood and spoke with a voice laced with humor. "Feigning weakness can be quite useful."
The golden threads wrapped tightly around Crimson's body on one end and slithered towards the iron cage bars like snakes, winding around them tightly on the other end.
The young Teest wiped the blood from his face and clumsily directed the threads. Instead of recklessly attacking, he tried to immobilize Crimson. He himself remained seated on the bloodstained white rock while blood continued to profusely flow from his forehead, staining his white robe bright red.
Crimson's breath halted for a moment.
Damn it, this was the Mad Monk's murderous mode. Even knowing that Players wouldn't die, he couldn't help but feel his heart race for a moment.
It was too dangerous. The [Tracing Blood Curse] had been planted. He must leave immediately.
Thankfully, this was over a decade ago, and these fools knew nothing of a Player's power. Crimson snapped his fingers, and a pre-prepared magical tool activated instantly. The cage full of golden threads was largely severed, and several deep, bone-exposing wounds appeared on the young Teest.
Farewell, young Mad Monk.
Crimson rushed towards the outside of the cage and glanced back. "We'll meet again in the future. You're destined to be—"
Bang!!!
Another muffled sound of flesh colliding. But this time, it was Crimson who was sent flying. Just as he was turning his head, he collided with something dark and was pushed back into the cage.
Hitting the edge of a stone with the back of his head, Crimson was dazed for a few seconds, then was once again bound tightly by a golden thread.
"Are you okay?" The dark thing—Piel asked anxiously. Seeing Crimson trying to move again, he quickly lunged, sitting directly on Crimson's chest.
The weight of human Piel wasn't much, but in the form of a half-human, half-griffin monster Piel, it was quite substantial. Crimson felt suffocated. His fingers twitched twice, but then the golden thread wrapped him up preemptively.
The young Teest stepped on Crimson's hand, murmuring words as dark magic poured down. Ensuring Crimson couldn't break free for the time being, he sighed in relief and leaned dizzily against the stone edge.
"Kid, how did you get here?" The young Teest said, touching a wound on his forehead. The bleeding gradually stopped.
"I-I found that my claws are powerful and can break the bars," Piel, still sitting on Crimson's chest, replied. His eyes quickly darted to Nol and Teest who were sitting above Crimson. "I woke up feeling a bit scared, and then heard fighting sounds here, so…"
"Why did you come if you were scared?" The young Teest raised an eyebrow. "I was thinking of killing you last night. Do you trust me that much?"
Piel was stunned, seemingly forgetting that fact.
"I want to be a knight in the future!" After some thought, he offered this reason, his voice fading. "To help others…"
Teest glanced at him and snorted. "You're too naive to be a knight. Today you break the bars, and tomorrow they'll replace them with stronger ones."
Realizing this, Piel exclaimed in surprise and looked frantically between Teest and Nol. The adult Teest shook his head at him, making an X sign in front of his lips.
Nol was staring at Crimson, lost in thought, and didn't meet Piel's eyes.
"So, you didn't kill him because you feared they'd be more wary of you?" Piel's gaze wandered.
The young Teest laughed.
"No," he replied cheerfully. "They've known for a long time that I can kill. They've trained me for this… I just have some questions for this guy."
The young Teest ground his foot on Crimson, who seemed to have become much more submissive. It might be a good idea to see what this man really looks like.
"Stay put, kid," the young Teest said, bending down to pull off Crimson's hood.
Underneath was a tall man.
He had grayish-blond hair, a rather sharp face, and blue eyes that darted around. There were scars left by acne on his face.
He cursed at Teest, lacking his earlier arrogance… Was it an illusion? He seemed a bit thinner than before.
Well, forget it. Details didn't matter. It was good when the prey became docile.
"Answer my questions properly, and I'll give you a quick death," the young Teest threatened, kicking the man in the face and breaking his nose. "Otherwise, I'll use you for torture practice. Trust me, you won't like it."
But the man looked confused. He frowned. "What are you saying? Why can't I understand? …What are you saying?"
A strange guy, using such a poor excuse when they had just been speaking moments ago.
The young Teest tightened the cursed golden thread, having calculated the man's possible magic resistance.
With a "pop" sound, followed by Piel's scream, the man shattered beneath him, his scream even louder than Piel's.
As the cursed golden thread tightened, he fragmented, like soft butter breaking apart instantly. The dark patterns of the curse crazily corroded his flesh. All the wounds on his body turned black and rotted, giving off a foul smell.
"God…"
The man groaned with his mutilated upper half. On his ordinary face, both eyes brimmed with black blood vessels. He reached out toward the only source of magical illumination in the cell. There was no despair in his tone, only a mysterious anger.
"My… divine revelation… Impossible…"
The young Teest stepped hard on that hand. The swollen hand burst beneath his foot, leaving behind only bones and a slimy residue.
He hung his head in thought for a long moment, then looked at Little Piel. "Is your butt cursed?"
Little Piel was paralyzed with fear, all four of his legs trembling like dried leaves in the wind. "No! Absolutely not! He… He did that himself… Urgh!"
The newly promoted monster lay on the ground, vomiting.
"Forget it. I'll do better next time," Teest said with regret, cautiously collecting the golden thread.
"…After all, this guy is quite weak. Only a lackey would always have 'God' on the tip of his tongue."
The adult Mad Monk stood on the edge of Crimson's cloak. He stared at Nol with an uncommonly blank expression.
In Nol's right hand, the bloodstains on the letter opener were especially jarring.
The author has something to say:
A little prelude to the climax of this arc (?
Kinky Thoughts:
I guess we're seeing the blackening of Nol. These two are like the opposite of Ollie and Nemo.
I supposed in an alternate universe, if Ollie gave in at a certain arc in Stray, perhaps this would be what they would become.