Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 80: The First Hunt

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 (?

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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.

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 79: Golden Thread

In the middle of the night, Crimson sat up in bed.

He had an uneasy feeling about the pale boy in the dungeon. The Eternal Church taught the child skills of killing and torture, as well as secret magic, and made him drink bottle after bottle of dangerous potions. Yet, they hadn’t taken enough defensive measures, as if they were storing a nuclear bomb in a junkyard.

Where did those fools get their confidence? Was it because the boy had always been obedient? Or because of the so-called prophecy of the Chosen One?

A future priest told him, [The Chosen One traces the river of fate and returns to the land of bountiful grapes—the darkness in his soul remains.]

The boy in the dungeon was almost pure white, which was an ironic twist.

Every time Crimson had such bad intuition, he would quickly leave the area. After all, this intuition had helped him avoid police surveillance and tracking countless times. It must come from his God.

Crimson wouldn’t mind staying out of the mess and watching the church burn. Compared to his own safety, the truth about past events was of no importance—curiosity was a serial killer’s worst enemy. But before seeking refuge, he wanted to take advantage of the situation.

He decided to sneak into the archives for one last try—even if he couldn’t see the prophecy, he might find other records, like when the boy first entered the church. Now that he knew the basic characteristics of the Chosen One, there were many ways to gather information.

Crimson put on his hood and silently left the room.

Deep in the dungeon.

Little Piel nervously gripped his new talons. The sharp talons on his forefoot almost cut his fingers. He looked haggard and tired but dared not close his eyes, shrinking like a startled bird.

The newly born demon was still adjusting to his body, unable to move outside or rest. Nol got some sweet milk with honey from Teest for Little Piel. The sweet taste and a touch of magic made Little Piel finally close his eyes.

“Now we finally have some time to ourselves.” Teest sighed. “It’s a pity we have to keep an eye on Crimson, though.”

“Can I see you first?”

Asking this felt somewhat bold, Nol thought, but he was genuinely concerned about the young Teest’s condition.

Teest smiled. “Of course, I always welcome your gaze.”

Nol looked up at the man on the stone. The adult Teest held his hand, the warmth in his palm giving a sense of displacement.

The young Teest had returned to his cage. He ignored the clean straw inside and curled up on the cold stone. His body lay sideways, curled up, reminiscent of a baby in its mother’s womb.

As the two approached, the young Teest opened his eyes. He propped himself up, looking around alertly—more vigilant than a wild animal in the wilderness. His hair was messy, but a perfect smile was already on his face.

It looked like a stress reaction.

Indeed, no matter how wild or indifferent the young Teest might act, pain was still pain, and no one liked to feel pain. In reality, Nol felt that the young Teest before him might need a hug even more than he did. However, fate could be unkind, and for now, he could only hold onto one of the boy’s fingers.

The blue flame flickered, and Nol gently waved his staff. A faint breeze passed by, causing the strands of hair stuck to the young Teest’s face to fall smoothly back behind his ear.

A fleeting look of confusion crossed the young Teest’s face. He played with his hair, and the curiosity in his eyes gradually overshadowed his vigilance.

“Let’s go,” Nol said after a long pause.

“So, we used to be this close?”

Teest casually adjusted his hair, seemingly indifferent.

“Yes.”

……

Crimson wasn’t hard to find.

The murderer from the future never expected there to be other “travelers”, so he didn’t bother to completely mask his presence. Nol sensed his aura. By the time they located him, Crimson had just left the bedroom.

The man, cloaked, headed towards the top of the church. Without hesitation, Nol and Teest caught the hem of his robe, swiftly climbed to the top of his hood, and squatted in a comfortable fold.

They watched as Crimson sneaked into the servant’s quarters, torturing the oldest servant for information about the location of certain documents. After he was done, they witnessed him killing an Eternalist—naturally, no one felt the need to stop him.

In a way, he was quite useful.

The document room was in the main tower of the church, and its defenses were weaker than they’d anticipated. The two rode on Crimson, smoothly reaching the archives of the Immortal Church.

[They actually hid the documents here.] Teest mused. [I previously thought this place was some kind of weapons storeroom.]

[Didn’t you discover this when you were young?]

[I didn’t investigate that thoroughly back then. There were many guards around,] Teest replied. [I’m bold, not stupid.]

Crimson didn’t care about the number of guards. He played a standard patrol-stealth game using his Player skills. If it weren’t for the unexpected guests on his head, his infiltration would have been nearly flawless.

Upon entering the archives, Nol finally felt a familiar sense of relief. He’d felt things were going too smoothly. See? Bad luck was bound to happen.

The archives was split into two. Their current space was filled with ancient books and scrolls locked in chains. Deeper in the archives was a door, carved from a single piece of magic stone—its magical defenses were hundreds of times stricter than the dungeon. Keyholes were placed on either side, clearly requiring two people to open.

“Damn it.” Crimson sighed.

[Do you think they placed the records of important treasures in the outer room?] Nol pondered with a touch of melancholy from atop Crimson’s head.

[Doubtful.] Teest shrugged. [On the bright side, at least we know where this place is. That’s significant progress.]

Crimson scanned the room for a while. He casually skimmed through magical research documents, examined the accounting section, and seemed to find nothing. Ultimately, he stopped at the work records of various priests.

“Feels like investigating a case. Being a detective is such a hassle. I can’t understand those masochists,” he mumbled while flipping through the thick volumes.

Nol paused.

The prophecies of the Chosen Ones were strictly confidential, but daily records would reveal some clues. The young Teest was definitely sent in by someone. Even he knew about the “recent decade”. As a Demon from the Eternal Church, Crimson surely knew more.

[You, first search for the ‘Eclipse Shield’ records. Someone needs to watch him.] Nol told Teest. [We can’t let him mess things up.]

Crimson particularly picked up the work record of a deceased priest, quickly searching the recent decade’s entries. The priests had taken pride in their misdeeds, recording their cruel acts in great detail.

As Crimson browsed, his expression grew more bitter.

From shock to anger to numbness, Nol’s emotions cycled. Teest had already roamed the room and returned, resting his head on Nol’s thigh, deep in sleep.

Finally, Crimson paused at a certain page and raised his eyebrows.

[……Today, I discovered the target indicated by God. He was so close to us.]

[His parents are troublesome, very protective, and quite wealthy. They need to be dealt with promptly. Given the right circumstances, we can instill hatred in the child…]

Below the diary entry was a hastily sketched map. Any other person might be clueless about the drawing, but Crimson just smiled and summoned a system map interface.

“Compare the specified image with the street distribution of Grape Collar,” he instructed while flipping the pages.

[…Today, I brought the child back.]

[His hair was disguised by his parents to look deep brown, like his siblings. Once the disguise spell was removed, I saw flawless white hair. This child is a White Demon, fitting for his status.] 

[This might explain why he was indifferent to the destruction of his family. He was born for us…]

Nol pursed his lips.

“…My parents were always lovey-dovey, disgustingly sweet to each other, without considering the feelings of their children,” Teest once confided in him. Nol noticed a bit of sincerity at that time—a sincerity that was extremely rare for the Mad Monk.

Was Teest truly indifferent? Nol wasn’t sure.

[…Today, I visited the child.]

[He’s more docile than other test subjects, smiling at me in his own blood. He doesn’t fear darkness or death. He surely is an angel for Lord Anstis…]

And then this child became the Mad Monk, hunting the loyal followers of “Lord Anstis” day in and day out for over a decade. Nol’s feelings were mixed.

Crimson closed the book, and at the same time, a system notification popped up and hung silently in front of him.

“Oh, I remember that cursed shithole.” Crimson poked a red dot on the notification. “Shouldn’t there be a quest? Hello? Are you there?”

The system remained silent.

Outside, daylight began to break. Crimson tore out the page and leaped out of the window. Nol held on to his robe that was rippled by the wind and remained silent as well.

……

“Well, now I understand why the inspection became stricter back then.”

Teest murmured dejectedly, tapping on Crimson’s head and dodging his fingers, trying to scratch his head.

“Turns out this guy snuck into the archives and was dumb enough to damage the books.”

At this time, the sun had completely risen.

Crimson casually bought some breakfast and ate while walking towards the location mentioned in the records. Nol and Teest still sat on his head; one with a complex expression, the other drowsy.

“Crimson might just leave. He has a good intuition for danger.” Teest stretched and nudged the daydreaming Nol. “Are you really coming out with him like this?”

“The Eternal Church will only visit Piel in the evening. The spell I gave him will let him sleep for most of the day,” Nol replied. “I prefer breathing fresh air than plotting in a dungeon.”

“Oh. Okay.” Teest casually grabbed some dew, wiping his face. However, the warm wind made his drowsiness persist.

Crimson probably planned to visit his home, which was quite a distance from here.

Leaning against Nol, Teest closed his eyes again. Nol tensed up, his heart beating rapidly. The whole act was unnecessary for his planned drama, he thought. Too much time had passed that Crimson wouldn’t find any information, and neither would Nol.

The Temple of Life and the Eternal Church buried everything long ago.

Perhaps it was the familiarity of the nearby streets that made Teest briefly dream of the past.

He dreamt of walking home along a long road, passing various blurry-faced people. He saw faceless parents and noisy siblings.

The closer he got, the more details he could see—grapevines in the yard, a swing, and the small peak of a majestic house. He remembered having a swing in his yard, thankful that the Eternal Church’s constant brainwashing hadn’t made him forget entirely.

A distorted figure stood at the door, its shape shattered like a shadow on waves.

“Welcome home,” his mother said, though he had long forgotten her voice.

She was holding a little baby in her arms, and he guessed his mother was smiling.

This was his past property, all of it. From the pointed house to his family and the wobbly swing in the yard.

Teest calmly observed the dream’s phantoms, neither warm nor nostalgic, just instinctively reaching for the gold wheel in his pocket. He realized that the coin was no longer with him.

It was now buried deep within Nol’s flesh—this was his property now, all of it.

Teest opened his eyes, seeing the ruins of the pointed house.

The house was burnt to a blackened skeleton, its remains covered by waist-high wild grass. The swing in the yard was gone, burned, and decayed in the mud. The tree that once held the swing had been cut down into wooden stakes supporting five rotting skulls in the middle of the courtyard. Four belonged to adults, one to a child, and all decayed to mere bones.

They were still in their original positions. Teest waved at them.

Beside him, Nol’s hair stood on end, goosebumps covering his body.

The scene was horrifying, but what was more terrifying was that the surroundings were bustling—neat courtyards to the left and right, lively shops. Passersby hurriedly walked past the desolate ground, blind to the tragedy in the courtyard.

This yard was like a single gap in a set of perfect teeth, with everyone pretending not to see it.

Crimson hummed. “So this is the place.”

There was obviously a hidden story. Years later, Players trying to investigate everything about this courtyard found no clues—the neighbors knew nothing of this family, even with five skulls displayed so prominently. No one knew who they were.

But now was years before that time. Perhaps someone still remembered.

Crimson looked around and knocked on a neighbor’s door.

Unfortunately, he still received responses like “I don’t know,” “Not sure,” and “They’ve always been there.”

So he went further, trying to ask older shops. The reactions from the merchants were more intriguing—those who knew kept silent, just smiling apologetically and saying the place was unlucky. Only an old man nearing sixty pointed down the street. “You have to ask the old weaver. She doesn’t believe in God.”

In this row of neat teeth, the “old weaver” had only one tooth left. The old woman, wrinkled and shriveled, looked like a creature. She sat in front of a very narrow grocery store, leisurely spinning yarn. Beside her, a basket was filled with a dozen finished balls of yarn.

The old woman’s hearing seemed as bad as her vision. Crimson asked her five or six times before she understood and confirmed he wasn’t a giant red goose.

“That family…”

She spoke slowly, leisurely spinning her thread. “That family, they’re all cultists, impure believers, harboring blasphemous things in their home… so the Temple of Life killed them all, burned everything. That’s what everyone says…”

“Do you remember their surname? Or any of the members’ names?” Crimson asked cheerfully.

Indeed, his God still loved him. This old woman was so frail. She seemed as if she could die with just a gentle push. No wonder she wasn’t around a decade later. Once he returned, he’d pass this information on to the Eternal Church. Fabrications would be exposed, but he was trading in truth. It would certainly withstand all scrutiny.

“The Flama family… They used to run a jewelry shop. A lovely couple, quite likable… but it was all an act, everyone says so…” The old lady strained to remember. “Names… I don’t remember the names. I can’t think of them.”

Good, that was enough. The survivors of the Flama family, the beautiful White Demon. Speaking of which, having an exact age would be even better. “Do you remember their children? Their ages will do.” Crimson’s tone was noticeably gentler.

The old woman stopped spinning, looking at him with eyes almost completely hidden beneath her eyelids, only revealing the dark pupils.

After a moment, she finally answered.

“I remember. I remember they had four children—four lovely children. I’ve seen them…”

“I need the ages, ma’am,” Crimson reiterated. Of course, he knew about the four children. He had just seen the last one not too long ago.

“You ask too many questions.” The old woman coughed twice. “Buy a ball of yarn, young man.”

Such a troublesome old lady. Crimson casually tossed a gold wheel into her basket. “Is that enough? Continue.”

The old woman stared at the gold wheel, glistening attractively in the morning sun.

She fumbled at the bottom of the basket and pulled out a small ball of yarn.

“Four children,” she said. “One of them joined the Eternal Church at the age of seven, was discovered… and then people realized the whole family had issues. That’s what everyone says…”

“Alright, here’s your yarn, young man.”

The yarn of golden thread in her hand shimmered.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 78: The Real Demon

“No! Don’t come over—!”

Piel struggled inside the cage. His treatment wasn’t as “good” as the young Teest. The Eternalist used magic to pin him to a corner of the cage, ready to force-feed him a potion.

Desperately writhing, tears filled Piel’s eyes. “Mr. Fairies, Mr. Fairies, save me… wuwuwu. I don’t want to die!”

At that moment, two “fairies” stood on the straw, not far away. Teest hugged Nol protectively in anticipation of what might come next, but this time Nol didn’t rush forward.

Piel was destined to become a Supplement Demon, and nothing could change that fact. All they could do was watch.

The Eternalist held Piel’s chin like he was force-feeding livestock, pouring a flask of bright red potion down his throat. Holding Piel’s neck as one might hold a small chicken, the boy’s flesh began to distort and swell.

Blisters formed on Piel’s neck, bursting rapidly, and a yellowish fluid splashed everywhere, filling the surroundings with a pungent, sweet stench. Piel no longer screamed. He gasped for breath like a bellows, his whole body convulsing as if electrocuted.

Only then did the Eternalist let go. Wiping the pus off his hands with decorum, a satisfied expression appeared on his square face.

He then took a small statue of the Eternal Son from his pocket, murmuring incantations. Countless shining points of light flew out from the decaying flesh, extinguishing next to the statue.

Something warm seemed to have vanished. Nol felt a drop in the surrounding temperature.

When the Eternalist moved away, Nol approached the unrecognizable mass that was once Piel. This time, he was able to cast a pain relief spell smoothly. Whether the spell took effect or Piel had simply fainted was unclear.

After observing for a few minutes and ensuring that Piel hadn’t died on the spot, the Eternalist recited a few prayers and left with delight.

The oppressive silence returned.

Facing the flesh that once was Piel, Teest and Nol looked into each other’s eyes. Nol’s breathing was a bit rapid, and Teest could see shock and anger on his face, but they were just right.

Hmm, Nol didn’t seem to need a hug.

His Lich’s growth had matured. Perhaps Teest would never see him break down again. Touching his chin, Teest was unsure whether to feel happy or melancholic.

Nol gently touched the exposed flesh.

Piel’s skin had completely fallen off. The exposed muscles, covered in pus, were slippery and foul-smelling, with thin, twisted blood vessels clearly visible. Something was about to emerge from this pulsating flesh—either a new Supplement Demon or a grotesque corpse.

Closing his eyes, magical light emanated from Nol’s fingers, spreading across Piel’s body.

“What are you doing?” Teest picked a clean piece of straw and watched with interest. “He’s already turned. You can’t revert him.”

Nol didn’t answer. His silhouette looked utterly focused.

It took fifteen minutes before he finally dropped his hand, looking almost exhausted. The massive lump of flesh that was Piel still lay soft in the cage corner, with nauseating protrusions stretching out like a snail’s eyes.

“Griffin,” Nol said solemnly. “The potion they fed him contained griffin… I detected the unique magical fluctuations of a griffin.”

So, Nol was exploring the transformation process of the Supplement Demon.

Impressive. He even knew the magic fluctuations of monsters. The game design of this otherworld was so detailed that even Nol, a “participant”, knew so much.

Teest involuntarily narrowed his eyes. “Okay, griffin, so what?”

“That’s why the ‘rejection’ is so severe,” Nol replied, pressing his hand on Piel again. “It’s like organ transplant… Never mind, the potion is forcibly merging the magic circuits of two species.”

The Supplement Demon was born from this strange potion, and its effect reminded Nol of the “Fallen Death” skill—albeit a basic, primitive version.

If it had to be said, “Fallen Death” was a pure and unadulterated transfer of power. The actions of the Eternal Church were more akin to forcibly integrating the flesh of other species into humans, without distinction. Most of the test subjects would die and only those with great resilience or a unique constitution would survive.

However, they couldn’t escape the random mutations caused by this reckless fusion.

Only Teest was special. His undefined Player privileges likely played a role in that, Nol thought. A Player’s healing abilities weren’t just limited to mending wounds—it also included an “original form restoration” effect.

Little Piel wasn’t so lucky.

His heartbeat was frighteningly fast at the moment, his organs were decaying and morphing, and his blood had almost become a pus-mixed liquid. His physical condition was even worse than a freshly dead body. Healing spells simply wouldn’t work on such extreme mutations.

Nol held his breath, deeply concentrating, his brow furrowed.

Indeed, according to Teest, even if he did nothing, Piel would survive. Just like when Piel was caught earlier. Without his warning, Piel might’ve just been beaten up but would still have survived…

The universe might not care about the pain of this little boy, but someone did.

Nol’s fingertips shimmered once more. An unusual bluish glow followed Piel’s blood vessels, delving into the mass of deformed flesh.

Teest gently expressed his astonishment, moving closer to observe.

The “Fallen Death” skill was too intricate for Nol to replicate without aid. However, even a superficial imitation was better than the effects of the terrifying potion.

The faint glow waxed and waned, and the lump of decaying flesh gradually reduced in size. The pus-like smell weakened. The mass became somewhat transparent, encasing a fluid reminiscent of amniotic fluid, within which a monstrous figure curled up.

It looked like a meticulous surgery. Nol didn’t dare breathe as he devoted himself to adjusting the magic, calculating every move.

Merging circuits, reshaping physiologies…

Untangling conflicting magical currents… Cautiously, ever so cautiously…

At last, the quivering liquid sack burst open, and a trembling figure emerged, collapsing weakly on the ground, resembling a newborn puppy.

“I see,” Teest whispered. “I thought he naturally had such abilities. I didn’t realize you’d helped.”

It was a perfectly typical monster.

Its upper body resembled Piel, but below the waist, it was covered in nearly black, dark brown fur.

The boy’s lower body was joined to a beast’s, with four massive claws still twitching: the front resembling bird talons and the rear resembling lion’s paws. From Piel’s lower back sprouted two wet, powerful wings, currently drenched, making them appear pitiable.

The top half was human, and the bottom was a black griffin.

Little Piel’s hair had grown considerably, still damp. His deep purple Eyes of Truth remained. He lay on the ground, coughing continuously, his face displaying exhaustion and confusion. Despite being young, the transformed griffin body wasn’t that large, leaving some space within the cage.

“Mr. Fairies…” He reached out to Teest and Nol, his voice raspily whispering. “My… My body feels so heavy…”

“Congratulations.” Teest chuckled. “If you still want to be a knight, at least you don’t need to save up to buy a horse now.”

Piel laboriously turned his head to inspect his body, his eyes widening in shock. He seemed to want to scream but lacked the strength to produce any sound, opening and closing his mouth silently.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Nol exhaled. “He’s stable for now.”

Piel tried to lift himself using his arms but failed pitifully. He then tried to move his unfamiliar claws, flapping about on the spot. Even after realizing he’d turned into a monster, tears filled his eyes. Yet, compared to the other horrifying monstrosities around him, Piel didn’t utter a single word of complaint. He might not have been the brightest, but he wasn’t so naive as to not recognize who’d aided him.

With the last of his energy, Nol cast a drying spell on Piel. His fur and wings finally dried, making him look significantly fluffier.

[Want a spoiler?] Teest produced a raisin, offering half to Nol. [About this child or about me.]

The sweet raisin alleviated Nol’s dizziness, allowing him to focus on Teest.

The Mad Monk looked unchanged, as if they weren’t living a horrific past but merely watching a movie. The person he liked remained cunning and cruel.

[Did you plan this adventure specifically to showcase your experiences… ‘The Tragic Past of the Mad Killer’? You’re showing me this, not because you want my pity, I presume.]

Nol tried to maintain his composure, gripping the raisin tightly.

Every time Teest posed such rhetorical questions, Nol felt exasperated. As Teest took a step forward, he had to reciprocate by stepping back, and vice versa.

Teest seemed to treat it as some kind of “see how well you understand your significant other” game.

He didn’t want to sound so… hurtful, but Nol knew Teest probably didn’t want to hear how “heartbroken” he was.

[…The Mad Monk I know isn’t that boring, so I’d like to keep some suspense.] Nol concluded.

Teest smiled contentedly, taking it as a compliment. [Oh, don’t get me wrong. I just didn’t want you to impulsively rush out without notifying me. Honestly, I never imagined you’d care about me so much.]

‘Believe me, I care about you more than you can imagine,’ Nol thought.

However, he was trying to control his growing affection, understanding the need to maintain a delicate balance.

Regardless of how much he liked Teest, in the end, he would uncover the truth of the world and return to his world. Since an ending was inevitable, investing too much emotionally wasn’t wise.

Especially when the other party was the “Mad Monk”.

Nol looked into Teest’s eyes, only to find that his gaze was lifted, looking right behind Nol.

“Good evening.”

The young Teest’s voice sounded from behind Nol.

In that brief moment, Nol felt his hair nearly stand on end and quickly turned around.

The young Teest had somehow left his cage and was now standing outside of Little Piel’s cage. He wore a brand new white robe, was barefoot, and seemed to glow in the dark, appearing like a ghost not belonging to this world.

At this moment, the young Teest didn’t sound obedient at all, and even his voice wasn’t as clear. His voice had the hoarseness typical of teenagers, combined with the jovial tone characteristic of the Mad Monk.

“I came to greet the new member. It’s the first time I’ve seen someone who looks so normal.”

Due to the “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, the young Teest’s gaze went straight past the two of them to Little Piel on the ground. “Hello. Can you still understand human speech?”

“How… How are you outside?” After a few seconds of hesitation, Little Piel asked the question Nol was most concerned about.

“Because the Eternalists are idiots.”

The young Teest made a face, showing a mischievous smile. “‘He’s so obedient, My Lord. He’s perfect, My Lord’… Wow, they never considered that I might still have a brain.”

Little Piel swallowed hard, struggling to prop up his upper body. “I know how to escape!” He unnecessarily looked around, anxiously saying, “We… We can escape together. You help me move, and I’ll guide the way…”

The young Teest paused for a moment, the smile on his lips growing wider.

He grabbed the cage bars, pressing his beautiful face against them.

“I know, I know. By blocking the magic on the stone door with metal, you can leave the dungeon. I figured that out seven years ago.”

“As for the exit—are you talking about the side door in the west hall or the secret passage to the north? There’s also a small exit in the southern cellar, which might be too narrow for your size.”

Nol and Little Piel were both stunned.

There was now a bit more fear in Piel’s voice. “So, you could have escaped…”

“If I pretend to be an obedient fool, they provide me with power for free and teach me knowledge I can’t learn outside. With such favorable conditions, why would I leave?” the young Teest asked with genuine confusion.

Lunatic.

Piel shrank back into a corner of the cage, his claws retracted onto his belly, and the fear on his face deepened.

“Well, I don’t expect you to understand,” the young Teest mused. “Hmm… you can still think and speak, so I might as well take a gamble.”

With that, he pierced two fingers into his shoulder and pulled out a tiny gold wheel from his flesh.

Upon seeing the coin, Nol instinctively swallowed. An identical coin lay dormant in his flesh, with matching surface scratches.

Piel’s fur stood on end. “What are you gambling on?”

“I’m deciding whether or not to kill you,” the young Teest said nonchalantly. “I don’t like unexpected changes to my plans—I have something very important to do soon, and it might kill me. You showed up at a bad time.”

Little Piel shivered in fear. “I swear I won’t get in your way, really! I just want to leave here. I definitely don’t want to cause trouble…”

He clawed at the straw on the ground, as if hoping it would protect him.

The young Teest laughed. “But I don’t believe you.”

He tossed the bloody coin into the air and caught it on the back of his hand. “You choose first, ‘King’ or ‘Sun’?”

Little Piel looked helplessly at the fairies, and the adult Teest gave a subtle smile.

​[Sun,] he mouthed to Little Piel.

“I choose sun,” Little Piel replied with a dry voice.

“Wow, you guessed it right.” the young Teest moved his hand away, pushing the coin back into the wound as naturally as putting it back in a pocket. “Alright, I won’t kill you. Goodnight, my new friend—I’ll visit you tomorrow if you’re still alive.”

“Why?” Little Piel clenched the straw, having a myriad of questions to ask. In the end, he could only squeeze out this vague interrogative word.

“Why don’t I kill you?” The young Teest paused in his steps. “Because they keep chanting about this and that destiny for me. I guess before I fulfill that so-called prophecy, ‘fate’ will keep me alive—so if it doesn’t want me to kill you, then I won’t.”

Little Piel’s expression grew more vacant, utterly puzzled by the boy’s train of thought.

“Or perhaps, you want to ask why I don’t trust you.”

The young Teest turned around, hands behind his back, with a smile too bright to be believed. “Because you’re normal, and a normal person here would go mad sooner or later—if you don’t believe it, ask yourself a question.”

Facing away from the darkness, the cage, and the endless flesh, the pale boy covered his mouth and chuckled.

“Do you still remember your own name, new friend?”

“Of course!” Annoyed by the question, Little Piel raised his voice. “My name is! …My name is… Eh? I… “

What was his name again?

He remembered the past, no doubt, but he couldn’t recall his own name.

How did the fairies address him earlier? What was his name? …Who was he?

“That’s the first thing they take from you, and it’s just the beginning. Following the process, next will be your dignity, your sanity, and yourself.”

The young Teest slightly tilted his head, sweetly saying, “But you’re lucky. Your suffering won’t last long.”

“Honey, see how well you know me.” Simultaneously, Teest’s body leaned onto the still-stunned Nol. “This is not some ‘tragic past of a mad killer’—it’s far from it—”

In Nol’s view, the young Teest hummed a tune, hopping between the cages. His fingers brushed past the cold iron bars, producing musical notes.

As if he was performing.

The pale figure gracefully danced, gradually melting into the darkness.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 77: Ten Years

The demon dungeon was no smaller than the Lost Tower. Much to Nol’s surprise, their departure was smooth.

Half of the credit went to the “native” of the place, Teest, and the other half to Little Piel’s Eye of Truth. Complex illusions and deceptions seemed non-existent in front of the boy, and the group quickly found the exit—

A thick stone door adorned with magical patterns. It was about six times as tall as Piel, shimmering with magical light.

“Do as I say next.” Teest took a copper coin from his pouch and handed it to Piel. “See the patterns on the door? Use the coin to block the fifth one from the bottom and the eighth one from the left—it’s just the width of the coin.”

Darkness loomed behind them, accompanied by eerie, crying groans. Little Piel, trembling, followed the instructions, nearly dropping the coin.

When the coin covered both patterns, the door’s glow dimmed.

Teest and Nol jumped off the boy’s shoulders, each pushing the stone door from one side. The heavy door slowly slid open, and Piel squeezed through like a paper slipping through a crack.

Outside was a curved corridor with torches burning faintly, barely illuminating the nearby area. There were no windows in the corridor, and the air smelled like wet dust, which was a better odor than inside the dungeon.

They didn’t sense any immediate dangers.

Nol sighed with relief. It seemed Little Piel was destined to be captured by the Eternalists, but there was no need for him to stay in that nightmarish dungeon.

Looking at Nol for a moment, Teest asked, “The church exit or the archives? I only know the location of the exit. We’ll have to search for the archives.”

Nol looked back suspiciously.

It was unusual for the Mad Monk to ask for his opinion instead of subtly taking control—something was off. Teest had been too honest lately.

“Let’s head towards the exit first.”

Hoping to get Piel out of the whirlwind of events, Nol chose the answer Teest might not like.

“Alright, follow me.” Teest simply shrugged.

Having left the terrifying dungeon, Piel’s complexion improved significantly. Under the cover of the invisibility spell, he walked barefoot on cold steps, his pace quickening.

They seemed to be moving inside a shell. As they ascended, the walls of the corridor transitioned from rough bricks to exquisite murals. There were armors with long swords that reflected sharp lights.

Little Piel’s pace slowed as they were drawn to the captivating murals. Nol, standing on his shoulders, looked intently. All he knew about the Eternal Church was its cruel, anti-human beliefs. He hadn’t truly understood how they portrayed themselves from within.

[Interested?] Teest’s thoughts reached him perfectly.

[Mm.] Nol tried to take in the “overly large” mural in front of him.

Teest jumped next to Nol, pointing with a pocket watch hand. [Let’s start from here. This is the origin of the Eternal Church legend…]

God created a perfect world. The land was fertile, without diseases or disasters, and all beings lived in eternal happiness.

One day, darkness suddenly enveloped the land. The Demon King awakened from the abyss, spreading his corruption. Grand civilizations and beautiful creatures vanished, leaving only grotesque monsters and piles of corpses.

The great Eternal Son protected the few surviving beings, taking the corruption onto himself and pushing back the darkness. Eventually, the Demon King was forced to the other side of the Endless Sea, and the beings reclaimed the scarred land.

During this pivotal time, the Eternal Son was betrayed by Goddess Tilia. She claimed to be the “Goddess of Life”, slandered the injured Eternal Son as a false god, and stole the world that rightfully belonged to him.

The Eternal Son, full of compassion, continued to purify the corruption with his body, believing he would be reborn with the blessings of all beings.

[…That’s the gist of it,] Teest concluded. [The version from the Temple of Life is pretty much the same, but the ‘traitor’ changes from the Goddess of Life to the Eternal Son.]

The destruction of all things during the Dark Age was also mentioned in historical records, aligning with the game setting. However, Nol had never set up such a fantastical battle between gods and demons in his work. He always felt that such tales were made up.

Considering the nature of the Eternal Church, rather than “rebirth in the blessings of all things”, it was more like the Eternal Son was drowning in the drool of everything.

Looking at those murals, Nol curled his lips. “I guess there aren’t many truths.”

“Well, you can’t expect cultists to possess the virtue of ‘sincerity’.”

Teest laughed and shook his head, tugging at Piel’s earlobe. “Kid, we’re approaching the side hall. Remember to walk along the wall.”

“Oh.” Piel swallowed nervously and turned nervously.

Regarding the surroundings, Nol could now discern that they were previously deep underground and were now near the surface. Sunlight streamed in through windows—their warm rays fragmented by the lattice-like design, casting a glow on the pointed window frames. The dark-colored bricks and floors inside still remained shrouded in darkness. The dungeon’s darkness felt like the bottom of the deep sea, but here, the darkness was velvety and soft.

Piel saw the side door of the church. Through the glass, vibrant green branches were visible. The lively world was just a few steps away, and he couldn’t resist quickening his pace toward the door.

“Who—!!”

Suddenly, a decorative armor by the door trembled slightly, dropping its sword with a crisp and loud noise. Startled, Little Piel covered his mouth and nose and quickly hid in the shadow of a nearby sculpture.

The door opened, and a robust Eternalist entered the side hall, looking around. He bent down, placed the sword back in position, and exited.

Piel hid for a good fifteen minutes before emerging. By this time, the sunlight had an orange tint, and the sky outside was painted red by the setting sun. He took a deep breath, staring intently at the light, and began to tiptoe towards the door.

Clang, clang, clang—!

Even with Nol on the lookout, the long sword still fell without any warning. Piel stood dumbfounded in place, tears almost coming out. When he hid behind the statue this time, he lightly sniffled.

“Who?!”

A few minutes later, the Eternalist entered again. He frowned at the armor and cast two curses at it. Seeing that the armor didn’t react, he cursed under his breath and pulled out a communication crystal.

Nol raised his staff, about to make a move, but that intense feeling of “can’t do it” emerged again.

“Something’s wrong with the small door in the west hall…” On the other side, the Eternalist had already sent out the message.

“Let’s call it a day,” Teest said without much regret. “They’re on their guard now. Even if you could run out, you wouldn’t get far—they’ll go to the dungeon to see you soon. It’s time to go back.”

Piel stayed in place, his deep purple eyes staring blankly at the sky. He gently lifted his hand, seemingly trying to grasp a ray of sunlight.

“You must return on your own. Once they find out you’ve escaped, you’ll die even faster,” Teest warned.

“…Okay, Mr. Fairy,” Piel replied with a whisper a few moments later.

[Once the kid sleeps, we’ll look at the archives in the second half of the night,] Teest proposed in his mind.

Nol, on the other hand, turned his head and glared intensely at the long sword.

Is this how fate “gets back on track”?

Piel didn’t need to be in the dungeon, but he still couldn’t leave this church? It seemed Piel’s future indeed had some room for maneuver, but it was limited.

“…Checking a file… How troublesome…” From around the corner, a familiar voice emerged.

Upon hearing a keyword, Nol abruptly turned his head. His neck made a “crack” sound, startling Teest next to him.

“Can we go back from that direction?” Nol quickly asked Teest.

“We can, we can,” Teest whispered, their heads touching.

“Go that way! That way!”

Nol hurriedly tugged at Little Piel’s hair—the boy’s hair was so dark brown it almost looked like the color of black coffee, making Nol, from Country C, feel a sense of closeness.

Little Piel obediently walked on. As they approached, the voice became clearer.

“…There should always be people from other churches coming to exchange information, right? Has Priest Bonds always been this obstructive?” Crimson asked with a frivolous tone.

“My Lord, Priest Bonds is the strongest and strictest priest here. He’s not targeting you specifically,” the guiding Eternalist responded, nodding and bowing. “He himself is a Chosen One, so he’s especially cautious, My Lord.”

What does that mean?

Nol perked up his ears. Was Crimson back to “exchange information”?

“How interesting. So he has been in the dungeon too?” Crimson continued, “I’ve always been curious. There’s a Supplement Demon that comfortably eats humans while being the lord of a city, while others live in dungeon cages with test subjects, risking eating strange creatures and being tortured daily—”

“—Yet, they are loyal to the Eternal Son.”

As he said this, Crimson chuckled. “The Chosen Ones sure are patient.”

“They are destined to become powerful advanced monsters. Trials will make them stronger and more submissive. It’s God’s will, My Lord,”

The guiding Eternalist explained cautiously. “That’s exactly why Mr. Bonds is careful with the ‘Chosen One’ records. If you knew the corresponding prophecy, you’d have some insight into the Chosen One’s fate… Most Chosen Ones don’t want to be observed.”

“So you’re saying, some choose to be open about it?” Crimson raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Mr. Bonds takes pride in the prophecy about him.” The guide drew a circle over his chest reverently. “The loyal servant will witness a miracle and he will die under God’s gaze.”

“…This is his prophecy.”

Teest gave a silent snort.

Nol looked at the Teest’s side profile, frantically processing everything he had just heard. He had previously heard a bit about the divine selection mechanism from the Player siblings, but he never expected to confront it directly now.

Crimson went back to the past to check the archives of the “Chosen Ones”, so this person’s actions had nothing to do with the “Eclipse Shield”. Perhaps they could take this opportunity to sneak into the archives.

The question was, why did the Eternal Church suddenly become curious about a Chosen One whose information had been lost for twelve years? …Were the Chosen Ones of the Eternal Church destined to become incredibly powerful Supplement Demons?

Nol looked at Teest’s indifferent face.

…Are you also a Chosen One? A Chosen One who received a prophecy from the “Eternal Son”?

Little Piel timidly followed behind Crimson, listening as he rambled on, ready to turn around and head back to the dungeon at any time. To their surprise, when they reached the entrance of the dungeon, Crimson was still wandering in front.

“God’s Chosen One is inside. Currently, we only have one in our church,” the guide said. “It’s just about time for his medication. If you have any doubts about his identity, you can observe from the side.”

……

As expected, the two of them stopped in front of Teest’s cage. Little Piel hid around the corner, poking his head out slightly with Nol.

“Hello, sir.” A dozen steps away, the young Teest raised his eyes and looked at Crimson.

His voice was soft, polite, and courteous. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“The Lord’s Chosen One, it’s time for your medicine.”

The guide made a circle gesture on his chest and bowed respectfully to the young boy in the dark cage, making the scene seem rather absurd.

“Yes.”

The young Teest approached the cage bars and gently extended both hands. His slender arms fit perfectly through the metal bars, as if reaching out for an embrace.

Crimson’s silhouette stiffened unusually. He stood silently watching.

Nol also held his breath, observing everything in front of him. Meanwhile, the adult Teest stood beside him, intently watching Nol’s face.

The guide took out a black silk cloth from his chest, which held a three-necked flask. The flask was filled with a bubbling black-green viscous fluid.

It reminded Nol of the stimulant potion of the Lord of Whitebird City—a potion mixed with human corpses that was dark red in color and nowhere near as terrifying as the one in front of him.

Upon seeing the potion, the young Teest obediently knelt down. Drawing a circle on his chest and with his eyes slightly closed, he softly chanted a prayer. With that face, he looked like an innocent sacrifice from a fairy tale.

Crimson gripped the iron bars expressionlessly, looking down at the young Teest.

The young boy smiled sweetly at him and took the flask, drinking the terrifying liquid entirely. Even when he finished the last drop, there was still a smile on his lips.

‘Great,’ Nol thought. ‘It seems the reaction wasn’t as…’

Suddenly, there was a muffled sound.

Under the gaze of several eyes, the young Teest exploded.

To be precise, the boy’s skin burst entirely, splattering fragments everywhere like confetti. In that moment, the terrifying flesh began growing wildly, almost filling the entire cage. Beneath the red tissue, countless creatures seemed to be struggling to escape, causing the fragile flesh to constantly quiver.

The beautiful boy lost his human form in an instant, leaving only a wildly throbbing… mass of flesh in the cage. There was no scream or moan, and even breathing was barely audible. The deformed flesh kept expanding and contracting, decaying rapidly. Strange limbs grew and enlarged rapidly, then quickly withered and broke off. This body seemed to be blindly seeking a new form, like plant roots desperately searching for water.

The air was filled with the scent of fresh flesh.

Crimson took two steps back, and the nearby demons grew restless, causing their cages to rattle.

Between the gaps of the squirming flesh, a thin human hand dangled weakly, twitching continuously, as if wanting to grasp something but lacking the strength to do so.

This was a movement typically seen in those on the brink of death.

Little Piel’s legs gave way, and he wet himself. The child fainted without even letting out a scream.

All expressions vanished from Nol’s face. Before his mind could process, his body lunged towards the young Teest.

…But as soon as he took a step, he was held back by a strong embrace.

“Shh—”

Teest tightly held Nol, restraining the arm holding the staff, with his other hand covering Nol’s mouth and forcing his head back. “It’s all in the past, remember? Everything has already passed, honey.”

God’s Chosen One, Supplement Demon, fate…

Nol’s mind was almost blank, with only one thought left.

“Pain relief spell… at least… no pain…”

“No, no,” Teest’s breath was right next to his ear, and he even sounded pleased. “I’m sorry, but no. Trust me, I’ve been through this—”

Nol managed to free one hand.

He extended his left arm, which wasn’t holding the staff, attempting to cast the pain relief spell. However, just as the magical array began to form, his entire left arm disintegrated into ash, vanishing into thin air.

They could even see the smooth cut surface at the shoulder, where flesh and bone were exposed directly to the outside, and the annihilation was still spreading upwards.

Teest exerted almost murderous strength, this time holding Nol firmly in his embrace, and the terrifying annihilation finally ceased. Late in realization, Teest noticed that a thin layer of sweat had formed on his back.

“It seems that pain relief makes people aware of anomalies.” This time, Nol cast a pain-relieving spell on himself, squeezing out words from between his teeth. “This consequence is more troublesome than I imagined…”

“Are you joking?” Teest wasn’t laughing anymore.

“The ‘warning’ I just received wasn’t severe. It was worth a try.”

Nol’s fingertips were extremely pale. His lips still quivered, and his tone sounded as if he was speaking in a daze. “We must figure out where the boundary is… Now we know that slight defiance won’t lead to the death penalty. The laws of this universe are quite lenient…”

“What if you really disappeared? What then?” Teest stared intently at Nol.

Drenched in sweat from pain, Nol’s left arm bone was slowly recovering. “Haven’t I answered you? Seeking 100% safety isn’t an ‘adventure’…”

“…And you also have a prophecy on you, don’t you, Mr. Chosen One?”

“No matter if it’s for the truth or for you, I must find out.”

After saying this, Nol looked again in the direction of the young Teest.

The horrifying transformations slowly subsided. The Eternalist closed his eyes and began to cast healing magic on Teest. The terrifying growth quickly dried up, and the protruding bones and organs gradually returned to their original positions. The bluish-black flesh peeled off layer by layer, and the silvery white hair gathered again, revealing a slender human form.

Ten minutes later, a nearly lifeless young Teest knelt on the ground.

He covered his body with a piece of leather-like dried skin, breathing with violent tremors.

“By God’s blessing… cough cough, may everything be eternal…” he said, lifting his face with an unexpectedly obedient tone.

The Eternalist leaned forward and magically produced a white robe. He draped it over the young Teest, who then revealed a sweet smile.

“As you can see, My Lord.”

The Eternalist turned to Crimson and slightly bowed. “Even if other Chosen Ones drink a potion mixed with monster blood, they will become absolute monsters. Only this one is special—only this one is perfect. A simple healing spell is enough for him to revert back. Even if left alone, he will recover slowly, but it would take more time, and the rotten flesh growth isn’t easy to clean… We’ve verified it before.”

“He is indeed special,” Crimson said dryly, with no trace of frivolity in his tone. “How many times have you fed him the potion?”

“Once every seven days, My Lord.”

The data wasn’t precise enough. Crimson paused in thought. “How long have you been feeding him?”

“Almost ten years, My Lord.”

Nol gripped Teest’s hand tightly, his expression becoming distorted. No amount of mental preparation, not even the pain from the dismemberment, made him feel as sick as he did now. He looked at Teest incredulously.

Teest’s expression was odd, somewhat satisfied, yet somewhat displeased, like a child who received candy, only to find out it wasn’t the flavor he liked.

The only relief for Nol was that the horrific torture didn’t seem to have left a scar on the Mad Monk. Faced with this brutal scene, Teest’s reaction was even milder than if he’d seen a small cake.

Noticing Nol’s gaze, Teest playfully made a face at him.

“This Chosen One has never had any issues. Do you need further verification of his identity?” The conversation continued in the distance.

“I need some time to think.” Crimson turned away. “We can discuss this tomorrow. We have time, don’t we?”

“Goodbye, My Lord.”

The young Teest, now dressed in the white robe, stepped over the dried flesh and blood on the ground and sat back on the white stone. His cheeks and lips were devoid of color, as if he had truly turned into a statue.

Yet, he still smiled weakly.

Crimson didn’t respond and quickly left the dungeon.

The Eternalist didn’t accompany him and instead used magic to clean the messy cage before heading towards Piel’s cage.

“Oh.” Teest threw a water orb at Piel’s face, who groggily opened his eyes. “You need to go back soon, Piel.”

“What, what?”

“Unfortunately, it’s time for the good boy to take his medicine,” Teest whispered.

Piel immediately looked at the cage not far away. The young Teest was still sitting there, still in that incredibly obedient posture, as if the earlier horror was just a dream.

“Just now, just that…” He pointed hopefully at the young Teest.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Teest said. “That boy just has fairy blood in him. Look, we look so alike—you have only four minutes left, kid. Either die now or discuss it later.”

Tears and snot gushed out simultaneously from Piel.

“Knights aren’t afraid.” He choked, giving himself courage, stumbling towards the cage. “When I grow up, I want to be a knight. Knights aren’t scared, wuwuwu… I don’t want to turn into a monster…”

Nol touched Piel’s hair, remaining silent. Before leaving, he couldn’t help but look back at the young Teest one last time.

In the renewed silence of darkness, the young boy’s obedient smile vanished. He narrowed his eyes, fingers tapping on the stone below, malice momentarily crossing his face.

The expression was identical to the adult Mad Monk.

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The author has something to say:

Young Teest, the perfect expression package:

When I get out of here, I’ll finish you all off.jpg

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