"My son and I were desperate for a bigger hunt. Oruga of winter, a tiny wasp that was said to be of the rare kind, seen only in the deepest of woods, darkest of places, and coldest of weathers. Like the ambitious pair we were, night dusked upon us when we searched for that little daring thing. The howling of beasts grew louder the deeper we dwelled into the woods, and I was afraid. 'let us make a stop for now' I told him through a sweet smile, and he bellowed gently with his childish voice, 'dad, I won't sleep peacefully until I get the Oruga! We are hunters!'. I impenitently put my heels in the mud of the forest and urged him to keep warm in the campfire. At that time, strings of wisdom stringed me from the inside, lamenting at my stupid decision, but the foolishness of a prideful father… who would go at great lengths, just to see the beam on his son's face, usurped all those lines of rationality."

"To be honest, at that time I didn't even know how we got up to that majestic place. We simply followed the changing shades in the mist of North blue waters."

"Ah. I take it my guest has not yet heard a tale from that alien place, forest of the forgotten I call it." he said through rotten teeth, haggardly, even as his throat grew heavier with time.

"not yet." Matthew replied. "a tale has not struck me yet"

"From the flogged southern lands to the northest point of the four blues. People sing songs of fruit users, dreamers, bards, poets, ancient cities, legendary pirates and mighty white cloaks… Yet none sings a song for this ancient forest. The wisdom of a thousand towering trees, the beauty of hundred leaf shapes, the harshness of ten distinct weather pieces… and the shadow of one ungainly beast, hidden underneath all the greatness of these forgotten, majestic roots. Now once I was fetching the oruga of winter, I stumbled upon a nest of dead animal skin, sitting on top of it was a bug… thick as a caterpillar. An arched body like any other ordinary wasp's, with faint blue-and-white colors adorning its shapely figure. And when I heard the buzzing of the silky insect wings echoing louder and mightier in my mind than it ever did before with any other bug, I was convinced. 'this… this is a majestic sight. I have to show my son' I told myself as I grabbed the thing, and rested it softly in my palms… and with a hard, fast kick, I strolled back to the campfire with impatience". ever so weary, ever so lifeless, the man spoke and Matthew listened… and the more he did, the stranger the story sounded in his ears.

"... And when I approached, I heard the deafening sounds thundering in my eardrums, the roars of a prickly beast. 'fear cuts deep' I mumbled as I made my way with even more impatience… I prayed, begged to all gods of this world that my son is safe… the seer, the sea maiden, the furious mermaid, I missed none of their names on my praying tongue. 'fear cuts sharp' I repeated breathlessly, and my pace quickened with time even with cramps twisting my leg muscles in pain like a marionette…"

"... The scene that greeted my old eyes, I couldn't have imagined would transpire even in the nastiest nightmares. My ashen-faced son, the age of eight, was entangled by snake-like monsters… writhing Tentacles, the size of sea kings. Believe me or not, they grabbed my son and choked the living breath out of him. By the time my mind started comprehending all these sudden events, my hollowed eyes laid upon a massive dreadful beast, emerging from somewhere in the deep roots of this forest. Squid-like face the size of an island, shady skin darker than the shadows of the night, tens of tentacles that made the beastly body even more intimidating than it already was…"

The moment Matthew heard this piece of the story, the name 'Rudger Blackbull' clicked in his mind like lightning, and brought him to a moment of shock.

"... And I could have sworn by that time, the beast painted a wide, twisted smile that hung from ear to ear with its wild sharp teeth, as if finding bliss in my torment. For the first time, the life of my dear son… No longer mattered, neither did the oruga of winter, neither did the cramps binding my legs in agonizing pain, neither did the memory of my wife… 'fear cuts like a fine blade' I said as I… ran away, with my son's screams echoing behind my cowardly steps" unable to hold in the sorrow, the old man finally let it all out and wept tears of blood.

"you ran away?!" Matthew suddenly spoke, aghast.

"yes… yes, I ran. And I left my son behind to rot with that vile beast. The desire to flee was so overwhelming that night that I couldn't describe even if I wanted to" the man's tears finally dried out after minutes of weeping.

"you know what is funny? It's that, after many years… I still can't remember how my son looked like… his face, his smile, everything vanished in the shadows of that beast, as if it never existed for a single moment in my memory."

Matthew shifted in his seat, very uncomfortably. Through anxious feelings, his body took minutes to finally calm down. Until He realized how he might have been rude to the poor old soul. "I hope I have not spoken out of turn, elder. My tune's purpose was genuine curiosity, and I meant no offense."

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"frank talk is the least of my concerns right now." Through all the rain, Matthew caught a glimpse of a wry smile making its way on the old, blemished face. "Now say, what's your story? Which song will you sing when you sail across west blue? A sad one like mine? I sincerely hope not"

"ah, mine might not be of high gravity. To be truthful, I'm but a simple traveler who seeks no gains in his journey, no money or even fame… as I'm free of all desires, or at least I would like to think that I am."

"desire?" he repeated, puzzled.

"yes, desire. This thing tends to be quite deadly." Matthew brought his shoulders down and sunkenly, went on. "Once I see how desire corrupted people, and the land they live in… all the men it brought down from high seats, all what it has done to countless nations and cities, I pray everyday, thankful that I didn't partake in it." Angella's longing for the sword, William's revenge for the sake of family, Rudger's pride and arrogance, Fred's gluttony and lust, Yami's subtle greed for power, Moriban's envy and treachery… how long would it take until he was cursed with one of these unholy things. 'not too long, not too long' he thought.

"when it's absent, one can finally pursue … more delightful things in life."

"But isn't desire what holds dreams together?"

"Unless it is backed by strong, willful actions, it might not. And not many people tend to be this, 'willful' "

"ah, I'm getting older, my memory fuzzier. I can't even… think straight anymore" the old man got up from his seat. Cloak rippled with rain and dirt, as he made his way back, chanting bug names hollowly just like he was doing before. Except this time, he grabbed his head by force, trying to calm the pain.

"the dreams… the nightmares, they are coming back to haunt me, ahhh… I see ravishing, purple flames scorching the trees of the forgotten forest. I see that monster treating itself to a red stew made of my son's flesh and innocent blood. I see the red tides coming to Devour us all in the sea. I see black, starless clouds and plates full of bones and corpses… I hear them all, the voices keep whispering in the darkness of my dreamy ears, clearer than ever, crueler than ever." under the rain, old fogey's solitary figure brooded, appearing even more sullen than before, and all what Matthew could hear was this figure's painful groans.

"..." the brunet couldn't find in himself to utter a single word. He kept eying the man's silhouette and for the first time since this meeting took place, he noticed how sickly thin the man's body truly was. It brought him to a long wondering of how he's still breathing.

'he is starving… no, he is most likely starving himself' the brunet's feelings kept getting stranger and stranger…

—---

When rain stopped, one could finally tell the gray line of dawn from the black lines of dusk. The twin towers stood as imposing as ever, drilled right in their place. Matthew made his way and finally climbed on top of the twin peaks and made himself a dried, clean seat. He leaned and posed himself like a meditating monk, before letting his crow sigil run wildly in the shadows of the eye patch. Blood ran freely and haki was finally released…his vision lounged to wherever the old fogey went and spied on the slums.

Matthew took a long gasp and closed his vision.

What his eyes peered into was another dead body. This one however, looked way too familiar for him.

"Even as death loomed near, he didn't deny his fate. He knew he would die after telling me that story. fear cuts sharp and fine he says, but that old man is one brave soul."

The wind was at the back of the hang-up body, just like it has been for the whole night. The same ashen old face froze in the coldness of the night as the body swayed left and right. Underneath was a wooden food cart that the man used as the 'base' of his suicide. A rope, tough and lengthy, gripped the dead face by the neck and squeezed it to death. There, in Matthew's vision, layed the dead body of an old fogey.

The spear wielder's soul grew colder the more he looked at that fearful expression. His body trembled, getting soaked through the bones and chilled up to a crisp. Matthew, for the sake of his mental state, closed his eyes and for the first time in weeks, finally decided to take a deep sleep.

—---

for the third time since coming to this world, Matthew dreamed… of a wondering place.

Black tides and a red sea, a grouping of corpses and a drift of crimson blood. Matthew felt like an ant in front of this monstrosity that is his dreamland. Then, as he watched, a chthonic creature made itself appear through the blood sea, except the first thing that struck his vision weren't those snake-like tentacles, but instead… muscled arms, seemingly beaming with chiseled strength and the robustness of a mighty 'sea king'. Pulsating veins and even a brawn that backed up the face of a squid-like entity. Matthew could only silently mumble as the creature's body grew larger and larger 'fear cuts sharp, fear cuts strong'. His legs gave up all strength and drummed against the earth.

Even his beloved crow's eye failed to work at these dire times. He felt the hollowness smack him like a pit in the stomach, as the beast leaned forwards with cruel lips and a bloodied smile. Matthew, gulped as he saw the purple deem in the squid's eyes. Violent, thirsty flames that danced around the crescent pupils. One thing he noted, through all of this struggle and battle, was the presence of haki in that beautiful fire. It felt warm yet cold, gentle yet harsh, soft yet cruel, distant yet so… close.

Then he watched as his body was caught in that terrible fire. Flesh melted away like snow in a desert, and his crow's eye pumped with life like it had never done before.

Across the barren red sea, Matthew felt his power growing stronger and stronger. 'fear cuts deep, fear cuts sharp' he mumbled through grit teeth and chewed tongue, as the purple fire burned him alive… from the inside out. He 'felt' his former observation haki, what seemed so great and powerful to him was now but a dull power. Predictable and easy to counter, once enhanced with that cruel fire, it would make for a fine addition to his arsenal of weapons.

The beast smiled once again, a smile on top of a smile… this time in fulfillment, as if it had finally found a great chest piece.

And at that moment Matthew knew that he was cursed, with the same illness that plagued Rudger and old fogey.