Two days later.
Nott slowly rises from his bed, stretching his tired muscles. He takes a quick glance at the paper pinned to the pillow, then carefully pulls it out. His eyes are full of questions, but there is no turning back now. He sighs deeply as he gets dressed, preparing to leave the room and head to the address Lorian had given him.
He steps out into the crowded streets, where the air is filled with the hustle and bustle of daily life. The sounds of street vendors fill the atmosphere, while children run and play in the narrow alleys. Everything feels alive and noisy, but Nott's mind is focused on one thing.
Nott, thinking to himself: "[Could someone like him really live in a place like this?...]"
He continues walking, his steps steady yet cautious. His eyes scan every corner, every person, trying to read the details in the faces of passersby, until he reaches a building that looks dilapidated. An old sign hangs above the entrance, faded with time. "Al-Sonyo Apartments, For Rent." The building is run-down, its walls cracked and its paint peeling, giving it an appearance aged and worn by time.
Nott pauses in front of the entrance, looking at the paper Lorian had given him, confirming that the address matches the sign. He takes a deep breath and pushes open the creaky wooden door. The sound of the door groaning fills the air, as if the building itself is breathing with every movement.
Inside, the atmosphere is uncomfortably quiet. The corridors are narrow, the lighting dim, creating a gloomy vibe. On the left side, behind an old wooden desk, sits an elderly man in modest clothing, staring at Nott with sunken eyes, as though he has seen too much in his life.
Elderly man: "Oh!! A customer!? Welcome, sir... uh... boy? Damn, get out of here, this isn't a place to loiter!"
Nott: "I'm looking for Stray... Do you know him?"
In that moment, the elderly man's expression completely changes. He takes a breath and falls silent for a moment, before staring at Nott with eyes full of doubt and caution.
Elderly man: "...You... how do you know him?!"
Nott, in a steady tone: "I met him before. I have some questions for him, so please, can you tell me where he is?"
Elderly man: "Questions?... Boy, you need to realize that Stray is no ordinary person, and he won't listen to you. It's not what you think, you'll embarrass yourself... maybe worse.
Now get out of here."
Nott ignores warnings and moves forward. Then he says without turning around.
Nott, with determination: "Then I'll find him myself."
The elderly man tries to move, as if wanting to stop Nott, but something makes him hesitate. Perhaps it's Nott's serious gaze or clear resolve, but he seems unable to intervene.
Nott begins to explore the place, his gaze cautious. His eyes fall on a small staircase in the right corner, almost hidden behind old, decaying furniture. The stairs lead down into darkness.
Nott: "Is this... a basement?"
Elderly man, nervously: "Boy!! Don't get involved in things you don't understand!"
Nott, with an analytical look, staring at the stairs: "From your reaction... it seems like he lives down there."
The elderly man hesitates, then gives in, as if something in Nott's tone or gaze makes him realize that stopping him is futile. But his face is filled with worry, as if something dark awaits the boy at the bottom of those stairs.
Nott slowly approaches the dark staircase, feeling that each step brings him closer to the unknown, and the air grows colder the further he descends.
Nott: "Seems like a place that suits someone like him."
Nott enters and begins to slowly descend the stairs that lead to a door at the bottom. The wooden stairs creak and groan with every step. He reaches the white door, which is slightly ajar, places his hand on the handle, and opens it fully. He sees a long corridor ahead, with a room to his right, in the middle, and a large door at the end of the hallway.
Nott walks with quiet steps, looking around nervously. He reaches the end of the corridor and reaches for the handle, opening the door quietly.
He sees him, Stray, smiling coldly as he sits behind a desk, his eyes watching the door Nott entered from, as if he had been expecting this visit all along.
Stray: "What a surprise, A visit from the loser boy... Tell me, did you come for revenge? Or is your disgraceful defeat still burning inside you?"
Nott, confused, trying to process what he's saying, turns his gaze to the right corner of the room, where he sees a horrific sight. A blood-soaked body of someone from the organization. His eyes wide with terror, his face pale as his mind tries to make sense of what he's seeing.
Nott, stunned: "...W-what is this?..."
Stray slowly rises from his seat, his steps quiet but carrying an unspoken threat, his eyes fixed on Nott.
Stray: "Hmm?... 'What is this?'... Maybe you should ask yourself, what made this man come here... to kill me... at the same time of your visit...?"
A thick silence wrapped around the room like a noose.
Nott's heart pounded against his chest, louder than Stray's words. His eyes darted between the bloodstained corpse and the man standing before him like a specter.
His breath caught in his throat. For a split second, he couldn't speak. His thoughts scrambled in panic, as if trying to outrun the shadow looming over him.
Nott: "[fuck, What if he doesn't believe me!...? What if I die here!?]"
His throat tightened. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he finally broke the silence...
Nott, after a brief silence, speaking with a steadier voice... though still tinged with tension: "I… don't know him. I didn't come here to take revenge on you, or to fight you. That's not why I'm here."
In a moment charged with tension, Stray moves with lightning speed, almost like a ghost, appearing in front of Nott in an instant. His hand holds a gleaming dagger, pointed toward Nott's neck. A cold sensation rushes through Nott's body as he feels the sharpness of the dagger close to his skin, the metallic scent of blood seeping from the nearby corpse.
Stray, in a calm voice: "If you don't know him, then why are you really here? Think carefully before you speak, because your life depends on your answer now."
Nott froze in place, as if Stray's words were an invisible noose tightening around his neck.
He felt the room closing in, the walls bending toward him slowly, the ground trembling beneath his feet. Cold sweat traced down his forehead... not out of fear, but from a truth he hadn't dared to face before. "Why am I really here?"
The question didn't just come from Stray... it came from within.
In that moment, Nott wasn't standing before a killer or a stranger… but before a twisted mirror reflecting his own fragility.
His fingers trembled slightly. His eyes scanned Stray's expressionless face, but he wasn't just seeing him... he was seeing every moment of weakness, every stifled scream, every failure he buried deep, hoping it would never surface.
And just before he could speak it aloud, the darkness had already moved.
Nott screamed, his voice broken and gasping: "I came here… to become stronger!!"
It wasn't just a declaration. It was a desperate cry torn from the depths of his soul, soaked in pain, disappointment, and weakness. In that moment, Nott had stripped himself bare before a man who knew no mercy.
Stray froze.
His body remained still like a statue, but his eyes... those glacial, lifeless eyes... flickered with a sudden spark. Something stirred within him. A glint of something dark. It wasn't sympathy… it was a cold, dangerous curiosity.
The silence that followed was suffocating... thick, heavy, as if time itself had stopped breathing.
Stray, in a low, cold voice tinged with something strangely hesitant: "What did you say?"
Nott swallowed hard. His throat was dry like sand, and his hands trembled slightly. Yet despite it all, there was a faint glimmer in his eyes... a flicker of broken courage, but real nonetheless.
Nott, speaking with a tense, strained voice, each word seeming to tear itself from his chest: "The reason I came... is because I want you to train me... to teach me how to figh-..."
He didn't finish.
Stray, suddenly, with a voice sharp as a whip: "Boy… who the hell do you think I am?!"
Nott wasn't given a second to react.
In an instant, everything turned.
Stray vanished from his spot, as if he had evaporated. Nott only saw him again when the pain exploded.
A foot slammed into Nott's face with the force of fury, of disdain, of raw power.
The sound of the impact echoed like an explosion.
His head snapped back violently. The world blurred. Time fractured.
His body flew through the air like a discarded puppet, crashing into the back wall... A wall that couldn't withstand the force. It shattered on contact. Dust, broken bricks, and flaking paint scattered everywhere as Nott crashed through and landed in the next room, buried in the wreckage.
But the pain wasn't just physical. His face was covered in blood, his breath short and ragged... each inhale a battle, each exhale a stab.
His trembling hand reached to lift himself up… but he couldn't. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, like his bones no longer obeyed him. Like gravity itself had turned against him.
His eyes stared at the cracked ceiling above, while his soul bled beneath the surface.
He didn't know whether he felt humiliation, betrayal… or shame.
Then, Stray's voice... calm, lethal... cut through it all:
Stray, from behind the settling dust, his voice echoing in Nott's skull like a whisper from a dark cellar: "Strength isn't something you ask for… it's something you tear out of yourself... after you die inside, and rise again."
Then silence.
Not peace… but warning.
Nott is hurled across the room, crashing into the wall with immense force. The impact causes the wall to collapse around him, sending dust and debris scattering through the air. He lands in the adjacent room, blood covering his face. His arm struggles in vain to lift him, but pain burns through his body like fire.
The room he landed in was entirely different. A wide space, with a boxing ring in the center, punching bags hanging from the ceiling, and various weapons mounted on the walls. In one corner stood a simple table with small equipment and a coffee machine humming quietly, as if the place were constantly prepared for battle.
Everything in this room spoke of strength, discipline, and readiness for combat. The sharp weapons glinting in the shadows, the metallic scent mixed with sweat and blood... it all made Nott feel like he had entered the lair of a true warrior.
As Nott struggled to catch his breath, Stray slowly advanced toward him. Each of his steps sounded heavy, as if the very room echoed with them. His eyes looked down at Nott as though all he could see was raw weakness.
Stray, in a cold, mocking voice: "So, you want to become stronger? You talk about strength as if it's something handed out... Strength is taken, seized... through cruelty, through pain...
You think you're capable of enduring that? After what I've just seen… are you still convinced you deserve my training?"
Stray continued to walk toward Nott, now lying on the floor. He crouched beside him, holding a sharp dagger gently against Nott's neck, as if warning him not to move. His eyes gleamed coldly as he whispered:
Stray: "Is that really... why you came here? Hmm? Oh… shit, he's passed out."
Stray sighed for a moment, then stared deeply at Nott's face. His eyes widened slightly, as though he were seeing a piece of his past in the boy lying before him. He stared silently for several minutes, lost in thought, muttering inwardly:
Stray: "[This kid… he reminds me of myself when I was foolish… though I still am.]"
Then, he noticed the patch Nott wore over his eye. A sharp curiosity overcame him, and he slowly reached out, attempting to remove it. But suddenly, and without warning, Nott moved with incredible speed. He grabbed Stray's left wrist with a firm and steady grip. In one swift motion, Nott snatched the dagger from Stray's hand and flung it across the room. The metallic clatter of the blade hitting the ground echoed as a sound of sudden resistance.
In that same moment, Nott raised his legs and kicked Stray in the chest, lifting him off the ground and throwing him backward with all his might. The air around them pulsed with tension, but Stray didn't attempt to defend himself. Instead, he looked on with calm admiration as he hit the floor hard.
Nott struggled to stand, gasping for air, his face twisted in pain and fatigue, yet he refused to give in. He gripped Stray's left arm tightly, twisting it with precision, pinning it between his legs as he tried to control him.
Nott: "Don't move… unless you want to lose that arm."
Stray's smile widened as he lay on the floor, letting out a sarcastic breath as if none of this surprised him.
Stray: "Hmm… did you see those moves on TV or something...?
I liked that, kid... but..."
In a flash, Stray pulled another dagger from his right pocket. The glint of the blade under the room's dim light revealed just how deadly the moment had become.
Stray: "You forgot about my right arm!"
Like lightning, he slashed the blade toward Nott's leg, but Nott, already alert, reacted just in time. He bent his knees at the perfect moment, causing the blade to strike the ground instead of his body. The screech of metal on floor rang out, but Nott seized the opportunity and shoved Stray's body back with force.
Nott rose quickly despite the exhaustion clearly etched across his face. His body trembled and ached from the brutal wall impact, yet he remained determined to fight. His heartbeat thundered, thoughts racing through his mind... but his resolve blazed like fire.
He stared at Stray, locking eyes. And in that moment, it became clear the battle wasn't over yet.
Stray: "...Heh... hehehe...
Boy… like this, you're going to make me even more savage!"
Stray gripped both daggers tightly, his fingers clenched as if trying to strangle death itself. His wide eyes gleamed with a madness laced with ecstasy. Under the dim glow of the overhead lights, evil seemed to drip from his expression. He exhaled sharply... then lunged toward Nott like a war arrow released from a bow, screaming from the depths of his lungs. It wasn't just a cry... it was a roar torn from a past soaked in violence.
The echo of his scream bounced through the room, stirring primal instincts and igniting the air with the tension of battle. Sparks flew as the blades clashed and spun between his fingers in a wild dance, slashing in every direction without mercy... as if his hands had forgotten what hesitation meant.
Nott stood at the heart of this storm of steel and fury, moving like a shadow. With every blink, he teleporting. Keep vanished and reappeared... dodging, breathing fast, calculating each step with instinctive precision. He wasn't merely fighting... he was surviving a man who had surrendered all reason.
Every strike carried the intent to kill, and every dodge was a dance on the edge of death.
Nott, internally: "[Damn it... this man isn't just a fighter… he's a storm. Completely insane!]"
Footsteps slammed against the ground, echoing through the high walls like a beast chasing its prey. Stray was pursuing Nott with wild intensity... his steps swift, his breath sharp, his eyes gleaming with the shimmer of death. He didn't move like a man, but like a predator stripped of all mercy.
Yet Nott, despite his panting and the adrenaline surging through his veins, wasn't running blindly. His eyes were observing, analyzing, searching for an opening in the storm of violence that pursued him. In the chaos of the moment, his mind was an island of calm in the heart of a hurricane.
Then suddenly... without warning... Nott dropped low, his body bending with astonishing agility to evade a vicious kick aimed at his neck. He slid slightly to the right, his hand firm and decisive, pulling a dagger from his belt and hurling it forward with all the strength and focus he could muster.
The dagger flew like a strike of fate... but Stray twisted his body with inhuman grace, narrowly avoiding the blade, dancing with death itself. Nott didn't wait for the outcome; he seized the moment, teleporting to the center of the hall, where the floor beneath him was wide and exposed.
And then... something shifted above. A faint metallic creak.
The ancient chandelier, suspended for decades, began to sway… and then... without mercy... it snapped from the ceiling and plummeted.
It hit the ground with a thunderous crash, the sound resembling a massive explosion. Glass shattered, metal shrieked, and a dense cloud of dust erupted in all directions, flooding the space in a choking gray haze.
Amid the wreckage, Nott appeared several meters away, gasping for breath, one hand on his knee, sweat streaking down his forehead. His eyes scanned the smoky air, hoping... desperately... that it was over. That he had survived.
But he felt it before he saw it... that chill… that murderous intent.
From within the fog, Stray emerged. His silhouette cutting through the dust like a nightmare made flesh. Silent. Merciless.
Stray, with demonic calm: "Didn't I tell you...? Never rely on that silly ability of yours in a real fight."
Before Nott could reply... before he could even breathe... Stray lunged with terrifying speed. His fist arched through the air, slamming hard into the side of Nott's neck, striking a precise and devastating point.
Nott collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, his body hitting the ground with brutal force as the darkness swallowed him whole.
Stray stood over him, his gaze locked onto the boy's unconscious form. There was no rage... only curiosity. A faint smile crept onto his face, a mixture of admiration and enigma.
Stray, softly: "This boy… how far will he go… years from now?"