Stray

    Nemo re-examines his memory, the one he thought was destroyed or taken away—

    It was pitch black and silent. He crawls forward on the rough sand like a lizard, or a snake, all instinct, even less coordinated than a newborn human baby. He couldn't see his own limbs, to be precise, he could barely see anything.

    At that time, his head was empty, like a plant that only moves with the wind.

    As soon as he moved twice, Nemo found himself touching something smooth—he liked the delicate touch, or its rare warmth. So he thought for a moment and swallowed it, the metallic taste spreading on his tongue.

    That should be his gold pendant.

    Indistinct music and laughter came from a certain direction, people were talking, but the distance was too far, the laughter seemed to be separated by a layer of water. That was probably the only thing in the thick darkness that caught his interest, so he quickly decided where to go.

    But those voices come and go, intermittently. And although this environment is quiet, occasionally there will be unknown sounds rustling through the darkness. When everything was silent again, he didn't know where to crawl.

    That may be the only light in the dark, and there are indeed white spots of light like stars in the distant sky. But they appear unnaturally in patches, moving occasionally, and blinking one by one.

    …that’s not a star.

    Move towards the music and laughter when there is sound, and wander around when there is not. Soon he found the trick to moving - crawling on the ground was not fast, he learned to stand up and stumble forward. In this way, his forward speed was much faster, but unfortunately the darkness was too vast, and he could only move forward with a consciousness that was so thin that it basically did not exist.

    Except for the pale eyeballs flashing in the distant heights, there was no light in that memory. Not even hunger and thirst, not cold and hot. The only thing he did was breathe and move forward, as if floating in that dark nothingness. Most of the time, his skin was rough sand to the touch, and occasionally it felt wet and slippery—he didn't mind that, and simply climbed and passed over it.

    It may be a long time, or it may only be a moment, when he hears a clear voice for the first time.

    The voice was very soft, but to him at the time, it was like a thunderous explosion in his ear. He didn't know what those syllables meant then, but now Nemo Wright does.

    "I've decided to call you 'Mr. White'." The clear voice said solemnly, "Mr. White, my name is Oliver Ramon—you can call me Ollie."

    Several seconds of pause.

    "Well, I know you can't speak—I just wanted to chat with you."

    Then the voice never left. It's just that sometimes it seems to be in front of it, and sometimes it's just as vague as other sounds. He listened carefully to each unfamiliar syllable, and even if he didn't understand the content at the time, it was enough to be a wonderful light—a spider's silk-like flimsy light in the darkness of nothingness.

    "I was scolded by my father again." The voice said angrily, "It was obviously Hansen who scolded me for being abandoned by my mother first! I just... um, beat a little harder. Dad doesn't tell my mom, he always says he'll tell me when he gets a chance—how long is 'after', Mr. White?"

    He took a step toward the direction of the voice.

    "The bard came to the inn today! He told the story of the brave Alastair, God, I wanted to be that great too - but Dad didn't look too happy, He never liked bards."

    His pace is getting faster and faster.

    "Hanson moved out, Jeremy moved out. Everyone always leaves here quickly, and it feels bad when no one plays. Alas, I want one that won't leave Friend...you're not leaving, are you?"

    "I changed the salt and sugar in the kitchen today, guess how long it will take Dad to find out?"

    "I was almost seen when I climbed up today, Dad never let me climb trees--it's all because of the snow, it's so cold...I hate winter, Mr. White."

    "Mr. White..."

    “…”

    How long has it been? His fingers touched what looked like a cliff. The roars and footsteps of other creatures began to appear around, and although none of them meant to approach, the darkness began to become extraordinarily noisy. But he hadn't thought about changing his direction, not even for a second.

    Nemo remembers every detail now, the end of that long "night". He slipped his fingers into the wall with ease and began to climb up. Time has long lost its conception, and Nemo can't figure out how long he has climbed, and he only has a clear impression—

    The surroundings are getting hotter.

    Then he saw the sun for the first time.

    It was hot and dazzling, and for a moment he thought he had been attacked. And then there's the color, the boundless color. In fact, in the later stage, I can see a lot of things in the dim light, but they are all gray and single scenes. Now the colors smashed into his eyes so hard that he even forgot the unbearable heat in the air. Nemo remembers turning his neck carefully, staring greedily at everything around him, as if they were all about to melt into the intense light in the next second. Sunrise and sunset, he stood like a statue in the distance, too many colors made him dizzy—

    And the familiar voice came again. A human child crawled into the woods, muttering in a low voice. The little boy moved himself behind the thick tree trunk and looked out of the forest with an unhappy face.

    In his memory, he finally lowered his head and looked at his hands. The hands were full of filth, but pale skin was exposed in the filth. The palm is wide and the fingers are slender and powerful, those are the hands of young human beings.

    He didn't have any special ideas at the time, but instinct told him vaguely that this would not work. If you're going to get out of here - get in, imitate, be them.

    Incorporate, imitate, closer to the music and laughter, closer to his lights.

    With his source of intelligence right in front of him, he doesn't need more information. The bones made a rattling sound, twisted and shortened, and the slender fingers began to become rounded. His field of vision is narrowing, his perspective is getting lower. He instinctively walked towards him and held out his hand, as he always did—

    Six-year-old Oliver Ramon found him, and without hesitation he opened his throat and burst into tears. Something familiar to him came along with the cry—in the pure fear of the other party, Nemo quickly shrank his body and stopped moving.

    Immediately, they were carried back one by one by Piper Ramon who arrived.

    The young Oliver cried so much that old Ramon had to send the unknown "child" directly to old Patrick - the orphanage director at the time adopted him very happily .

    "This little guy is really lucky." Patrick Wright nodded to old Ramon with a pleasant tone.

    That's where it all started. He first learned to forget, then fear, and then more knowledge and "feelings" - with the improvement of common sense, those memories beyond common sense turned into a "night" logically. He is very successful, he is indeed fully integrated into the corner of human society, like a cuckoo's egg, lying quietly in the nest called Roadmark Town.

    until now.

    He really isn't human. He couldn't be, Nemo thought. No human being could survive that environment, and he probably survived more than the so-called six years.

    The only hope left in my heart was completely extinguished, and only unexpected peace remained. The details of his memory are still gradually returning to their place, every minute and every second from waking up in the dark to this time, but that is no longer important. He clenched his fists so that his hands would stop shaking. This is the answer, he thought, this is-

    An old fairy tale flashed through his mind.

    etc.

    He stood in the swirling memory, his heart twitched violently. If this is all he has experienced since he was born, if he really hasn't "forgotten" any details now. So why can he understand the language of the blue bird? That can't be the effect of ability, pure knowledge must be obtained from the outside world, and he...

    The corrosive pain interrupted his thoughts. The witch's magic was holding his arms tightly, and Nemo blinked slowly, finally regaining his focus.

    He was still sitting in that spacious sunny room with brightly colored knitted cushions tucked under his hips. The water bottle with the ice lemonade in front of it was empty, and only the condensed water droplets slid down the outer wall of the glass bottle.

    "Your memory has been sorted out." Nadine retracted her hand tremblingly, probably because of Nemo's illusion, the witch seems to be a little younger. "I've taken the price too, you need to rest for a while now." She stood up and picked up the crutches that were leaning to the side.

     "Looking at your reaction, you may have something to say to your companions." The old lady tapped the wooden floor with a cane, "I'll go to the yard for a cup of tea first, so I won't disturb you all Yes. But remember, you have to stay here first - I have a guest room, you can stay here for the night. Although I don't know what you are..." She paused for a moment, "but you are my patient. Observe, you have to take the medicine you need to take."

    Nemo opened his mouth, but made no sound. So he could only nod his head and show a reluctant smile.

    The old man arched his back and waved at him. The orange cat followed behind the witch, but her tail, which had been raised high, was now drooping behind her butt.

    After the witch left, the atmosphere suddenly became tense. Nemo was still staring at the empty bottle in front of him, all the restless resistance he had felt earlier. The answer in his head made him feel unreal, so he took a deep breath for half a minute and asked the question first.

    "Who of you know the structure of the abyss?" He turned his face and asked seriously.

    Oliver didn't have any special expression, he scratched his hair and turned his eyes to Adrian. The knight commander's brows at the moment could catch mosquitoes, and Ann, a few steps away, glanced at Jesse Dillon, who was poking at the gray parrot on the workbench, who was playing dead on his feet.

    "Why ask this?" Adrian didn't answer this question directly this time, he stared at Nemo's eyes, his voice was a little wary and low.

    "...I need to confirm where I came from." Nemo answered slowly, pursing his lips, and continued. Contrary to his own expectations, his voice was not trembling, but extremely calm. "If I remember correctly, I am indeed a superior demon."

    "It's not big news." Ann folded her arms and leaned against the wall, her tone a little stiff. "At least you told me about it, it seems that you are finally sure?"

    "It's not what you think, Ann." Nemo shook his head, "It's not the 'flesh' like Bagelmore and Dallaene, I should be a complete superior demon ."

    "Awesome." Ann commented sincerely, with a numb expression.

    "Impossible." The knight commander said decisively, "A complete superior demon cannot come to the surface, this is an iron rule. And there has never been a record of a humanoid superior demon, and their bodies are all Huge aliens—not even humanoid ordinary demons have ever been recorded."

    "Then I don't know, maybe the law accidentally dozed off. I..."

    "Waste...he didn't lie." The grey parrot lay half dead on the long table, his outstretched feet twitched twice. "He... the aura he exuded just now won't lie, it's definitely a fake superior, and it's not the same level as flesh and blood."

    And that aura had a terrifying familiarity, as if it had been touched somewhere. The young Nemo had no hostility, he could only recognize the tip of the iceberg. It must be an illusion, Bagmoru thought quiveringly, curling his claws. If Nemo Wright was born like this, even if he climbed out of the abyss... they shouldn't have seen it, otherwise it would definitely make an impression.

    "But a little!" It raised its voice and jumped up. Jesse Dillon, who was poking its belly, finally stopped. "The magician is right, it's impossible for a demon to look like a human. This must be a mimesis! Have you ever seen someone who looks exactly like an ant?"

    "But I'm not mimicking, at least not now." Nemo said dryly, he lowered his head again, and the appearance of his hands gradually merged with the dirty hands in his memory. "That's how I started out."

    "There's no such devil!" the grey parrot shouted, and it mustered up the courage to look at Nemo before taking small steps to hide behind Jesse. "There can't be such a demon—"

    "Describe the environment you remember, Mr. Wright." Adrian interrupted the grey parrot's howl blankly.

    "It's dark, there's almost no light. Most of it is sand. Judging from the temperature difference with the surface, the temperature should be very low." Nemo recalled the touch of his skin, "Occasionally it feels sticky to the touch. Sticky stuff, but I didn't look at it."

    "Sounds like describing my life." Ann interjected dryly, looking at the ceiling.

    "What else?" The knight commander thought for a moment and continued to ask.

    "I didn't encounter any living creatures. There are some white eyes like stars in the sky, moving in pieces, and the speed is not fast."

    Adrian moved his arm, as if subconsciously trying to grab the bow and arrow on his back, but he held back.

    "The bottom of the abyss." The knight commander whispered. "At least as far as I know, this one fits the description."

    "It's a rogue! It's definitely a rogue-" The gray parrot flapped its wings, "If it's really the bottom of the abyss, it can only be the group of freaks! But even the group of freaks , and it is impossible to defy the law..."

    "What law?" The female warrior returned to her senses and raised her eyebrows. "tell me the story."

    "We have cognition since birth. What we want to do, what we want to do, what we can do." Bagelmore said quickly and nervously, "There is always an instinct in living things? Cognition, he will be bound by the law, and even your so-called 'Demon King' must obey the law. If he can escape this... First, he must not be able to use power. Second, he must not have any instinctive desire, even the most basic Desire and appetite. That is the bottom of the abyss! Even if there is such a demon, it will either starve to death, or be eaten by other demons while wandering aimlessly."

    Nimo Wright's question is not resolved, an answer raises more questions. But at least one fact is clear - a complete superior demon left the abyss.

    In contrast, those questions are less important at this moment.

    "Are you going to inform the Holy See, Ed?" the blond young man said casually, "This is a big event."

    Adrian Cross moved his lips, but said nothing. He took a few deep breaths and turned his gaze to Oliver.

    "Oh." Their leader was calm, as if Nemo had just declared which town in Alban he was from. "I don't think it's anything... Can the Holy See beat a complete superior demon?"

    "There is no relevant record." The knight commander said dryly, "but I don't think so."

    "If Nemo was malicious, he could have done a lot of damage before." Oliver shrugged, "This fact doesn't change much now...I'm more of a fighter than to fight early because of this. Tends to continue to be friendly. But Mr. Cross, it looks like I'll have to train harder for that commitment."

    Nimo finally turned his head and looked at Oliver seriously. The other party is standing in the sun, and there is even a smile on his face - even now that he knows the truth.

    "Are you alright?" Oliver asked a completely different question, "That bottle... uh, did you feel any discomfort?"

    This time he still did not escape.

    Nimo stood up. Organizing his memories does have some aftereffects—he shook twice, holding on to the table before standing firm. Then he took a step, walked towards his lamp, and held out his hand again.

    "Nothing," he muttered, giving him a hug—Oliver's body wasn't stiff or shaking.

    Oliver seemed a little surprised, he hesitated for a moment and patted Nemo on the back. "What's wrong?"

    "Mr. White..." whispered Nemo, "what's Mr. White like, Ollie?"

    "A pretty big skull, on the top of the giant sequoia tree in my backyard, I don't know what species it belongs to." Oliver answered his question with some doubts. "It should have been put there by someone, and sometimes there are fresh flowers next to it."

    Nemo let out a tiny sigh.

    Another question. His life, which was once in black and white, was now filled with doubts, but now he had no time to think about it.

    "Listen, Ollie," Nemo said, earnestly. "Hanson moved, Jeremy moved. But I'm not leaving."

    "As long as you are not afraid, as long as you need me, I will not leave you."

    (m..=)