《S.T.E.I.N:A Tale of a Monster Who Hunts Monsters》


 Chapter:1-The Frozen Man

    Prometheus


    Winter had sunk its claws deep into the world, and the Prometheus was trapped in its grasp.


    Below deck, warmth still lingered, held at bay by flickering lanterns and the bodies of sailors packed into the dimly lit hall. Laughter and drunken boasts filled the air, accompanied by the raucous clatter of wooden tankards slamming onto tables. The scent of ale, sweat, and salt mixed together, creating an almost suffocating thickness in the air.


    Among them moved Mary, a girl who had long since grown used to the rowdy ways of sailors. She wove through the crowd with practiced ease, balancing a tray of drinks with thinly veiled irritation.


    "Watch it, damn you!" she snapped as a burly sailor nearly sent her tray flying.


    The man, already deep in his cups, grinned. "Aw, c¡¯mon, lass, don¡¯t be so cold! Sit, drink with us!"


    Mary scowled. "If I sat with every idiot who asked, I¡¯d be drunker than all of you combined!"


    The surrounding men erupted in laughter. The sailor gave a sheepish shrug before returning to his drink. Mary huffed and continued her work, dodging grasping hands and the occasional thrown object. She barely managed to sidestep a wooden spoon that clattered against the wall behind her.


    "I swear, I¡¯ll talk to the captain about this," she muttered under her breath. "This is the last damn time I¡ª"


    CRACK!


    The entire ship lurched violently. Tankards slid off tables, chairs scraped against the floor, and a few unlucky men toppled over entirely. The raucous atmosphere turned to stunned silence.


    Then, chaos erupted.


    "What the hell was that?" someone shouted.


    "Did we hit something?"


    Mary¡¯s heart pounded as she scrambled to keep her footing. The ship groaned ominously. Above them, heavy footsteps thundered across the deck, followed by a sharp, commanding voice.


    "ALL HANDS ABOVE DECK! NOW!"


    The crew didn¡¯t hesitate. One by one, they surged toward the stairs, shoving past Mary as they rushed topside. She hesitated only a moment before following, her breath misting in the freezing air as she emerged into the night.


    And then she saw it.


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    A massive slab of ice, nearly as large as the Prometheus itself, loomed in the dark waters. It jutted from the sea like a jagged monument, pale beneath the moonlight. But that wasn¡¯t what had turned the crew to stone.


    No, it was him.


    Frozen within the ice, perfectly preserved, was a man.


    The captain was the first to break the silence. "By the gods..." His voice was barely more than a whisper, lost in the howl of the wind. He gripped the railing and leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "Is that... a person?"


    Mary swallowed hard, unable to look away.


    The frozen figure was beautiful in a way that seemed unnatural¡ªhis form was muscular and sculpted, his features sharp as if carved from marble. His long, dark hair hung around his face, trapped in icy strands. His limbs were perfectly proportioned, though marked with scars and strange stitch-like lines that ran along his torso and arms. Yet, despite the imperfections, there was something almost divine about him.


    He looked untouched by time. A relic from a forgotten age.


    "Orders, Captain?" one of the men asked hesitantly.


    The captain exhaled, his breath a thin mist in the cold air. "Get the pickaxes. Wake the mage. And bring blankets¡ªif this man wakes up, I don¡¯t want him freezing to death."


    The crew scrambled to obey. Some moved quickly, eager for orders, while others hesitated, casting wary glances at the frozen figure. Mary found herself stepping closer, drawn forward despite the unease prickling at her spine.


    "Do you think he¡¯s alive?" she asked.


    "Doesn¡¯t matter," the captain replied. "We¡¯ll find out soon enough."


    <hr>


    It took nearly an hour to free him.


    The pickaxes shattered the outer layers of ice while the mages chanted incantations, melting the rest. Bit by bit, the prison of frost fell away, revealing more of the man beneath. When the final pieces crumbled, his body slumped forward and hit the deck with a dull thud.


    He didn¡¯t move.


    One of the sailors sighed. "I told you. Whatever he was, he¡¯s long dead. You can¡¯t just wake something up after gods know how long frozen in ice."


    Then¡ª


    A twitch.


    Mary saw it first. Her breath caught in her throat. "Wait¡ªlook!"


    Another twitch. Then, his fingers flexed, sluggish and unsure. The sailors leaned in, whispering hurriedly. One of them hesitated, then reached out and pried open an eyelid¡ª


    Dull, yellow eyes stared back at them.


    The sailor yelped and stumbled backward. The crew collectively stiffened.


    Mary¡¯s pulse quickened. There was something wrong about those eyes¡ªclouded and unfocused, yet eerily aware. He was alive. But how?


    Then, the man¡¯s mouth opened. His chest rose and fell, taking in deep, rattling breaths. The sound scraped against the silence.


    And then¡ª


    He screamed.


    "ARGHHHHHH!!!"


    The sound tore through the night like a thunderclap¡ªraw, agonized, filled with something ancient and broken. Sparks of electricity crackled from his fingertips, flickering like dying embers before vanishing entirely.


    The crew flinched. Several reached for weapons.


    "Hold!" the captain ordered.


    The man gasped for air, clutching his head. His entire body trembled, his muscles locking and releasing as though they had never moved before. Slowly¡ªpainfully slow¡ªhe forced himself upright. His gaze flickered over the crew before settling on the captain.


    Then, with great effort, he spoke.


    "M-my¡­ apologies¡­ for my¡­ outburst¡­"


    His voice was deep, rich, but hoarse from disuse.


    Silence fell again. The crew exchanged wary glances. How could he speak their language? And so fluently?


    Mary swallowed, then hesitantly stepped closer. "What¡­ is your name?"


    The man looked at her. His expression shifted¡ªconfusion, hesitation. He seemed lost in thought, as if grasping for something just out of reach.


    Then, at last, he answered.


    "Victor¡­ My name is Victor."


    The wind howled through the sails.


    And in the vast emptiness of the northern sea, the Prometheus sailed on, carrying a man who should not have been alive.

 Chapter:2- Aboard The Prometheus

    Victor sat in the dimly lit cabin, facing the ship¡¯s captain. The heavy wooden door was shut, muffling the murmurs of the crew beyond it. But their presence was undeniable¡ªshadowed figures pressed against the frosted glass, eager to glimpse the man who had emerged from the ice. Their curiosity hung thick in the air, an unspoken tension that even the walls of the captain¡¯s quarters couldn¡¯t keep out.


    Mary stood by the wall, her posture stiff and formal, hands clasped tightly together. Her gaze flickered between the two men¡ªthe enigmatic stranger and the grizzled captain¡ªher expression unreadable, though her fingers twitched against the fabric of her coat.


    The captain, a man of deep lines and storm-weathered skin, exhaled through his nose as he leaned forward. His hands folded together, calloused fingers drumming lightly against his knuckles.


    "Mr. Victor, do you truly not remember anything?" His voice was calm, measured, yet searching.


    Victor shook his head, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. "No, I do not."


    The frustration in his tone was subtle but present. He had spent an unknown amount of time trapped beneath ice and snow, and now, even freed, he remained ensnared¡ªthis time by the absence of his own past.


    The captain studied him, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the unnatural stillness of his form. There was something about Victor that unsettled him¡ªnot fear, exactly, but a quiet unease. He had never seen a man quite like him.


    Finally, Robert Walton leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting from scrutiny to contemplation. "Well, we¡¯ll reach our destination in about two days. Do you mind lending a hand until then?"


    The question was casual in tone, but there was an edge beneath it. This was not merely a polite request¡ªit was a test. On a ship like the Prometheus, every man had a purpose. If Victor proved useless, he would be left at the nearest port. Keeping dead weight aboard was a luxury they could not afford.


    Victor considered this for only a moment before nodding. "I do not mind. After all, you freed me from my prison. I am forever grateful to you."


    The captain¡¯s brow lifted slightly. "Grateful, eh?" A rare smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Well, that¡¯s a first. Most of the poor souls we pull from the ice are half-mad and screaming."


    Victor merely inclined his head, expression unreadable.


    Robert let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Very well. Oh! I nearly forgot to introduce myself. My name is Captain Robert Walton. You can call me Captain or Robert, whichever suits you."


    "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Captain," Victor said with formal precision.


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    Robert snorted. "Formal, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯ll loosen up after spending some time with this lot." He gestured toward the door, where the crew¡ªwho had been shamelessly eavesdropping¡ªsuddenly scrambled back, feigning disinterest.


    "Mary will show you around the ship," the captain continued, nodding toward the young woman. "Get him familiar with the crew, too. It¡¯ll do them good to see he¡¯s just a man, not some frozen ghost."


    Mary straightened at the mention of her name. "Y-yes, Captain." She turned to Victor and motioned toward the door. "Come on, I¡¯ll show you around."


    Victor followed her into the narrow hallway, the air thick with salt and damp wood. The moment they stepped onto the deck, the gathered sailors immediately reacted¡ªsome openly staring, others pretending to be busy. A few shot wary glances, as if expecting him to vanish back into the ice from which he had come.


    Mary sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "Alright, listen up! This is Victor. He¡¯s staying with us until we reach port, so stop gawking and get back to work!"


    A few of the more sober sailors nodded quickly and shuffled off. The drunk ones, however, were less obedient.


    One of them, a tall man with a patchy beard, sauntered over with a lazy grin, slinging an arm around Mary¡¯s shoulders. "Now, now, Mary, no need to be so harsh! We¡¯re just curious about our new friend here."


    He turned to Victor, looking him up and down. "So, what¡¯s your story, eh? You some kind of lost prince? Or maybe a sorcerer from the north?"


    Victor met his gaze without flinching. "I do not know my story. Perhaps I will learn it here."


    The bearded sailor let out a bark of laughter. "Mysterious, eh? I like it!" He clapped Victor on the shoulder¡ªhard. Too hard. The force of the slap would have staggered most men, but Victor barely moved.


    The sailor blinked in surprise before letting out a low whistle. "Damn, you¡¯re built like a mountain." He stepped back, giving Victor another once-over.


    "Actually¡­" he muttered, squinting. "You are a mountain. You¡¯re at least a head and a half taller than the rest of us!"


    It was true. The men aboard the Prometheus were not short by any means¡ªmany were taller than average¡ªbut Victor loomed over even the tallest of them by several inches. His presence was imposing, unnatural in its sheer scale.


    Mary rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. He¡¯s always like that when he¡¯s been drinking. Which is most of the time."


    Victor only nodded. His gaze drifted across the deck. The Prometheus was a sturdy vessel, its masts reaching toward the steel-gray sky, its sails taut with the northern wind. The sea stretched endlessly around them, waves crashing against the hull with rhythmic certainty.


    And yet, despite the unfamiliarity of his surroundings, Victor felt something unexpected. A strange¡­ rightness. As if the ship, the ocean, the very motion of the waves¡ªnone of it was foreign to him.


    Mary noticed his expression. "Everything alright?"


    Victor hesitated, then nodded. "Yes¡­ It just feels¡­ right."


    Mary tilted her head. "Right?"


    "I do not know why," Victor admitted. "But something about this¡­ it is familiar."


    Mary studied him for a moment before offering a small smile. "Well, come on, then. There¡¯s more to see."


    She led him across the deck, introducing him to the rest of the crew as they went.


    "Ms. Mary," Victor said after a pause, "may I know your full name?"


    "Huh?" She blinked at him, then shrugged. "Oh. It¡¯s Mary Westbrook."


    Victor nodded. "Do you¡­ remember your full name?" she asked hesitantly.


    Victor fell silent. His brow furrowed slightly as if searching his own mind for an answer.


    "I do not recall," he finally admitted.


    Mary sighed softly. "Well, maybe it¡¯ll come back to you." She walked beside him, leading him through the ship¡¯s narrow corridors.


    And as Victor followed, his gaze lingered on the waves. Somewhere out there, beyond the ice and the sea, his past awaited.


    And soon, he would find it.

 Chapter:3-Mages Inquiry

    Victor sat on the deck of the Prometheus, the icy wind howling around him. While the sailors shivered beneath thick winter coats, their breath visible in the frigid air, he remained unfazed, his bare skin untouched by the cold. He moved effortlessly, hauling crates that would normally require multiple men, his expression neutral, as if carrying mere sacks of grain instead of heavy cargo.


    The ship groaned as it cut through the ice-laden waters, the deck occasionally slick with frost. The crew watched Victor, some with admiration, others with unease.


    "It ain''t natural," one sailor muttered, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Man walks through this hell like it¡¯s a summer¡¯s day."


    Another sailor grunted in agreement, his breath fogging the air. "He ain''t even breakin'' a sweat. How in God''s name does that work?"


    A third, older sailor spat over the railing. "Ain''t our place to question. He does his work without complainin''. Better than some of you lazy sods."


    Their whispered speculation was interrupted when Mary stomped toward Victor, her boots clanking against the wooden boards. The irritation on her face was unmistakable.


    "Victor!" she barked, arms crossed. "The mage wants to see you. Now."


    Victor blinked at her but nodded. Without hesitation, he set down the crate he was carrying and followed her below deck.


    <hr>


    Below Deck


    The lower deck of the Prometheus was a labyrinth of pipes and engines, churning and hissing as they powered the ship through the frozen waters. The air was thick with the scent of oil and burning coal, the dim lanterns barely cutting through the gloom. Victor barely flinched as the ship rocked slightly, the cold metal walls pressing in around them.


    Beyond the clamor of the machinery lay an unusual chamber, its wooden walls lined with strange symbols. Scrolls and books were piled haphazardly, alongside vials of glowing liquid, rusted trinkets, and bizarre artifacts that seemed to hum with faint energy. The room carried an oppressive air, one that made Mary stop short.


    "I¡¯m not going in there," she declared, folding her arms. "It gives me the creeps."


    Victor gave her a brief glance before stepping inside on his own.


    Within, amidst the scattered pages and arcane symbols, stood a peculiar figure. Their long black hair cascaded down to their hips, their sharp eyes gleaming with excitement as they scribbled something down, muttering under their breath.


    "Take the runes and apply it to the amount of mana and the chant f¡ª" The figure stopped mid-sentence, eyes finally landing on Victor. A grin spread across their face.


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    "Oh! What a joy to finally meet you!"


    Victor tilted his head slightly. The person¡¯s voice and features made it difficult to determine their gender or even their age. Their excitement, however, was impossible to miss.


    "My name is Fritz! Nice to meet you!" the mage declared.


    Victor nodded. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Fritz."


    Fritz¡¯s eyes widened slightly before they let out an amused chuckle. "Just Fritz will do!"


    Victor said nothing as the mage took a step closer, studying him with unabashed fascination. Their gaze flicked from his face to his arms, as if scanning him for something unseen. Then, as if barely containing themselves, they clasped their hands together.


    "Mr. Victor," Fritz began, an eager gleam in their eye, "do you know what a blessing is?"


    Victor thought for a moment before responding. "I believe it is supposed to be a reward from some sort of godly being, correct?"


    "Somewhat, yes. But not the type you¡¯re thinking of¡­" Fritz leaned forward, the candlelight casting long shadows across their face. "See, some people have a blessing¡ªmostly individuals from the Church, though others can have them as well. A blessing grants a person a strength or power they wouldn¡¯t naturally possess."


    Victor absorbed the information in silence, his golden eyes thoughtful.


    "Why have you told me this?" he finally asked.


    Fritz¡¯s lips curled into a smirk. "Because of what you did when you woke up. Your hands emitted lightning."


    Victor¡¯s brows furrowed slightly. "So, you believe I have a ¡®blessing¡¯? Is that correct?"


    "Yes! Although one doesn¡¯t need a blessing to have powers, it is the most common explanation." Fritz¡¯s excitement grew palpable. "And if you do have a blessing¡ªoh, how special that would be! I need to study how your body works!"


    Victor hesitated. "Ah¡­ how exactly?"


    One Day Later,


    In the dimly lit kitchen of the Prometheus, Mary sighed deeply as yet another batch of charred fish was brought in. The cook gave her a deadpan look before dumping the burnt meal onto the counter.


    "Victor and Fritz are still at it, huh?" she muttered, rubbing her temples.


    The cook grunted. "Aye. If they aren¡¯t experimenting with lightning, they¡¯re murdering fish in the name of ¡®science.¡¯ I swear, if I see one more blackened fillet, I¡¯m tossing them both overboard."


    Mary groaned. "They better not set the ship on fire..."


    Down in Fritz¡¯s study, Victor sat on a stool while the eccentric mage stood before him, taking notes furiously. A small table beside them was littered with the remains of unfortunate sea creatures, some completely charred, others half-fried. Smoke still curled from the latest failed attempt.


    "Fascinating! Absolutely fascinating!" Fritz clapped their hands together. "Your control is still developing, but the fact that you can discharge electricity with no visible medium to draw from? Astonishing!"


    Victor frowned, flexing his fingers as faint arcs of electricity danced between them. "It doesn¡¯t feel natural¡­ It feels like something is there, guiding it."


    Fritz¡¯s eyes gleamed. "Now that is even more interesting! Tell me, Victor¡ªdoes it feel like something within you? Or something outside of you?"


    Victor was silent for a long moment before answering. "...Both."


    Fritz scribbled wildly in their notes, practically bouncing on their heels. "We must do more tests!"


    Victor sighed. "No more fish."


    Fritz pouted. "But¡ª"


    "No. More. Fish."


    <hr>


    Later That Night


    Victor leaned on the ship¡¯s railing, watching the dark sea churn beneath the moonlight. The waves crashed against the hull, their rhythmic motion soothing. He flexed his fingers again, watching tiny sparks dance between them.


    ''A blessing, huh?''


    The thought lingered in his mind. But something told him this power might help him recover his Identity.


    He closed his hand into a fist, the sparks vanishing into the night.

 Chapter:4-Practise

    Chapter 4: Sparks in the Dark


    The dim glow of lanterns flickered against the wooden walls of the Prometheus¡¯ lower deck, casting long shadows as Victor and Fritz stood over a hastily prepared worktable. The scent of burnt fish still lingered in the air, a testament to their previous experiments.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s try this again.¡± Fritz¡¯s voice was laced with excitement as they set another fish onto the wooden slab. ¡°You have to control the flow of energy, Victor. Think of it like water¡ªtoo much at once, and it floods. Too little, and it won¡¯t reach its destination.¡±


    Victor, standing shirtless in the cold air, furrowed his brow. He had been testing his abilities for hours, yet each time he summoned the lightning, it either fizzled out or overcharged, leaving behind nothing but charred remains.


    He stared down at his fingers. Small sparks flickered at the tips, crackling faintly before disappearing. It was there, but unstable.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand¡­¡± Victor muttered, flexing his fingers. ¡°It feels¡­ unnatural, yet familiar.¡±


    Fritz leaned in, their sharp eyes scanning his every movement. ¡°That¡¯s expected. You don¡¯t remember anything from before, right?¡±


    Victor nodded.


    ¡°Then it¡¯s like trying to recall a language you¡¯ve forgotten how to speak. The words are there, buried deep, but your tongue doesn¡¯t know how to form them.¡±


    Victor looked down at the fish. He focused, inhaling slowly, feeling the energy coil within him. A faint hum resonated in his bones, and then¡ª


    A crackle. A jolt. A tiny arc of lightning snapped from his fingertip and zapped the fish. That was normal that happened a lot of times before but this time he kept it up for a record breaking 39 seconds.


    Fritz clapped their hands. ¡°Yes! That¡¯s progress!¡±


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    Victor frowned at the fish, which was now destroyed beyond recognition.


    ¡°¡­This is inefficient,¡± he said flatly.


    Fritz waved a hand dismissively. ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re using raw bursts instead of regulating the flow. We will work on power control later. But the fact that you kept it up for so long is good!.¡±


    A sudden knock at the door interrupted them. Mary¡¯s voice rang out. ¡°What are you two doing?!,I will not tolerate any weird stuff in the place I work at!¡±


    Fritz grinned. ¡°Oh, come in, Mary! Witness the birth of lightning mastery!¡±


    The door creaked open, and Mary stepped in, arms crossed, her face somewhere between frustration and curiosity. She eyed Victor, then the crates full of fish and ash, which was most likely the previous experiments.


    She sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I expected.¡±


    Victor remained silent, staring at his hand. The energy was still there, just beneath his skin, waiting to be called forth. He clenched his fingers slightly, and a tiny crackle responded.


    He had power. That much was clear. But where had it come from? And why was it buried within him?


    Fritz must have noticed his expression because they leaned against the table, tilting their head. ¡°You¡¯re wondering why you have this power, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Victor gave a slow nod.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s the real question, isn¡¯t it?¡± Fritz smirked. ¡°Tell you what¡ªkeep practicing, and I¡¯ll do some digging. Maybe there¡¯s a way to uncover what¡¯s locked inside that mysterious head of yours.¡±


    Victor looked up at them. ¡°How?¡±


    Fritz¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Magic, of course.¡±


    <hr>


    Later that night¡­


    The ship rocked gently against the waves, the creaking of wood and the howling of the wind the only sounds in the dead of night.


    Victor stood alone on the deck, staring out at the endless dark horizon. The cold did not bother him. He barely even registered it. Instead, his mind churned, trying to grasp the fragments of memory that still eluded him.


    His name was Victor. He knew that. But everything beyond that was a void, a yawning emptiness that no amount of thinking could fill.


    He flexed his fingers again. Sparks danced along his knuckles.


    ''Why do I have this power?''. He thought. ''And what does it mean?''


    Behind him, footsteps approached. He didn¡¯t turn as Mary walked up beside him, pulling her coat tighter around herself.


    ¡°¡­Can¡¯t sleep?¡± she asked.


    Victor shook his head. ¡°No.¡±


    Mary exhaled, her breath visible in the icy air. ¡°Figured.¡± She glanced at his hands, where small arcs of lightning still flickered. ¡°¡­You should be careful with that.¡±


    Victor looked at her. ¡°Why?¡±


    Mary hesitated. ¡°¡­Because you might burn the ship down.¡±


    Victor turned back toward the sea, watching as the waves stretched endlessly before him. A storm was brewing in the distance, the faint rumble of thunder rolling across the night sky.


    It was weirdly beautiful....