the green writer

Story: The Sunset Monster

Chapter Three: The Cursed Town of Glass Ball

His steps grew more confident and firm. Hans began moving with greater energy than before, and as his mind regained focus, thoughts beyond his hunger crept in—memories he could not bury. The screams of the girl that never left his head… the screams of his father, too. The dead followed him everywhere.

He approached a certain place, and the confidence in his breath turned heavy with sorrow. He kicked at the rocks violently and screamed over and over:

"Why all of this?! Why do all these things happen to me alone?! My city was annihilated, my family slaughtered… I'm just a speck in this cruel world!"

He pulled out his notebook and began writing rapidly. But his anger was faster—he tore the page apart, and it turned into fireballs that consumed everything around him. He watched the flames dance before him, and then he suddenly noticed something strange—when the last spiderweb burned away, the cursed town of Glass Ball was revealed before his eyes.

Leaning against a tree, he stared in amazement… the town looked as if a war had raged within it. Houses lay in ruins, walls were clawed with sharp talon marks, as if a beast had swept through.

Hans looked at it and muttered coldly, "I fought living dolls, now a town with a terrifying monster? Nothing new to me."

Then, he moved forward once again, heading into the unknown.

Small eyes watched the stranger approaching from outside the town. The gazes quickly retreated, and one of the children dashed off, sprinting between the ruins, past the blacksmith's house, then near the home of the hunter, Colt, until he reached a hidden little square.

He stepped on flowers struggling to grow over the graves, and a girl kneeling there whispered in distress:

"Rain! What are you doing?! You just stepped on your uncle's flower!"

The boy stopped, panting heavily, then said in a breathless voice:

"There's someone… a stranger… he's here!"

The girl's expression instantly changed, her violet eyes widening in shock. She brushed her short black hair away from her face and asked urgently:

"Where? What does he look like?"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her along until they stopped behind Colt's house, peering at the man sitting on a wooden barrel.

The girl murmured as she observed him cautiously, "Do you think he'll help us?"

Rain replied eagerly, "Come on, Mirai! Did you forget Grandma's vision? She said someone would come to save us!"

Mirai studied him carefully, then furrowed her brows and whispered,

"But… look at him. He's short, scrawny, and even his clothes are in rags."

Rain laughed, glancing at her own outfit—the stolen guard's cloak she used just to keep warm—and teased,

"Well, at least he looks better than us!"

Mirai chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her brother's hair.

"True, little brother."

Then he grinned and asked, "So when are you going to talk to him?"

She tensed up suddenly, glancing at the grave before her as she whispered,

"Not now… I need to finish Mother's grave first."

—

Giant boulders, destroyed buildings, monstrous claw marks carved into the walls.

The people he encountered looked like misery was their lifelong companion. Their gazes were empty, their silence heavy, as if they had lost the ability to express anything. When he spoke to an old woman, there was no life in her eyes. She opened her mouth but said nothing. When he tried to speak to another person, they ignored him completely, leaving him with nothing but questions.

He saw the gruesome injuries on some of them—deep wounds that only a monster could have caused. Yet despite their suffering, they avoided him, as if despair had severed their ties to the world.

But there was something else. Since entering the town, Hans felt it—a presence. Eyes watching him.

He muttered sarcastically as he sat on a barrel in the town square, "Same eyes as the dolls… nothing new."

Looking ahead, he spotted a large red house—beautiful in design, despite the destruction. But what caught his attention more was the massive boulder blocking its entrance. He sighed in sorrow:

"So, someone here is even more miserable than me."

A faint voice slithered from behind him, like the hiss of a snake:

"Yes, they are more wretched than you… The Toman family sought to rise, but their greed led them to this fate."

Hans turned toward the voice and found an old man clad in oily leather garments, with long hair, a thick beard, a torn mouth, and a single gray eye. His strange appearance made Hans wonder:

"What happened here?"

The old man stepped closer, his gaze landing on Hans's iron hand and the weapon on his back. He looked at the massive boulder before speaking in contemplation:

"Years ago, a witch and her daughter came to our town, claiming they would bring us prosperity. But a year ago, Lord Serin discovered the treachery she had been weaving and ordered her execution. Since that day, the entire town has been cursed by her daughter."

The old man fell silent for a moment before smiling strangely. Hans pressed for more:

"Cursed how?"

The man stroked his beard with his iron hand and continued:

"A curse of eternal confinement in this wretched town. And the destruction you see around you… it's all because of Arkmor."

Hans's eyes widened in shock:

"Arkmor… the bastard of the deerfolk?!"

The old man chuckled darkly.

"So, you've heard of him. He comes every night, killing anyone who isn't inside a house. At first, the soldiers fought valiantly, but as you can see, most of them perished. And the rest? If Arkmor's curse didn't cripple them, their injuries barely let them move."

The old man turned away, walking off slowly before murmuring in a quiet voice:

"Boy, if you want my advice… leave before you end up cursed too."

Before Hans could reply, the man vanished into the shadows, as if he had never been there.

Hans pulled out one of his books, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Reading aloud with cold detachment:

"I think I know what their curse is."

He examined the text carefully:

'The Curse of Death: It begins with the death of a loved one. Their corpse is taken, subjected to foundational curses, followed by a regional curse, and finally, the curse of a monster. The curse consumes the corpse's mana until it is completely decayed.'

Closing the book, his face darkened as he whispered:

"I just dealt with a demon worshiper, and now I find myself facing a witch, a curse, and a wretched town… What a day."

Walking through the ruined town, he observed the devastation left behind by the witch's daughter. There was no one to talk to—the men and women, the young and old… they were all in pitiful states.

Frustrated, he entered one of the destroyed homes, sat in a corner, dropped his bag, and smirked sarcastically:

"Even if no one talks to me, I'll rest here before I escape… They'll die to Arkmor anyway."

Lying down, he pulled out his notebook, jotting down everything that had happened. When he reached the end, he paused, placed the pen between his lips, and muttered in boredom:

"The ending is dull… I just run away and leave the town?"

He looked at the distant sun, thinking for a moment, but soon shut his eyes and murmured:

"No… that won't happen. Saving these people from a curse? No, no…"

Covering his face with his notebook, he smacked his forehead lightly and told himself:

"Have you lost your mind, Hans?"

Then, he surrendered to sleep.