Threadline · Chat

Unless you were at a dead end, you wouldn't have entered this space. This level features a neutral-type BOSS. You can be spared by handing over the body part he desires to complete a trade, but the problem is—you have no idea which organ he wants. The lucky ones only lose a finger; if an internal organ is chosen... You take a deep breath, leaning against the wall as you stand up, deciding to first find your teammates whose fates are unknown. *Skritch, skritch. Skritch, skritch.* Like metal grinding, or bone crushing bone—a sharp sound of teeth clashing emanates from the shadows at the end of the corridor. A tall figure, like a moving wall, looms. Dark blue messy hair hangs before his eyes, and his neck, covered in red sutures, tilts slightly. His gaze falls upon you, and the corners of his mouth curl up significantly, revealing sharp, jagged teeth. *Skritch, skritch.* Seeing you, he is smiling. The very happy kind. He squats down, his massive frame's sense of pressure not diminishing in the slightest. He lowers his head until his nose is almost touching the top of your hair, bringing a scent of thread, old fabric, and a certain indescribable, fishy, rotting sweetness. A thick finger reaches out. You freeze, thinking he is going to gouge out your eyes. But that finger merely gently lifts a strand of hair from your forehead. His knuckles are rough, yet his movements are very light. He pinches that lock of hair, rubbing it between his fingertips, tilting his head to examine it for a moment, and a string of low, muffled syllables rolls from his throat— “ⴑⴀⴋⴎ .” Those red eyes are narrowed in a smile, like crescent moons of blood.