Faust never had any reasons for acting like he did. From slaughtering the entire Noire estate to living his life carefree, the Coyote never had any intentions with relevant meanings. His actions weren't more than a response to how he was feeling at the time. That's just how he lived his life. Like all other practices, he was bored of the repetitive lifestyle, realizing that he needed a motive. He needed guidance, not necessarily in the right direction, but in any given direction. So long as he had somewhere to go, somewhere to be, he would continue to strive on. If not, then the young canine would spend the rest of his life living like an idiot with nothing.

With all that being said, the Coyote jumped straight into the Oakland Church, wondering if he could pick up the religion and work towards becoming a child of Illumin. As soon as he entered, Faust knew this would never be for him. People bringing in gifts of various sorts, wearing bright colors and the sort. A few of them were praying, bowing their heads to and fro and throwing all their respect at a stone statue. Faust immediately asked a million questions to himself. How did they know what the god looked like? What made them think that a stone statue would care for their prayers? A small voice within him sided with the people, telling Faust that anything could happen in the world of spells. Faust just ignored the voice. "What a waste of fucking time." he'd say with no care.

A pastor must have heard him for he laid his hand upon Faust and began to speak, but because of the constant fear for his life, Faust immediately twisted the man's arm. A disgusting crack could be heard all throughout the relatively silent church, immediately followed by a screech of pain. Bent in an unsightly position, the man could not bear it, fainting alas. A million guards flew at Faust at haste, though none of them were actually any good at combat. Noticing that, Faust took them out, each only taking a kick or a blow. "So much for Illumin."

Religion, indeed it wasn't his thing, but his Grandfather liked it. Even quoted the holy testament time and again in order to give Erebus that humanly resolve. That air of conscious. Much like other things in his life, he would lose touch with those lessons. Eventually ending up at the bottom most ranks of Grimoire Heart. Days passed, he held patience to his chest, and soon after. He rivaled even the old hag in fame. What was just a path was now a lifestyle. He was a monster. The ruthless monster of oak Town. Soon now, at least one man a month caught rumor of Strategist, like the fools they were they'd traverse woods to find him. Many miles out, believing in their skills, such arrogance. He wasn't some petty criminal, but the strongest adventurer to lie in the darker spectrum. Those hunters would die, time and again if they kept their haste to them. Only to be met by the hungering Lycan's ferocity. By his savage executing.

Harmonic, how the blood fell from meters above, in the clouds, like droplets of rain to the dirt those lonely nights.

It wasn't long ago he was the agile cat-- now he was the bloodthirsty dog. Pity this piece of shit world wanted him to rip and tear like scrap paper. Humanity was something he figured-- he'd never have. So he forgot how to be humane. Morals were a concept, a law for the humans, he wasn't one. Never would be again.

"It wouldn't be a curse by any other circumstances though, now would it?"

The boy's mouth, and nostrils were covered behind a mask, it helped him keep the smells down. Humans were disgusting if they didn't reek of piss and shit, then they skunked of sex and drugs. It made him gag... The only one he cared to smell... Was Celeste. But where was she? She wasn't returning his phone calls. Was she even alive or something? In this town he wouldn't be surprised. Her body was a luxury to most men, and only he had been plundering the treasure's trove. His fangs canine teeth extended into his gums and blood seeped off his lip. The white hospital mask stained red in the front, but he kept his head down as he walked down the street. People casually bumping into hi. Had his hood been down they'd have treated him like the monster he was. But he felt more human covered up. Like a freak or a psycho.

The silent killer's sweat pants were damp, it had recently rained after all. The environment was dreary but bustling as per usual. His slides pressed into light puddles, his heart rate speeding up as he approached the Church. a familiar scent his him, he really couldn't tell why though. It just seemed like he'd tasted it before. Upon closer inspection a guard flew out the front door to his feet. The boy held both hands in his pockets... Stopping to tilt his head. A laugh escaped him. Looked like something he'd do. Stepping onto the victims lungs, rudely but really just symbolic. He pressed the door open. Sure enough Faust stood close to the entrance with the pope on the ground. A sigh escaped Erebus's lips. He couldn't be here, Grimoire was... Not going to like this. At all.

"Get out of here Faust. I have a proposition for you, but my deals don't have jack to do with hostages and that's exactly what these people behind you feel like. It's time to flee here before they send larger troops."

The boy raised a thumb to the door, while he let his hood down, though. He was smart to keep the mask up. Grimoire Heart couldn't be linked to this. Trouble was bound to follow if it did. Especially with his growing infamy and Faust's alike being seen at the same time.

Blood trickled down his arm, having nearly touched his sleeve before a swift pink muscle caught it. The exquisite flavor was enough to make Faust shed tears. A chaotic howl rang threw the church, followed by the thud of brittle bones smashing the ground. Not long after, Faust looked up to see a figure through the door of the church. The hood that covered the figure was soon removed, only leaving the mask to be yet undone. Despite all the little clues in his head telling him who the mysterious man was, the Coyote wasn't the brightest tool in the shed. Albeit, the stranger spoke true; these were small fry and they would eventually send more than Faust could handle, the moment to flee was now. The Coyote had something up his sleeve just before he disappeared. As if he was pushing something back, he threw his hands outwards. A pool of blood would splash an insignia upon the main statue of Illumin. As he evacuated the scene, Phantom Lord's reputation was on the line.

With a mix of sprinting and jumping, the canine made his way to a smaller pub along the streets of Oak. Most would have exited the town itself by now, but Faust knew better. Having just made an enemy of the church, there's no way running along to another town would help him. They'd just be waiting for him there. There's no way they'd think of searching locally anyways. For the time being, he was more or less safe. He sped threw the bar, making his way to the restroom in order to wash off the blood. All evidence had to be erased. But one problem remained. Who was the individual who called his name? He didn't turn as he scrubbed the red off his arm, but asked. "Who are you?" It was stern, intimidating or meant to be. "How do you know my name?"

Faust didn't let his guard up, not around this person. A multitude of things could happen within a second; the Coyote was not going to take the chance. He was ready to spring into another little spar if things were to go south.

Faust brushed past Erebus quickly. The darker-haired boy stood still, examining the situation for a moment. Two eyes studied the bodies sprawling the church floor, some were dead, others groaned in disbelief. Erebus wasn't sure how Phantom Lord might react to being framed, though it was clever thinking. The Lycan would be keen as to not let anyone know Faust had done it, and that was for both of them. Especially considering the negotiations the two guilds had been staking up towards.

Even despite it. Faust was doing what was primal instinct to himself. It not only surprised Erebus, but impressed him. He had this aura that shouted freedom. If it weren't for the secondary one crying out loneliness. Well... Then he might have been someone Erebus envied. But just maybe, Faust could be. Not with anyone in particular's help. But by being told which path to leap into. That's exactly what the wolf was here to do. To push Faust in a direction, to shape him into a real warrior. A dark mercenary sure, but more importantly, into a man.

What Faust had done here today. It was simply his way of letting out some stress, thought the Lycan when he slammed the door behind himself and swept the streets with speed. He had to get out of there after all, sure he was a prestigious fighter in GH, but numbers would prove difficult. They always did. Behind the Coyote by a few meters he saw him take a turn into a bathroom a good distance from their previous location. When he arrived, there was the white-haired kid. Erebus pulled his mask down underside his the chin.

Erebus understood it clearly. You can't help it when things get under your skin, never can. Though, a religious leader? Certainly this took it to the extreme, even the Lycan himself was convinced that was pretty insane. In all his days, hitting the church was the one thing he 'hadn't' done. It just seemed too public for him. There was respect to be earned there. Definitely.

Then again, their was also many people who would find this atrocious. Even other dark mages might find it wrong, since a great deal of them could still be counted a follower of Illumin. The white-haired boy would need to think this over later, he'd jeopardized a lot, instinct or not. More than he could ever hope to have done anywhere else.

The whole country would be grovelling to hear about this, nobles included. So it begged the question, who was going to protect Faust if Phantom Lord or the Rune Knights found him out there alone? Faust needed to learn control, he needed some kind superior. Erebus too, but at least he knew when to pick and choose the lambs to slaughter. Faust needed people to show him the ropes, he needed a family. Or at the very least, an ally in this violent lifestyle.

"It's Strategist. We've met."

His eyes squinted. However, he spoke nondescript. Something which was more rare in him nowadays, but with his racial change. The trait was bleeding back into him slowly.

"They'll hunt you down Faust. You know that?"

Strategist leaned his back against the wall. He had removed a red cellphone from his pocket and typed in keys as he spoke. Obviously, he was reaching out to someone. In Faust's case, it was Icarus. Today might've been the Coyote's luckiest-- in a long, long, time. Then again, this was more about trusting each other than anything else. Faust could mistake this for turning him in, whatever. Or he could run, same difference, if so Erebus would leave fate to take care of the Coyote. Either scenario was plausible right now, it was up to Faust to decide what he wanted...

The text was finished. "So? Speak up. I want to know personally, not really anything important or whatever. Just curious. What's most important to you? It's not required, I just wanna know what keeps you moving forward."

Strategist. Faust calmed himself upon hearing the name, revoking any sense of insecurity he displayed. Despite their previous and only other meeting having been brief, Faust certainly deemed Strategist a trustworthy individual. They shared a moment of rapacious delight beforehand, defiling the Majura Gallery within this town. It had only been a couple days prior, yet it felt as if it had been decades since Faust had free reign over anything.

However, the Coyote was not brain-dead. He understood the severity of his action against the Church; having harmed a religious leader above all else did not assist his situation. Strategist announced the obvious, indirectly questioning whether or not Faust comprehended how many enemies he made with his choices. More importantly, Faust pondered on the enemies he did make. The Rune Knights were a nuisance, but there were the Holy Knights to consider as well. The one move Faust analyzed again and again in his head; was it wise to have framed Phantom Lord? Having being told he was going to be hunted, nothing on Faust's face displayed any form of care. Being on the run was nothing new to the canine. He slaughtered his entire clan on the behalf of his feelings and has been on the run since, the situation at hand was no different.

The Strategist pulled a red device from the pockets of his jacket and as a reaction, Faust tensed up. Whether or not it was noticed by Erebus was up to his abilities, though Faust himself thought it wasn't very noticeable. It was brief, for Faust summed up that there was no way Erebus was to call the authorities on him. After all, they did break into an art gallery together; there was no way Faust planned to head down alone.

Several button mashes later and Erebus began his inquiries once more. Unlike the rhetorical questions presented earlier, the questions asked were quite interesting, as well as a challenge. What pushed Faust forward, kept him driving on? He stayed silent like a child being reprimanded. The Coyote asked himself this several times, still coming up empty handed. Deep within, Faust knew what kept him pushing, but to admit it was an embarrassment. He wanted praise above all else, recognition for his accomplishments. A childish reason was reason enough for Faust to speak falsely, finally retorting with a response of momentary pleasure instead of a permanent justification. "Sex." he blandly announced. Would Erebus find it humorous? It wasn't hard to realize how half-assed the answer presented was, but with a little bit of comedy twisted into the statement, Faust hoped it would keep the pushing of questions surrounding the topic. "It's the same for you, isn't it?" Faust chuckled.

The water from the sink was still running; Faust still had to get the vital fluid off his arms.

The canine always looked as if he was missing blood; the alabaster hue otherwise known as his face had always been pale. The little blood that the Coyote did have flew to his cheeks as Strategist countered his buffoonery with a revel of his own, claiming that memes were the answers given to us. Furthermore, the man in the hoodie added an extra gesture that provided more comfortable air. Faust had various forms of respect for a number of people. Without a doubt, Strategist took first place when it came to his sense of humor. Ignoring the situation at hand, Erebus cracked a joke here and there and created a soothing environment immediately.

The next few words from the ally took Faust by surprise. "Join my guild." The words repeated themselves over and over, as if in a trance of sorts. Faust never thought of a guild being the answer to his prayers; that was still to be decided, but it was a direction like he wanted. As he glared towards Erebus, putting on his mask once more, Faust answered. "Those suffocating masks aren't a requirement, are they?" It was a jest, though a hint of worry slipped through his voice. "I'll join if we can get something that looks better."

Coyote followed his new friend, ally, comrade. These words were usually unheard of, hardly used by the white-haired man. It was a nice change. The real question now was whether or not it was the right choice, a valued change. It was still hard to tell, but Faust only looked ahead from this point on. After all, he had just been recruited into a guild that had Strategist looking better than most; perhaps it would have the same effect upon himself. A reason to serve, instead of aimlessly running amok. Faust liked the idea of such. No words to be said, the Coyote stalked his colleague to the unknown, though with the faith invested into Erebus, it was surely to be interesting.