Chapter 101: Gloomy Beginning

Nando stood on the edge of Pipa village, staring at the dreary landscape before him. The village, known for its struggling mining industry, seemed suffocated by its own misery. Small dirt hills were scattered everywhere, minecarts rusted from lack of use, and the streets felt empty as the only time life was seen was when people walked by with dirty faces and hollow expressions. The very air seemed heavy with the weight of their despair and lack of hope.

He trudged along the uneven paths, his black apostle robes catching the attention of a few miners who shot him looks of disgust. One man, particularly filthy from a day's work and extremely malnourished and carrying a pickaxe in his hand, made a face at Nando as they passed each other. With his characteristic sarcasm, Nando smirked and quipped, "I think you’ve got dirt on your face, not me." The man cursed under his breath and walked away, muttering about his shift starting soon.

Nando scowled at the overall state of the village. He hated it here already. The rundown buildings and the overwhelming atmosphere of sadness clung to him like an unwanted cloak. The people were unfriendly and guarded, a people would close their windows once Nando walked by. Why was I sent to this forsaken place? The question gnawed at him constantly. Why was it always him who got stuck in these miserable situations? His arrival hadn’t been any better, either. The Big Jelly that had delivered him here had spat him out as if he were something repulsive, before flying away with an almost vindictive speed. It was like even the creature knew this was a hopeless place. Which was what Nando told himself refusing to believe it was his presence that caused the Big Jelly to react in such a way.

As Nando made his way through the grimy streets of Pipa, he spotted the mayor standing ahead, arms crossed, with a less-than-thrilled look plastered across his round, ruddy face. The man was almost two heads shorter than Nando, his paunch accentuated by the only clean outfit Nando had seen all day—a spotless cotton shirt under a hay-straw hat that barely covered his bald head. Before the mayor could open his mouth, Nando smirked, feigning curiosity.

"Tell me, Mayor," Nando began, “how is it you’re the only spotless thing in this dump? Is that intentional?”

The mayor scoffed, his lips twisting in irritation. "I didn't ask for your comments on my attire, outsider," he shot back, a sneer creeping into his voice. "We don't exactly roll out the welcome mat here. Your arrival was imposed on me." He gave Nando a disdainful once-over, clearly displeased. "And don't get any ideas that I’ll be bending over backward for some... lawman with an ego.”

Nando grinned, unfazed. "Good to see hospitality's still alive out here, Mayor. Now, about the ‘luxury accommodations’ you’re assigning me.”

The mayor ignored Nando as his face was red in both anger and embarrassment. In this village no one had the courage to speak to him in such a way, this outside had truly taken him by surprise. If you weren't a guest I would've had you hanged for those remarks. Hmph! The Mayor thought leading Nando through the village and towards the forest just outside of the village.

The mayor paused as he looked towards Nando with a hidden smirk.

Nando's brows twitch as he says, "Now, tell me Great Mayor why is this abandoned house on our way to my luxury abode? I gotta tell you, you should guide your guests through a different area next time, maybe a more scenic one."

The mayor's grin remained as he nodded toward the rickety shack ahead, the door sagging on its hinges, and the roof sporting enough holes to give him a perfect view of the sky. The mayor barely hid the smirk anymore as his yellow almost shark-like teeth could be seen through his dry lips.

“Oh, that?” he drawled, feigning innocence. “Well, it’s what we’ve got, so if it’s beneath your standards, that’s your problem. Do whatever fixing you need, or leave—frankly, I don't care.”

Nando shrugged, glancing over the pitiful structure before turning to the mayor with a grin. “It’s charming, Mayor. Perfect for an ‘imposed guest’ such as myself, but be real Mayor, I know you care whether I leave or not as you've got big issues that require bigger people.” he replied, his sarcasm glinting.

There was a moment of silence after what Nando said as the mayor took a second to process the fact that Nando might've been making a height joke, and a few more seconds to contain the anger that swelled up within his heart.

"Good, then we're done here," the mayor snapped, his eyes visibly shaped into a malicious gaze. "Do what you're here for, and keep your nose out of my business. Go deal with the problems in the mines!" With that, he turned sharply, heading back towards the village, leaving Nando standing with a lingering smirk and a mental checklist of repairs for his ‘luxury’ shack.

"Seriously?" Nando had muttered, staring back at the decaying walls. But there was nothing he could do. This was his life now, at least for a while. He was expected to stay here, to carry out his mission. Part of that mission was investigating not just the mines, but also the mayor himself. There was something off about the whole place, something more than just a failing industry and rampant criminal activity.

As Nando gazed towards the direction that the Mayor had left once more, his mind wandered. He could feel it—the misery that seemed to seep from every corner of the village. Pipa village was drowning in it, and that alone made Nando suspicious. There had to be a deeper reason for the overwhelming misery here.

His black veins had retreated into his body, leaving behind only the telltale signs of his transformation: the black heart that now served as his mana pool, and the pitch-black irises that gave him an intimidating, almost monstrous look. His under-eyes were darker as if he hadn’t slept in days, adding to his already unsettling appearance. With his black apostle robes, Nando looked every bit as miserable as the people around him, though for entirely different reasons.

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He caught sight of a few more villagers as he walked. Their eyes avoided his, and the few that did make eye contact quickly looked away as they too continued making their way towards the village as the mayor did. He didn’t blame them. His appearance could be very scary for the mundane, but that suited him just fine. The less interaction, the better. He wasn’t here to make friends. He was here to uncover whatever secrets this wretched place held.

At least his hut was located on the outskirts of the village, giving him a small measure of privacy. He appreciated the solitude. Being away from the main village meant he could focus on his mission without constant interruptions. He had only been here for a short time, but he already felt the weight of the village’s misery pressing down on him.

His mind drifted back to his affinity for misery. Since aligning with it, he had noticed subtle changes in himself. He had become more attuned to the emotions of others, especially their sadness and despair. It was almost as if the misery of the people around him fed his powers, strengthening the connection between him and his black heart. He could sense the ebb and flow of misery like a tide, and in Pipa village, that tide was constantly rising.

But that wasn’t all. There was something wrong with the mines. The mayor didn’t speak of it openly, but Nando could feel it in the air. There was an underlying tension, a fear that ran deeper than just the miserable state of their lives. Something was happening in the mines, and he had a feeling it wasn’t just about the dwindling resources.

With a final glance in the direction of the mining village, Nando entered his so-called residence as the sun was setting in the background, shutting the door behind him as it groaned on its rusty hinges. The interior was even worse than the exterior had hinted. Dust hung thick in the air, catching the dim light filtering through gaps in the walls, and the smell of stale, damp wood clung to everything. The floor was uneven and cracked, with patches of exposed dirt showing through the warped wooden boards.

He eyed an old, wobbly chair, the closest piece of furniture in the room to him, and cautiously pressed his hand against its back. The moment he did, it crumbled to dust, the wood so dry and brittle that it gave way instantly. Nando brushed the dust off his hands, stifling a grimace.

There was a flimsy table near the wall, its surface marred with dark stains he preferred not to investigate. A tiny window on one side allowed a single ray of light to illuminate the room, highlighting the pitiful state of the furnishings. Even the bed—a thin mattress stuffed with what seemed like straw—looked like it might disintegrate if he so much as sat down on it.

Nando sighed his initial amusement at the “accommodations” fading. Still, his grin returned as he surveyed the rundown hut. The perfect place, he thought, for keeping a low profile.

As Nando pondered his new surroundings, he noticed faint footsteps approaching from outside. He wasn’t exactly an amateur; he could tell from the pacing and weight of each step that at least four individuals were positioning themselves around the shack, attempting—poorly—to stay hidden. He couldn’t help but grin. So much for maintaining a low profile.

Creak!

Nando swung the door open, rusty hinges groaning like a rusty saw, and faced four men staring back at him in surprise. They each held a knife, blades glinting even in the dim light, their eyes gleaming with a practiced malice. These weren’t harmless troublemakers—they’d seen blood before.

Nando spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, his grin wide and mocking. “Welcome to my humble, luxurious abode, gentlemen! Why don’t you come on in and make yourselves comfortable?”

The men exchanged wary glances, instinctively stepping back at Nando’s unexpected response. One of them, a scarred man with greasy blond hair, stepped forward, attempting to maintain his composure. “Cut the crap Bastard. Do you think you can stroll into our town like you own the place? We don’t take kindly to fancy outsiders like you. So, hand over your coins and your clothes, or we’ll show you why we’re called the Four Backstabbers.”

Feigning shock, Nando raised a hand to his mouth, eyebrows lifted high. “The Four Backstabbers? Don’t tell me the plan is to betray each other?”

The men scowled, one of them clutching his knife a bit tighter, while another cracked his knuckles. Nando could see the flash of irritation and confusion on their faces. His smirk widened, his posture relaxed and nonchalant.

“Listen here, rich boy,” another of them growled, stepping forward, “we’re not playing games. Hand it over or you’ll regret it.”

Nando chuckled softly, almost as if entertained by the spectacle. “Tell you what, boys,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “how about I show you how we do ‘fancy’ where I’m from?”

“Kill him!” the blond man snarled, brandishing his knife in a stiff gesture of command, but his legs seemed rooted to the ground, refusing to obey. He glanced down, eyes widening as he realized that his legs—and those of his companions—were ensnared in thick, writhing black tendrils. One by one, their faces contorted into horrified expressions.

“You…freak!” one spat, his voice cracking, but it quickly morphed into a shriek as the tendrils crept higher, coiling up their bodies like constricting snakes.

Nando chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming. “Now, show me how you got that fearsome nickname.”

With a flick of his wrist, the tendrils pulsed, and suddenly, the four men lurched forward, their knives raised against each other, unable to stop themselves. The air was filled with the sickening sounds of flesh tearing and bones crunching. One man plunged his blade deep into his friend’s gut, his eyes bulging as intestines spilled out in a wet, crimson heap. He choked out a sob, his blood-soaked hands trembling as he was forced to drive the blade in further.

Another man’s eyes widened in silent horror as his hand, controlled by Nando’s tendrils, drove his knife into the temple of the man next to him. Blood spurted out in violent arcs, and the unfortunate victim dropped instantly, his face frozen in an expression of agonized surprise.

The final survivor, his body quivering and drenched in blood, struggled to maintain his grip on sanity as he drove his knife into the throat of the last of his companions. A gurgling noise escaped the dying man’s lips, his hands clawing feebly at the air before he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The sole remaining thug, now covered in his comrades’ blood, swayed unsteadily, his gaze fixed on Nando, pupils dilated in terror.

“Good job,” Nando said coldly, a twisted smile on his lips. From his back, four shadowy arms sprouted, clawed hands extending towards the lone survivor. The shadowy limbs gripped him, raising him into the air like a doll. The man’s body dangled, immobilized, while Nando’s tendrils coiled tighter around him, binding him like a spider spinning its web.

The claws twisted, rotating the man slowly as if he were nothing more than meat on a spit. Nando watched the scene with detached amusement, extending his hand as a web of inky tendrils enclosed the man’s body, snaring him in an unbreakable black web.