~~Matthew~~

Matthew listened to the skirling of the rainy wind and the scuffling of wet muddy grounds. The floor of the alley grew steeper as he made his way placidly through another pile of corpses. The wayroad of this passage was unfiltered with blood and body parts, another sign of a massacre he caused that looked just as horrible as the other ones. He stared closely, eyes resting on their painful expressions. He once told his young disciple to look at her victims before delivering the finishing strike… to see their expressive eyes and hear their last words.

'Look them in the eyes, see their tears and their struggles unfold… the one who passes judgment, As annoying as it might sound, must at the very least attend to their feelings. the dead deserved that much at least' the sentence he spoke to her the day she was honing her swordsmanship, thrived with wisdom and honor. One often wonders, how come such inspiration for pretty words appears out of nowhere, as if it was a blessing of some sort.

The falling of night was breaking in the sky with rain pouring out of the smoky, gray clouds like a waterfall. It is unusual for such weather to be seen at the end of spring.

There were certain times where he felt as though his heart had turned to stone. Tens of men he killed this day, yet not a single time did he crouch down and hear their pleas, dishonoring his own code, the one he set for his disciple. Matthew couldn't find it in his heart to care for them, their families, their friends, or whatever stories their mouths might speak. Even the faces, they have quickly faded in his memories, just as quick as they came to life. To this alley they were drawn, desperate and forlorn, trying to fulfill the orders of whoever was brave enough to send them. 'we are all victims of fate' He clutched his spear, bayonet, as if finding comfort in the wood's touch, and silently he walked.

"devour" he spoke softly, and the auburn fire was shaped from the air under his command. Writhing crescents of flames danced gently in the ground, swallowing the dead bodies and filling their master with enough drive to continue his journey.

The alley shrank in size, allowing one to tell the end of his march. A pair of giant silhouettes, raised from the slummy grounds and clung to the mud-filled rain water. The two buildings, also known as the twin towers, were quite popular with the Portelinian peasants; bands of musicians, dice gamblers, food carts, ale merchants, all were common sights back in the glorious days of the twin alley. Now, the place was soulless as a graveyard. His influence as the devil caused a lot of rippling effects.

Wearing a silent face, the spear-wielder tapped the spear while striding onwards. He took a long stroll around the twin towers, marveling at their appearance; age had made them both grislier in shape. On top of the chiseled stone pillars, both razor-sharp peaks opened up abruptly upon the darkness of the night. Rainy descents stuck the walls of the towers in a haphazard manner, only to bound off and flow downwards like a slow river. Matthew took off his hood and peaked his head to the sky, letting rainwater wet his upper neck and shown face.

"A calm land rich of oil and grasscapped hills, flourishing gambling and brothel businesses… tens of districts glow like mirrors in the sun and decorated lamps in the dark. Thousands of men and women are lost in the air of this city… emerging over their heads are the shadowy hands of dangerous, foul creatures. They stand in their fancy seats, looking high and almighty, believing the folks to be kneeling at their commands and dancing at the palms of mercy." amidst all that beauty of Portelin, stood the shadows of many criminals. Matthew knew fully well that the performance he ought to deliver had to cover all the possible shortcomings, elsewise that beauty of this city would be lost in time, never to be experienced again. All of them had to die, all of them.

The brunet's eyes glistened below the twin towers. The air of sadness, emptiness, exhaustion that plagued his mind for the whole nightfall thickened with time, showing the whole soul of a young man that was just as flawed as everyone else's. He continued staring, blankly into space as if nothing he did mattered to solve an ordeal he's facing. Cold rain came pelting down from a black sky, but not even the pitter-patter of the droplets served as an awaking alarm for the young man.

The sickly silence continued for a long time and with it, Matthew's mind descended further and further into hollowness. Lifelessly, his body moved through the dark. He passed by a large overhang of trash, causing him to tread sideways and struggle in keeping his stead. The road widened once he took a sharp turn to the right, leaving the twin alley. With the ground straightening and the signs of his killings growing fainter and fainter, Matthew's feelings took a turn for the better.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

'A seat by the silent crossroads'. again with no passersby, the brunet's eyes stumbled upon a pile of gentle rocks. Soft, flat beds of muddy stone that Matthew assumed were for leisure purpose; here, the oldest of the homeless would find themselves playing and feasting with whatever delicacy they might have, barking with laughter and howling in drunken anger. Matthew seated himself after wiping the rock beds as much as he could. The air of melancholy struck him again, as he seated bayonet with him through crossed hands. Lonesome as ever, Matthew closed his eyes and channeled his observation haki.

His power expanded… high and wide…

Long parapets were drilled right into the very stone of the slums, stationed on all sides, and their number increased the more his vision stretched south… One of the many fortifications the higher ups tried to use when battling him, alas they all ended up not working the way they were intended to. Haki was a powerful tool, it surprised him the more he used it.

Through all the weathered lands of Portelinian slums, across the gray stones that arched above the roads, Matthew's vision kept expanding and lounging… until it all ended with the silhouette of a cloaked man, well past his prime and nearing his dark ages. Ragged cloak and greasy skin, stains of filth were all over his ragged body. "Interesting" Matthew muttered under his breath for what felt like the first time in ages. Retracting his haki, he awaited his guest patiently.

"... Green loom, Kermit shade, small echidna, silver-skin gnat, flying smallfish, one-eyed lady, purple caterpillar, black legs, the blind monk, toothless, lamb of amber, night worm, ninety-nine legs, half arm, tuna's bane, west blue ant, loom of black, corpse defiler, wood lover, red spider, the visionless, lady rainmask, bug parasite, drunk worm, redwine worm, plague spreader, jackpot, xiao biao, four clawed scorpion, oruga of winter, gnawing gnat…" the man's mutterings echoed in Matthew's eardrums, silent as ever.

By time they resonated clearer, Matthew's eyes could finally catch a glimpse of the man's figure. The rain and mud had soaked all the way through his boots. Limp steps and ghastly, corpse-like face… With the only taint of a living human being a bruised mouth that counted bug names for some reason. Whoever this man was, he succeeded in catching the devil's attention.

The old fogey rambled on his way to the stone seats and proceeded to ignore Matthew's presence before taking a seat in front. The latter simply kept surveying the man and his cloaked rags, and whatever they might hold inside them.

'A broken man' he twitched bayonet with a silvery gleam to it, finally earning a reaction from the man.

"ah… How forgetful of me." his lifeless voice, filled with emptiness, stunned Matthew for a second. "May I see your face, sir. Your fire of life burns fainter than ever, as I'm able to tell"

"the years have not made it prettier, I'm afraid". and Matthew saw that he hadn't lied. Smooth leashes of white hair, albeit greasy, were unfolded from the back of the cloak, neatly tied like a woman's. Eyebrows thick as bushes, and eyes sunken behind bags of wrinkles, with the same misty pain that he noticed with his haki. "I haven't been so lucky to meet anyone for a while. It's settling to see a young soul after so long"

Dead skin, jagged chin, sagged whiskers, gruffly voice, dry throat, ghostly eyes, sleepy cheeks… Matthew could see even from a mile away that the man had a story to tell. Free as he was, he decided to test the waters. "Feel free to speak. Every face in Portelin has a story to tell". He saw as the wrinkly pair of eyebrows grew heavier, followed by the deepening of his frown. A tumultuous change of colors that could be noticed even by the most unprofessional of haki users loomed in Matthew's vision, giving him a good guess of what's to come.

"If truth be frankly told, I was but a humble father who had just recently lost the dearest thing a husband could lose. Desperate I was, the only comfort I found in life was playing with my boy. A child, no older than eight, was the gleaming string of light in the pitch-black tunnel that was his father's griefing heart." Matthew had seldom felt quite so lonely, so he could sympathize with the old man. Hollowly, the latter kept relaying his story."Since he was a child, he loved playing with his pets. It was the bugs he found fascinating, as strange as that might seem, so I couldn't help but bring him for a hunt."

The man's eyes were drilling holes into the ground. Even as the harsh weather weighed on him, he didn't seem to be daunted by the freezing cold or the rain. For minutes, Matthew could see how his pair of round orbs never blinked even for a single moment, portraying all the struggle of a lonely being. Even the bruised lips couldn't help but tremble from the cold…but those eyes… they carried the vilest kind of dark, depressive emotions. The haggard man paused to take his breath, a process that took few minutes, before resuming… infinitely saddened, infinitely drowsy

"... At first, he learned to mend his nets, set his own traps, but that was not the end of it. He tracked their habitats, learned all what needs to be learned about their behavior, and their favored food… It was a caterpillar he caught on his first hunt, and that grew happiness in his heart. I told him 'there is still much to be discovered, child' and his naive smile retracted, replaced by a childish pout 'I have not been a child for many years now father, look! I'm a man!' he told me, so innocently, as he showed me the caterpillar with a proud figure. He brought her tree leaves, freshly green, and cared for her like a little sister, with a sweet smile plastered on his face. I just planted myself aside, simply marveling at his fascinating hobby and the joy it gave to us father and son…"

Matthew felt weird hearing the man's tale… Those vile, grueling feelings from before, all came back to clench his heart like a shadow. 'listening to this might have not been the brightest thing to do' it was a terrible thing he must contemplate, but he felt the need to leave the man unbothered, howevermuch his tale pains both of them internally, and mentally. Slowly, Matthew's hazel eyes became just as sunken...