After a few hours of marching tirelessly with no particular destination in mind, a conundrum of weighty importance interspersed with Mephisto's thoughts, dampening his jubilant mood.
'For a cultured devil such as I, the greatest torment is when immaculate grandeur and elegance became unattainable with decorum and classiness alone.' he pondered with a grave expression.
"I need to dress up!" he then bellowed loudly as his tremorous voice spread throughout the woodlands.
"I can't have those puny mortals look down on my inviolable physique!" he was unable to contain his anger upon remembering the look of disgust directed towards him from the group of humans he encountered not long ago.
'Undoubtedly, the most pressing matter is to seek out a perfect attire befitting of my impeccable figure. And it needs to be done, urgently!'
His present appearance was no better than a pauper or a beggar in the streets. His clothes, ragged and bloodied,
His panic-stricken heart propelled him to increase the pace of his walk, bordering into a jog.
'Anything but a graceful stroll is ungentlemanly but I presently have no choice given my circumstances.'
As Mephisto resolved himself, he broke into a complete run, his swaggering figure displayed the nimbleness of an experienced hunter.
"One of the famed overlords of Hell, running like a damn servant on an errand. I feel humiliated", a subdued chuckle escaped his mouth as he lampooned. 'Well, it is what it is.'
With the meager souls he had harvested, a paltry quantity of his strength and spirituality was restored and it was enough to enable him to perform even the most complex acrobatics.
In addition, with a bit of his vitality replenished, his disheveled face had now a mysterious glow to it. His short jet-black hair was combed all the way back, revealing his spotless forehead. With upturned crimson eyes as though he was a saint with genuine intentions to offer counsel to the destitute, anyone would be seduced if he added a word of vomit to his acts.
On the other hand, his symmetrical lips that were hued like the blush of a rose conveyed mockery that was commonplace to individuals of noble origin. Overall, he was a picture-perfect depiction of a lady killer despised by most average-looking men.
After a lengthy exercise that tested the limits of his physical abilities, Mephisto had come to a depressing realization, a reality he thought he had already come into terms with, and that was his mortal body was indeed impotent.
"haaaaa! haaa..! ha..."
Mephisto was currently sprawled on the ground while panting heavily as though he was chased by a rabid dog for days on end.
In spite of his absurd mental fortitude and the abnormal strength he possessed, his body was so fragile that if he tried to punch a brick of stone, he surely would shatter it into fragments so would his arm turn into a mashed potato.
He had to find a remedy to his quandary one way or another, and he had to do it fast. The first step would be to reinforce his body up to a degree where it can withstand an iota of his enormous might.
"I require sacrifices.." he said while propping himself to stand, his guttural tone was unable to subdue his elation.
"...ahhh. It's been so long, to violate the sanctity of one's spirit and oppress the inviolable flesh~"
Licking his lips with his venomous tongue, he once again set off with uncontrollable excitement simmering in his heart.
***
In a course of an hour, Mephisto had eventually found himself standing before a sparsely populated human settlement.
'No, this is just the outskirts. Further ahead would be the city where the ever bustling humans go about with their daily lives' he conjectured with his hand on his chin, examining the outer walls looming above at a distance.
An unmanned wooden watchtower was stationed near a dilapidated gate, so worn out where its intended function became a matter of debate to the foreigners.
As Mephisto inched closer to the town's entrance, the glum atmosphere that was as overcast as the sky dispiritedly welcomed his person.
Taking the first step into the neighborhood, he could see a bunch of decrepit squatters huddling in the corners of the street. Stumble-down houses of brick and wood construct lined up the footpath as suspicious and wary gazes were thrown at him.
Passing a dark alley, a few figures could be seen approaching him brazenly, their unrestrained actions showed their vile agenda coming to play.
A bald man with a ragged appearance and stocky frame was playing with his dull meat cleaver as he stared at Mephisto with murderous eyes. Then a boy, who seemed to have just passed the age of puberty stuck his tongue out, his sharp gaze akin to daggers glared at him with intimidation. Sandwiched between the two was a tall, well-built man with decent-looking features, his weathered yet well-toned body told a story of brutality. A protruding scar was adorned around his neck like a menacing ornament to flaunt a tragedy he had endured in the past.
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'Their leader, huh' Mephisto quietly surmised as he stared at the group nonchalantly.
"Of what service might this humble passerby offer to you...fine gentlemen?" Mephisto's asked in a refined manner as though he was of noble origin, giving the group a sense of disparity.
Mephisto's practiced movements did not account for his worn-out and scruffy appearance, after all. Only the presumed leader looked at Mephisto with interest and an unsettling feeling of dissonance that pooled in his heart.
After a few moments of a staredown, the thugs had ensured that the pauper has nothing worth of value in his person, except for his outstanding looks, and left him Mephisto alone with parting words that pricked his pride.
*pwe!*
Out of disgust, the bald man exaggeratedly spat out a mouthful of saliva that precisely landed on Mephisto's left foot, and smirked, "Dirty tramp...!"
"Just a vagrant that had gone crazy. Pitiable bastard", the boy added while shaking his head, feigning sympathy to Mephisto's wretched state.
Only the man with the scar around his neck left without so much of a word, only a brief glance filled with curiosity to Mephisto's peculiar conduct.
"Let's go, you lot..", he urged the other two, not wasting any more of his time.
The trio then strutted away as if they were the lords that owned the neighborhood.
'I can't let such humiliation come to pass, yes?' Mephisto asked himself as his lips arched into a smile while watching the back of the group. His gaze subtly shifted to the saliva that stuck to his foot like gum for quite a long while.
Then, the skin on his handsome face began to twist and contort erratically, bulging all over as if tiny creatures were wriggling about beneath his skin.
'Go forth, my sweet darlings' he said in an inaudible voice, his tone that of tender affection.
Three black, translucent centipedes with the size of a finger exited the opening of his eyes, nose, and ears simultaneously. As they disembarked from Mephisto's body, they slithered on the ground, towards the direction of the trio, carrying with them the pledge of torture and torment.
Plague crawlers, carriers of malignant disease. These surreptitious creatures can spread their infectious toxin to unsuspecting targets with relative ease, inflicting a plethora of illnesses. In addition, they can parasitize their host by latching onto its heart or marrow, and with sufficient nourishment, evolve into Brood Dames although with quite a dismal chance of transpiring.
After issuing his orders to his lovable harbingers of affliction, Mephisto then took nonchalant yet dignified steps towards the inner part of the town, which was the city proper.
A towering stone wall that served as an impediment against outsiders enclosed the city, intimidating any would-be scoundrels from committing nasty deeds.
Mephisto could see from a distance a patrol guard and few militiamen manning the gate's archway, seemingly on guard duty. Except for the patrol guard, their enervated and lackadaisical attitude as if they had just only woken up from a long nap showed how little they regard their job.
'The City of Vilesief', he silently remarked with certainty based on the audible conversations around him.
Mephisto pressed forward with his hand behind his back, unconcerned of the strangers' stares of disdain directed at him, more so when he shamelessly cut the long queue with a swagger.
Expectedly, a gruff voice laced with hostility barred him from further taking a step into the archway.
"Hey! you sneaky punk! no cutting the line!" A bearded middle-aged man wearing a brown tailcoat with a high collar greeted Mephisto, a truncheon in his hand. He seemed to be the appointed leader of the militiamen manning the gate.
As he closely inspected Mephisto, a look of scorn visibly surfaced on his face. 'He's obviously up to no good, aside from his face who could draw the envy of others, he's no better than a beggar.'
But Mephisto just turned to the guard and gave a polite greeting, "Howdy, good officer. Such fine weather to complement our pleasant meeting, won't you agree?"
However, after the patrol guard reflexively look at the dismal sky, he just gave Mephisto a suspicious stare as if he was a lunatic, and yelled, "Get back to your line or else...!" he raised the truncheon in an imposing manner, his intentions quite apparent.
"That's unbefitting of unsung heroes who dedicates themselves to maintain the city's public order" Mephisto quipped a word of vomit as he placed his hand on top of the man's shoulders, easing his tension.
He made sure to look at the pile of silver coins inside a wooden platter with a knowing gaze. 'Bribes, huh...Humans, they never change.'
He then added in a despondent tone, like a maiden in distress, "I am the first son of a distinguished Viscount and I just experienced an unimaginable tragedy. If you could assist me in verifying my identity in the City Hall, the House of Straze would repay your service in kind without fail".
But before the patrol guard could deliver a punitive strike to the troublemaker who regarded him as a brainless fool who could be easily fleeced with rubbish words, his brain suddenly went flaccid.
His thoughts became sluggish as though his mind wasn't his own anymore, and the man's sedate and enchanting words lulled him into complete obedience.
"Got it, follow me inside.."
Without standing on ceremony, Mephisto calmly followed the man's direction as if it's the most natural thing in the world, his hand still behind his back.
But before the pair could advance further, a stern voice filled with surprise and reluctance resounded, "Chief?! The man's clearly a rascal from the slums..! How-"
"Shut your trap, Roy! How dare you question my decision..?!" The patrol guard bellowed at the young militiaman, shocking the nearby crowd.
His sudden outburst greatly confused and alarmed the rest of the group. Normally, their leader was a rational man and would not be easily swayed by obvious shenanigans, especially childish tricks by a hoodlum who came from the outskirts.
"But sir-" Still unconvinced, the young militiaman whose courage seemed to know no bounds protested once more.
"Do you want me to cut your tongue and feed it to the pigs before-!!" His patience finally reaching its limit, the patrol guard bellowed angrily.
"Not too harsh, good officer." Mephisto's rich, soothing voice traveled through everyone's ears and added as he gazed towards the militiaman's direction, "The lad right here is just doing his job. Instead, such upright character is something worth commending, no?"
"Now, now...given how such a noble job requires your undivided attention, I will excuse myself and not bother you fine folks any longer."
Utter disbelief was clearly written all over everyone's face including the people in the long queue. Their minds were filled with the thoughts of 'How can such a conspicuous smooth talk have such an uncanny effect', or something along those lines.
With his impeccable posture slightly leaning forward, the suave Mephisto gave a nobleman's bow to everyone. His strange entrance was one that baffled the crowd as his exit left them perplexed like a lame joke penned by a madman.
His ludicrously odd yet regal demeanor was deeply etched into their hearts.
***