Chapter 7: The Decayed

***

Inside an enormous mansion, a foyer of respectable size with two staircases diverged from the center. Multiple entryways stretch and intersect as if they were vestibules leading to sinister lairs where creatures of the dark lurk. The eerie ambiance along with the chilly drafts of air only made the place more like a graveyard than a dwelling for the living.

Of course, the bleak residence akin to that of a haunted house belongs to nonother than Mephisto. He was currently sitting in a sparsely illuminated room while rhythmically tapping on the table along with the perpetual throbbing of an ancient pendulum. The dust that blanketed the entire room ensured that a story of a forlorn history would be uttered by the passing visitors.

Mephisto then stood from his chair and glided towards a window with curtains tugged to the side. From an outsider's perspective, his silhouette was that of a perverse psychopath, patiently machinating some kind of dark plot.

'..let's get the ball rolling, shall we..?' he then walked towards a dust-laden full mirror. All of a sudden, despite the tepid air of summer night loitering outside, the temperature in Mephisto's room went frigid, misting the room.

As he extended his hand towards the mirror, its surface suddenly rippled like the oscillating waves on an ocean. And with a voice as though it sprouted from within a deep well, he spoke.

"Can you hear me...?"

His words that sounded more of dictation than an inquiry caused the gurgling surface of the mirror to cease, reverting to its former solemnity. Then, a strange phenomenon had occurred as his reflection was replaced with a projection of an entirely different space.

A man was groveling on the ground with two human figures behind him, similarly prostrating in complete stillness. As Mephisto gazed at the group from the other side, he spoke with his demonic voice.

"It is time to test the extent of your devotion." he said in a grave tone.

"Just say the word, and I shall obey..!" replied the man with respect.

Mephisto was unable to discern the expression on the man's face but it was obvious he was fighting an internal battle. It was more accurate to say the man was struggling against an urge. 'It seems that I have to give some pointers or he'll just rot away, otherwise'

"Pain is an efficient teacher, and from the looks of it, you've learned quite the valuable lesson already. But as your Overlord, I ought to offer guidance to those beneath me no matter how piffling they are, no?"

As the man sensed Mephisto's change in attitude, he bowed even lower, kissing the ground. "You're most gracious, I am unworthy of such kind words."

"My lovely pets, are they treating you well?" It only took a brief moment for the man to understand what Mephisto meant and feigned gratitude "P-pets..? a-hah! Of course, thanks to them I feel much more...alive"

Mephisto then chuckled to the man's words, "Well, of course, my darlings forces you in a symbiotic relationship with them, after all."

"...symbiotic?" the man was visibly shocked as his body quivered, obviously in disbelief. For certain, Mephisto knew what the man was thinking right now.'Only a day has passed, it wouldn't be a surprise if he hasn't discovered what plague crawlers can offer other than suck away his vitality.'

"Take it as the mutualism of a bee and a flower. The bee dumps pollen onto the flower, helping it reproduce while the flower offers food to the bee."

"..."

Perceiving the man's struggle to make something out of Mephisto's logic, he let out an audible sigh of discontent which frightened the man.

"eeek..!! M-my deep apologies, an inferior being like me could never hope to grasp the intricacy of your words..i-if-"

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"Leave it!" Mephisto scowled, cutting the man off. "Listen carefully as I hate repeating myself"

"The manner of creature that held you hostage does not only cast a curse but provide a boon, as well. Aside from the toxin that converts blood into a special nutrient whilst depleting away your vitality, that same substance modifies your body at an atomic level, granting you...extraordinary abilities"

"....."

"Your altered body will be able to exhibit physical prowess incomparable to when you were still a human. Heightened senses, inhuman reflexes, improved sensitivity to beings outside of the physical plane"

"..so..I'm no longer human?" shocked, the man audibly muttered which was not his intention.

The knowledge that he had grown in terms of power did not elicit joy as the ghastly fact of him turning into a nonhuman gave him more reason to be depressed.

"hmpf..!" Mephisto only snorted. 'Soon enough, he'll realize that the only method for him to break free from the limitations of a mortal body is to abandon his humanity along with its banal moral principles. Untalented and ill-fated, even a miracle would elude his pitiable existence.'

"Are you discontent?" asked Mephisto placidly, his calm voice only made him more frightening.

"I would never dare..!" the man shouted, realizing his disrespect. "I was just overcome with bliss,"

"Keep in mind though, your usual sustenance would naturally change as per your altered appetite." he pointed out "Simply follow your urges.."

And without waiting for the man's response, he continued.

"As for your first task.." here Mephisto paused, emphasizing the enormity of his next words. "Evildoers, those who had committed unspeakable atrocities, heinous criminals, the deprave and corrupt, scavenge the lands and deliver them to me."

"It shall be done!" The man in the reflection respectfully replied as a loyal vassal would.

***

Verfall's life had been quite the exhilarating one making him a frequent guest at death's door, more than he would hate to admit.

He was born in the bowels of the slums, close to the scummy sewage where an assortment of corpses got dumped on the daily, forgotten, and left foster a variety of slug and maggots that bring about pestilence. An infested place where fat rodents would take delight in dwelling, and a treasure trove for the flesh carvers, the sneaky vultures in the form of humans. Their distinct, yellowish teeth colored in such due to their unique and disturbing appetite gave them the reliable tool to tear apart even the most stubborn marrow.

And Verfall was saved by one, a grumpy elderly woman with a hunchback and a huge sinister-looking tumor on the side of her neck. Right after he was ejected from her mother's uterus like excrement, he was then flushed into the sewage along with the market's fish entrails. Luckily, before his infantile body could breathe its last, the elderly flesh carver had sniffed an entirely different odor among the gallery of repugnant stench, plucked his body out from beneath the pile, and brought him back to the surface.

'Compassion is not for the good of others'

Verfall had experienced firsthand the very essence of this quote as he had eventually uncovered the true nature of his benefactor. Apparently, the elderly fresh carver was an indiscriminate murderer with an appetite common among their 'kind'. She saved Verfall not due to pity, kindness, or any noble reason but because of a more wicked motivation.

Worse than a pig in a slaughterhouse, he was put on a tight leash like a swine and was fed adequately just to be gobbled up by the woman who saved him. Although he had turned the tables on the woman by exploiting her weaknesses through diligent observation and careful planning, his success was mostly attributed to his extraordinary sense of smell. It had branched out, creating an auxiliary instinct that can whiff out the presence of danger.

Unbeknownst to Verfall, when he was thrown into the hell hole, the putrid odor and nefarious scent of the depths has seeped into his entire being. A child who has yet to awaken his sense of self, registered every detail of its surroundings as the norm, distorting his olfactory nerves.

As he grew up, he noticed that people would inadvertently distance themselves from him as though he was the plague. It seems that he gave off a deathly vibe accompanied by the malodor of a rotting corpse. Although, he had learned to dispel the scent emanating from him through various methods albeit not completely.

One odd day, he had come to know that his instinct to sense the presence of danger that was akin to a premonition was not so almighty after all. Despite having escaped the jaws of death countless times thanks to his special sense, he still wasn't able to elude the clutches of a being who belonged to another realm of power.

...

"It shall be done!" he said with unbridled passion as he offered respect to the mysterious existence in the mirror.

'At least, I was able to keep life for now even if it's hanging by a thread', Verfall thought, convincing himself and at the same time to console his dreary soul. 'Also, what's the difference between an angel's blessing and the devil's sweet nectar?'

He then turned on his heels from the mirror and marched off somewhere with zeal to accomplish his grim mission whilst carrying with him his moniker given by the folks in the slums, Verfall the Decayed.