𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐀 Manjiro Sano

Chapter 10

Manjiro marches through the abandoned warehouse's dark and tight corridors. The sound of his shoes brushing across the moist ground reverberated faintly against the rooted, cracked walls.

Tap...Tap...

Behind him, lurking was a few of his trusted executives with their footsteps creating harmonious noise. Taking round by the corner of the passageways, a guy with tendrils colored silver dropped his head to welcome the formidable presence of their leader, whereas his extended hand showed them the way to a room-- a shadowy space wherein a silhouetted figure was sprawling limply on the dusty surface.

With only a sliver of detectable light passing through the cracked concrete, a crepuscular atmosphere has been established and continually encircling the surrounding. The silence could be defined as deafening: one's breathing could be heard, and merely the sounds of footsteps approaching served as one of the white noise existing.

Whimpers then arise as the bleached-headed man named Manjiro halted in front of the man who's resting restricted on the ground. The man's hands were constrained behind by a rope, the tightness of how it was bound prevented the proper circulation of blood throughout his hand, earning it to swiveled numb.

Huff.

The mote of dust lingering in front of him was pushed away by the faint sound of feeble breathing exiting the lungs of the man that was helplessly laying. The unnamed man was coated with mud and mixed with wicked scarlet blood, be it from his garments to his virtually completely beaten-up exterior.

Huff.

Manjiro dark irises, devoid of any trace of emotion, tracked the slender shape. His stare was scorching, characterized as deeply scrutinizing the man and ostensibly flickering revulsion. The dark moon festooning the under of his eyes was less of his concern as he finally come to confront the man who had redeemed his happiness away from him.

Manjiro's pale lips adopted a grim expression as he observed the man's face, which was practically unrecognizable: swollen eyes, bruised cheeks, and a broken nose. However, he is perplexed as to how the man's condition he views did not diminish the wrath raging in his heart. He wished and believed that the nameless guy, or rather, someone whose name isn't worth remembering, demands perpetual trauma and misery.

Severing the burning gaze Manjiro bestowed the man, he then shifted his head to his side and latched stare with Kokonoi who stood behind him.

"Is he the one?" Manjiro mutters. The chilly tone he breathes may be perceived as a stifling and violent poison that slashes the air, causing chills down one's spine.

“It was certain." The particular man with strands tinted silver, standing behind, uttered firmly. His charcoal hues that were locked onto the appalling presence of their leader were halted as he fastened them to the limp form sprawled before them-- the man whose mouth was gagged and with tears soaring out of his eyes, dampening his facial. It was alleged that the man was shaking in fright.

Puff.

Kokonoi speaks further. "This man plotted the whole accident."

Silence.

“Ah… I see.” Manjiro hummed. Walking towards the man and seizing the barricade of space that walled in between, his expression could be perceived as calm, and barren of emotions. However, despite the description listed, his irises were wielding a dark look. A menacing aura was wrapped around his features, and somehow the blazing animosity and impulse swiveled hard for him to maintain under control.

Kick.

It was so sudden.

Manjiro's leg slammed into a man's resting body. Even yet, a single kick couldn't exclude him from the torment he was immersed in. Manjiro furthermore elevated his leg as he continued to throw a forceful kick, displaying wrath that seemed to outweigh the physical harm he inflicted.

With every kick Manjiro committed, the pain that throbs within the man's frame miraculously heightened. The cries that escaped the man's throat were muffled as he choke on his blood, which soon overwhelmed his mouth, filling it with a metallic taste and dyeing the pure fabric clutched on his agape lips, crimson. However, despite the man's deteriorating state, Manjiro could not bring himself to show pity, and he continued to trample the man's now bleeding face.

The crime that the man has committed was something that cannot be atoned with, as the damage inflicted on Manjiro was now permanently engraved, be it from his mind to the alarming depth of his soul. The family he created was shattered as the trauma has been established.

Whimpers.

Manjiro draws a gun from his holder, finger set on the trigger, and aims it towards the man skull, however as thoughts swarmed his mind, he speculated that the man deserves an additional day of torture, of extensive suffering, so he strives to free the bullet instead on the man's legs: drawing hole, Manjiro watch as the art he created begins to spurts blood.

He's enraged.

Manjiro raised his foot, gathering all of his might, and with the final strike, he slammed his leg into the man's face, knocking him out. With his charcoal irises roaming the whole unconscious frame of the man, Manjiro retreated his foot.

"Sanzu," Manjiro called, as he issued an unquestionable command. "I'll delegate the task of torturing this mouse to you; it doesn't matter if you chop off his fingers or pluck out all of his teeth; as long as you make him suffer, you've done a fine job."

"Pleasure to receive an order from you, boss," Sanzu replied, his hoarse voice booming.

Breathing in and out, Manjiro uttered a few utterances before he completely evaporated from the settings.

"Make sure not to kill him yet." He spoke. "He deserves a lot more pain than what he could bear."