Chapter 01 Part 1: "Angel of God"
Nathaniel's POV
It was an unremarkable night in my cramped apartment, nestled in the heart of Manila's restless cityscape. Outside, the world was hushed; my neighbors had long surrendered to sleep, leaving only the faint hum of air conditioners and the occasional rumble of a passing vehicle to punctuate the silence. The city seemed to hold its breath, but within the confines of my four walls, a different story unfolded.
My unit was the sole source of noise in the stillness. The television blared, its garish variety show filling the room with sound I had no interest in absorbing. Flickering colors from the screen danced across the dim living room, but my eyes were fixed on the ceiling, vacant and lifeless. Slumped on an old sofa, my body felt like a leaden weight, my mind adrift in an empty void.
My phone pinged again on the table, a sharp "ding" signaling a new message. I knew who it was from—another creditor, no doubt, chasing a payment I couldn't afford. I didn't bother to reach for it. I lacked the energy, the will, to face yet another reminder of my failures. Instead, I let the sound dissolve into the air, like so many other things in my life these days.
Slowly, I let my body sink from sitting to lying on the sofa. The cool leather pressed against my skin, and I caught the faint, musty scent of dust clinging to the cushions. This was a familiar scene—me, the darkened room, and the creeping sensation of being consumed by the shadows. This had become my nightly ritual, a repetitive cycle of despair and defeat.
Inside, I was a storm of confusion, frustration, and self-reproach. "I'm tired of this life," I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible over the television's chatter. In those moments, my thoughts weighed me down—a tangle of unanswered questions, unreachable dreams, and a gnawing fear that this might be the end of the line for me.
They say everyone needs a reason to keep going. A dream to chase, no matter the cost, a purpose that lights the way through the darkness. But when do you stop dreaming? How do you hold on when reality itself drags you down, like heavy chains shackled to your ankles?
Maybe I was being overly dramatic. I didn't used to think this way. But the truth is, months of relentless failure and misfortune had carved this bitterness into me. It all began when I tried to change my life. I thought change would bring light. Instead, everything spiraled into chaos, leaving me trapped in a darkness I couldn't escape.
My name is Nathaniel Muntingbato, a 25-year-old comic artist, otaku, and—by some people's standards—a NEET. Beyond my art, I have no qualities worth boasting about. If there's anything else to me, I haven't discovered it, nor do I have the time or energy to try. For years, I've been content to retreat into the world of my drawings, where I hold the reins, where every line has meaning.
As a manga artist, my earnings are barely enough to sustain myself. I've always known this, and I've grudgingly accepted that I need a "real" job—one with a steady paycheck, not just fueled by dreams. Drawing matters to me; I believe you have to love what you do to make life worthwhile. But what you love isn't always what you're supposed to do. So, with a heavy heart, I forced myself to set aside my art and search for work.
I started applying, clinging to the hope that something would change, that each day I left my apartment would lead to something better. But the truth is, I had no idea what kind of job suited me. All I knew was how to draw, and that wasn't enough in today's world. I took a leap of faith, gambling without a plan, because I needed money—a way to survive.
Fate, however, seemed to have other plans. Every application, every interview, ended in rejection. Companies had standards I couldn't meet. If they weren't demanding experience, they wanted higher education. No matter how much I wanted to prove myself, they wouldn't give me a chance. No matter how hard I tried, my efforts felt meaningless when I fell short of their benchmarks.
I knew I couldn't give up, that I had to stay positive. But each day I returned home defeated, I felt cracks forming inside me, my resolve slowly shattering. It was exhausting. It was suffocating.
Connecting with others is hard. I hate to admit it, but I feel so inadequate compared to everyone else. In every way—communication, skills, confidence—I'm always lagging behind. It's disheartening, but what can I do? Sometimes, I wonder if this is all I'll ever be.
Failing to achieve your dreams, abandoning the things you love, and feeling utterly alone—I think that's the truest form of defeat. I didn't choose this. I don't want this to be my fate.
Like the days before, I returned to my apartment before dusk, carrying the weight of another failure. In the dimness of my room, I waited for the day to end, trapped in an endless loop of hope and heartbreak. There was nothing I could do but try to stay strong, even as I felt myself crumbling.
But that night, as I drowned in my sorrow, I didn't notice the pair of eyes watching me from beyond my window. A presence, a being, that would alter my life in ways I never imagined—ways both strange and maddening.
I'm Nathaniel, an ordinary man from an ordinary family, living in an ordinary town. So ordinary, in fact, that I felt no spark of excitement in my life. To cope, I escaped into the world of anime and art.
Since childhood, my parents always criticized my drawing. To them, it was a waste of time that should've been spent studying. I'll admit, I wasn't bright when it came to academics. I was lazy, too, even though I knew I needed knowledge and a degree to secure a better future. I wasn't a rebellious kid, but I think I just lost interest in the world because everything felt so painfully normal.
As a result, I gradually withdrew. I chose to lock myself in my room, alone, sketching in a quiet corner. That's where I felt at ease. That's where no one judged me. But in doing so, I realized I was drifting further from the people around me. I had no friends to confide in. I felt like others avoided me, dismissed me, simply because my passions and world were different from theirs.
Now, I decided to change. I tried to face reality, to step out of my comfort zone and be brave. I thought change would add color to my life. But change isn't always kind. The dull, normal life I once complained about became chaotic and far more difficult.
Everything shifted when I started living on my own. I told myself I needed to prove I could survive without relying on anyone. But I took a risk I wasn't ready for—my skills were limited, my disposition unsuited to keep up with the world around me. I'm an introvert, and even as a child, I struggled to connect with others. So, I turned to gaming, watching anime, and reading manga instead.
I became obsessed with the anime world. I collected merchandise—figurines, posters, anything tied to my favorite series. It was my hobby, my shield against the daily grind. I'm not sure if it was good or bad for me, but it brought me comfort.
Thankfully, I met friends online. Most of them were like me—people escaping their realities, passing time to forget the problems they faced daily. Anime became our weapon against a complicated, tedious existence. But even with online friends to talk to, something still felt missing.
Yes, the truth remains: I'm still alone in my darkened room. Just me, with no one else, and when I turn off my computer, a deafening silence envelops me.