After the dangerous missions with his contractor guild group, Dr. Amnon Montmartre decided to leave them all behind, restart his family life and career in his homeland, and catch up what he has missed. Upon his return, he has witnessed crimes and te...
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TRIGGER WARNING:
A part of this chapter may contain a mature scene. It may not be suitable for younger readers. Reader's descretion is strictly advised.
[Pénitencier Brochard, Martinnois, Foranea, 12:39 AM, 23rd of Umbral-Tide/Darktide, Year 426]
A middle-aged Elandric man with spiky dark chocolate locks and a goatee on his chin lied down on his bench looking at the cloudy navy azure evening skies from the prison cell window. His arms and face were full of scars which they served as his kill counts. He slowly turned his head around and noticed the prisoners were already in their peaceful slumber. The night patrol prison guard was sitting on his chair as his eyes were slowly closing. He was about to meet his slumber, but he tried to stay awake.
The Elandric man remained behind bars and waited for his great savior Lord Damocles, Second Prince of Wrath, Umbral God of Revenge. He recalled several years ago when he served the Elandric Army as a young private. The young soldier was almost killed in the frontlines during the Westernland wars fighting against the Chegarians. The private ended up in coma, however he met his Lord in his dreams, receiving such extreme power to take revenge and gaining a mark on his back. Then, he woke up and started his rampage at an Army Hospital before leaving his homeland. Now, the same man had committed several cases of homicide on his way from Elandris to Foranea. He had slaughtered out of his revenge and hatred. The Foranean police arrested and sentenced him of life imprisonment.
This time, he was waiting for a sign to escape from the prison cell and lowly whistling. Suddenly, a dark hooded man stood up infront of him.
" Barabbas Crawford, you have summoned me, " a deep and creepy male voice echoed.
" More like I'm f-#+in' bored, my dear Lord Damocles, " Crawford replied and instantly sat up. " Are ya gonna get me outta here? "
" I am not the one whom you worship and adore, Barabbas, " the hooded man sternly deadpanned.
" Oh, come on! Who the hell are ya? Look, I prefer to call myself, Barry. Okay?! "
" Whatever..." the hooded man heavily sighed. " My name's Darkvile, speaker and messenger of the Cult of Umbral Spheres. The minister, Lady Sheeva has appointed me to free you. "
" Heh, really?! " Barry chuckled, stood up, and asked. " How the hell do you know me? "
" Your well-known reputation speaks, Barry, " Darkvile sternly spoke and deduced him. " You are indeed a cold-blooded murderer in decades and worthy to be a member of the cult. I'm asking you to come with me. "
