1 Prologue

The chatters of men and women reverberated inside the court while a young man in a white robe walked toward the podium, carrying a rolled letter in his right hand. His amiable smile was evident on his face, scanning around as he waited for the crowd to calm down. A minute had passed when a knocking sound disturbed the scene, and like magic, the room became silent. Then a booming voice came after, saying, "Announce the verdict!"

"Yes, Your Highness." The young man stared at the majestic old man garbed in white silk - who was seated on a golden throne - and unrolled the paper. His eyes lit up for a few seconds before returning to his usual expression and glanced at the excited juries sitting at the other side of the court. He chuckled lightly and gave the convicted young man a final look and frowned when he noticed his indifferent expression. But then he remembered the verdict once again and his smile returned. He then proclaimed, "In the presence of the Great King Barrock, the Holy Judge of the Realm of Venisia, I announce that you, Merryl Panton, is guilty - "

"Hurry up, will ya?!" The convicted young man cut him off as he stood up and yawned loudly, seemingly bored at the things that were happening around him. "Hey, it's been pretty clear that I killed those old motherfuckers! I even gave you the pieces of evidence...I am the Masked Phantom! Do I really need to spell it out for ya?!"

The Masked Phantom - the notorious masked man who prowled in the night as he searched for unfortunate victims. No killers could compare to him because of how unique he did the killing. One victim was gutted inside a huge aquarium while another one was dumped into the melting iron. Even others were stuffed with parts of animals and others were turned into a garden of mushrooms and meat-eating plants. But there was one thing in common that connected them to the Masked Phantom - his unique cursing spell. Some say that he was a witch and others insisted that he was a Voodoo master. But one thing for sure, they all agreed that he was insane.

Such joy have they felt when the people knew that the Masked Phantom was caught, or so the Justice Legion said.

Nobody expected that the infamous murderer was a handsome young man, who was still smiling as if the convicted person was not him. He eyed the young man in the podium playfully while taking out a piece of paper from his pocket. After giving it a slight shake, he raised it for all to see and shouted, "Hey, don't think that you caught me fair and square! I'm just bored with my life, so, I let you catch me. Well, before I go, let me give you a good gift! Tadah! Poison of Miasma!"

The old man's eyes widened when he saw the paper and stood up abruptly, "Stop him!"

Before anyone could make a move, the paper shone brightly like a dazzling star, and poof, a loud explosion spread across the area. The blinding light enveloped every space, disintegrating everything it touched. It all happened in mere seconds, and the once-filled court became an empty lot.

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The sound of a breaking glass disturbed the silent night as the young man grabbed another bottle of vodka laid on the table. Without a care in the world, he chugged it carelessly, not even caring that some of the liquid was splattered on his white shirt. He felt a slight pain in his chest yet he did not stop drinking. A minute had passed when he noticed that the bottle was empty and he hurled it across the room, hitting the innocent wall. He was about to have another drink when he realized that all of his boozes were gone. "Dang it!"

Without the alcohol, he had nothing to do so he just stared at the wall without moving. Even the loud ticking clock on the right shelf of his room could not bother him. A minute, then two, until an hour had passed, yet he remained still. His eyes were bloodshot, not minding the stinging cuts on both of his hands. Only one thing was filling up his thoughts - the death of his mates.

"Mary...you were supposed to give me more children but why did you die..."

He took out an old picture from his pocket and looked at it intently. "Jerek, you should have not listened to me...why...funny that a bard like me survived the ambush while you warriors couldn't..." His chest tightened a bit as he continued speaking, "Why did I live while all of you died...why should I live...why did you listen to me...I'm such a dumb cunt..."

He could not help it when his eyes were filled with tears and he began to sob uncontrollably. Yes, he was the one who insisted to accept the mission. Despite his team's warnings, he convinced the group leader, who was his best friend, to do it. True enough, their fears happened and all but him died gruesomely. His best friend, his wife, his two brothers, and his other ten mates. Even his daughter and his mom who were tagging along were not spared. As far as he was concerned, it was him who killed them.`

After a long thought, he reached out for a pen and paper and wrote his last will. He poured out every emotion he felt into the letter. When he was done, he stamped his name - Jared Panton.

He placed the note beside him and grabbed the bottle that he prepared earlier. Without hesitation, he unscrewed the cap and drank it, and soon, blood streamed out from his mouth, his eyes, and his nose. His body twitched slightly as he sprawled on the floor. Even then, he was smiling knowing that he would soon meet his loved ones.

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A middle-aged man limped along the dark alley, his eyes scanning every corner as he covered his wound with his right hand. "Fuck! Damn it..." he whimpered as he flinched from the pain every time he moved his body. "Bloody traitors..."

The operation was supposed to be foolproof, yet here he was, ambushed and alone. All of his comrades were slain earlier during the shootout inside the vacant lot, not expecting that their target became their ambushers. What a way to turn the situation around. Unfortunately, he was on the losing side.

His knees began to falter, so he quickly looked around for a corner to rest. As soon as he reached the dead-end, he stumbled as his body crashed against the wooden fence. There was a sudden rush of throbbing pain inside his body and he almost fainted from the agony. Yet, he persisted and sat on the dirty ground, his back leaning against the fence.

He searched his coat for something and grunted when he realized that his phone was lost. "Fuck! Now, I can't even call the headquarter..." He mustered his strength and tried standing up but he was weak due to blood loss. Realizing that he might not make it out alive, he could not help but recall everything he had done in the past, summed up in eight words - a promising police detective yet a single dog. He could not help but chuckle when he remembered that he was still a fucking virgin yet he was now dying. Such an unfortunate fate, he thought as he felt his strength slowly sapped away from his body.

With the last words he could muster, he prayed, "Oh, God of the Virgins, if you are true, then remember to include my name on your scroll. If you happen to forget, that's Eric Panton for you...please give me another chance to live again..."