[Mr.D by...]

With a thud, Rebecca's lifeless body hit the ground. The sound reverberated in the room, due to the silence and the old wood.

There were different reactions. Moving from the guests to Frederick himself. For some, it was a huge impact on the psyche, while others reacted with strangeness and even indifference.

Different for Frederick, who only found himself looking at his hand; the perpetrator of the act, which he enjoyed touching and squeezing gently. His eyes did not differ in complicated emotions.

The sound caused by the violent and wanton action ceased with the fall of an individual.

He, who enjoyed privileged genetics, was of great height and a well-built body: The unmistakable Darick.

He lay limp on the ground, consumed by shock. His actions were not logical, unable to close his eyes or mouth, he only observed the lifeless body of his sister.

This noise began to awaken the guests, from their minds blinded by different emotions. They began to move, but without destination or sense; No one understood what was happening.

But an action happened, from the same one that caused the first one, that brought them back to the initial confusion.

Frederick, who was observing his ceremonial dagger, suddenly performed a violent action: Carrying it swiftly and in an accurate sharp blow, he self-injured himself in the space between his two pectorals.

A wound opened up, skin and flesh tore, and blood gushed out, but not in spurts due to the obstruction of the weapon causing the wound.

But who had received the wound, did not moan with pain, and his will did not hesitate but prevailed. To gather his strength and to pronounce a few words in favor of... Unknown beings

"O humble me"

"I summon you to this mundane plane."

"Soiled, he cried out for future restoration."

"From your hands, O haughty but benevolent beings"

"Divine ones, Chaos or Destruction. They bear great power as goodness, hence my call today".

And so, as if it were the call of a devotee or prophet, changes began to appear. The clouds gathered over the mansion, the sun's strong rays began to disappear and the temperature became regulated.

The atmosphere in the hall changed dramatically. Sanctity, calmness as well as chaos and the lack of control, joined in a divine and chaotic struggle.

If Homer, the epic poet, were to observe it, history would rejoice in one more hero.

But the unusual changes did not only occur climatically, spiritually, and metaphysically but also physically: Twenty-two enigmatic figures stood behind Frederick's back.

Unique and incomparable, ethereal and illusory, maintaining independent particularities.

They transmitted energy to Frederick through their brow, which strengthened him with each passing moment. With this addition of physical power, added to his height and weight, the impact he produced on the ground was already considerable.

Suddenly, with the weather outside, with strong winds, all the doors, windows, and possible escapes, were closed anticlimactic; something unnatural and with a touch of supernaturalness.

This brought the audience out of their stupor, which finally reacted. Some with fear, surprise, and others with disbelief. But the reality was in front of their eyes, which they did not want to accept.

But Frederick left no room to formulate ideas, as he approached with shuffling footsteps to the crowd standing back in a melee.

But these, their identities were not common, so: It was not strange that there should be one or two bold personalities.

And so, with survival instinct afloat, two individuals pounced upon him, with two items, which they assimilated as weapons

But, another two thudding noises were heard; The two men who had pounced had fallen and remained limply on the ground; But from one moment to the next, they suffered from terrible epilepsy and vomited unrecognized substances and fluids

Frederick observed this calmly, passing through them quickly, addressing the crowd, but especially one individual

A senile old man, hunched over and with extreme wrinkles, which deformed his face to a hideous one. In his eyes, he did not share the collective emotions, but rather, an unhealthy pleasure and lust.

They were quickly face to face, which earned him a smile, showing his old and yellowed teeth.

"Hehe, you have no power over me, boy, after all, you are my boy."

"Hahahahahahahaha"

But out of his expectations embodied in madness, he received a direct punch in his stomach. Which had brought him back to his senile reality: it sank into his stomach, and it was of such power, that it drew all the air from his lungs. Staggering and spitting spittle everywhere, he fell to his knees in a submissive position.

At no time did he stop coughing, his saliva mixed with blood, because his internal organs had been damaged. Plus his failed attempt to try to breathe had recreated a pitiful scene.

Finally, with one foot on his face, he had ended his pain: His spine had broken into pieces as well as his head.

Blood, brain matter, and fat had mixed in Frederick's shoe. But he did not overreact, for he had seen worse macabre scenes performed by his relative, Darreck Apols, whom he had murdered in cold blood a moment ago.

Finally, his gaze rocked over the rest of the guests. His fate had been marked, decided

Splash, splash

Liquid noise. As if a child was jumping over dirty puddles of muddy stagnant water, but no; it was Frederick walking in a bloody mess.

Different bodies lay lifeless in a vast space that made up the room. He had killed in different grotesque ways all but one, whom he had not yet identified

Darick was hiding in a dark corner, far away from his cousin. Treasuring his life, in great recklessness due to the monster he had become.

A butcher monster, with superhuman strength and abysmal indifference, ending the lives of all the "esteemed" guests.

He watched his actions intently and fearfully, with a survival instinct prevailing over all. Until He saw how he, plucked a decorative upholstered moose, and with a sudden movement threw it... He saw no more

Frederick found himself going upstairs, in a dirty mess, due to blood and grease. But prevailing as a concern over this, was his skin and muscles, wrinkled, weak, and flabby; His vital energy was corroding...

His hands, arms, and chest were no longer the same, but this took a back seat when he came across a door with a plaque: "Mr. D"...

In the face of all expectations, he opened the door using the doorknob. Inside he found a simple office, with someone sitting on the main seat.

"So you still have the strength to go upstairs, little guy. Hehehehe." It had been uttered by an elderly, but well-preserved man, with a distinctive smile and sufficient hair, with an enviable physical condition

"Grandpa... Let's not drag this situation out. You are knowledgeable about the situation, my fate." With obvious weariness, he uttered these heavy words.

"Hehe, quick and accurate, to the point; Worthy of an Apolus." The old man was skeptical about his grandson's chances, to end his life; But he was eager, if it was possible, welcome it was. He took immeasurable pleasure in the situation.

Frederick knew these points and so, not wishing to give him any more longevity, he laid his palm on the old man's respectable hair

"Mmh, caresses in the face of death; An elixir of the highest quality, enjoyed only by lovers? I rejoice I rejoice in the fact that I was able to quench your fire, little zeus...."

Black veins conglomerated in the head of the older man, who slammed his head against the desk, unconscious

"Damn, small print on contracts," Frederick repeated as he sat down heavily on another chair, into which he slumped limply.

His sight was fading, his former power was gone, and his fingernails were already black.

Finally...

"D for dick"