Prologue - Death

My name was John and I was your typical 18 years old boy highschooler who was going to start the university next academic year, a little bit of a nerd with great interest in computers, anime, manga, and novels.

Like any normal day, I woke up by the alarm clock, washing a little and dressing for the day before going down for breakfast. I lived in a two-floor house with three rooms where I lived with my parents and my big sister, we loved each other as I supposed it would be normal.

While having breakfast alone as each member had their own timetables, I saw the tv with the last news to be a little informed. They talked about another case of kidnapping in a near area, it was thought to be the Artist. The Artist was a serial killer that killed his victims and used them as material for his art, which could be from paintings to sculptures.

I only saw one of his assassinations and I must say that they were very impactful and made me sick and throw up my last lunch, it was a video of him using a guitar made of human parts, truly horrendous. He usually posted them in recently created nets, of course, it didn't pass much time they are closed by the police, but you have the opportunity to see them before it or for people that repost. There's even some fanatic forum that followed each of his steps.

Anyway, it wasn't like it affected my life. He had killed 20 people all around the country and it wasn't like they were anyone that I knew, it would be really bad luck for me to be affected by it. Even the usual flu takes more victims every hour, I thought that the police made too much emphasis on him only due to his peculiarity and show off.

Finishing my breakfast, I took my already prepared bag and went towards the school. It was a nice 30 minutes walking. I usually spent it reading some novel from the mobile. After reading all Douluo Dalu mangas, I was curious and started reading their novels, having finished the first one and starting the second.

I followed my usual path, however, when I passed next to a dark alley, a man quietly left the alley. The man swiftly and efficiently like he was very used to it, took something from his pocket and surrounded me with his arms, with a hand covering my mouth and nose.

I tried to struggle and shout but some kind of handkerchief over my mouth evade me to it. With some acidic smell, I could sense my strength living my body as I was dragged into the alley, my eyes closing over, falling asleep.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but when I opened my eyes, I found myself in some dark big storage room dimly lighted by a little bulb. I tried to move my body to not vail, I found myself tired and I had my extremities tied with some ropes.

"The final material finally wakes up." Turning the maximum that I could move my head, I saw a man. He wore black clothes with a long coat, on his face he wore a strange clown mask with a grin. The only that I could see characteristic from him was his red eyes that shined with enjoyment.

The man approached me taking a knife from inside his coat. He put it over my cheek "You're lucky. You will become part of my last work, you will be immortalized as true art. When I saw you, I knew that you will be perfect for my 8th apostle" He went outside of my view and I heard a low click and I new light was turned on.

Looking at the new illuminated zone, I couldn't help to want to throw up. 12 bodies sat on chairs, by the blood around them they were clearly dead, with nails around their faces, fixing their calm expressions. The worst wasn't the 12 that at least were more or less intact, it was the chairs. They were made by intestines, organs, and body parts, flies flying around them.

"With you, the main characters of the Last Supper are completed. I will only need to find low-level materials for the table" As he finished talking, I could hear some police horns outside of the storage.

The man started laughing "And here they come, my new materials" he put his hand over his ears "It's a pity but there too much, spoiling some won't be too much.

"Police! You are surrounded. Surrender with your hands lifted, the Artist, Marcolo Edrith!" The police outside shouted.

(Thank goodness for the police! I might be able to left here alive) I thought.

The Artist left my view, but he wasn't going to the exit. I could hear blows trying to open the door. "Let's make easy for them to enter" "BOOOOM!" a loud explosion happened to destroy the entry and tearing some police in its way.

The lights turned off, but the police used their owns lights as they entered the storage. "BOOOOM!" more explosions were heard outside "Fucker!" some policemen shouted. For what it seemed only 20 people could enter and they were angry for the death of their companions.

After that, it was a bizarre scene that I couldn't completely grasp. Shoots were heard followed by bodies falling to the ground. Even when the police greatly outnumbered him, it seemed that they were losing. The Artist expertly moved in the shadows, hiding his presence and slowly killing them. All his movements were efficient and calm and all the deads were shot at their head, instantly dying.

In the chaos of the battlefield, some officer that seemed to have entered from the back, reached me "Be calm, I'll take you out from here" he reassured me. Unfortunately, just as he released my right arm, a bullet penetrated his head killing him, his body falling over me. Looking at his dead eyes, I grasped, trembling even more.

I couldn't help to tremble in fright, I will die here. Knowing that I would die, somehow a feeling spread over my body, it was of resignation and fury. How the fuck that man had only killed 20 people. He was a fucking professional killer, being able to overpower 20 police agents.

It seemed that the Artist was almost finished. He stood over a policeman who was kneeling, both his hand were cut and could be seen around, causing him to bleed madly. He was panting with fury as the Artist was approaching him with a knife in his hand.

After them, I was the next one. At that moment, my view involuntary moved towards the body over me, especially to his gun at his belt. With trembling hand and nothing more to lose, I extended my released right arm taking the gun. "Baaang! Baaaang!Baaaang!" with an unstable aim I shot all the cartridge of the gun towards the Artist.

Luckily, it seemed that some shot took the objective, piercing over his neck. "For me to be killed by a prepared material" He said in low voice full of wonder and surprise. As he was falling to the ground, he twisted his wrist, the knife at his hand shotting towards me, before the fell to the ground with his arms open. I could see in slow motion as the knife spun cutting the air, precisely piercing my neck.

I could sense my blood running out, rushing from my neck like a fountain, pushing my right hand over it, doing nothing to stop. Each intent to breathe or shout for help became a cough of blood. My body was becoming cold and I sensed my strength leaving my body, my life running out, my eyelids too heavy to even keep them open. (So this is how I die, my family will be sad) strangely some calmness rushed over my body in that instant knowing that I couldn't do anything to survive.

"I would like to create even more beautiful art" a full of remorse voice from the Artist were the last words that I listened to.

After some time, more police came, seeing the last and final art of the Artist. A full bloody battlefield with spectators sitting over chairs, as the Artist laid on the floor with his arms extended, blood-forming wings around him, seeming to be an angel from hell.