"What-"
At one point, Cel walked around the table and looked at his father upfront.
"Father, why did you not want to pay attention to me?"
"Insane! You're insane!" his father screamed when he saw the knife in his belly.
He pulled it out instantly. But when he did so, the blood that was seeping out slowly now burst like an open dam.
"Father, why is work more important than me?" Cel asked again.
His father ignored his question and reached his hand across the table.
Cel simply took a step back, causing his father's weak body to fall on the desk.
"Wife! Butler! Maid! Servant!" his father called out for help, but no one responded.
"I killed them all. In that exact order, even." Cel chuckled slightly when he said this, the excitement hidden before unsuppressed.
He waited.
Blood flowed across the desk.
When the first drop landed on the ground, Cel felt the pull again!
At the same time, a memory appeared –
The same young boy looked at a beautiful woman. His dagger already in her belly.
"Why mother! Why do you hate me so much!" the boy screamed at the woman in front of him.
"Scelus, I love you-"
"No." the boy replied coldly, his focus not on her.
He looked at the blood, smelled its scent.
Looking at his mother again, he saw her belly bleeding, her hands weak, her head already leaning backwards.
"Beautiful," he said, his vision intoxicated.
Just as this memory appeared, it fused with the memory of before!
One memory after another hit Cel –
Scelus didn't stop after killing his mother and stepfather.
He threw away the dagger before leaving.
Running into the forest outside his home, he went back to his camping site.
After burning his clothes, he went to take a quick shower at the river, before putting on a new set of clothes.
He relaxed, played some music, roasted marshmallows and then took out a book, reading with little light.
It had been three hours after he killed his parents before he heard sirens.
The sirens sounded in the distance while several people came out with flashlights.
"Scelus! Scelus are you here!"
Hearing the voice, Scelus stood up and saw his neighbour accompanied by several cops.
"What's going on?" he asked confused.
The cops called the others.
Looking at his relaxed campsite, they didn't think much of it and took the boy away.
Hours passed before Scelus left the station with the news his parents had died.
He went through grief and depression for several weeks before he finally dared going to school again.
Even at this point, the murder wasn't found.
His schoolmates started looking weirdly at him.
In the end he left the school and went to another.
He studied psychology and became a psychiatrist, trying to understand his inner feelings and the ever growing desire to see the beauty of that day again.
Finally, when he had an internship at a jail, he talked with murderers, killers.
They, too, saw the glint of crimson in his eyes.
They opened all their secrets to him.
The way they killed, the way they felt and the way they escaped.
When he heard them, Scelus finally understood what he wanted, but he didn't feel the same as these murderers.
What he looked for wasn't a specific type –
Those beautiful, powerful, renowned, important or connected.
Everyone whose death would resound in the hearts of others.
What he liked was the beauty of blood but also the beauty of the drama that ensued.
He went through his studies and started his PhD while killing actively.
His methods were refined –
Sometimes it was manslaughter, other times it was 'suicide' and in rare cases, he even made it an accident.
But when he truly killed, what he left behind was a piece of art.
Symbols, geometric forms, poetry written in the victims blood…
Even in his old age, he wasn't caught.
While others married and had children, he relished in crimson colour and metallic scent.
…
The memories of Scelus fell into Cel's mind, clashing with his own.
His head felt like he was hit with thunder.
Just as the clash was about to escalate, suddenly, these memories went a different direction.
They went deeper into his mind, where his subconsciousness resided…
"Scelus," Cel called out, but he heard no voice.
"I am Scelus, aren't I?" he asked.
His name was indeed Scelus, but it had been a long time since he was called that. Most of the time it was simply 'Cel'.
'Scelus, latin for Evil' a voice from the depths of his mind came.
Cel wasn't surprised, because this was his inner voice.
It had been quiet before. As a subconsciousness, it only ever acted quietly.
But now, the memories fused with it.
It became active.
Cel saw his own reflection in the silver pen on his father's desk.
"Am I evil?" he asked.
'Scelus also means Wicked,' his inner voice continued.
Just as he looked at himself, trying to discern whether anything had changed, he suddenly felt the pull –
It seemed to have halted when his mind was in a state of chaos.
Now, it pulled him again!
But when he felt the pull, he not only felt one but three pulls!
The crimson expanse seemed to have the strongest pull –
'The Path of Blood,' that was what he understood when he felt the pull this time. It was extremely strong, seemingly manifesting in reality.
A slightly weaker pull came from below. It was black and seemed to represent the end of all things –
"The Path of Death," Cel spoke out the conveyed message of this pull.
Lastly, he looked at the third pull. It was purple, glowing above him.
"The Path of… Magic?!" he exclaimed in surprise.
'Magic? There… is there really such a thing?'
When the three paths manifested, another message was conveyed to Scelus.
Enter the Path and pursue Godhood!
Choose one of them and the others would disappear.