A hot summer day scalded the asphalt and rocks of the town of Trinketshore. In the shadows of the narrow alleys, a figure shrouded in black garments moved through the shadows, absorbing the heat rather than fleeing from it. He was half-naked without it, his clothes ragged like being eaten away by a pack of wolves.

Caleb Dune sought to find comfort in the shade. His visage burned scarlet, drenched in sweat. His eyes, ablaze like an unhinged, darted erratically, while his trembling hands ravaged the flesh of his own neck. Consumed by relentless anxiety, he shattered the trash container, his mutterings a disjointed symphony of unintelligible whispers.

"Meth, meth... where the bloody Hades are you?" Caleb's voice swelled, a mounting tide of frustration and anger fueling his words. "I—need—that—thing! Fucking mage, I know ye can hear me! Come out of yer hiding hole!"

"Ready to serve, sire." The figure of an elk-headed magus emerged from the shadow of the trash can all of a sudden.

Now despite Caleb's own invitation, he still could not get away from being gasped. His gaze swiftly turned, only to behold the figure draped in ebony robes, donning the head of a horned beast with menacing antlers and protruding neck. Such a stature would never grow familiar to the eyes.

"You! Thanks the Divine." Caleb's mouth was bubbling. "I need that meth again! A bunch of scunners exhausted all my power! I want revenge! I want to melt those damned wee bairns!"

"Exhausted your strength?" The mage saw his emaciated body turning red from being scratched. The black magic on his being was almost imperceptible to Deer-Man's senses. "The particle is too powerful to be drained away like that. Who did it, and what kind of magic did he use?"

"Not a 'he', a 'she'! She's using some kind of... uh... magic baw..., bright... blue energy—fuck it! To Hades with the details. Jist gie me the bloody rock!"

The mage did not need any details from Caleb indeed, for he already knew what he meant. Though concealed by the elk's facade, the mage's profound hysteria was palpable to Caleb.

"I see. I understand." The elk let out a half-hearted laugh. "To think I'm this 'fortunate'. It's nearly impossible, but it has been predicted. We're getting closer to the Big Design! I have to inform the others."

Caleb just gawked at the elk's muttering. "What in the bloody Hades are you chirping about?"

"Nothing, this is none of your affairs. But here, receive this gift from me to you," the magician gave a lump of Protos particle three times the size of the last night's sample. "It is free. Have a pleasant time with it."

Caleb's eyes lit up but also showed distrust at the same time. The addict then snatched the stone from the mage's hand, turned around, and walked briskly without even saying a word.

"My advice to you. Don't suck in all of it at once."

"Aye, right, tosser!" Caleb chortled and left the mage all alone.

Under the bridge, the ultimate junkie had gathered all the fancy apparatus needed to execute his "lunch". He kept all the smoke in a large glass jar to hold it in.

Lacking fortitude, the addict inhaled deeply the stone that sublimates into magic gas, none of its essence escaped the suction of his nose. His body healed and twisted as desired, a massive scale of magic energy flooding into his being. Finally, he felt the rush of newfound power, ready to conquer the world once more!

But not long after, his body began to writhe in agony without warning. A searing inferno raged within him, so hot that he could feel his digestive organs melting. Blood-curdling screams slipped from his lips, echoing through the river. His blackened skin bubbled, melting like molten lava. His eyes bulged. A putrid stench spread to every corner of the bridge. Fish floated lifelessly to the surface, poisoned by the noxious odor.

Caleb made his way to Hades in the same manner he slain the old woman that night.

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By the very magic he had craved.

***

Trinketshore was a small town, unremarkable and easily forgotten. That did not mean it was full of old people enjoying the rest of their lives, thus making it a completely safe and peaceful haven. The townspeople also lived side by side with men with twisted desires. Sinners and the depraved lived among them.

Recently, black magic had once again reared its head in the town, something that had not been seen since the Caledonians called "the Stoatin' Magic War." But this was not the first time the fragile peace of Trinketshore had been disturbed.

A few months earlier, three men had been caught disposing of a cement-filled vat containing the body of a girl, identified as Esmer Philo, the only child of John Philo, an art teacher at Alicia's academy. An immediate investigation revealed that Esmer had been kidnapped, tortured, raped, and then killed by the sons of powerful and wealthy families.

John Philo, upon learning of his daughter's horrible death, was consumed by grief and anger. The man was shattered to pieces. The world had trapped him in a vicious cycle of endless depression. His life alone was meaningless. Might as well just die because he had nothing left to fight for. But John was not planning on ending himself alone. He wanted to bring those three cursed creatures back into Hades' arms.

Unfortunately, with such a small town, the limited number of law enforcers could not solve this case as smooth as a satin knit. On the contrary, they made it even more complicated.

On the last day of the trial, the three defendants sat before the prosecutor, the supposed beacon of justice. The audience waited with bated breath to see what punishment would be inflicted upon these depraved individuals. But the judge's verdict was not what anyone had expected.

Instead of severe punishment, the three men were sentenced to house arrest.

John Philo growled half to death. Feeling possessed by the judge's decision, he stuck out his gun and attempted to shoot the three pigs. How the Divine had cursed him, the civil guards apprehended the man before all the bullets ever came out from the barrel. The miserable wolf failed to tear down their final shelter.

This was what the triplets—Alicia, Nadine, and Gilmore—heard and saw in the telemedia and newspaper. They crushed an innocent girl for their barbarous lust, and instead, they'll take refuge in their own castle, playing games and drinking cocktails, sticking out their two-fingered insult to the townspeople! This alone stirred turmoil throughout the raging Trinketshore. They denounced such a light punishment for a group of female massacres. Nadine even threw her one thousand one curses in front of Alicia's telemedia.

Activists and alert residents immediately gathered in the town square and town hall to stage a protest. They became even more violent when the father of his late daughter was dishonourably paraded into a machine carriage while escorting the culprits like state officials. The town square, already on edge after the recent black magic incident, erupted into chaos as trash and debris were thrown in defiance against the civil guards who sought to quell the rebellion. The battle for justice was far from over...

***

The local penitentiary was more likely a psych ward. The cry of the locked-up John echoed down the office hallways. His hysterical roar hinted at the deepest sorrow and explosive fury. He banged his head many times, wishing his head would burst and die in place instead of enduring the unbearable bitterness of life. A failed human being who could not even touch a piece of cloth from the murderers.

At one time, the xanadu walls of the empty prison darkened. The light that came from the vent turned into murk night. The primordial void devoured John and the rest of the cells. Did he manage to take his life?

John tried to make sense of his pitch-black surroundings. All of a sudden he saw an elk's head—the only one visible beyond the void, hovering here and there, playing with John's eyes.

Where am I now? Am I in the afterlife already?

The elk's head finally ceased its motion and turned to the helpless, middle-aged man. His snout did not move, but he seemed to deliver a message through an inner voice.

"My deep condolences for your lovely daughter, sire," said the elk's head.

John half shuddered, yelling for an answer. "Who are you? Where am I? Am I in the afterlife? I want to see my daughter! Where is my daughter? Tell me, hurry!"

"Your daughter is not here, sir Philo," replied the elk's head. "You are not in the afterlife. You are still sitting on your knees in front of your cage. But I know that these three culprits have no right to enjoy their lunch at their palace, while you are rotting here, demanding justice for one that is so near yet so dear to you."

"Not just the three of them," retorted John. "Judges, civil guards, lawyers, those evil tycoons! All those Trinketshore hypocrites! They make fun of me and defecate my daughter's tomb. Those maggots must have bribed the whole town! Bastard! Bastard!"

"So what is on your mind now, sir Philo?"

"I...," John gripped the bars elusive in his sight, but familiar in his mind. "I wanted to toy with them the way they played me. I want to torment them all until they themselves beg to die, before I take them to Hades with me!"

Beneath the elk's head, right in the middle of it, glowed a boulder of lilac cracked stone. The stone floated, drawing closer to the man called John Philo.

"You cannot punish all of them by relying on your strength alone."

John Philo rubbed his eyes. "W-what's that thing?"

"This particular thing… is a fracture of the power of a god. Bring them justice… by the power of almighty, my good lord! Dispose those miscreants into the deepest abyss of Tartarus, for you, lord, are fair!" []