The story begins in a brightly lit room, windowless, organized, and impeccably clean.
In one corner stood a single bed. Opposite the foot of the bed was a wardrobe, its front facing directly toward it.
The room's door was located to the right, beside the wardrobe.
Next to the bed sat a small nightstand, upon which an old radio played — despite heavy static, a man's voice could still be heard:
"This is the Daily Broadcast. The number of victims of the serial killer nicknamed 'Heartstripper' has now risen to twenty-one.
Today's victim was a twelve-year-old homeless girl. Her body was found dumped by the roadside, a massive hole in her chest — just like the previous ones.
Numerous bruises suggest torture before death. We now go live to our correspondent—"
The broadcast was abruptly interrupted as the door swung open. A man stepped into the room.
Short black hair, middle-aged, eyes wide and crimson — the result of a rare ocular albinism — he entered slowly, deliberately.
He was thin and completely naked, his body covered in carvings of demonic seals and pentagrams, symbols drawn from long-forgotten religions.
In one hand, a dagger was held. With the other, a shopping cart which contained two white boxes was dragged.
He proceeded to place the dagger in the center of the room with ritualistic reverence.
The mysterious person then went back and opened one of the boxes. Liters of blood sloshed inside.
Slowly, he lifted the box from the cart, cradling it in one arm.
With his free hand, he dipped his fingers in the thick liquid and, sitting on the floor, began to draw a hexagram filled with profane mystical symbols.
He painted twenty circles around it, leaving a space in the center — just enough for the weapon.
Rising, he took the second box while throwing the other away: inside were twenty-one dried human hearts. He placed one in each circle.
With the last heart in hand, he stepped into the center of the hexagram after disposing of the previous item. Then, he began to devour it, savoring every bite as he performed a macabre dance.
The room's lights began to flicker violently.
After the final bite, he quickly grabbed the dagger and began to chant a dissonant melody.
The lights went out.
He plunged the blade into his own chest, piercing his heart — the greatest offering he could give to such high magic — and screamed.
The hearts in the circles glowed crimson, lighting up the darkness.
With the last of his strength, muttered:
"To claim the new, I offer the ashes of the old."
In the blink of an eye, he found himself in a forest.
Still naked, his dagger had vanished. His chest was completely healed. Other than that, his appearance remained unchanged.
"Finally..."