April 26, 2014, Dynami, Brazil.

In a cemetery in the city of Dynami, a funeral was taking place under a gloomy sky covered with dark clouds. Among the few attendees was a 10-year-old boy named Koji, who looked with consternation at his mother Jenna Fuller's grave and innocently asked his father, Norman Fuller:

"Are you okay, Dad?"

"I am," Norman replied, his voice calm and admirably composed.

However, Koji surprised his father with another, more challenging question.

"Who do you think killed Mom?"

The question shook Norman. He became nervous and crouched down to talk to his son.

"Enough with the questions. I don't want to hear that here. Talking about these things now is disrespectful to your mother."

Norman's composed demeanor reflected his German roots, and his successful career in academia and the financial market as an international investment manager was no coincidence.

After a melancholic afternoon, Norman and Koji arrived home, drenched from the rain. After a series of quick showers, Koji went upstairs to his room while Norman confined himself to his study. Under a fluorescent light above his desk, he searched, examined, and read some amateur files on "The Demons of Oxford," a book published in 1931 by British journalist Lenny Chesterton. These files detailed teachings for two rituals, the traditional and the forbidden.

The demons were powerful entities seduced by writings and ancient artifacts that invoked them. Once the writing was found and spoken aloud, a negotiation of sacrifices between the human and the demon would occur. If an agreement was reached, the demon would grant superhuman powers to the individual in exchange for the sacrifice. In case of rejection, the human would die.

In the forbidden ritual, a human life was taken, a body part was decapitated, and then used in a negligent and immoral manner as a writing to initiate the ritual. The practitioner also had to eat the severed limb, bathe their hands in human blood, and recite the incantation aloud. Finally, a mark would appear on the body, like a tattoo.

At that moment, Norman's phone rang.

"Alex? Any news?"

Alex had been Norman Fuller's lawyer for many years. His materialistic personality made him someone who clung to goals that elevated his status, including corruption and false accusations if necessary.

"Good evening, Norman! I've never seen the office so busy as today! But listen... I have great news for you!" Alex shouted, annoyed by the noise in the office.

"I'm listening."

"Your name is still among the suspects, but I'm close to getting the judge on our side. The case of Mrs. Jenna Fuller is narrowing down, and we need to offer the judge a sum of money. Do you have any amount ready?"

"Tell him I have $500,000," Norman affirmed, standing in front of his desk, nervous, restless, and pacing.

"That much? Are you sure?"

"I won't need money anymore. You have all my bank information, so just speed things up, okay?" Norman said, panting and sweating.

Norman abruptly ended the call and rushed to the kitchen, shouting for his son.

"Son! Koji! Come eat!"

He took a delicious spaghetti dish from the microwave and placed it on the table. Koji didn't take long; he immediately arrived and sat in one of the chairs.

"Spaghetti? I can't believe you made this," the boy said with a faint smile, teasing.

"You'd better not doubt me," Norman replied jokingly as he served the spaghetti on his son's plate.

Koji grabbed his plate and started eating. Norman carefully took a cup of red liquid from the oven, which was actually blood, as the rituals required.

"Dad, this spaghetti tastes different," Koji said, his mouth full, impressed by the exotic flavor.

Suddenly, Norman threw the blood onto his son's hands, partially hitting the boy's face, and recited the incantation.

"Veniant umbrae, devorent omnes lucem quaerentes, martyr magnas massas, fac novus mundus domum tuam."

"Let the shadows come, devour all who seek the light, martyr the great masses, make the New World your home."

With unimaginable pain and burning, Koji looked at his right forearm and saw that a script had appeared. His anguished and desperate screams were so loud that the neighbors heard them.

Norman went to his study, returned with a 12mm pistol, approached his son, and spoke slowly.

"Son... what I did will help you. You will have a shadow that will always defend you. You won't feel fear or worry anymore. They are coming, every year they get closer, and I don't want my son to suffer because of them. It will be good to see your mother again... goodbye, son."

BANG!

With a shot to the head, Norman committed suicide in front of his son. The blood splattered on the boy's face was like a cinematic scene of a famous painter throwing paint on his canvas.

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the neighborhood, and an agent named Sam, dressed in black and with a silent demeanor, broke into the house armed. Nothing dangerous was found, only a 10-year-old boy with blood on his hands and face who had witnessed his father's suicide moments before.