Loki’s Successor System

Zooming across the streets were police vehicles; effortlessly grasping the eyes of onlookers; and hidden criminals in culpability. Sirens sounded. Tires shrieked as the vehicle came to sudden halts. Out of these vehicles, stepped police officers in black apparel. A few had taken guns out of their holsters; others did not and hadn't even carried a gun in the first place. For they were gifted with unique magical and supernatural abilities alike. 

And who just could oppose their reasoning? They were in a world of magic—one in which people abused said magic for the betterment of themselves. Officer Brook had remained behind his opened car door but kept his gun raised above it. He had always dreamed of being a high-rank officer. However, this was but an unprocurable feat for someone who had no magic at all. 

The higher rank officers; unarmed, approached the four corpses that lingered on the floor. 

A brown hairred officer cursed. "It looks like the perpetrator got away with murder today! Fuck!"

"And he chose a street where we are blind when it comes to the cameras," said another officer, folding his arms. "I'm not sure why he did this; but he did it wise. There have been a lot of murders recently. The most easiest place to have dead bodies is where those beacons shoot into the sky."

"Yeah, you're right. It looks like the killer was armed with a blade of some sort. I only know one killer who leaves behind this many slashes on bodies. Could it be ... the masked murderer?"

"There is a huge possibility. And judging by the camera feed; this infamous masked murderer has more than two abilities, together with insane speed."

.

"Just like the two guys dispatched today. The teenagers with the water abilities. Killed seven cops despite being banged up from a fight already. They're also fast with their dashes. They got away easily."

.

"There are a lot of ability runners nowadays. I have no idea what the fuck's happening to this world. We cops are busier than ever because of them. Not that it's bad thing," he sighed, "but I can really use a break right now. It looks like it's boutta rain soon too. I feel like going home and sleeping for the rest of the day."

"Guys! I think I found something."

"Yeah? What's that? I hope it's a brain; 'cause you clearly need one!"

"C'mon, guys, cut the jokes on the guy. He found equipment."

"Is that so?"

"Looks like they had C4. What were they planning to do with this much?"

"There are also masks in the bag."

"High possibility of it being a conspiracy. One to rob the nearby bank, that is. This can only mean that they were stopped by their murderer. But I can't pinpoint why."

"The masked murderer has killed many criminals and street thugs already. I don't think he's killed that many innocent people. Except for randomly stabbing that innocent man to his chest for nothing."

"So what are you saying? You're trying to say that he did it for justice?"

"I don't know ... maybe?"

"That's fat BS. Even we cops don't do what we do for justice."

"I know I do."

"Cut the crap, new guy. You ain't doing it for any justice. Justice my flat arse. When you get more experience under your belt you'll see what I mean."

"Place the caution tapes, please. I still wanna study this area," said the only female cop there. Her glare was intimidating. Just by one look one would tell that she was certainly powerful. And powerful, she was. 

"And why do you always study the crimes done by particularly the masked murderer and that flame user, huh, Joan?"

"Nun'ya," she said. "Mind your damn business."

"I ain't got any business. I'm a cop, not a businessman. But I can be all up in your business if you want me to. I can be a businessman if you want."

Joan scoffed; walking past the smirking officer. She had climbed the ranks through intense training. She was a monster with her blade. 

Officer Brook was always paranoid. He loitered near his car, keeping his gun held high. High alert. He was not new to all this, but he certainly hadn't gotten accustomed yet. He had a few more jobs to do before he got promoted. He yearned for this promotion. His tenure was a laborious one. He deserved this promotion. 

Officer Brook had heaved; finally lowering his weapon to his side. Deflating, he slumped against his vehicle. "I'm getting too old for this. Work your arse off, and barely get paid," he said to himself, frowning. 

He felt something. Something bursting through his clothes. Shredding through skin—then his flesh. A searing pain ensued. His eyes bulged. Trembling, he slowly looked down at the hovering blade. One working autonomously, with what seemed like no weilder. 

The blade pierced through his heart. He gasped in excruciating agony. He could not see the perpetrator of his death. The blade yanked itself out of his body, and vanished. And he slowly descended to the floor until collision. As a tud sounded; Officer Riko spun around and witnessed the fall of Brook.

When suddenly, a blade appeared in front of him. It shredded through his neck. Skin, flesh, muscle, and bone. Such that his head was torn apart; edging away from his body. As his head fell, the green, glowing blade had vanished. 

An Officer was killed. Then another. Another again. There were only lethal slashes; one strike per man. But they had all sufficed to plunder the lives of these law enforcement officers. One after another, they collapsed. Charnel stenches of blood filled the air. It was indeed a massacre. 

The officers witnessing this atrocity had finally started taking action. Johnny shouted, "We got trouble at our sixes!" he took out his guns, directing them at the hovering blade that had soon disappeared. 

Joan and the others all turned around, and peered at the striking bodies on the floor. Most of them had taken out their weapons, holding them as high as their breasts. Others needn't. 

Suddenly, a figure manifested in the midsts of the slew of corpses. Juxtaposed, he stood, smirking. His presence was all but positive. Arrogant, he was. A figure in a blood hoodie, his hands lingering in his kangaroo pockets. 

He raised a hand. "Don't shoot," he said, "I have a proposal to make."

Joan stepped forward. "Oh yeah? Well sorry ... we don't take proprosals from murderers."

He tittered. "Woman, you gotta have some huge balls to walk forward like that. You just killed yourself in another timeline. You see? I'm serious about this proposal. You look like a high rank, and I could've killed you by throwing my dagger a second ago. But I relented."

Joan glared at him. "What is this proprosal?"

"Ah," he said, "It's really simple. If I kill you, you're dead. But if you beg for your life, you're not dead but instead a slave to me. I'm only accepting one of these slaves." 

Joan scrunched her face in anger. "Fuck off—whoever you are. What makes you think you can take us?"

"How rude of me," he said, "I forgot to introduce myself," a masked appeared on his face, "Some of you know me as the masked murderer ..."

Joan gasped in shock.

He continued, "But I prefer to be called," he glared, "The God of Mischief. And I .... I have already won this battle."

Joan drew her Katana; yanking it out of her scabbard. It shrieked as metal passed against metal. Joan glared. "I've been chasing you for so long. You killed Armon! There's no escape for you now. You shouldn't have shown yourself, arsehole!"

He smirked. "You prefer not to see me? Is that so? Here I thought it would have been fair if I fought with an appearance. Oh well," suddenly his body had disappeared, "can't say I didn't try to go easy on you."

Joan gasped again. "He's gone!"

[Laevateinn: Level 3] 

[Special attack has leveled up]

"What are you talking about?" uttered a voice in front of her. "I'm right here. Are you blind?"

[Skill: Invisibility] 

{Become completely undeceivable to the sense of sight for a period of time} 

"I forgot I had this skill!"