CHAPTER 108: CHAPTER 108: KALAMUS HOUSE (6)

The world I had known had been reduced to ashes. My empire, my people, the most powerful arcanists... all nearly annihilated by dragons that shouldn’t even exist. Every burned body, every silenced scream, every collapsed tower... was etched in my mind like a tattoo of fire. I felt something I had never felt before: fear. And from that fear, an obsession was born. The obsession to be the strongest, to never be vulnerable again.

I searched every corner of the imperial library. Every scroll, every tome, every ancient inscription... everything seemed useless. There was nothing that could give me enough strength to face creatures like the dragons. Frustration gnawed at me, but I did not stop. I even inspected my father’s personal belongings, the artifacts he had collected over centuries. Nothing. Only memories of an empire that had reached its peak... and I had watched it crumble.

The answer came when I moved to my uncle’s mansion. Among his dusty possessions, I found what I had been seeking without knowing it: an ancient ritual to summon demons. Demons... the most powerful beings that had ever existed. Beings who enjoyed making pacts, who knew secrets mortals could not even imagine. In its yellowed pages, my uncle had planned to summon them to take the empire’s power by force, but he never dared. The materials required were prohibitive, dangerous... almost impossible to obtain.

My eyes lit up. The idea sank into my mind like a sweet poison. This was the only way. This was the power I needed. And nothing and no one would stop me.

I began gathering the materials with the help of my few surviving loyal vassals. Blood of powerful beings, souls of fallen mages, relics of legendary warriors... I returned to the battlefield and extracted from the dragons everything I could: I tore out their teeth, their eyes, the power cores that pulsed within. I raided the arcanists’ vaults, taking herbs, crystals, and everything the ritual demanded. Every step brought me closer to a forbidden power, a power that no arcane law would dare to sanction.

Finally, when I had gathered all the elements, I sat before the ancient book and read the last part of the spell. A chill ran down my spine, a mixture of fear and excitement. The words were clear, terrible:

"One supreme being’s head is required for each point of the diagram, and a high-level warrior’s head for each line intersection."

The meaning was devastating. I would have to kill the few remaining powerful warriors and elders to complete the ritual. I knew what I was about to do was taboo, a profanation of centuries of laws and traditions. But I could not bear to see everything my ancestors had built destroyed that way. Rage and desperation pushed me, the need to protect my legacy consumed me.

And so, with the materials prepared, my mind revolved around a single thought: power is not asked for, it is taken. And I was ready to do it... no matter the cost.

I would do whatever it took to protect my race.

I knew I could trust no one else. My surviving vassals were few and obedient, but they were not enough to face the magnitude of the power I was about to summon. So I set my trap, placing a lure in the mansion: a message promising knowledge, artifacts, and glory.

I told them I had found a way to confront the dragons and needed their help.

The eleven warriors, brave and confident, suspected nothing until it was too late.

As they fell into the trap, a dense gas enveloped them. They could not scream, they could not move; their bodies fell rigid under the effect of the venom that anesthetized mind and flesh. Their eyes closed, but in my heart, there was no remorse. Every movement, every sacrifice, was a step toward the power I could never reach otherwise.

Once immobilized, I transported them to the central hall of my mansion, the space prepared for the ritual. On the cold floor, I drew the dodecagram, its lines engraved with ancient runes. At each point, I would place a supreme being’s head, and at each intersection, a high-level warrior’s. Their fallen bodies were aligned with surgical precision. Blood dripped, creating crimson rivers tracing the outline of the sacred and profane symbols at the same time.

As I chanted, the air grew heavy, charged with dark energy. The candlelight twisted, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own. The ground vibrated beneath my feet, and the stench of metal and death filled the hall. My words echoed endlessly:

"For the power that belongs to us! For the strength mortals dare not touch!"

Each sacrifice fed the spell. Their screams were lost in the whirl of energy, and my hands, stained with blood, traced invisible runes that opened the portal to another plane. Tension grew until a black hole began forming at the center of the dodecagram.

From that abyss emerged a demon that made even my heart tremble. Its body was gigantic, with a structure similar to a spider, but its head was a giant skull, and multiple serpentine tongues streamed from its jaws, tasting the air around it. Its eight legs, tipped with razor-sharp claws, twisted and shattered the floor with every move, and an aura of pure energy radiated from it, showing that its power surpassed even the dragons I had faced.

Its empty eyes, like bottomless pits, looked at me and recognized my summoning. Its voice was not a sound, but a vibration that resonated in my bones:

"Summoned... by your ambition... human."

I smiled, watching its presence fill the hall. There was no turning back. What had begun as a desire for power now materialized before me. Every fiber of its being reminded me that what I sought was the most forbidden and dangerous thing an arcanist could ever touch.

The demon spun, breaking columns and walls, and the still-fresh blood of the sacrifices fed its awakening. My breathing was steady, my mind focused, there was no going back now that we had reached this point.