"It has to work this time."
Soot flew through the air, getting swept over all of the death lands, covering the black trees in a grey layer. It messed up his dark blue hair more than it already was, but he didn't even notice.
"I even came to this godforsaken place for this; if it fails now, then I—" No, don't even think about it now; let's concentrate on the matter at hand.
He took a handful of blood, which he had collected by who knows what means, and drew some strange symbols on the floor of the altar he was on. The altar—or whatever the ruin he sat on used to be—was painted in an aged dark red color, but when he had looked at it closer when he first came here, he knew it used to be blood red.
That is said to be common for ritual altars here in this wasteland. He knows he doesn't have much time because the "dead" lands didn't have its name for nothing. Normal creatures wouldn't even dare to set one foot on this ground because it'll drain their life force and soul flame—so basically a good old suicide option if someone crazy would even think of it this way, of course.
Maybe i am really crazy by now..
He sighs, lowering his head, looking at his blood and dirt covered hands. "Well, you know what they say, Silfa," he started to mimic the voices of the other warriors. "Don't forget who you do this for; as long as you have a will, there is a way." He finished looking at the drawn symbols.
Looks good to me.
Some nearby crows may be wondering what he was doing with a ritual altar and blood, but seeing the other preparations he made, one could pretty well guess what all that was about.
Demons were not that rare in such places after all. Trying to summon one shouldn't be difficult with the right preparations. And so, he took a deep breath, reciting the words in his head and going through the ingredients again. Blood of an imp, shards of a lost war blade, the soul flame of a warrior… all set
He took out a knife, pressing the blade against his palm, letting the blood drip down on the symbols while being careful that he wouldn't smear them. That would end in a disaster of summoning who knows what.
He looked around the death lands one more time. Black trees that looked as if someone burned them down yet somehow still carried charred leaves, a crimson red sky that hides the real sky when entering the lands. Cries and shrieks of death creatures like hell crows, hell hounds and maybe ghosts. A iron and coal-like smell in the air. The near abyss like sand covering every inch of the ground. Yeah, it's definitely still the death lands.
And so, he recited the ancient words word for word. Maybe for seconds, minutes, or hours continuously. He could feel how a part of him was slowly drawn into the ancient words on the altar. As he recited the words, he glanced down to his left down at his bare hand.
Unsurprisingly witnessing how the skin was slowly turning pitch black, starting from the tip of his fingers. Breathing slowly started to get difficult too, and an excruciating pain was rising from his fingers upwards both his arms.
It's just a side effect. It's just a side effect. I have to keep going, no matter what.
And so he did.
After what seemed like an eternity, he fell over to the side with a dull thud, trying his best to keep an eye on the altar.
He was groaning in pain yet refusing to let further reaction show even in this kind of situation.
F*ck, that hurts.
There was nothing but silence, and that was definitely not what was supposed to be going on right now. Silfa squeezed his eyes, trying to see something, anything, in his blurry vision, but there was nothing. He let out a slow breath, feeling the pain soar through his body with every breath he took. A few seconds later he unwillingly started to smile- not a happy smile or anything similar to it, but rather a small smile of disappointment and bitterness. "Haha, what did I expect from this…" At first it was just a rough, huff-like laugh, but soon he laughed, quietly and weakly, but he did. "I will probably die here, huh... what a cra-"
"Who is dying where?" A sharp voice rang through the air, and Silfa, even though unable to move, jolted slightly, searching for the source with his blurry green eyes.
Then he saw two dark boots of unknown material just before his face, but he was too tired and numb from pain to lift his head.
"My, you look ugly right now," the person or creature said with a hint of mocking disappointment.
Before he could even do anything to try to answer, Silfa suddenly felt something around his wrist, making him hiss from the pain. The person or creature didn't seem to care though, and yanked him up to his wobbly feet as held him in place by the shoulders.
Silfa finally regained a partially sharp vision and lifted his head a bit, although just a split second later, he regretted his decision. Why? Because the moment he looked up, he could have sworn he saw death in the eyes. Crims—No. Blood-red eyes that seemed so intense Silfa could feel his pain get worse.
They reminded him of the crimson moon in the sky. The one next to the smaller silver one. He widened his eyes as much as his state allowed him.
Death? Ghost? Demon?
The eyes just stared at him thoughtfully and expectantly.
"Hey human, you're still alive… I guess?" The person got a bit closer to his face as if checking if he died with his eyes open.
For Silfa that idea seemed pretty realistic in that situation, judging from the creatures/persons reaction for him too.
And honestly? He wouldn't have a problem with that either.
That was before he realized why he was here again.
Idiot! How could I forget that?!
With the strength he had left, he managed to speak at least a bit. But…if that person is what he thinks it is, then he has to talk respectfully, or he could have just died before all that anyways. He had more than enough encounters where death was a reasonable outcome.
"Uh...you are a demon?" He forced a calm expression with those words, yet deceiving a demon wasn't an easy feat.
To his surprise though, the person had a small smile on their pale lips, and a little sharp tooth peeked out. "A demon indeed," the pers-demon answered before tightening his grip on Silfa's shoulders slightly.
"Seeing that no other half dead person is here I guess you are the one who summoned me"
Silfa managed to nod slowly and on that the demon placed him down on the ground against the altar wall making him unwillingly sit there.
"Well then greetings new contractor, my name is Shin, demon lord of death." He stood up, took a step back, and placed a hand over his chest, slightly bowing like Silfa had only seen from the royals in the capitals. After that the demon took a step closer, tapping Silfa on the forehead with a cold fingernail. Nearly immediately he could feel the pain in his arms go away, and the dizziness was also slowly disappearing enough so he could sit up straight and take a good look at the demon.
Now with clearer eyesight, he could see that the demon has pitch-black hair that goes just over his shoulders and was tied in some way, but Silfa couldn't see well from his perspective. He still has the creepy blood-red eyes and, as expected, two dark, curled-back horns on his head. Other than that, he was clad in dark, ancient-looking clothes that looked pretty elegant for a demon, but not too much for a demon, too.
Not an imp then. Silfa observed with his new found clarity of mind
They were dark red and seem to be bound together my multiple cloths around his waist where also a strange obsidian circle hung.
Silfa supported himself on his arms, sitting up straighter, now looking the demon directly in the eyes. "I, Silfa, have summoned you for the sole purpose of giving me the power to take revenge."
The demon's eyes widened in interest and maybe excitement.
He brought a hand up to his chin, smiling wide.
"Oh? How amusing." He snickered before extending him a hand.