The air around me trembled, as if recoiling in fear. It quivered like a living thing, rippling with unseen energy, whispering of an impending doom.
Yet, I did not falter.
I knelt at the center of the intricate summoning circle, my hands steady despite the carnage around me. Blood pooled beneath me, thick and glistening, seeping into the cracks of the stone floor—my own blood. My severed limbs, sacrificed for the ritual, lay discarded like broken dolls, yet pain eluded me. Something unseen was shielding me, isolating me from the destruction that tore through the basement.
The air howled, and the foundations of the room groaned under an invisible force. The walls cracked like brittle bones, deep fissures splitting outward, while the ancient stone beneath me splintered under the weight of something vast—something beyond human comprehension.
Wind surged, a violent vortex that carried with it the scent of sulfur and something older, something divine in its defilement. My severed flesh and spilled blood lifted into the air, spiraling toward the heavens as if answering a celestial call. The ritual was complete.
I tilted my head upward, waiting. Watching.
And then—it happened.
A violent shift, an unraveling of reality itself.
Darkness folded inward, and the world around me warped. The cold, damp air of the basement vanished, replaced by an oppressive heat that pressed against my skin. The scent of dust and scorched earth invaded my senses. The moment I blinked, the world had changed.
The sun loomed above, an unrelenting, merciless deity, pouring fire upon the endless dunes. A soft yet searing wind curled around me, whispering against my skin like an embrace both affectionate and cruel. I exhaled slowly, my breath mingling with the arid air.
I glanced down at my hands. They were whole. My arms, my legs—restored.
The pain should have been unbearable. The agony of severed limbs returning, nerves reknitting, flesh reforming. Yet, I felt nothing but an eerie tranquility. As if this world itself was not bound by mortal pain, as if I had been reborn into something beyond human.
A tremor crawled through the sands, faint at first, then growing. The ground beneath me pulsed, shivering like a living beast preparing to awaken. The tremors deepened, each more insistent than the last, until the entire desert quaked.
I did not move.
I did not flinch.
I merely gazed forward, waiting.
And then, through the dust-choked horizon, the silhouette of a figure emerged.
The air itself recoiled from his presence.
A monarch. A conqueror. A demon king.
He rode forth upon a towering camel, its elongated limbs moving with an eerie grace, its every step shifting the earth beneath it. Its body was draped in fabric darker than the abyss, a velvety expanse adorned with constellations that shimmered like a captive night sky. Bells chimed, their haunting echoes carried by the wind as a procession of shadowy figures trailed behind him, moving in silent, unnatural synchronicity.
Then, the dust parted, revealing him in full.
His face was youthful, too perfect, too symmetrical to belong to any mere mortal. Luminescent skin, an ethereal glow that should have belonged to angels, not to a demon of his stature. And yet—his eyes.
Golden, ancient, knowing.
They were the eyes of a being who had seen empires rise and crumble, who had whispered in the ears of kings and watched them kneel in madness.
A golden crown sat upon his brow, intricately wrought with arcane symbols that shifted and writhed as if alive. Jewels embedded within it pulsed with an inner fire, exuding a power so absolute it made the air heavy with its presence.
Behind him, the impossible came into view.
A legion. No—a sea.
Demons. Countless demons, each clad in golden armor, their weapons glistening under the merciless sun. Their forms stretched into the horizon, an unbroken line of infernal soldiers awaiting command.
I knew the numbers.
Two hundred legions. Six thousand soldiers per legion.
1.2 million warriors.
My throat was dry, but not from fear.
From anticipation.
He stopped before me, his golden gaze locking onto my own black onyx eyes. A silence stretched between us, the weight of his presence pressing down upon me like an immovable force.
Then, he spoke.
His voice was deep, melodic, laced with an unnerving duality—simultaneously commanding and soothing, like the whisper of a king and the lull of death.
"It has been a long time since I have been summoned into the human world," he mused, his lips curling into the ghost of a smile. "Six hundred and sixty-six years, to be exact."
A smirk played on my lips.
"Correct," I replied.
His smile deepened, his amusement flickering like embers in a dying fire. "You have studied well, human. Tell me—what is it that you seek? Knowledge? Magic? The ability to bend nature to your will? To see the past and the present? Immortality? Or something else, perhaps?"
I met his gaze, unwavering.
"I want everything you mentioned."
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Greedy, I see. As usual, humans never know satisfaction. But unfortunately for you, your vessel is too weak. Take more than one power, and you will cease to exist. Surely, you knew this?"
I did.
That was why—
I reached up, gripping the fabric of my shirt. In one swift motion, I ripped it away, exposing the intricate symbol burned into my chest.
The moment his golden eyes landed on it, they widened—just slightly.
Then, his lips curled into a full grin, no longer elegant, no longer restrained. A demon's grin.
"Ahh…" he exhaled, a delighted hum. "So that is what you were hiding."
I said nothing, only allowing my smirk to deepen.
His gaze flickered with recognition. "That seal—your ancestor forged it, long ago, to bind me." His voice lowered, filled with something almost like nostalgia. "I should have known. That is why I could not peer into your mind."
He tilted his head slightly, his amusement never fading.
"Tell me, boy. What drives you to such extremes? What pushes a mere child to sever his own limbs with no assurance of success? Why do you perform a ritual forbidden even among your own kind… at the mere age of twelve?"
The abyss of his gaze yawned before me, daring me to fall.
I did not waver.
"I seek power," I answered, my voice steady, unshaken. "To ascend to the next level. Anything else is irrelevant."
For a moment, he was silent.
Then, a low, knowing hum escaped him.
"Hmph… you are just like him."
Him?
I remained quiet.
Small flames flickered into existence around his head, each glowing a different color, whispering secrets in tongues unknown to man.
"Very well," he declared. "I accept your contract."
The legions behind him dissolved into black smoke, rising toward the sky, vanishing into the void.
The wind howled, and his voice echoed with a declaration that shook the very fabric of reality:
"I, Paimon, One of the Nine Kings of Hell, will serve you, Ren Kuroshi, descendant of the clan I once blessed!"
The world convulsed.
Darkness consumed me.
The world dissolved into black smoke, weightless and endless, shifting like the remnants of a dying dream. It coiled around my body, seeping into my pores, flooding my veins with something ancient and incomprehensible.
I did not resist.
I welcomed it.
Power slithered through my bones, cold and searing at once, like liquid fire burning its way into my very soul. My body trembled—not in pain, but in something deeper, something far more intoxicating.
The sensation was overwhelming, a storm raging within me. It was not mere strength or magic; it was something far more primal. It was authority.
And then—
The darkness shattered.
My eyes snapped open.
I was back.
The air was heavy with ash and the scent of scorched stone. The summoning circle was gone—obliterated. The once-intact basement was now a graveyard of shattered walls and broken pillars, debris strewn across the ground like the remnants of a forgotten battlefield.
But I was unharmed.
I flexed my fingers, feeling the weight of something new coursing through me. The very essence of magic clung to my skin like a second layer of existence. It was different from before—more than a mere trickle of borrowed energy.
It was mine.
I clenched my fists, and the air around me pulsed in response.
Then, a voice, rich and smooth, slithered through my mind.
'You feel it, don't you? The shift in your being. The weight of my power settling into your mortal shell.'
I exhaled slowly, suppressing the involuntary shiver that crawled down my spine.
Paimon.
He was here. Inside me. Not just his power—but his presence, his very essence entwined with my own.
I was no longer alone in my own mind.
'I wonder,' he mused, amusement lacing his tone, 'how long will you last before you crumble under the weight of your own ambition?'
I ignored him.
Instead, I lifted my hand, focusing on the energy thrumming beneath my skin.
Something answered.
A faint glow pulsed from my fingertips—a deep violet light, shifting and twisting like living shadows. The air around my palm warped, mana bending at my command as if I were its master.
A smirk curled on my lips.
This was real.
This was mine.
It felt amazing. The feeling was intoxicating, yet a voice lingered in my mind, reminding me of the line I had crossed. I suppressed it quickly as it came.
I clenched my fist,
"This does not matter… not anymore."
'And so, it begins, human child', a voice whispered in my head.
And I smiled.