Chapter 4
In one of the rooms that make up the gigantic castle of Azalot, there were 3 people or maybe they are not people? Two were in the background watching as the third, in front of them, located in the middle of the room, performed a ritual to summon another familiar. The spell was carried out with what appeared to be a pentagram, or perhaps another ritual circle, drawn on the floor, while holding a corpse inside. In front of this was a man about 1.87 tall, with an attractive and masculine face, his hair was deep black, and his eyes had an almost phosphorescent blue. His clothes were the typical of the priest of the church without much to highlight, but they were too tight, showing his trained muscles and denoting the muscles of this same one, his expression seemed to have no emotion, something as if he were a doll. This one seemed to be reciting some invocation mantra that made several red lightning bolts come out of the circle, but simply They disappeared completely when they finished and there was no trace of another family member.
—Failure. Well, what can you do? —a click of the tongue came from one of the individuals behind. The one who did it was a man of 1.79, his skin was white, his eyes dark red, blond hair, from which 2 blue horns protruded, his clothes were very fine, which were typical of royalty, a cape, a thrown to the side with an elegant suit and various accessories such as a ruby necklace—. We will have to settle with you, Marina and the other body that we summoned—he pointed to the man next to him.
—It must have been that the flow of magic entered its natural state again, so from now on it will be impossible to access the root of magic to summon more spirits—says the other subject that his opponent was pointing at.
His appearance was that of an older man of 1.64. With dark hair and a gaunt face, almost looking like a madman, without allowing us to contemplate his physical characteristics hidden behind a huge blanket that only left his head uncovered. "Look on the bright side, we have 3 spirits counting me." His voice sounded like that of a person with some mental problems, since it was not the typical one of a formal conversation.
—Yes, although another one would have been better. I don't know how many that meddler Barbatos summoned—he still showed displeasure and disappointment on his face due to the failure.
The priest who was performing the ritual was just listening to the conversation without any interest or emotion on his face. He didn't seem to be crazy or sane, he was just there like a lifeless mannequin.
—Vector, take the corpse to the pit, his presence is no longer necessary—cold words, considering that a dead man was speaking, come out of the blond man's mouth.
"It's okay," the priest did not seem to show any emotion, grabbing the dead man and putting him like a sack on his shoulder.
His exit would have been almost invisible to the eyes of two other men, if they had not been watching him the entire time he left, he did not give off any kind of emotion as he helplessly left the place.
—Was it really necessary to send him, Asmodeus? —the smaller man asked—. You forget that he is a man of God, it must be very difficult for him to see the spectacle that is the pit—no one would expect such empathetic words from a man like that.
"Well, it seems to me that I'm helping you, Gilles," the man replied.
-What are you talking about?.
—Have you really not realized? —He left his comfort zone and stood in front of the smaller man, but while they spoke he only got a silent response—... Are you really a summoner? Because it seems unbelievable that you don't know the rules of summoning familiars from the root.
—I only understand the basics, something that I can't use like the invocation of familiars from the roots of magic, there would be no point in studying it, if I can't apply it—a grimace and annoyed response comes from him, upon hearing his partner's comment calling him ignorant.
—You have a point... So I'll do it—the man puts his hand on his chin—. As you know, normal summons are common for magicians, but the summons of familiars from the root of magic are different, they need special conditions to perform the summoning, and one of those is the massive accumulation of mana in one place, which is what is happening in our case, with the kingdom wrapped in the magical mist that I created, although it is also being helped by Noel's ark, but that is apart—Gilles, listens interested to his partner, he already knew the information from the beginning, but he never delved into the area of familiar invocations because according to what he knows, a familiar cannot summon another, but what he can do is for example, if a familiar is dead and before disappearing a magician who uses necromancy nourishes his body with magic he can control it and prevent it from returning to the root, he can control it—. The summoning is to raise, Nothing makes you certain that your familiar will do your bidding or expectation. What happened to us with our second summoning? You can always impose your will on it with your mana, but it's not real loyalty and there's always the fear that it will betray you. The thing is that in certain cases the summoning isn't random, but factors like the personality or the desires of the summoner serve as a catalyst for a more accurate summoning. Do you understand? Gilles didn't really understand much at the beginning of his chatter, but on second thought he understood.
—You, a former follower of God who fell into madness after seeing his beloved Joan of Arc die, and that was the impulse to release your darkest desires, is summoned by another follower of God who hides his own. Curious, don't you think? —he did a somersault as he spoke, giving off a smile and an aura that was now not malicious, but rather of enjoyment—. I'm so interested in seeing how that fruit will ripen.
Gilles just looked at him intently, unlike him, he knew that Asmodeus was not here out of evil, it was rather for enjoyment and fun <
—Corridors of the castle.
It was a long hallway, worthy of a castle, leading to different rooms, but the one our priest was heading to was not exactly a pleasant place. The spiral staircase descended to a disturbing and dark place, the descent was unbearable because of the time it took and the darkness took over the place the deeper it was, which was only illuminated by the warm fire produced by the torches. When going down completely, a single structure two meters wide and a quarter long led to a cliff at the bottom, full of corpses. It seemed as if they had been rotting for a long time, but they did not give off any kind of stench yet, rather a few faint blue particles, were carried up to the ceiling, but it was not possible to see where, due to the darkness. And the priest, certainly he, was there with the corpse, but his presence seemed more like that of an inanimate object, without life or motivation, which did not give off even a little presence despite its large imposing size for many. He threw the corpse from his shoulder into the pit without any doubt or satisfaction in his mind. Anyone in that situation and observing that panorama would leave immediately, seeing that accumulation of death and suffering at the bottom of the pit. But, the priest, mysteriously did not leave. He only remained contemplating the panorama for some strange reason, while an unknown feeling emerged from him, it was disgust, fear for the same fate, sorrow, compassion, responses that would pass through the head of a normal person, but he only touched his chest, squeezed it tightly and said.
—What is it...? This feeling?—the mannequin seemed to show some oppressed feeling in his chest that, like a balloon, would explode at any moment.
Several minutes later.
Asmodeus was sitting on a bed, but that was not his room, it was someone else's. Vector entered the room shortly after, and at that moment upon seeing the aforementioned in his room he just stood still waiting for an order.
—What was the view like down there? —He lay down halfway on the bed, while his legs stayed in the air.
"Devastating," he gave a cold and short answer.
—Well, it doesn't look like it with your face—Vector, trying to avoid the question, tells him something else.
—Do you need something from me?
—Yes, I want to talk.
—Talk? —because someone like Asmodeus wanted to talk to him, he thought at that moment.
—I want to know more about you. This month of training has been extremely boring, but I think you will serve to entertain me—his gaze penetrated the priest, with intensity not out of fear or respect, but because of the mystery that surrounded the being in front of him.
—What do you want to know?—the priest sat next to him on the bed.
—Everything possible. Your life from birth until now, what you aspired to be, what was your dream, goal, ambitions, girlfriend or boyfriend, you know the general stuff—the priest looked at Asmodeus, trying to think of how to answer his question correctly.
—My mother was a prostitute and the day I was born she died in childbirth, my father a priest, respectable for the capital who even had contact with the king, so to keep up appearances he told people that he had adopted me. The first years that I was conscious were marked by a good life, I began to be instructed in the world of the religion of the heavens and the practices of abjuration magic, typical of the churches. I never had friends, because I was simply a strange child for others, who always maintained a serious and distant face. The relationship with my father was neither good nor bad, we really did not have much connection, but he served as a guide for the work in the church, so it was fine. Everything was very boring as far as you can tell, nothing to highlight. Study, house, work again and again every day —his expression did not change one bit throughout his long speech, but there was something else he needed to tell—. Well, I think I lied, if there is something to highlight in all that. You see At thirteen, I witnessed my first burning, of witches. Some ladies who engaged in blood rituals were caught and burned at the stake by the holy church, the pain on their faces and their screams that echoed through the gloomy city of that day. I didn't know if they were produced by the fire tearing their skin or by the stones thrown at them by the villagers while laughing, they weren't very different from them, in my point of view. A feeling from me as a child resonated that day and until now I don't know what it could be. I asked my father and he only told me that it could be pity or sorrow, although he didn't explain to me how those emotions really felt—Asmoedeus just looked at him with great interest and a malicious smile.
—I want to be a priest...
—!No Vector! —they interrupt him without letting him finish and throw him on the bed climbing on top of him, at that moment they were on top of each other, face to face while holding him tightly by his arms—. You're telling me what they want and expect from you, not what you're really looking for. Don't you have something like that? —the priest simply didn't know how to respond—. I'll give you an example. I love, or rather, I adore domination. Putting my will over others is my greatest pleasure, but don't be confused. My domination is that of a person, not a god—Vector doesn't understand the difference and Asmodeus notices that in his already confused eyes—. A god is one who decides what is right and what is wrong, so for him, good and evil are indifferent, because he is the one who decides and his actions will never have remorse or a guilty conscience. However, I know and understand that concept, but I care little. My end It's not about doing harm or not doing it, I simply enjoy the pleasure of what I find entertaining, a search for pleasure and entertainment to the ultimate moral or immoral consequences—Asmodeus, throughout this speech, looked at the priest's confused face, letting go of him and letting him get up, although he never really put any force into his grip and Vector did not resist—. Think about what I told you.
The priest, walking slowly, left the room, not terrified, nor trembling or embarrassed by the scene. He was simply confused by everything Asmodeus had told him. Something he wants or desires? He has never had anything like that. Since they always chose for him. Something he enjoys? Doing good is not the right thing to do and therefore he should enjoy it, so why can't he feel anything when doing it? Is this really what he wants to do for his entire life? It should be, having a family, a normal and monotonous life and from time to time one or another change, isn't that the right thing to do? Then why has he never felt good about that idea, in fact he has never felt anything, he has ever thought or chosen something for himself. The memory of the burned witch invades his mind, how her eyes reflect pain and despair. That day he could feel something for the first time, but what was it? His walk continued aimlessly throughout the empty castle for no apparent reason, only listening to the sound of his footsteps and Asmodeus' words, over and over again.
—Into the mist—on some marked path.
A horde of creatures launched themselves at the girls, Sherlock resolutely gave a quick and painless death to each one he killed, but Rin was more savage and cut regardless of whether they died quickly or not. Cuts, shots, screams were heard all over the place until the monster was completely empty of life. Or maybe not? Rin had her sword stuck in the stomach of a creature that was writhing in pain and it took several seconds to kill it. This event made Sherlock frown for some reason.
—Hey Rin—her face showed the logical thing, she was upset for some reason that her partner didn't know.
-Yeah.
"You don't realize what you're doing," he continues, speaking in an annoyed tone.
—...I don't understand—Rin was still confused.
—Forget it, we have to continue on our way.
A strange tension formed between them as they continued on their way. Rin couldn't understand why Sherlock was upset, but what she did know was that this happened every time they faced a creature of the mist.
—Hey, are you okay? —Rin said.
—Yes—an unpleasant sensation was given to him by that scene of Rin with the creature, leaving him agonizing in pain.