《Homo magus: pandemonium》


 Chapter 1: Miscasting

    With bated breath, Kyle grappled with his nerves in the cavernous silence of the gymnasium. The examiner''s unwavering gaze bore down on him, seemingly designed to rattle his composure.


    "I''m waiting, Mr. Detmer," the examiner''s voice reverberated through the expansive space.


    Kyle''s nervous disposition was an unwelcome companion; an incessant umbra that cast doubt and uncertainty over his actions. His brown hair tousled and unkempt, a mirror to the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind. His hands would fidget, and his eyes darted around, as if searching for an escape from the invisible weight that bore down on him.


    Stammering, Kyle replied, "S-sorry," and wiped his clammy palms on his jeans. He raised his heavy arms and began to weave intricate signs with his hands. "Portam ad planum ignis aperio, ignis, te impero ut exsurgas et furias!" With a resounding clap, he conjured a human-sized portal on the court, its spinning flames a mesmerizing sight.


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    The examiner observed the chaotic flames with an almost mechanical detachment, scribbling notes on his pad. Despite their frenetic dance, the flames remained contained within the portal''s boundaries. Kyle struggled to maintain his focus, his knees trembling as the flames spiraled faster.


    "Alright, I think we''ve seen enough. You can release the spell," the examiner declared.


    But there was no response from Kyle. His concentration remained unbroken, and the flames accelerated their dizzying revolutions.


    The examiner, now on his feet, began urgently, "Mr. De-"


    Then, as abruptly as it had started, the flames ceased, and the portal vanished.


    A tense silence lingered, broken only by Kyle''s heavy breathing. "I-I''m... Fine," he managed to gasp.


    The examiner''s stern facade softened slightly as he remarked, "You gave me quite a scare, young man. I thought I might have had to intervene."


    Eagerly, Kyle inquired, "How did I do?"


    With a hint of approval, the examiner replied, "You performed adequately. You are accepted to Gnostia''s University for the Arcane Arts on a full scholarship."


    ¡°Thank you so much!¡± Kyle smiled awkwardly trying to contain his excitement.


    The examiner, however, redirected the credit, saying, "Don''t thank me, thank yourself. Casting a spell at your age is impressive, but there''s always one or two like you around." He jotted down Kyle''s name on his list of successful candidates.


    Erick Blaze, Federica Martel, Penelope Scarlet, Marcus Oles, Cynthia Marvel, Kyle Detmer - they were the names on the examiner''s pad, each representing a succesful candidate for Gnostia''s University for the Arcane Arts. After inspecting his list, the examiner muttered to himself, "But six is rare," as he clasped his hands together."Ut spatium aperitur ante et clauditur retro, sit ante ubi volo," he incanted, and before Kyle''s eyes, space unfurled, enveloping the examiner and then sealing behind him.


    Kyle, still in a state of awe, made his way towards the gymnasium doors. His future seemed to align with his goals, but he couldn''t shake the fear of the worst-case scenario. What if he had taken too long to release the spell? The scholarship was his ticket to success, and any misstep could jeopardize it, leaving him with an exorbitant loan for his entry.


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    As he contemplated his future, Amber''s voice broke through his reverie. "Yooo, dude, how was it? Did they reject you? You have that look on your face. I''m so sorry," she said, offering him a comforting hug, bringing him back to the present. Kyle hadn''t even realized that he had left the gym.


    "Uhh, no, it''s all fine. I got the scholarship," Kyle responded with a relieved smile.


    Amber had a contagious enthusiasm that could light up a room. Her wild auburn hair, a striking cascade of fiery curls, was a perfect match for her vivacious personality. All of this was contained within a petite frame, making her seem like a bundle of boundless energy.


    Amber''s excitement was palpable. "Oh my god, yesss!" she exclaimed. "How was it? Were you nervous?"


    Kyle chuckled nervously, admitting, "Yeah, I did my best not to throw up my morning spaghetti."


    Amber couldn''t contain her excitement as she tapped Kyle on the shoulder and exclaimed, "Oh, oh! Look, I can finally do a stable cantrip!" Her fingers danced gracefully in the air before she opened her palm, conjuring a display of small illusory fireworks.


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    Kyle couldn''t help but tease her, "Oh, wow, finally after a year and a half." Amber retaliated with a playful jab to his shoulder and a sly remark, "Wow, I''d never thought I''d see the day when someone could be altered into a literal asshole."


    Before Kyle could retort, the school bell rang, ending their banter. "What do we got?" asked Amber, now eager to move on.


    "Minor arcana. You can impress Mrs. Potts with your cantrip," Kyle replied, rushing to class. Amber kept pace with him, urging him to stop. "Hey, stop it. I worked really hard to make this."


    "I''m being serious; she''ll be impressed. Only people in my class can do stable cantrips and there¡¯s only seventeen of us," Kyle reassured her as they weaved past other students.


    Amber''s enthusiasm was unbridled as she continued, "Oh, man, I''ve got to tell you about this documentary I watched last night. Did you know that in the Stone age, there could have been some humans who couldn''t use Aether at all?"


    Kyle looked puzzled. "What? No, that sounds impossible. They wouldn''t be able to survive against the animals; our bodies are too weak."


    "It''s true," she insisted. "We''ll ask Matheney; you''ll see."


    As they approached the arcana wing of the school, Amber unexpectedly followed Kyle into his class.


    "Dude, why are you following me? Potts is gonna kill you if you''re late," Kyle warned. Amber just grinned and took a seat at one of the desks. Kyle placed his homework on Mr. Matheney''s desk, as did several other students, and hesitantly sat next to Amber, thinking that she had finally gone mad.


    Cynthia, with a cold voice that sent a chill down Kyle''s spine, said, "That''s my seat."


    Cynthia possessed a visage that resembled a sculpture crafted by Pygmalion himself. Her face had a marble-like quality, with flawless features and an air of perpetual beauty. Her eyes, however, told a different story; They seemed cold and empty, as if they held secrets that her pristine exterior concealed.


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    Amber, with unwavering confidence, retorted, "Oh, sorry, it''s my seat now. Plus, I''m saving you from having to sit next to this loser over here."


    Cynthia remained unamused, her face like a statue, her gaze piercing through Kyle. He began to panic, fearing that Amber''s games would get her into serious trouble. He attempted to speak, but Cynthia''s intense gaze silenced him.


    "God, you''re such a pussy, man," Cynthia finally said with a chuckle. "Amber, congrats on moving up."


    "Thanks," Amber replied, beaming with pride. She then glanced at Kyle and said, "At least someone believes in me."


    Cynthia''s demeanor shifted back to a cold one as she ordered, "Okay, now get out of my seat." Amber jumped up and, realizing that Cynthia was serious, quickly found an empty seat in the back. Cynthia, with grace, took the seat next to Kyle and began meticulously arranging her books.


    Kyle hesitated, and Cynthia, with a knowing look, asked, "Did you tell her yet?"


    "Tell her what?" Kyle asked, feigning ignorance. Cynthia gave him a withering glare.


    "Has anyone ever told you that you''re a pussy?"


    "Anyone ever tell you that you can be a bi-" Kyle''s response was frustrated and cut short by Cynthia''s awed expression.


    "Wow, you almost grew a pair there." She responded in utter disbelief."


    A loud, piercing note filled the room, leaving the students scrambling to plug their ears. Mr. Matheney stood at the front of the classroom, his fingers forming a strange symbol. With a release of concentration, the noise abruptly vanished.


    "Alright, let''s get started. First, we have a new addition to our class, Amber Griffin, who can now cast a cantrip perfectly like all of you," Mr. Matheney explained, prompting several students to turn their heads toward the back of the classroom to examine Amber.


    "Now, Miss Griffin, you may have proven your practical abilities, but I have yet to be convinced of your academic ones. So, why don''t we start with the basics? Can you tell us the 12 applied aspects of Aethero?"


    Amber was caught off guard, feeling the weight of everyone''s expectations. She was sure she knew all 12 aspects, but what did they each mean? She decided to start with what she was certain of.


    "Umm, there''s phantasms, which allow you to create illusions."


    She glanced at Kyle, searching for inspiration. "Then there''s invocation, which allows you to summon things."


    Trying to recall, she continued, "And evocation, which lets you control the elements."


    Amber sensed that there was another aspect that was similar but more primitive. "Oh, there''s aetheromancy, which lets you control raw aether, and..."


    "And there''s alchemy, which involves making potions, and runesmithing for crafting runes. Oh, and alteration, which is about changing one thing into something else."


    Amber began to stumble as she approached the end of the list. "And... there''s necromancy, prognostication, vitamancy, abnegation, bewitchment, but I forgot what they do."


    Mr. Matheney, growing impatient, scanned the room and noticed Federica daydreaming, gazing out of the window.


    "Miss Martell!" he roared.


    Federica was severed from her reveries and looked at Mr. Matheney with confusion. It seemed like he was bothering her again, a routine occurrence. She carried an air of cunning and defiance that set her apart from the crowd. Her demeanor exuded a sense of mystery and strength, as if she were always prepared to challenge the status quo. This intriguing personality was an unusual contrast to her almost violet-like eyes, which held a captivating and enigmatic allure.


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    "Care to explain the 12 applied aspects of Aethero?" Mr. Matheny''s patience was clearly running thin.


    Why did she have to explain something so basic? He knew she already knew all this stuff. No, he was just messing with her at this point.


    "I forgot," she said flippantly, hoping to elicit a response from Mr. Matheny, but he didn''t take the bait. Instead, he retorted, "Oh, really? Well, it seems your new classmate knows more about the applied aspects than you. Maybe you should be relegated to the intermediate classes."


    The tone of the classroom shifted as the other students eagerly awaited her response. Their bickering was a regular occurrence but provided a welcome break from the monotony of the class.


    "Yeah, maybe I should. Gods, if only I had a more competent teacher, maybe I might have retained more information," she answered in a sarcastic tone.


    In the back of the class, Marcus whispered to Elrick, "Bro, I love your chick; you think she''ll run out the clock this time?"


    "Nah, bro, Matheny''s gonna shut that shit down for sure, but she''s gonna be pissed," Erick whispered back in glee.


    "Why are you so happy?"


    "Because she''s gonna be mad tonight, and when she is, she can go on for hours know what I mean," replied Erick.


    Marcus snickered a little too loudly, catching Mr. Matheny''s ears.


    "Is there something amusing, Mr. Oles!?" roared Mr. Matheny.


    "Nah, bro, I''m cool, um just," responded Marcus in a cocky voice. However, Erick knew where this was going to go, and while having Federica fed up would be nice for him, Marcus was better company when completely sanguine.


    "It''s a bit funny that they both didn''t know, that''s all," Erick interrupted. "Necromancy is about raising the dead and interacting with souls, Prognostication divining the past and future, also the unseen, vitamancy is about manipulating life and allows for healing, abnegation is about protecting, sealing, and countering, and bewitchment allows for the manipulation of the mind."


    Mr. Matheny seemed unsure; however, with this opportunity, he could resume the lesson. Federica, however, was furious. How dare he make her look like an idiot? She was so much smarter than him. She was going to make him regret it later, perhaps at his birthday party.


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    During the lunch hour, Kyle and Amber found themselves sitting at an empty table, engrossed in conversation. Unexpectedly, Erick approached their table, not with a tray of food, but with an invitation.


    "Hey, guys, I''m having my birthday party tonight. Are you guys in?" he asked with a friendly grin.


    He possessed a charismatic aura that seemed almost magical, drawing people toward him like a magnet. His presence lit up the room, making it hard to resist his charm. However, this enchanting personality was in sharp contrast to his intense blue eyes, which demanded control and betrayed the underlying determination that fueled his charismatic exterior.


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    This request puzzled Kyle. Erick had never spoken to him before, so why now? What did he want? It was clear that Erick had it all ¨C a hot girlfriend, good looks, popularity, and great aetheric prowess. Kyle knew that agreeing to this invitation might not be a wise move, but he found himself unable to refuse.


    "I-uh..."


    He couldn''t bring himself to say no to Erick. While Erick had never initiated a conversation with him, Kyle hadn''t made much effort either.


    "Yes, of course!" Amber chimed in; her eyes lit up with excitement.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Fantastic. Don¡¯t worry about the booze; we''ve got you covered. No need to bring your own," Erick assured them with a charismatic smile before heading back to his own table.


    "That was weird, right?" Kyle asked, his uncertainty clear.


    "Dude, it''s awesome! I''ve been wanting to go to one of his house parties. They sound fun!" Amber replied, her enthusiasm contagious.


    Kyle grabbed his phone and began texting someone.


    "Who are you texting?" Amber inquired.


    "Well, first my parents to see if I can actually go to the party, and then my brother to see if he can pick us up because portaling drunk is a bad idea," Kyle explained. It occurred to him that he had never been drunk around Amber before, and this might be an opportunity to gain some much-needed courage.


    "Ah, don''t worry about me. I''m pretty sure he lives close to my aunt''s house. I''ll crash at hers," Amber reassured him.


    His parents both texted back, giving their approval, on the condition that he had to be back by midnight. However, his brother had other plans for the night, leaving Kyle with a choice to make. He could choose not to attend the party, but the thought of Amber meeting someone else there and potentially jeopardizing their relationship nagged at him.


    Erick settled into his seat at the crowded table, surrounded by familiar faces. His girlfriend Federica sat on one side, his cousin Penelope on the other, and his best friend Marcus directly across from him. A subtle sense of relief washed over him as Federica accepted his affectionate kiss, even though he sensed something amiss, right now she should be mad at him, shouldn''t she?


    "Are you okay?" he inquired; his curiosity piqued.


    "I''m fine, why do you ask?" Federica replied, her response laced with a hint of suspicion.


    Erick, uncertain of how to navigate this delicate situation, offered a half-truth. "I''m just worried about my girlfriend''s well-being, that''s all."


    Federica''s eyes softened as she caressed his cheek, though she couldn''t shake the feeling that his words concealed more than they revealed.


    Turning to Penelope, Marcus inquired, "You''re coming, right?"


    Marcus had a dynamic exterior that perfectly complemented his imposing presence. A muscular physique, a testament to his dedication and hard work, which seemed to radiate strength and vitality.


    Penelope nodded with a gentle voice, "Yes, of course, but I won''t be drinking."


    Marcus, eager to persuade her, implored, "Oh, come on, it''s your cousin''s 18th. You''ve got to celebrate!"


    "I''m sorry, I just need to make sure this doesn''t get out of hand," Penelope insisted.


    Penelope wore a kind smile that radiated warmth and compassion. Her deep orange hair, a striking contrast against her pale skin, which seemed to shy away from the sunlight, gave her a fragile quality. Her appearance mirrored her tender and timid nature.


    Before Marcus could respond, Erick''s piercing gaze interrupted their conversation. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Erick''s gaze shifted between Marcus and Penelope. A sly smile crept across Marcus''s face, but Erick''s slow headshake was a silent signal, met with an eye roll from Marcus.


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    Changing the subject, Marcus declared, "Anyways, I''ve gotta go. I''m ducking out early."


    Concerned, Penelope reminded him, "But we still have classes."


    Marcus waved it off dismissively. "Yeah, but it''s not P.E or arcana, so I don''t care. Besides, I passed that examiner thingy."


    "Are you heading to dueling practice?" Federica asked.


    " Yep, which is way more important than was fuckin, what we got next," Marcus responded, checking his phone. "Geography."


    Federica leaped from her seat excitedly. "Count me in. Later, losers!"


    As they left, Penelope turned her attention to Erick. "Is Uncle Sol going to be back anytime soon?"


    Erick''s response was curt. "No, and I don''t care."


    "Have you heard from him?" Penelope inquired.


    "He said he''d be exploring the infernal plane for six months, and that was two months ago, so..." Erick explained.


    "HE''S IN HELL!" Penelope exclaimed loudly, causing heads to turn toward her in concern.


    Erick tried to reassure her. "Infernal plane, not infernal realm. Relax. Besides, he didn''t tell you anything?"


    Penelope blushed, her voice softer as she admitted, "No."


    Erick couldn''t help but roll his eyes at his father''s neglect. They had taken Penelope in when her parents passed away nine years ago, but his father''s obsession with work had always kept him distant. Deciding not to dwell on it, he shifted his focus back to the lively conversation at the table.


    As the evening sun cast a warm glow, Kyle and Amber strolled out of school, their playful banter filling the air. A sudden interruption arrived in the form of a car pulling up beside them. The windows rolled down, revealing Kyle''s brother, Thomas. He wore a sly smile, leaving his intentions shrouded in mystery behind a pair of mirrored shades. His expression hinted at a mischievous playfulness, and the reflective sunglasses shielded the world from glimpsing the thoughts and emotions concealed within.


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    "Yo, need a ride, you two?" Thomas asked casually.


    "Dude, I need a ride tonight," Kyle replied, his frustration evident.


    Thomas couldn''t resist a mocking response. "Well, I can give you a ride now, but not tonight. Take it or leave it, dickhead."


    Amber offered a solution, breaking the tension. "You can always drop us off at my aunt''s, and then you can stay the night there if your parents are cool with that."


    "That''s a great idea. I''ll drop you guys off," Thomas agreed. Kyle reached for his phone, but Thomas advised against it. "Don''t ask them; they''ll say no. Just tell them you''re staying over at mine or something."


    "Okay," Kyle replied, sending a text to his parents before getting into his brother''s car, with Amber following suit.


    As Thomas began driving, curiosity got the better of him. In a hushed tone, he whispered, "Mihi patefac superficiem mentis eorum."


    Instantly, Kyle''s thoughts were laid bare to Thomas. Worries about the upcoming evening swirled in Kyle''s mind. Would he be able to tell her? What if they couldn''t be friends afterward? What if she met someone else, leaving him to suffer in silence?


    Thomas chose to block out his brother''s thoughts, seeking to glean Amber''s perspective. Amber''s mind raced with concerns about what to wear, her decision to borrow her Aunt Becky''s clothes, and her musings on her current outfit. Amid her thoughts, she contemplated a peculiar question: What kind of breakfast would she be? Waffles with maple syrup, perhaps? Then, she wondered if they''d find a suitable guy for Kyle at the party.


    Unable to contain himself, Thomas burst into laughter, causing the car to swerve, and he pulled over to the side of the road.


    Worried, Kyle leaned out of the car, scanning the surroundings for any signs of bewitchment. "Hey, what''s wrong?"


    After regaining his composure, Thomas took deep breaths. "I''m fine; just remembered something funny."


    "What is it?" Amber inquired.


    Both brothers responded in unison, "You wouldn''t get it." Kyle leaned over to Amber and whispered, "He says that every time."


    Arriving at their destination, Amber stepped out of the car, but Thomas had a final piece of advice for Kyle.


    "Dude, she thinks you''re gay," he blurted out.


    "What... wait, you read her thoughts!?" Kyle exclaimed; his anger evident.


    "Yeah, unethical, whatever, bullshit" Thomas replied dismissively. "Just listen to your big bro¡ªyou''ve got to go, get drunk, make a move, and you''re set."


    "But..." Kyle began, only to be cut off by Thomas. "But nothing. Look, I read your thoughts. Trust me, if you don''t do it tonight, which is your best shot, you''re going to regret it for the rest of your life."


    Resigned, Kyle replied, "Okay."


    Thomas added, "If you don''t do it, I''m not covering for you."


    "Fine," Kyle agreed, his tone more assertive.


    "That''s the spirit. Oh, and did you pass the spell casting exam?" Thomas asked, changing the subject.


    "You read my thoughts; you should know," Kyle replied.


    "I would if you thought about it," Thomas quipped with a sly grin.


    Kyle, embarrassed, admitted, "Yeah, I did," as he readied himself to exit the car.


    As Kyle prepared to leave, Thomas reached into his glove compartment and handed him a vial. "Use protection."


    Blushing, Kyle accepted it and tucked it into his bag. "Okay, bye now," he said as he stepped out of the car. Thomas drove off.


    Amber, puzzled by the exchange, asked, "What was that about?"


    Kyle shrugged, offering a simple explanation. "Just my brother being a dick."


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    The night descended, and as anticipated, the grand celebration commenced at Erick''s opulent residence, a house that seemed to defy categorization, leaning more toward the realm of a mansion. From Aunt Becky''s house, Amber and Kyle could already discern the rhythmic beats of music and the kaleidoscope of lights illuminating the mansion''s fa?ade.


    Amber opted to retain her attire, seemingly content with her choice, while Kyle had no alternative attire. Their entrance was a calculated one, an hour after the party''s commencement, Amber''s endeavor to ensure they weren''t too early. With palpable excitement, Amber pressed the doorbell, and it was Erick, slightly inebriated, who swung the door open.


    "Heyyy, guys, glad you made it. Come on in," Erick greeted, his speech slightly slurred.


    As Kyle and Amber crossed the threshold, they were greeted with the expansive interior that exceeded their expectations.


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    "You have spacial runes, did your dad arrange for this?" Kyle inquired.


    "Nah, he doesn¡¯t know shit about rune smithing; he just hired a contractor," Erick replied, with a hint of pride. A sudden bolt of fire soared perilously close to Erick, causing him to startle. "Hey, who threw that!?" he exclaimed, momentarily diverting his attention from Kyle and Amber.


    Kyle, worried, muttered, "We''re going to get killed here."


    In stark contrast, Amber exuded enthusiasm. "Yay, it''s going to be fun. Come on," she exclaimed, grabbing Kyle''s hand, and leading him into the bustling kitchen, where Cynthia and Penelope were engaged in conversation, with drinks in hand.


    "You''re here?" Kyle addressed Cynthia.


    "Oh, hey, Kyle, you''re going to need this," Cynthia said as she handed him a bottle of vodka.


    Kyle hesitated, "Uhh, I''m not sure. Aren''t you supposed to, you know, mix this?"


    Cynthia''s tone turned frigid. "Goddamn it, Kyle, don''t make me say it again."


    To expedite the process, Kyle decided to drink directly from the bottle, feeling the fiery liquid burn his throat. The crowd cheered, while Penelope couldn''t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Kyle. The events that followed blurred for Kyle in his intoxicated state.


    Meanwhile, Federica found herself in the secluded library, a sanctuary she rarely visited in Erick''s house, for reasons extending beyond her control. Here, she immersed herself in her specialization¡ªhis father''s invocation books. The volume she currently perused contained intricate instructions for summoning a greater demon, However, this spell was a nine-circled spell, spells she could manage to cast right now were only with two circles, unlike cantrip spells are written down in book in arcane circles showing the mechanism of the spell, and each circle needs to be remembered perfectly. The idea to perform the spell brewed from a combination of pride, anger, alcohol, and an unwavering belief in her superior intellect. This would be a wonderful way to get back Erick she thought, summoning a demon that would ruin his party.


    Back in the midst of the boisterous party, Erick began to worry about Federica''s whereabouts. Although he assumed she was in the library, he decided to leave her undisturbed and enjoy his birthday for the time being, knowing that he could tease her amongst other things later when the other guests had departed.


    Amid the revelry, Kyle, in a drunken stupor, slouched on a couch, and Amber, equally inebriated, checked on him.


    "Heyyy, are you okay?" Amber inquired with a tipsy lilt.


    In that moment, Kyle''s thoughts were fragmented, his senses dulled. He staggered to his feet and impulsively kissed her. Amber reciprocated for a brief moment before gently pushing Kyle away.


    "W-wait, you''re drunk," Amber protested.


    "We both are," Kyle retorted.


    "But I thought you were gay," Amber expressed her confusion.


    "Well, obviously not," Kyle responded, his irritation palpable.


    In the midst of the disorienting moment, Amber''s words hung in the air, leaving Kyle in a state of uncertainty. "Wait, hold on, I need some time," she articulated with a touch of hesitation. Stepping away from Kyle, they seemed to drift into a realm where time itself wavered.


    In an inexplicable instant, the room''s warmth dissipated, replaced by an eerie cold that felt as though it had never experienced the embrace of heat. It was as if time had momentarily ceased to exist, leaving everyone present suspended in an eternal second. A collective awareness swept through the room, for each individual had experienced this peculiar sensation before, like a fleeting glimpse of an elusive memory.


    Yet, questions lingered in the hushed room. When had they felt this sensation before, and how? The enigmatic passage through portals haunted their collective memory, but the details remained elusive, buried within the recesses of their minds. It was a surreal awakening, and the room''s occupants grappled with a sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu that defied explanation. However, Kyle soon realized what was happening they were passing through a portal.


    In the chilling stillness of that eternal second, a nightmarish figure materialized before Amber, a black, shadowy entity with grotesquely serrated teeth that sent shivers down her spine. With one swift, grotesque motion, it lunged at her, tearing her upper torso from the rest of her body. The room was instantly bathed in a gruesome cascade of blood and entrails as Amber''s life force was violently extinguished.


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    Kyle, a witness to the horrifying spectacle, found himself immobilized by terror, unable to react or even process the unspeakable horror unfolding before his eyes. As the echoes of Amber''s demise reverberated through the room, a mischief of malevolent imps materialized, their gleeful, malicious intent palpable in the air.


    With uncanny speed and malevolence, the imps descended upon the students like a school of voracious piranhas, their jagged teeth ripping through flesh and bone with sadistic delight. Those unfortunate souls who couldn''t escape in time were torn apart, their agonizing cries of pain and terror mixing with the cacophony of chaos as the imps reveled in their gruesome feast.


    Amidst the chaos and bloodshed, Cynthia''s world transformed in an instant. The jarring experience of passing through the portal acted as an abrupt sobering agent, clearing her mind of the intoxication that had blurred her senses just moments before. With quick, alarming clarity, she surveyed her surroundings.


    Her gaze darted to the nearest window, and her heart sank as she beheld the nightmarish vista outside. It was a realm of unimaginable horrors, a place she could only describe as Hell itself. The landscape was a fiery, nightmarish wasteland, where rivers of molten lava twisted and writhed, and the air itself seemed to burn with searing intensity. Demonic creatures, their forms grotesque and malevolent, roamed freely, while ominous, otherworldly structures pierced the blood-red sky.


    In the quiet solitude of the library, Federica''s casting took a toll on her. A surge of aether coursed through her being, and the uncontrolled, excessive magic manifested in the form of brilliant blue flames that erupted from her body. The incendiary energy consumed her, causing parts of her physical form to transmute into a translucent, crystalline blue, a stark contrast to her previous self.


    The spell she had dared to invoke had proven too formidable, and the consequences were dire. Lightning danced in wild, unpredictable patterns around her, amplifying the chaos. Tears streamed down her face as she grappled with the overwhelming power she had unleashed.


    Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ceased. All that remained was a partially transformed, lifeless Federica, a haunting testament to her audacity. An ominous dark mist, thick and nebulous, hovered over her lifeless form. Within this nebulous enigma, barely audible whispers emanated, chilling to the core.


    "An interesting development," the ominous mist hissed, as if sentient and malevolent.


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    Diana''s apartment had become a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of her demanding job. She had just returned, drained and exhausted from a long day. Without bothering to change out of her work clothes, she surrendered herself to the welcoming comfort of her bed, her shoes flung haphazardly across the room. She craved the sweet embrace of slumber, hoping to momentarily escape the relentless demands of her profession.


    However, as she nestled into her mattress, her sanctuary was disrupted by the persistent ring of her phone. She groggily reached for the device, casting a drowsy glance at the caller ID. It was her captain; she knew that ignoring this call was not an option.


    "Hello," she mumbled, her voice still heavy with drowsiness.


    "Detective Esposito, we have an urgent situation. All hands-on deck. I''ve forwarded you the location, be there as fast as you can," the captain''s voice crackled through the phone.


    "Yeah, yeah, I''ll be there," Diana replied, her reluctance evident in her voice. She dragged herself out of bed, feeling the weight of her choice of vocation pressing down on her.


    Diana had soft features that perfectly mirrored her gentle and kind-hearted personality. Her face exuded warmth and approachability, making her easy to connect with. However, these charming traits were often overshadowed by the profound fatigue that her eyes carried, as if they bore the weight of the world''s worries.


    The tired detective made her way to the kitchen, reaching for the familiar morning potion. As the dark liquid coursed through her veins, she felt herself becoming alert and focused, the sandman''s allure slowly dissipating. Yet, she couldn''t ignore the intense nausea that accompanied her fourth cup of the day.


    Driving to the scene, she couldn''t help but notice that this was an upscale neighborhood. Her captain''s urgent tone and the high-class location suggested that they were dealing with a significant case, possibly the murder or disappearance of someone important. When she arrived, the area was swarming with police officers, anxious residents, and a persistent press presence. Diana flashed her badge to navigate through the crowd, and the uniformed officers reluctantly let her pass.


    What she encountered left her perplexed. There was nothing there but a massive, gaping hole. Diana assumed that a substantial residence must have once stood in its place. Two other detectives from her precinct, Richard and Angela, as well as Captain Connors dealing with the press, were already on the scene.


    "Detective Esposito, nice of you to show," Richard greeted her.


    Diana surveyed the scene with a furrowed brow. "What the hell happened here?" she asked, her confusion apparent.


    "It''s our job to find out; it''s kind of the whole point of being a detective," Angela replied with a hint of sarcasm.


    <hr>


    <hr>

 Chapter 2: Maleficarum

    In the midst of the chaos, Cynthia''s instincts took over as she realized the dire situation that had befallen them. Imposing imps, with menacing intentions, began to swarm the kitchen. Without a moment to spare, she unleashed her cantrip, flinging small bolts of lightning with pinpoint precision. The bolts struck the imps in their malevolent eyes, instantly frying their brains. It was a desperate act of self-defense, as there was no time to cast a more elaborate spell.


    As Cynthia fought back, the lights within the mansion shifted to an ominous red hue, and a formidable ward enveloped the entire estate, shielding it from the relentless onslaught of imps attempting to breach its defenses.


    Amidst the turmoil, Kyle found himself in a state of utter shock, his mind struggling to process the grim reality of Amber''s demise. The sinister, shadowy demon loomed over him, its grotesque grin revealing serrated teeth stained with her blood.


    With resolve, Marcus stepped forward, summoning his magical prowess. He incantated, "GLACIES ILLUM INCLUDAT!" as icy tendrils sprouted from his hands, encasing the malevolent demon in a rapidly forming thin sheet of ice. The spell exerted a toll on Marcus, causing his nose to bleed, but it succeeded in rendering the demon temporarily immobile.


    Rushing to Kyle''s side, Marcus shook him urgently. "Fucking snap out of it! We have to move, or we''re gonna fucking die!" The gravity of the situation demanded swift action and a united effort to survive the relentless onslaught of darkness that had descended upon them.


    Marcus''s display of magical prowess sent a clear message to the cunning and malevolent imps, they seemed to think twice about confronting him directly. They weren''t mere mindless beasts; their focus shifted to the other students. A sense of self-preservation drove them, and they appeared to value their own safety. If a student managed to defeat one of them, the others noticed and steered clear, adapting to the situation.


    Kyle, under the influence of Marcus''s leadership, saw the spark return to his eyes. With a commanding roar, Marcus rallied the other students, urging them to follow him. They navigated through the harrowing scene, stepping over the lifeless bodies of their fallen classmates. Those who possessed the skills to do so launched cantrips at the imps, hoping to thin their numbers and secure their escape.


    Eventually, Marcus led the group to the basement, where they encountered a fortified door. With a simple touch, Marcus activated the scanner, and the door opened, allowing the students to enter. The room inside had a semblance of comfort, with three beds, a bathroom, and a kitchen. However, it was filled with a mix of panicked, injured, and a few peacefully sleeping students. Erick and Penelope were among those present.


    Erick approached Marcus and gave him a heartfelt hug. "Good job, man," he praised.


    Marcus, still grappling with the chaos they had found themselves in, responded, "I never thought we''d ever need to use your bunker. By the way, what the hell happened?"


    Erick, just as perplexed, admitted, "I have no idea. Have you seen Federica?"


    Marcus shook his head. "No dude, only at the beginning of the party, then she disappeared."


    Concerned, Erick inquired, "What about Cynthia?"


    "Haven''t seen her."


    Realizing the dire situation, they were in, Erick emphasized, "Shit! We need to find out where they are. We need the six of us to get out of this mess."


    "The six of us?" Marcus sought clarification.


    Erick nodded. "You, me, Kyle, Federica, Cynthia, Penelope. We''re the only ones who can actually cast spells, which means we''re the only ones with a shot at getting out of this mess and a better chance of ensuring the others don''t get killed. Most of these guys can''t even cast a stable cantrip, so we''re the only hope anyone has."


    Understanding the gravity of the situation, Marcus asked, "Okay, what do you want me to do?"


    Erick outlined the plan, "You, Josh, and Jenkins need to find Cynthia and Federica. If you come across other students, there are two plans of action. If they can''t cast anything stable, Josh and Jenkins should stay at your location while you bring them back here and then rejoin them. If they can cast, instruct them on how to find us. Look, it''s not the best of plans, but I only had five minutes to come up with it."


    Marcus replied, "Well, it''s better than my plan."


    Erick, intrigued, asked, "What was your plan?"


    "I was just gonna go out there and box. They''ve got nothing on me. Plus, this is the fight I''ve been waiting for," Marcus explained.


    Erick managed a slight chuckle, a welcomed moment of light in the prevailing darkness.


    As tension gripped the room, Penelope couldn''t ignore the crimson stain under Marcus''s nose. Concern etched across her face, she voiced her worry, "Wait, before you go, are you hurt? You''re bleeding."


    Unfazed, Marcus brushed it off with unwavering confidence, "It''s nothing."


    Penelope, however, was not as assured. Her voice quivered as she expressed her reservations, "I don''t like your plan. They could get hurt. We all need to stay here."


    Erick, displaying a strong resolve, countered, "The guys will be fine. They''re big boys."


    Penelope attempted to continue her protest, but Erick interrupted her calmly. "We have no choice. If we stay, we''re just waiting to die. If they find Cynthia and Federica, there might be a chance for us to survive."


    Reluctantly, Penelope nodded, her gaze returning to the injured students she was tending to.


    Erick beckoned Josh and Jenkins. Josh seemed hesitant, while Jenkins, perhaps fueled by the alcohol still coursing through his veins, appeared eager for an adventure, despite having declined detoxification from Penelope.


    Jenkins, in his somewhat inebriated state, couldn''t contain his enthusiasm as he moved toward the door ¡°Alright let¡¯s fucking do this!!¡±. However, Erick quickly intervened, preventing him from proceeding, "Nah, you''re gonna get yourself killed like this, and we don''t have time for games. This is serious."


    Jenkins appeared to be an unpredictable storm of wild antics, his imposing physique serving as an unexpected contrast to what seemed like less-than-imposing mental faculties. Despite his young age, he already sported a beard that added an oddly mature touch to his overall appearance. His actions unfolded like a tempest, a whirlwind of unpredictable behavior that belied the stereotypes one might associate with his physical presence.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Frustration marked Jenkins''s expression as he attempted to protest, "But, Erick, I-"


    Erick cast an incantation, "Fac ut suadeo," bewitching Jenkins temporarily. He then instructed him to seek sobriety from Penelope. Jenkins complied, returning to a sober state.


    The tension in the room rose as Erick''s actions perplexed those who bore witness. Even though they were aware of Erick''s proficiency in bewitchment, using it in such a manner was uncharted territory for him.


    Penelope, after a moment of contemplation, agreed to restore Jenkins''s sobriety with a spell, saying, "Intoxicationem ex corpore tuo discedere possit." Jenkins was promptly relieved of his inebriation.


    Behind Jenkins, Erick covertly formed a strange symbol with his fingers before releasing a subtle cantrip.


    This caused some lingering frustrations in Jenkins, but Erick tried to reason with him, "Dude, come on, we''re friends. I''m doing this for you. Look around, people are injured, some dead, some stressed out of their minds, so much I had to put them to sleep."


    Jenkins wrestled with his anger towards Erick. Despite his lingering irritation, he couldn''t help but acknowledge that Erick was probably right. After all, they were friends, and deep down, he knew Erick''s intentions were rooted in their safety. Going out into the unknown while still inebriated was a reckless move.


    As the moments passed, the fire of Jenkins'' fury gradually began to wane. He realized that Erick''s wisdom and experience had led him to make this difficult decision, and, in his heart, Jenkins knew it was the right call.


    With some reluctance, Jenkins acknowledged Erick''s point, "Yeah, yeah, you''re freakin right." He proceeded toward the door alongside Marcus and Josh.


    Erick, ensuring they were prepared, asked, "All of you have runic phones, right?"


    They responded in unison, "Of course."


    "Awesome if shit gets hot just ping your location and I¡¯ll come, our send Kyle if I can get him back up," Erick said, casting a glance toward Kyle, who sat in a corner of the room, still processing the situation.


    Marcus, Josh, and Jenkins pushed the door open, stepping into the unknown, their hearts heavy with the hope of rescuing their trapped classmates. Unbeknownst to them, unimaginable horrors lurked in the shadows, awaiting their arrival.


    <hr>


    Meanwhile, the shadowy demon, once encased in a thin shell of ice, shattered its icy prison with unnerving ease. Its face twisted into a malevolent, serrated smile. Had it given the intruders enough of a head start to make this hunt more interesting? The demon''s mind reveled in the thought of butchering every mage within the house, savoring the anticipation. Yet, it sensed something amiss¡ªa significant number of imps were destroyed, which promised a kind of gruesome amusement. With wicked intentions, it made its way towards the kitchen.


    As it entered the kitchen, a horrific scene met its eyes. The floor was strewn with the lifeless bodies of imps and students. However, in its single-minded determination, it made a critical oversight¡ªit failed to look up. If it had, it would have noticed the refrigerator hanging ominously above him. What it did hear were faint whispers, echoing through the kitchen.


    "COME OUT, MAGUS!" The demon roared, its deep, malevolent voice shaking the room.


    As if responding to its call, the refrigerator suddenly doubled in size and plummeted downward, crashing upon the demon''s head. In an instant, the malicious creature was reduced to a chaotic, black mesh that began to shift and reform itself into its former shadowy form. However, it was noticeably smaller than before, a consequence of its loss in size.


    Meanwhile, Cynthia, who had masterminded this desperate plan, emerged from her hiding place in a cabinet, her form now that of a small child. She darted away from the gruesome scene; her mission having succeeded in part. The shadowy demon, while diminished, was far from defeated, and the horror within the house was far from over.


    In its current state, the demon resorted to a grotesque act, consuming the dead bodies strewn around it to regain its lost size. It was a horrifying sight, a macabre feast of death and darkness.


    Cynthia hurried through the house, quickly reverting to her normal size. Being small had its advantages for hiding, but it proved a hindrance when she needed to move swiftly. Her destination was clear: the master bedroom. Though she had never been to Erick''s house before, she knew his father held mastery over Aether, and his room might contain something to help her escape the dire situation she found herself in. As she ascended the stairs, she suddenly halted when she spotted an unfamiliar figure.


    <hr>


    Meanwhile, at the crime scene, Diana had just arrived and was surveying the massive hole where the mansion had once stood with Richard and Angela.


    Angela displayed a phlegmatic demeanor, exuding an air of stoic calmness. Her straight posture and impeccably buttoned appearance hinted at an unseen force driving her forward. From her neatly aligned blond hair to precisely applied mascara, every detail spoke of meticulous control.


    While Richard''s controlled choleric demeanor gave off an air of potential explosiveness, despite his charming, buttoned-up appearance. His slicked-back hair hinted at a careful concern for how others perceived him, creating an intriguing tension between his poised exterior and the underlying energy waiting to be unleashed.


    Suddenly, a student materialized in the center of the devastation, enveloped in a puff of black smoke. The girl was unconscious and severely injured, yet miraculously, she clung to life.


    "Holy shit, we need a medic!" Diana''s voice cut through the chaos as she and her fellow detectives rushed to the injured girl. Upon reaching her, they were met with a grim sight¡ªcuts and lacerations marred her body. Fortunately, a medic arrived just in the nick of time.


    "Claude vulnus carnis," chanted the medic, invoking a spell that sealed the girl''s wounds.


    "We need to take her to a hospital; she still has damaged organs and has lost a lot of blood. It''s beyond what I can do here," the medic informed the team.


    "Mihi suam fabulam revela," Diana incanted, her magic allowing her to learn more about the unconscious girl even as she was wheeled away on a stretcher.


    "What did you find?" Richard inquired.


    "Rebeca Ross, 17 years old, attending Elkheart High School, dreams of acting, daughter of Edward and Lily Ross, no siblings, and her casting abilities are not exceptional," Diana relayed.


    "That''s not much to go on," Angelica remarked.


    "Tell the captain I''m going with her. If I have more time, I''ll be able to figure out what happened," Diana decided, signaling to the medics as she hurried toward the waiting ambulance.


    "We''d better solve this quickly, or she''ll steal all the glory," Richard said, a sense of urgency in his voice.


    <hr>


    Back in the panic room, Kyle sat huddled in a corner, grappling with the weight of Amber''s tragic death. He couldn''t help but wonder if it was his fault, if only he had reacted more quickly, perhaps he could have saved her. The thought of the unresolved kiss and the uncertainty of her response haunted him, but now, it was all irrelevant. Amber was gone, and she had been his only friend.


    Then, Kyle''s thoughts shifted to Cynthia, another friend he had, although her demeanor was often harsh, he believed it stemmed from a good place. He contemplated seeking her out, but quickly dismissed the idea, fearing he might only be a hindrance to her. Cynthia was undoubtedly the most skilled among them, and he didn''t want to get in her way.


    His thoughts grew increasingly dark, and he found himself blaming himself for the tragic events, even when it wasn''t his fault. His mind refused to release him from the grip of guilt.


    A soft voice interrupted his reverie, and he recoiled in shock. It was Penelope, her hand gently resting on his shoulder.


    "Hey," she said, her voice tender, "Are you hurt? I''ve been doing my best to heal everyone."


    Kyle surveyed the room and noticed that most of the students, approximately twenty of them, were now stable, with some even sleeping. He calculated that Penelope had to perform at least twenty consecutive castings. His gaze then turned back to Penelope, her eyes sunken and bloodshot, sweat drenching her, and blood slowly dripping from her nose.


    "Are YOU alright?" Kyle inquired, now deeply concerned for her.


    "I''m fine," she replied with a strained smile.


    Kyle, however, was not convinced. "No, you''re not. You''re clearly over channeling; you should not cast anymore. Your ley lines might rupture," he warned, knowing the dangers of overusing the Ley lines that run through the body to harness aether. He gently pressed his hand against her forehead and realized she was burning up. If Penelope continued like this, she risked irreparable damage to her body, even death. Kyle was determined not to let history repeat itself.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "You need cold water and sleep," he urged anxiously.


    "I dormi," Erick incanted.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, I¡¯m fin-¡± said Penelope as she fell unconscious


    Panicked, Kyle thought she had passed out, but Erick assured him otherwise.


    "Don''t worry, I just put her to sleep," Erick said.


    Relieved that Penelope wasn''t unconscious, Kyle couldn''t help but be conflicted about Erick''s methods. However, he lacked the courage to confront Erick about it.


    "Look, I had to expedite the process. She wasn''t going to listen to you. This is for her own good. Help me move her to a bed," Erick explained, trying to reassure Kyle even as they differed in their approaches to handling the situation.


    <hr>


    In the dimly lit hallway, atop the stairs, Cynthia found herself face to face with a mysterious figure. He was a man dressed in a dapper suit, and by his side was a shadowy cat with an abnormally long tail. The man turned his attention to Cynthia.


    "Ah, greetings, dear lady. My esteemed companion and I have most fortuitously meandered into your charming abode, bewildered by its unexpected presence in our secluded domain," he said with an air of casual charm.


    Cynthia regarded him cautiously. "Who are you?" she asked, her senses on high alert.


    The man, known as Sir Crowley de Moniac, introduced himself with an air of sophistication. "Oh, pardon me, Sir Crowley de Moniac, shvur-zeeler and arch-demon."


    Sir Crowley was the epitome of sophistication and distinction, commanding respect and admiration wherever he went. His demeanor and attire exuded an air of refinement. Yet, it was his eyes that gave away his true nature. His slit cat like pupils and the red irises that encircled them, revealed the unmistakable mark of his fiendish origins.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Cynthia''s mind raced as she calculated her options. He hadn''t attacked her immediately, which suggested he might be open to reason. However, he was an arch-demon, and engaging in a direct confrontation would likely prove futile. For now, her best course of action was to keep him talking and gather as much information as possible. Perhaps an opportunity for escape or a solution would present itself.


    "Ah, a shrewd mind," Crowley acknowledged. "Pray, be at ease, for my attention towards your humble self is indeed benevolent. In truth, my sole intention is to offer my aid and support to your cause.. I have already facilitated the escape of one of your esteemed compatriots from this wretched realm. Your part in this endeavor is simple, for all that is required of you is to grant me y-"


    As he drew closer to Cynthia, he sensed something amiss. A realization flashed across his demonic eyes.


    "Alas, it seems you would be of no use to me," he lamented, disappointment evident in his tone. "I possess scarce a moment to squander on mere simulacrum."


    "Apologies duly noted for the misemployment of my time," he concluded, and with a command, he beckoned his feline companion. "Bastet, to me." The shadowy cat obediently walked beside him as they headed downstairs, leaving Cynthia standing there, shocked by the encounter.


    In those few moments, she realized that the arch-demon had the ability to discern what she really was, leaving her in a state of profound unease and uncertainty.


    <hr>


    As Marcus, Josh, and Jenkins made their way out of the basement, they couldn''t help but notice the absence of imps in the house, which was rather disturbing but not as disturbing as the body parts littering the floor. Marcus signaled for them to stay quiet, and the eerie silence, combined with the dim red lighting and macabre litter, created an unsettling atmosphere. They proceeded cautiously, their senses on high alert. Soon, they heard sobbing emanating from one of the bathrooms, and the three of them exchanged uneasy glances.


    "Aw, hell naw," whispered Marcus.


    "So, we avoid that, right?" whispered Josh, his fear palpable.


    "Y''all a bunch of pussies," Jenkins quipped with bravado. He decided to take the lead and approached the bathroom, swinging the door wide open. Inside, they found a girl in tears who appeared to be another student. The sudden intrusion startled her as she shielded herself away from Jenkins.


    "Is it over?" she asked, her voice trembling.


    "Yes, because I''m here," Jenkins proclaimed confidently.


    "Quit playing around," Marcus chided, pushing past Jenkins along with Josh. They stared at the frightened girl; uncertainty etched on their faces.


    Josh knelt down and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Hey, what''s your name?"


    "Zoe," she replied, her face still buried in her arms.


    Josh glanced at Jenkins and Marcus, both of whom seemed unsure about how to proceed.


    "Who did you come here with?" Josh asked gently.


    "Joe," she responded, her sobs continuing.


    "Joe who?" inquired Josh.


    "JOE MAMA!" Jenkins exclaimed, bursting into laughter at his own joke. Josh and Marcus, however, were unamused. ¡°Okay, tough crowd, was it Joe Miles, cause that dude is soooo dea-¡± Marcus swiftly put an end to Jenkins'' antics with a well-placed tap to the groin.


    "Cheap shot," Jenkins grumbled in agony.


    "Yes, Joe Miles," Zoe replied, tears still flowing.


    "Can you cast?" Marcus inquired, and Zoe shook her head.


    "Okay, according to Erick''s plan, in this situation, you guys stay put, and I bring her back," Marcus said, outlining the plan.


    "Zoe, do you think you can stand up? We have a safe place," Josh asked in a gentle tone.


    Zoe wiped her face with her sleeve and, with some effort, managed to stand up. As she rose, the guys finally got a good look at her, and they were taken aback by her unearthly beauty, which caused their hearts to collectively skip a beat.


    Zoe possessed a seductive appearance that could captivate anyone in her presence. Her voice was like a siren''s song, drawing people in with its alluring melody. Her face, with its striking beauty, rivaled that of Adonis, making her an object of desire. All of this allure was contained within her lithe and graceful frame, creating an irresistible package.


    Marcus was quite pleased with the situation, relishing the opportunity to play the hero for a damsel in distress.


    "Okay, so...uh, come with me. You guys stay here," he instructed, addressing Jenkins and Josh.


    "Ayyy, why do you get to go with her?" Jenkins questioned, clearly envious.


    "It''s Erick''s plan, plus you''d get killed out there," Marcus explained, defending his role.


    "No, I wouldn''t," Jenkins retorted.


    "Okay, duel me then. You win, you get to go," Marcus proposed.


    "Okay, then I''ll¡ª" Jenkins began to accept the challenge, but Josh intervened. "Guys, enough," he interjected. "Jenkins, you''re 21-0 against Marcus. You''re not winning anytime soon."


    Jenkins, while irritated, knew that Josh spoke the truth. "Fine," he grumbled, retreating to a corner to sulk.


    Marcus and Josh shared a resigned look, and then Marcus''s face quickly reverted to its jovial state.


    "Okay, you''re coming with me," Marcus said to Zoe. She came to his side, and she put her arm around him. While Marcus couldn''t help but feel ecstatic about the situation, he maintained his composure as they headed out of the bathroom.


    <hr>


    At the crime scene, Richard and Angela had been busy gathering information and questioning witnesses. They reconvened to compare their findings.


    Richard shared his report first. "From what I got from the neighbours, one of the kids in this place threw a party, but I''m not sure what happened next. I''ve cast everything I can, but nothing is hidden."


    Angela countered with a smirk, "You rely too much on magic. That''s why I''m a better detective than you." Richard rolled his eyes at her comment. She continued, "The residence that once stood here belongs to one Solomon Blaze, an extradimensional researcher. He lives here with his son Erick Blaze and niece Penelope Scarlet. Apparently, Solomon is not around very much, and Erick threw a party for his 18th birthday. Beyond that, I''m unsure."


    "Wait, you still don''t know what happened?" Richard teased.


    Angela looked at him with uncertainty. "Who''s the bad detective now?"


    Richard explained his theory, "It''s clear that some drunk kid might have gotten into one of Mr. Blaze''s runic items and transported the house."


    Angela found that idea hard to believe. "What? That''s impossible."


    "Why?" Richard inquired.


    "Okay, so you''re telling me he had runes to transport his entire residence without his Etheric print. That doesn''t make any kind of sense," Angela argued.


    While the logic behind Angela''s argument was sound, Richard had witnessed crazier things in his career. He decided to contact someone at the station to gather runic information about the Blaze residence and any available information on Solomon Blaze.


    "By the way, wasn''t this an all-hands-on-deck situation? Where are the other detectives?" Richard questioned.


    Angela provided an update, "Well, Erickson is undercover, Savage is on vacation, and Huang and Alvarado are still suspended."


    "Wait, didn''t they get suspended for firing three six-circled spells without authorization?" Richard inquired.


    "There¡¯s a little more to it than that but yeah, why?" Angela responded.


    Richard''s theory began to take shape. "Maybe one of the kids tried to fire one of Solomon''s spells, and it backfired."


    "Impossible," Angela objected.


    "What now?" Richard asked.


    "That would take a seven to nine-circled spell. If some high schooler attempted to cast it, they would just burn up. It''s impossible that they would even get an effect from a miscast," Angela explained.


    With a hint of arrogance, Richard retorted, "What are they, seventeen to eighteen? I could have totally pulled off something like this. I would have died in the process, sure, but I think I could have pulled it off."


    Angela remained uncertain, while Richard was confident that his theory was headed in the right direction. He believed that they needed more information, and he was eager for Diana to return with additional insights to confirm his suspicions.


    <hr>


    The shadow demon, now fully sated from his gruesome feast, was a towering monstrosity, his head nearly reaching the ceiling. His thoughts were consumed by the burning desire for revenge against Cynthia, envisioning tearing her asunder in the most brutal manner. However, his contemplation was interrupted by a sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu ¨C this time the entire house was devoid of imps. Had more skilled mages arrived? He pondered.


    Footsteps echoed down the hall, approaching the kitchen. The shadowy demon grinned maliciously, anticipating the opportunity to unleash his wrath on an unsuspecting intruder. However, when the figure entered, it was not what he expected. It was Sir Crowley, accompanied by his shadowy cat Bastet.


    "Oh, bully," Crowley remarked, seemingly taken aback.


    "Who are you?" the shadowy demon growled.


    Sir Crowley, displaying an air of pompous disdain, responded with a touch of sarcasm. "Indeed, in the customary etiquette of our time, it is incumbent upon one to proffer their own name before inquiring after another''s. However, I understand that such expectations might be deemed excessive when dealing with an individual of what some may regard as a lower station in life."


    Infuriated, the shadowy demon advanced toward Crowley, each heavy step causing the ground to tremble. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" he bellowed.


    "Uhg, the revolting countenance, the most unpleasant aroma, the disquieting cadence of speech, and the inharmonious deportment, dear sir, you indeed present yourself as a grievous affliction upon refined sensibilities," Sir Crowley exclaimed in utter disgust.


    The shadowy demon, consumed by rage and frustration, extended his formidable claws and lunged at Crowley with a deadly swipe. However, the arch-demon dodged the attack with a graceful and effortless sidestep, avoiding the dangerous strike with uncanny agility and finesse.


    Crowley''s revulsion was evident as he continued his derisive commentary. "What perturbs me most about demons of your ilk is their crudeness, which undeniably besmirches our reputation. You''d obliterate mortals through the savagery of rending and feasting upon their flesh, when there exist souls ripe for reaping. This is precisely why I saw fit to rid myself of your subordinates," he declared, expertly dodging each of the demon''s clawed swipes with grace and ease.


    "IT WAS YOU!" the demon roared, causing the kitchen to shake.


    "Indeed, you are absolutely correct, and I dare say, the next in line for my actions shall indeed be you," Crowley declared as he snapped his fingers. In an instant, the shadow demon was transformed into solid stone. With a swift kick, Crowley shattered the petrified demon into countless tiny fragments.


    "How uncivilized," Crowley muttered as he dusted himself off, his contempt for the crude and brutal nature of the demon clear in his expression.


    As Marcus and Zoe made their way through the crimson lit hallways of the house, Zoe clung tightly to Marcus, expressing her gratitude for his help.


    "Thank you for helping," Zoe said, her relief evident in her words.


    "No problem, that''s what I do," Marcus replied, and they shared a moment of silence as they continued their cautious journey. However, Marcus''s curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn''t resist asking about Joe.


    "So, was Joe your boyfriend?" Marcus inquired.


    Zoe chuckled at the question and responded, "No."


    "Ah, cool, cool, cool," Marcus muttered, seemingly satisfied with her answer.


    But then, Zoe''s demeanor shifted subtly, and she became slightly more flirtatious. "No, if I had a boyfriend, he''d be tall, muscular, brave, and really good at dueling," she confessed, all the while holding onto Marcus more tightly and gazing deeply into his eyes. Marcus couldn''t help but notice that she was essentially describing him.


    As thoughts raced through Marcus''s mind, considering the possibilities of a more intimate connection, he wondered if there were any bedrooms or even a couch nearby. After all, the imps seemed to have vanished. However, their moment was abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps and an oddly soothing hum. Instinctively, Marcus positioned himself between Zoe and the source of the noise.


    The footsteps drew nearer and eventually revealed Sir Crowley, who paused to cast his gaze upon Marcus and Zoe. In a tone dripping with disdain and cryptic eloquence, Crowley commented on their situation.


    "How vulgar, though one must abstain from casting aspersions upon the means by which others endure. It is, after all, a lesser impropriety compared to the practices of our inferiors. My heart aches for you, my gallant companion, as another has already laid claim to your essence. However, might you be inclined to disclose the whereabouts of more of your compatriots? I assure you; my sole intention is to extend my assistance unto them."


    Baffled by the elaborate yet enigmatic words of Sir Crowley, Marcus could only manage to ask, "Um, can you repeat that, dude?"


    Zoe, however, was not interested in further explanations. Her instincts took over, and she urgently declared, "We need to run." Taking Marcus by the arm, she began to dash away with him. Bewildered but trusting her judgment, Marcus followed, and their escape was guided by a sense of impending danger.


    <hr>


    Cynthia''s desperate search for the master bedroom led her through the labyrinthine first floor of the sprawling house. The spatial runes that had expanded the house''s dimensions vexed her, and she couldn''t help but wonder how Erick and Penelope could live alone in such an immense place. However, her thoughts were quickly pulled back to the pressing matters at hand, particularly her unsettling encounter with Sir Crowley, the enigmatic arch-demon.


    Along her way she stumbled along, the dead bodies of her former classmates and a few strange statues that appeared to be demons and imps all with a noticeable chip like they had been stabbed.


    As she ventured deeper into the house, Cynthia stumbled upon another set of doors. Swinging one open, she found herself in a spacious library, where Federica sat engrossed in a book. Yet, Federica was not as she remembered her. A significant portion of her body had transformed into blue, translucent crystals, her irises glowed with an eerie blue light, and small, gentle blue flames danced upon her skin.


    Cynthia''s voice wavered as she addressed the mysterious figure, "Federica?"


    Federica, or the entity that now inhabited her, responded in an uncanny tone, "Was that her name?"


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Cynthia sighed in exasperation, realizing that she was now forced to confront yet another otherworldly presence. She couldn''t believe how swiftly her world had descended into chaos since their unexpected transportation. The blue flames that enveloped Federica hinted at pure Aether which Cynthia was familiar with due to her expertise in Aetheromancy cantrips. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and she couldn''t help but mutter her realization.


    "Oh, for fuck''s sake, it was you," Cynthia muttered.


    Federica, seemingly unfazed by her revelation, smiled as she admired her crystalline form. "This is the first body I''ve ever possessed, and I am so lucky for it to be made so pure," she remarked.


    Cynthia had little time to contemplate the implications of Federica''s possession, her thoughts interrupted by an abrupt declaration.


    "BEAR WITNESS TO MY POWER!" Federica exclaimed, conjuring four arcane circles that surrounded her. From the Aether, multiple swords materialized and hurtled in every direction. Cynthia attempted to evade the deadly projectiles, but their sheer number overwhelmed her, and one of them impaled her abdomen. She grimaced in excruciating pain, realizing that her injuries were grave. Amidst the pain and fear, the sight of what had transpired in the library struck her deeply. Federica had harnessed the raw power of Aether to cast a spell without the need for an incantation. It was impossible, and yet it had happened before her very eyes.


    Cynthia''s desire to understand how this was possible was abruptly cut short as eight arcane circles materialized around Federica, enveloping her in a mesmerizing display of magic, and then, in an instant, she vanished.


    Inside the ambulance, the medics worked diligently to keep Rebecca stable, weaving intricate symbols and casting spells to ensure her well-being. One of the medics gave Diana a nod, and she began casting a spell of her own, "Mihi suam fabulam revela." This incantation allowed her to catch glimpses of Rebecca''s life, from her childhood to her parents'' brutal divorce, her first kiss, her first cantrip, her first intimate moment, and finally, the party and the horrors that had transpired. Diana was determined to piece together the events and understand the deal Rebecca had made with Sir Crowley to come to the surface in exchange for her soul.


    Diana''s panic grew. She needed to share this critical information with her superior and her colleagues. She quickly dialed her Captain on her phone, hoping to get in touch with the others.


    Back at the crime scene, Captain Connors was in the midst of an interview with the press when his phone rang. He excused himself and stepped away from the cameras and microphones to take the call.


    "Captain, there''s been a development. The house has somehow been transported to hell," Diana informed him.


    The captain''s tone was serious as he inquired, "Did you use prognostication?"


    Diana confirmed, "Yes."


    The captain understood that this was not mere speculation but a disturbing reality. He now faced the daunting task of figuring out how to rescue these students from their perilous situation in hell.


    Suddenly, a loud bang reverberated from the hole where the house had once stood. The captain, along with his two detectives, Richard and Angela, rushed toward the hole to investigate. Inside, they encountered Federica, possessed and wearing a wicked grin...


    As Federica stood in the midst of the chaotic scene, she floated into the air and conjured six arcane circles with an ominous purpose. She unleashed a rapid, massive sphere of pure Aether, targeting the onlooking crowd of neighbours, concerned parents, and uniformed officers. The destructive blast turned most of them into cindered remains and triggered a colossal explosion, sending shockwaves of panic throughout the area.


    With a sinister grin, the possessed Federica proclaimed, "This is going to be delightful."

 Chapter 3: Soulless

    Cynthia lay on the cold library floor, the metallic tang of blood lingering in the air. Her mind, even in the face of impending darkness, was fixated on the surreal display of power unleashed by the possessed Federica. As her life force ebbed away, memories flickered in her consciousness.


    One such memory transported her to a time when she was just ¡°eight years old¡±, a newcomer to the school. Ms. Eager, the teacher, had orchestrated her introduction to the class, an event etched in the corridors of her recollections.


    "Hi, kids, this is Cynthia. She''s going to be joining us from now on. Cynthia has been homeschooled all this time, so she doesn''t have that many friends. Be nice. Cynthia, is there anything you''d like to say?" Ms. Eager had prompted.


    Cynthia stood before the class, a blank stare greeting her peers. "Hello, I am Cynthia. Pleased to meet you," she uttered, accompanied by a vacant smile.


    The response from the other children was less than welcoming. Whispers of "she seems weird," and "I don''t want her to sit next to me" echoed through the room. Amid the chatter, Ms. Eager assigned Kyle the task of showing Cynthia around, a duty he accepted with nervous compliance.


    During recess, while other kids engaged in lively games, Kyle and Amber found themselves sitting at the base of a tree with Cynthia.


    "So, what do you like to do for fun?" Amber exclaimed.


    "For fun?" Cynthia echoed, genuinely puzzled.


    "Yeah, what games do you like to play?" Amber inquired.


    "I don''t know," Cynthia responded.


    Amber sighed, expressing her frustration. "Aww, man, I always get stuck with weird friends," she muttered.


    "We''re friends?" Cynthia asked, seeking clarification.


    Amber beamed, giving a thumbs up. "Yeah, we totally will be!"


    Upon returning home, Cynthia encountered an atmosphere of sterility within the house. Aesthetically pleasing decorations adorned the space, but the lack of warmth made it feel lifeless. Galatea, with her uncanny demeanor and polished beauty, descended from the stairs to take Cynthia''s coat.


    "How was your first day of school?" Galatea asked with a closed, blank smile as cold and artificial as a plastic doll.


    Cynthia''s response was succinct. "It was fine."


    "Father will be expecting a report, but for now, let me make you some food," Galatea offered.


    "I don''t need any," Cynthia replied.


    "Father wants you to get accustomed to a normal routine," explained Galatea.


    "Alright," Cynthia conceded.


    After a solitary meal in the cold, sterile atmosphere, Cynthia retreated to her large but lifeless bedroom. The lack of homely decor made it feel almost inhospitable. Completing her homework and report, she descended to the basement, where a door with a hand scanner granted her access. Inside, her father, Theo, an aging man in a white lab coat, was engrossed in his work. The room housed human-sized pods, each containing what appeared to be people.


    "Hello, Cynthia, how was your day?" Theo inquired without looking up.


    " It was satisfactory, I assumed you¡¯d be pleased to hear that I made some friends," Cynthia reported.


    "That''s good. Have your facial expressions improved?" Theo asked, finally pulling away from his microscope.


    "No, I still seem to be somewhat uncanny," Cynthia admitted.


    "Hopefully, it will increase over time. Even though you don''t have a soul, I have higher hopes for you than your siblings," Theo remarked.


    The passage of time unfurled, carrying the memories to a moment several months ahead. Cynthia and her "father," Theo, found themselves standing before a house, their purpose signaled by the chiming of the doorbell. In response, a man named Stephen emerged, sporting a smile as warm and genuine as a ray of sunshine, not really fitting his tousled greying hair. A firm handshake was exchanged between Stephen and Theo.


    "Hey, old friend, you still do not bother to make your hair presentable, I see," Theo remarked with a teasing tone.


    "What can I say, it''s part of my charm," Stephen retorted with a grin.


    Stephen¡¯s eyes widened as he saw Cynthia, and he stared at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief.


    "So, this is her," Stephen observed.


    Cynthia, uncertain of how to navigate this encounter, pondered whether Stephen was aware of her true nature.


    "Cynthia, this is Stephen Detmer. He helped create you," Theo introduced.


    Unease clouded Cynthia''s expression; the weight of the revelation pressed upon her as she attempted to muster a polite smile.


    "Amazing, a fake emotional response born not from duty but from a different emotion. Come in," Stephen invited, stepping aside to usher them into his abode.


    Within the confines of Stephen''s home, Cynthia experienced a stark contrast to her accustomed environment. Warm colors enveloped the space, family pictures adorned the walls¡ªsome featuring a familiar face, Kyle. The realization dawned that this was Kyle''s house. Uncertainty gripped her; should she reveal her awareness, or did Kyle already know? These questions lingered as the adults engaged in conversation on the living room couch. Cynthia settled beside them, her patience unwavering.


    "Ah, I see you used my theory on simulated souls. A homunculus that can feel¡ªI never thought I''d see the day," Stephen marveled.


    "That''s not all. She has artificial ley lines. I give her 8 years, and she''ll be able to cast a cantrip," Theo revealed.


    Stephen, incredulous, sought confirmation. "Are you sure?"


    Theo''s confident smile left no room for doubt. "Absolutely."


    "Okay, you''ve gotta tell me how," Stephen urged, his curiosity ablaze.


    While the two men immersed themselves in the technical details of Cynthia¡¯s creation, she scanned the room, looking for something to catch her interest. Her attention snagged on Kyle, observing from the top of the stairs. A chill ran down Cynthia''s being, prompting her to ascend the staircase. Theo and Stephen remained engrossed in their discussion, oblivious to her departure. Confronting Kyle, she found him looking at her with....


    Without warning, the scene changed. Cynthia found herself back on the library floor, blood seeping from her wounds, barely conscious. She snapped out of her trance. She mustered her strength to remove the swords embedded in her body, weaving a cantrip to create a small ball of fire that she used to cauterize her wounds. The pain did not elicit a scream; instead, she reverted to the emotionless being she once was. Despite the clarity fading from her thoughts due to the loss of blood, one goal remained clear ¨C she had to reach the basement; her father would help her. Clutching one of the swords left by the possessed Federica, she headed down, only to be confronted by a trio of dark shapes, like vultures circling dying prey.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    In one of the mansion''s bedrooms, Marcus and Zoe sought refuge, the terror of the Arch-demon still fresh in Zoe''s mind. Marcus, however, was puzzled; the old man didn''t seem threatening, he had seen worst that night.


    "Are you okay?" Marcus asked, concern etched on his face.


    Zoe composed herself. "Yeah... I just." She looked into Marcus''s eyes and hugged him.


    Marcus, momentarily distracted from the dire situation, reciprocated the embrace. Their connection deepened into a passionate kiss, but as Zoe''s aggression intensified, Marcus felt an unexpected weakness and a struggle for air. Attempting to pull back, his body refused, and he realized something was amiss. Unbeknownst to him, Zoe had transformed, sporting two small horns, claws extending from her nails, and drew blood from Marcus¡¯s back.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Wincing in pain, Marcus attempted to push her away, but the newfound weakness left him helpless. Zoe effortlessly threw him onto a bed, dominating him.


    "So, this is how I die... well, death by fucking isn''t so bad," Marcus quipped, trying to maintain humor in a precarious situation.


    Zoe smiled and whispered into his ear ¡°don¡¯t worry I¡¯m gonna su-¡±, but her sentence was cut short as a rune covered dagger emerged from her chest, turning her into stone, leaving a statue of a succubus in heat.


    "Suck you dry. Trust me, that''s what she was gonna say. A bit cheesy if you ask me, but to each their own," remarked Thomas still wearing his trademark mirrored shades.


    Struggling to push the statue off him, Marcus demanded, "Who the fuck are you?"


    "That''s a long story. By the way, do you know what happened here?" Thomas inquired.


    "You just cock-blocked me, that''s what happened," Marcus retorted, irritation evident.


    "No, I mean the house. And sorry, I know we would all love a death by sex, but there are times for these things," Thomas explained.


    As Marcus tried to stand, stumbling around, Thomas continued, "Dude, you''re in no position to be walking. By the way, do you know a guy named Kyle Detmer?"


    "Why?" Marcus questioned.


    "He''s my bro," replied Thomas.


    Marcus sighed, "I need to make a call."


    But then, Marcus found his runic phone incapable of making the call.


    ¡°What the hell, Erick said they were supposed to work,¡± Marcus exclaimed.


    Thomas inquired, ¡°Does your plan include interplanar calling?¡±


    Marcus paused, unsure.


    ¡°Well, there you go,¡± said Thomas. ¡°You''ll probably have to wait for that guy to call you.¡±


    ¡°Ah, shit. Well, what do we do n-¡± Marcus was interrupted as the door swung wide open. Thomas, knife in hand, adopted a defensive position, while Marcus, in his weakened state, had no time to react. Fortunately, the intruder wasn''t an enemy but another student, Rosanne. Unfortunately for Rosanne, her right arm bore burns, with a golden chain wrapped around it. She seemed out of breath, slamming the door shut behind her with her foot and slumped.


    ¡°You''re alive?¡± both Marcus and Rosanne exclaimed simultaneously.


    ¡°Of course, I''m alive...¡± she winced in pain.


    ¡°Barely,¡± quipped Marcus, attempting to walk towards Rosanne, his body weakened.


    ¡°Well, shit, same to you,¡± said Rosanne.


    Rosanne, with determination blazing in her eyes and a fierce intellect, exuded a captivating intensity. Amidst her dark locks, a single red strand provided an unexpected contrast, hinting at a spirited individuality.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    ¡°So now I''ve got to protect two half-dead brats,¡± lamented Thomas.


    ¡°Dude, chill. You''re like two years older than us,¡± said Marcus.


    ¡°Who''s this asshole? Wait, you''re Kyle''s brother, right?¡± questioned Roseanne.


    ¡°Hey, you''ve got a good memory,¡± Thomas said as he walked towards her and lowered down. ¡°So, can you cast?¡±


    ¡°Only cantrips,¡± said Rosanne with a hint of shame.


    ¡°Better than nothing,¡± remarked Thomas.


    Observing the succubus statue in an auspicious position in the middle of the bed, Roseanne asked, ¡°I''m guessing the statues on the upper floor are your doing.¡±


    ¡°Don''t worry about it,¡± said Thomas, realizing they needed to get somewhere safe. Both Marcus and Rosanne were in no condition to continue fighting, and the entrance Roseanne made suggested that there was still something out there. He found it suspicious that all the imps had disappeared from one moment to the next. Lamenting to himself, he thought, ''Couldn''t I have just not gotten kicked out of the party?''


    Thomas unsheathed a pocketknife and sliced his palm, uttering an incantation, "ostende omina ventura." The drops of blood descended, seven turning jet black and evaporating into an ominous black smoke¡ªa harbinger of dark events.


    ¡°Alright guys I¡¯m not gonna sugar coat it we might be royally fucked here, our best chance of survival is to hide out until someone comes to get us, and not take any unnecessary risk even though if they sound really fun¡± Thomas explained with a gravity that hung in the air.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°We can go to the basement; there¡¯s a bunker,¡± Marcus suggested, knowing that he could not continue the mission given to him by Erick.


    ¡°Yeah, but first, we need to get through the old guy,¡± remarked Roseanne, her eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and concern.


    ¡°Old guy? You saw him too? He didn¡¯t look dangerous,¡± said Marcus, his confusion evident.


    A sinister liquid oozed from the ceiling, catching the attention of Thomas, Roseanne, and Marcus. Their gaze met a bone-chilling sight¡ªa horned skeleton emerging from a pool of inky darkness.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    ¡°COVER YOUR HEADS!¡± shouted Roseanne, her voice commanding urgency. The rune-covered chain around her right arm ignited in golden flames as she directed it towards the abomination. A brilliant ball of fire tore through the ceiling, vaporizing the monstrosity. Dust and debris showered upon them, but Thomas''s quick reflexes propelled them through the door, avoiding the impending danger.


    Collapsed in the hallway, the trio assessed their condition. Marcus had the wind knocked out of him, but Roseanne''s burns had worsened, an unspoken acknowledgment of the danger they faced.


    ¡°THAT WAS SO UNNECESSARY,¡± scolded Thomas, frustration etched on his face, before attempting to seize the chain from Roseanne. Yet, upon contact, he recoiled from a searing burn, forcing him to relinquish his hold.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch my stuff,¡± Roseanne asserted, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.


    ¡°Your stuff? You probably stole it from the master bedroom. Give me that thing; you don¡¯t know how to use it. Look at your arm; it looks like a burnt chicken nugget,¡± retorted Thomas, an edge of accusation in his words.


    ¡°You c-¡±


    Before Roseanne could finish her retort, a growling interrupted them. A ferocious hellhound, eyes aflame with ire, stared them down, ready to pounce. The chain in Roseanne''s arm glowed again, poised for action, but her intention was disrupted by a sudden sucker punch to the jaw from Thomas.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    ¡°What the fuck, dude!¡± Marcus exclaimed, preparing to intervene, but Thomas deftly sidestepped him, exploiting his weakened state.


    A swift kick from Thomas landed squarely in Marcus''s stomach. ¡°This is for your own good, trust me. Don¡¯t move,¡± Thomas declared as he retrieved the chain from Roseanne¡¯s unconscious form and assessed its condition. The hellhound charged at Thomas, who, with a sense of urgency, placed the chain as a last-resort barrier, prompting the hound to bite onto it. The chain glowed in a golden flame, turning the hound¡¯s head to dust but leaving Thomas''s palms with mild burns.


    ¡°Son of a bitch, that hurts,¡± Thomas muttered as he gingerly placed the chain down. He then utilized his rune-covered knife to scratch the rune at the end of the chain, grabbing the modified part and using it as a whip, each strike releasing golden embers. He quickly checked for something in his pocket and then gave a sigh of relief.


    ¡°Okay, cool. Marcus, lead me to the basement,¡± Thomas directed, expecting a response. When none came, he turned around to find Marcus unconscious as well.


    ¡°Goddamn it,¡± Thomas cursed, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon him.


    <hr>


    In the confined space of the panic room, Erick hunched over his note app, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his intent expression. The urgency of the situation spurred him to craft a strategy, a map of capabilities to guide their next moves. He methodically ranked the individuals based on their magical aptitude, a delicate dance of utility and circumstance.


    His digital list unfolded in a cascade of priorities. First and foremost, the enigma of Cynthia, her location obscured in the tumult of events. Erick identified himself next, acknowledging the potential his own skills brought to the table. Federica, a mystery in her current whereabouts, followed closely behind. Penelope, lost in the embrace of sleep, held a place on the list, her healing abilities a coveted asset. Marcus, out in the field with J and J, earned a spot on the roster, highlighting his strength. Lastly, Kyle, sheltered in the bunker, rounded out the list of primary spellcasters.


    The secondary tier, individuals capable of casting cantrips, populated the latter half of Erick''s notes. Alice sought refuge in the bunker, Roseanne''s location remained a puzzle, Josh accompanied Marcus on his mission, Rick slept, Joe lay in the realm of the deceased, Jenkins joined Marcus, Zack and Rob existed only in the memories of the living. Leah found sanctuary in the bunker, Tim''s whereabouts lingered in uncertainty, Alexander sought safety in the bunker, and Amber, like others before her, had met an unfortunate fate.


    With the information laid out before him, Erick''s mind raced. The absence of communication from Marcus and the others triggered a cascade of contemplation. Was reaching out to them a risk? Could it compromise their safety? It¡¯s only been 12 minutes, surely, he could wait a tad longer? The delicate balance between action and patience weighed heavily on his shoulders.


    His gaze shifted to Kyle, who stood vigil over the slumbering Penelope, an emblem of resilience amidst chaos. Erick considered the possibilities. Could Kyle be nudged back into action? A whispered incantation escaped Erick''s lips, directed at the contemplative student.


    "concede ei cor herois," Erick uttered softly, casting a spell to inspire courage in Kyle.


    Kyle, lost in his own thoughts, grappled with his sense of helplessness. Memories surfaced, entwining with his present uncertainties. A surge of determination swelled within him. No longer bound by fear, Kyle recognized his own capabilities.


    Interrupting Kyle''s internal dialogue, Erick voiced his intent. "Hey, Kyle, I think I might need you and someone else to go out and look for the others."


    Kyle¡¯s eyes sparked with ire, and he bubbled with frustration. "Hey, Erick, are you fucking with me?" he retorted, his tone a blend of skepticism and irritation.


    The room crackled with tension; an electric charge fueled by Kyle''s unexpected defiance. Erick, accustomed to being a figure of authority, found himself momentarily disarmed by Kyle''s uncharacteristic audacity. The air thickened with confrontation as the two students exchanged sharp words.


    ¡°What?¡± Erick inquired, seeking clarity.


    ¡°You heard me. I know myself pretty well, and if I know one thing, it''s that I¡¯m a fucking pussy. So why am I talking shit to you right now?¡± Kyle retorted; his tone laced with frustration.


    Erick, unyielding, offered a logical explanation. ¡°It¡¯s called stress.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called your witchy fuckery, and it¡¯s smart. You were going to use this to get me to do your errands,¡± Kyle accused, his words biting with suspicion.


    ¡°Dude, get to your point,¡± Erick urged, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features.


    ¡°Just admit you did, and I won¡¯t kick the shit out of you,¡± Kyle declared, his bravado surfacing.


    ¡°OHH, you think YOU can take ME,¡± Erick retorted, his ego ignited by the challenge.


    Amidst the rising confrontation, Alice, Leah, and Alexander exchanged uncertain glances. The potential for escalation hung in the air, their roles as potential mediators looming. However, before any intervention could occur, the metallic clang of the door resounded, drawing all attention towards it.


    ¡°Who is it!?¡± Erick demanded, his authoritative tone cutting through the charged atmosphere.


    A faint, inaudible voice reached their ears, heightening the tension in the room.


    ¡°Casters take point, non-casters take cover,¡± Erick commanded, swiftly directing Kyle, Alice, Leah, and Alexander to strategic positions. The rest sought refuge behind available furniture as Erick, with cautious anticipation, approached the bunker door and swung it open.


    As the door revealed its secrets, Erick''s face morphed from anticipation to sheer terror. A shockwave rippled through the room, and the once-defiant Kyle felt the courage drain from his body, as Erick lost control over his spell.


    What had happened? Kyle''s mind raced with unanswered questions as all eyes focused on the doorway, where the unexpected sight had left Erick paralyzed in horror.


    Silence hung heavy in the bunker as Cynthia, or a nightmarish version of her, staggered forward, a grotesque embodiment of horror. Her once graceful form now marred by mutilation, blood-soaked and bearing the aftermath of a brutal encounter. She clutched the remnants of a demonic adversary in her left hand, tethered to her body by a solitary tendon, and a battered sword in her right, its faint blue flames struggling to illuminate the darkness.


    The onlookers gasped collectively as she made her way to the center of the bunker. Despair settled in the air, choking the very hope that had led them to believe she was their salvation. Even Kyle, who had braved the demonic before, found himself breathless in the presence of this twisted incarnation of the person he once knew.


    In the stifling quiet, Cynthia''s gaze fixed upon Kyle. The words that slipped from her mangled form carried an unsettling weight, echoing through the bunker with an air of grim inevitability.


    "Where¡¯s father?" she asked, her voice cutting through the stillness.


    ¡°Are... are you alright?¡± Kyle asked, his voice laced with fear.


    "Answer the question. I need to be repaired," Cynthia responded, her tone devoid of emotion.


    "Yo-you mean healed, right?" Kyle stammered, attempting to conceal her secret.


    "No, Kyle, don''t worry. That doesn''t matter anymore because I can now see. I''ve seen the truth of Aethero," Cynthia declared, her demeanor shifting to a manic state.


    ¡°I dormi,¡± Erick incanted.


    Cynthia''s body responded abruptly, collapsing as if under the influence of Erick''s magic. However, she countered the spell''s effect with a forceful stomp, preventing her fall. The impact caused the tendon to give way, and her left arm fell to the floor. Some recoiled in disgust, others in fear of retaliation. All the casters flinched, ready to cast, but Cynthia remained still. She then looked up at Kyle, a flicker of lucidity returning to her eyes, before falling, exhausted. Kyle rushed to prevent her from hitting the hard floor.


    <hr>


    In the dimly lit bathroom, Josh and Jenkins waited anxiously for Marcus to return from escorting Zoe. The atmosphere was uneasy, and the unsettling events of the night had Josh on edge. Jenkins, seemingly unfazed by the tension, had dozed off, while Josh, attempting to distract himself, scrolled through his phone. His attempts to message Marcus were met with frustration as the texts failed to go through, deepening his concern.


    As Josh contemplated whether to go in search of Marcus or return to the basement, Jenkins abruptly woke up from his nap, announcing his urgent need to use the bathroom.


    "I gotta pee," Jenkins declared, prompting a dismissive response from Josh, who urged him to hold it.


    "Hell naw, I''m doing this now," Jenkins insisted, making his way towards the toilet.


    Josh quickly exited the bathroom, unwilling to tolerate Jenkins''s antics. However, the unsettling ambiance of the hallway offered no respite. Blood and flesh littered the floor, and the dim red lighting from the protection runes heightened Josh''s nerves. Closing his eyes briefly, he attempted to steady himself, but the air was soon pierced by ominous chuckles, sending a shiver down his spine.


    Without hesitation, Josh burst back into the bathroom, catching Jenkins mid-pee. The sudden interruption startled Jenkins.


    "Woah dude, what the fuck," he exclaimed.


    "We gotta go back right the hell now," Josh declared urgently.


    "Well, you gotta get out right the hell now," Jenkins retorted.


    "Some of the dead guys are coming back," Josh explained, his words tinged with a sense of urgency.


    "Don¡¯t mess with me, dude. I don¡¯t fuck with ghosts, bro," Jenkins feigned disbelief.


    "Then put your dick away, and let¡¯s go!" Josh insisted.


    With a shared sense of urgency, Josh and Jenkins exited the bathroom, the disconcerting sound of chuckles growing more intense. As they started to walk faster and then run, a realization struck Jenkins.


    "Yo, yo, wait, wait," he said, abruptly stopping in his tracks and causing Josh to halt as well.


    "What!?" Josh demanded.


    "Listen," Jenkins urged.


    The eerie echoes of chuckling filled the air, creating an unsettling symphony.


    "She sounds kinda hot; I mean, I don¡¯t fuck with ghosts, but I could be open to it," Jenkins remarked with a mischievous grin.


    ¡°Are you fucking high!?,¡± Josh asked rhetorically.


    ¡°Oh yeah bro I snuck an edible feeling pretty good right now not gonna lie,¡± said Jenkins


    Josh stared at him in utter disbelief. "Fuck this, you¡¯re on your own," he declared, resuming his run ahead, leaving Jenkins behind in the haunted hallway.


    In the eerie silence that followed Josh''s departure, Jenkins defiantly shouted, "Well, I don''t need you anyway!" With a flourish, he pulled out his phone, undeterred by the supernatural events around him, and began playing sensual music, swaying to the rhythm with an air of carefree abandon. The haunting atmosphere seemed to momentarily fade as he immersed himself in his impromptu performance.


    As the enchanting melody filled the air, Jenkins, seemingly oblivious to the chilling surroundings, broke into song, his voice carrying through the haunted hallway.


    "In a realm of wonder, where wishes come true,


    We ride on shooting stars, just me and you.


    Through the pages of a spellbound story,


    Our love unfolds, a tapestry of glory.


    Just the two of us, weaving magic in the air,


    Whispers of love, beyond compare.


    In a world of enchantment, where dreams take flight,


    Hand in hand, embracing the mystical night."


    The music abruptly stopped, and with it, the ominous chuckles that had lingered in the air. Jenkins, puzzled, glanced at his phone, only to find the song paused and unresponsive to his attempts to restart it. A strange sense of observation filled the hallway, as if something or someone was silently witnessing his buffoonery.


    In the abrupt silence, Jenkins felt a cold tap on his shoulder, causing him to turn around with a curious expression.


    <hr>


    Josh sprinted through the dimly lit hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. The grim scene of fallen classmates served as a haunting backdrop to his desperate escape. Tripping occasionally over the lifeless bodies, he pressed on until an unexpected collision sent him sprawling to the floor.


    As he pulled himself up, he realized it was Tim who had crashed into him. Before Josh could voice his confusion, Tim''s urgent command cut through the air.


    "FUCKING RUN!" Tim exclaimed, resuming his sprint, and Josh instinctively followed suit. The urgency in Tim''s voice left no room for questions, and they raced through the ominous corridor with a strange, unsettling sound trailing behind them.


    The relentless pursuit drove Josh to cast a quick glance over his shoulder, revealing the source of their terror ¨C an emaciated demon with dry red skin, armed with spear-like teeth and claws. Its malevolent grace propelled it forward with an unnatural speed.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    As they continued running, Tim, having covered considerably more ground, began to slow down in exhaustion. The ominous sound grew louder, resembling blades scratching against the floor. Just as Josh and Tim thought they might escape; the demon executed a display of malevolent grace. It leaped over the two students, landing with eerie precision, and pointed its claws menacingly at them.


    Their sudden halt forced Josh to collide with Tim, and before they could comprehend the situation, the demon''s claws skewered them both. Lifted into the air, they became helpless victims to the demonic creature''s macabre feast. The demon, in a gruesome spectacle, tore into their flesh and bones with spear-like teeth, leaving behind a scene of unimaginable horror.


    <hr>


    Jenkins, still basking in his own carefree world of antics, turned to confront the observer, only to be met with a familiar face ¨C Amber. Yet, she was a stark contrast to the lively girl he once knew. Now pale, bloodied, and clad in torn clothes, she stood before him, a haunting specter of the vibrant person she used to be.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    "Wait, I know you, you''re the one that moved up to our class," Jenkins exclaimed, recognizing her despite the unsettling transformation.


    Amber remained silent; her gaze fixed on Jenkins with an eerie intensity.


    "Oh, shit, you''re the ghost. I was right, the ghost is hot," Jenkins remarked, his irreverence undiminished even in the presence of the supernatural.


    "Follow," she commanded in an ethereal voice, disappearing and reappearing further away, beckoning Jenkins to trail behind her.


    Obliged, the effects of the narcotic he had ingested earlier seemed to intensify, further loosening his inhibitions. He followed Amber as she continued her elusive vanishing act, eventually leading them to the first floor. They stood before the master bedroom, its door shattered by an unseen force.


    "Weapons," Amber uttered before fading away once more.


    "Damn it, I thought we were gonna smash," lamented Jenkins, his casual attitude persisting.


    Undeterred, he entered the bedroom, discovering an open walk-in closet filled with an array of runic weapons.


    "This is cooler, though," he declared with a mischievous grin, seemingly unfazed by the surreal nature of the situation.


    Amber flickered in and out of existence, her ethereal soul navigating the mansion''s unseen realms. Abruptly, she halted, feeling an unfamiliar force enveloping her. She turned to find Sir Crowley and his feline companion.


    "I must confess, I have yet to enjoy the privilege of becoming acquainted with a spectral entity before," Sir Crowley remarked.


    ¡°Monster,¡± uttered Amber in her ethereal voice.


    "Pray forgive my lack of decorum; I extend my heartfelt condolences for your untimely departure, my lady. Yet, I venture to propose that I might be of service to you; considering, of course, that you are, indisputably, a SOUL in need," Sir Crowley spoke.


    ¡°Monster,¡± Amber repeated, slowly retreating.


    Observing her reaction, Sir Crowley questioned, "Do you not possess the art of teleportation?"


    Even as a phantom, fear emanated from Amber''s eyes, a fact not lost on Sir Crowley.


    "Nay, I observed you traverse space upon your arrival. It appears that my presence may be a determining factor in such matters," he pondered.


    "My dear lady, fortune smiles upon you, for I possess scant knowledge of disembodied souls. However, you shall aid me in advancing my research... shall we commence?" he proposed with a wicked grin.

 Chapter 4: Deal

    The possessed Federica relished in the chaos she had unleashed, her laughter echoing amid the charred remains of onlookers and press. Azure flames danced amongst the destruction, sparing none. As the smoke cleared, it revealed that Richard and Captain Connors had been protected by Angela''s ward, showing signs of strain.


    The possessed Federica relentlessly pelted flaming Aether balls at Angela''s ward, taunting, "I can last for an eternity, can you?"


    Angela, visibly overchanneling, showed signs of distress. Blood streamed from her nose, her body temperature skyrocketing, and Ley lines within her burned, causing excruciating pain.


    "Detective, it''s an order¡ªstop overchanneling now," Connors commanded, his face tense.


    "With all due respect, if I hadn''t overchanneled this spell, we would be dead by now," Angela retorted, grappling with the relentless onslaught.


    A sudden distraction emerged¡ªan opening in the sky, releasing a helicopter. Onboard, a man in a suit wove intricate symbols with his hands, casting a spell, "reverte ad pulverem." The man shot a beam of Aether, caught by the possessed Federica, who encircled it with ten arcane circles.


    "You''re joking," Angela muttered in horror.


    The possessed Federica enhanced the beam and sent it back at the man and the entire helicopter, turning them into dust.


    "BLAST, shouldn''t have done that, got carried away," the possessed Federica remarked. A loud blare of trumpets resonated from the sky repeatedly, like a warning. She conjured seven arcane circles, and abruptly as she appeared, she vanished.


    Angela released her ward and collapsed on the floor. Richard and Captain Connors rushed to check on her. Richard called for more ambulances, but apart from Angela, none could be saved¡ªtheir existence reduced to ashes in the aftermath of the supernatural onslaught.


    <hr>


    Amidst the vibrant, infernal plane where fire, ash, scorching brimstone, sizzling sulfur, and molten magma intertwined, the sky hung heavy with ash clouds that appeared almost sentient. Phoenixes, salamanders, fire dragons, and other infernal fauna adorned the landscape like living embers. Perched atop a burning brass mountain, Solomon Blaze, donned in a suit adorned with protective runes, immersed himself in research. He diligently transcribed notes into a rune-covered book, his focus unbroken. By his side, Tsubaki, an assistant, fidgeted with what seemed to be a rune-covered scanner.


    After a dedicated session of study, they retreated to a small, rune-covered metal cabin, its interior resembling more of a laboratory than a living space, with two beds and a bathroom but devoid of any kitchen amenities. Solomon, shedding the runic suit, casually approached a cabinet.


    "Are you hungry?" he asked Tsubaki in a matter-of-fact tone.


    "Yes," she replied.


    Solomon retrieved two potions from the cabinet, handing one to Tsubaki. As the elixir flowed, they felt their hunger fade. Tsubaki, with an impatient edge, asked, "How much longer?"


    "Let''s give it another week. Don''t worry; this data is worth collecting," Solomon reassured her, his composure unwavering.


    "I still don¡¯t see the application. What is the point of observing time dilation between realms when they are always random?" Tsubaki inquired.


    "That¡¯s because you don¡¯t do much planar travel. Let me ask you, how long have we been here?" Solomon inquired.


    "Four weeks," Tsubaki answered.


    "Yes, but when we get back, four days might have gone by, or four years, or four seconds. Nobody knows why. The other planes have a wealth of resources, but everyone is always too scared to enter them due to this fact. So, figure out the problem and make millions," Solomon explained confidently.


    "For the time being I¡¯ve been able to make semi accurate predictions this was all in the job description, didn¡¯t you read it?" asked Solomon.


    "Hmm, I skimmed it. You offered a lot of cash, and I kinda needed to get away for a while," she said flippantly.


    Solomon''s runic phone buzzed with an alert. He gazed at his phone; an intruder alert flashed on the house¡¯s security system. Solomon stared blankly at the device.


    "What¡¯s wrong?" asked Tsubaki.


    "It seems that someone broke into my house. My son should be able to deal with it," he said without worry.


    " Are you kidding? What if he can''t? That''s your son," said Tsubaki, perplexed by his nonchalance.


    Solomon sighed. "Don''t have kids. They''re more trouble than they''re worth. Fine, we''ll stay three more days then go. With time dilation, it doesn¡¯t really matter when we leave," said Solomon as he went to his computer, staring at the screen while digitizing his research.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Diana stepped out of the ambulance, a sense of urgency gripping her as she tried to reach her captain and colleagues, only to be met with silence on the other end. In a moment of determination, she retrieved her phone, bringing up a picture of Richard. A small mirror emerged from her back pocket, and with a quiet incantation, she spoke the words, "Specula illos." the mirror shimmered with enchantment, revealing Richard at the crime scene, making a call. Captain Connors was nearby, attempting to stabilize the visibly injured Angela, surrounded by a desolate landscape of ashes and utter destruction.


    A heavy breath escaped Diana''s lips as fear etched itself across her face. She knew the situation was dire and time was of the essence, so when she spotted an ambulance rushing out of the hospital, likely in response to Richard¡¯s call, she swiftly made arrangements for a squad car to pick her up.


    <hr>


    A spectral presence moved stealthily through the halls of the mansion, weaving amidst the eerie remnants of fallen students. Its ethereal gaze captured the horrifying scene of Josh and Tim being consumed by the emaciated demon¡ªa grotesque spectacle. Swiftly, the observer descended the stairs, witnessing the mangled form of Cynthia reaching the basement bunker, leaving onlookers in shock. It continued its intangible journey through the corridors until it settled on Sir Crowley and a blurred specter. Sir Crowley, aware of the unseen observer, directed his gaze toward it.


    "It is deemed impolite to survey one without heralding one''s arrival. Might my newfound companion and I be granted a modicum of privacy? Away with you!" Sir Crowley declared.


    Sir Crowley abruptly severed the connection, and Thomas, who had initiated the spell, grimaced in pain. Blood streamed from his nose, a consequence of the advanced spellcasting. The unexpected interruption by Sir Crowley added to the strain, leaving Thomas disoriented and nauseous.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    ¡°Not cool dude,¡± Thomas lamented as he struggled to regain composure.


    Turning his attention to Marcus and Roseanne, both unconscious, Thomas leaned down and smacked Marcus across the face.


    ¡°Wake up, I''m not carrying you,¡± Thomas stated.


    Marcus, roused from his stupor, retorted with a grumbled, ¡°Asshole.¡±


    ¡°Dude, I saved your life. If you can call me names, that means you can walk on your own,¡± Thomas asserted.


    Attempting to stand, Marcus found the task daunting, his vitality drained. Meanwhile, Thomas prodded Roseanne¡¯s burnt arm to wake her up. She screamed in pain and swung at him, but Thomas had anticipated the reaction, evading the hit with a deft lean.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with you!?¡± screamed Roseanne.


    ¡°It all started when I was born, but that¡¯s a story for another time. I found the basement, but we¡¯re gonna have to take a detour,¡± Thomas explained.


    ¡°Why?¡± questioned Marcus and Roseanne, their tones accusatory.


    ¡°Yeah, you know what? Sure, don¡¯t listen to the guy that has more experience than you, has saved your asses and put his on the line for it. Don¡¯t follow me if you don¡¯t want to; I don¡¯t care anymore,¡± Thomas declared firmly, before walking away.


    A slight sense of guilt passed between Marcus and Roseanne as they exchanged glances, and reluctantly, they followed Thomas, who wore a sly smile while leading the way.


    Carefully navigating the halls bathed in crimson light, Marcus''s curiosity got the better of him.


    "So, what are you doing here anyway? I don''t remember you being invited," he questioned.


    "Yeah, creep," added Roseanne.


    "Gods above, you guys are so ungrateful. If you gotta know, I got kicked out of my party and knew there''d be free booze here, but I definitely did not sign up for this," Thomas explained.


    "What did you do?" inquired Roseanne in her typical accusatory tone.


    "Some people really take offense to having their minds read," Thomas replied flippantly.


    "I knew it, creep. The sunglasses indoors give you away," said Roseanne.


    "Hey, this is more than just sun-," Thomas stopped and signaled the others to halt.


    "Sorry, guys, but there won''t be a detour. Stay behind me, because I said so," asserted Thomas.


    Taken aback, Roseanne was about to question why, but Thomas responded before she could utter a word. Was he reading her mind?


    "Hey, dude, get ready. Tuts, get in the back. I''m serious; you''re gonna slow us down," warned Thomas.


    Furious, Roseanne took a few steps back, as she clenched her fists, he was right.


    Marcus prepared to cast.


    "Try to use ice and winds evocation if you can. Light would be awesome if you''re able," advised Thomas as he brandished his golden chain.


    "Gonna have to settle for ice and wind," replied Marcus.


    The faint sound of blades scraping on the floor grew ominously louder, the menace drawing near.


    "Glacies illum includat," as Marcus prepared to cast, he conjured a ball of frost, ready to unleash it.


    The menacing silhouette of the emaciated demon loomed in the distance; its aura further intensified by the crimson lighting. The demon abruptly halted its advance, freezing in place. Thomas¡¯s face drained of color as he swiftly kicked Marcus away from him. In the next instant, the demon''s spear-like claws occupied the space where Marcus would have been ¨C its speed was uncanny. Thomas attempted to whip it with his chain, but to no avail; the demon vaulted and sidestepped, showcasing its remarkable agility. Realizing that the fiend''s swiftness made ending the fight challenging, Thomas jerked and spun the chain, letting it coil around his right arm. With a wide flaming swing, he tried to strike the demon, but it evaded the attack and impaled his arm with its claws. Thomas gritted his teeth and, using his left arm, drew his rune-covered knife, stabbing the demon in the ribs and turning it into stone.


    Roseanne stood paralyzed, shock coursing through her as she struggled to process the rapid sequence of events. Meanwhile, Marcus, regaining composure after the forceful impact of Thomas''s kick, could only watch as the demon was now petrified, its claws firmly embedded in Thomas''s right arm.


    ¡°FUUUCKK THAT HURTS!¡± howled Thomas in agony.


    He sucked in deep breaths, attempting to stifle the searing pain.


    ¡°OKAY, DUDE, FREEZE IT OFF!¡± Thomas bellowed in urgency.


    Marcus¡¯s eyes widened in sheer horror. ¡°What!?¡± he exclaimed.


    ¡°I... I can¡¯t get it out. Even if I do, I''ll lose too much blood. Freeze it OFF,¡± Thomas said through immense pain.


    ¡°Fuck, glacies illum includat,¡± Marcus incanted, covering Thomas¡¯s arm in ice.


    Thomas gritted his teeth, determined to endure the excruciating agony as the frost burned his nerves. ¡°Okay, now help me pull,¡± he instructed.


    Marcus positioned himself behind Thomas, as they attempted to pull Thomas away from the demon''s clutches. Slowly, his arm started to crack.


    ¡°Rosy, a little help,¡± Marcus called out.


    Breaking from her reverie, Roseanne joined them. Together, they strained and heaved Thomas from the demon''s petrified clutches, the sound of a resounding snap accompanying their efforts as they all fell over.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    <hr>


    In the master bedroom, Jenkins busily unloaded various runic items he had discovered in the walk-in closet onto the duvet. Gathering the four corners of the duvet, he ingeniously fashioned a makeshift bag. Humming a jovial tune, he sauntered out of the bedroom, the runic treasures now in tow.


    <hr>


    In the dimly lit bunker, Cynthia lay sprawled across Kyle''s lap, her breathing heavy, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Alice, filled with urgency, shook Penelope from her slumber.


    "Please, wake up. Cynthia¡¯s gonna die," Alice urgently pleaded, her eyes reflecting the fear that gripped her.


    Penelope stirred groggily from sleep; confusion evident on her face. "What? What happened?" she mumbled.


    "It¡¯s Cynthia," Alice responded, the fear in her voice palpable.


    Penelope''s gaze shifted to Cynthia''s mangled form. Despite knowing her healing abilities might fall short, she reached out to help.


    "claudere vulnus eorum," Penelope chanted, a gentle light emanating from her hands, attempting to mend Cynthia''s wounds. Dishearteningly, the spell proved futile. About to cast a more potent spell, Cynthia gently grasped her hand.


    "Penny, I¡¯m sorry," Cynthia offered an apologetic murmur, tears welling in her eyes.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Penelope''s emotions spilled over, tears streaming down her face as she felt the weight of helplessness. This situation echoed the loss of her father.


    "Hey, Kyle, look at that, I¡¯m crying. Father would be proud," Cynthia managed a strained smile, the effort etched across her face.


    Kyle, haunted by memories of Amber''s demise, felt paralyzed and unable to offer solace.


    Cynthia shifted her gaze to Erick. "Did you see Fed-," Erick started, only to be cut off.


    "She''s possessed, I¡¯m sorry," Cynthia disclosed, her words hanging heavily in the air.


    "Wow, two sorrys in one day. What happened out there?" Erick attempted to lighten the mood, desperate to alleviate the somber atmosphere.


    Erick absorbed the revelation, drawing connections from the fragments of knowledge gleaned from his father''s library, he knew demons could only possess the living. The unsettling reality sank in.


    "Hey, Kyle, I haven¡¯t seen Amber," Cynthia mentioned.


    Kyle struggled to find words, grappling with the harsh truth.


    "I see. I just need to shut my eyes for a bit now. Erick, sorry to put this all on you," Cynthia murmured, closing her eyes in weary resignation.


    Profound silence descended upon the room, heavy with grief and uncertainty, as the group confronted the harsh reality of their circumstances.


    The bunker''s door creaked open slowly, causing Cynthia to awaken. All eyes turned towards the entrance, and the anticipation of the visitor lingered in the air. Erick, however, seemed to sense who it was before anyone spoke.


    "Come on, you heavy bastard," Marcus grunted, appearing at the door with Thomas and Roseanne. Their figures leaned on each other for support, exhaustion evident in every step.


    "Thomas?" Kyle exclaimed in shock.


    "Hey, bro, how they hanging?" Thomas replied, attempting to maintain a nonchalant demeanor despite his evident injuries.


    The trio crumpled to the floor in sheer exhaustion, prompting Penelope hurried to their side, wiping away tears. As she assessed their injuries, she realized the limitations of her healing abilities. Burns adorned Roseanne, Thomas suffered the loss of an arm with frostbite, and in addition to visible wounds, Marcus harbored a deeper affliction.


    "Diagnostica," Penelope chanted, unveiling the extent of Marcus''s condition.


    "I''m fine," Marcus insisted.


    "No, you''re not. Your back is bleeding, and parts of your soul are missing," Penelope asserted with desperation.


    "Oh shit, that''s tough," Marcus muttered, grasping the gravity of the situation.


    Penelope closed the wound on Marcus''s back, pondering the delicate task of restoring his soul. Uncertain of the potential consequences, she hesitated, contemplating the reactions of the others and deciding not to.


    Thomas approached Kyle, offering a casual greeting. "Hey, bro. Wow, Cyn, you look like shit."


    Cynthia shot back, "Same to you."


    Concern etched Kyle''s face as he questioned, "What happened to your arm?"


    "Well, it all started when I got kicked out of my party, but that¡¯s a story for another time," Thomas replied nonchalantly.


    Roseanne, having endured the exhaustion, staggered to a bed and displaced its occupant before collapsing. Erick, worried, asked about Josh and Jenkins.


    "Oh shit, somehow I completely forgot about those guys," Marcus admitted, realization dawning on him.


    "Fuck," Erick echoed, the precarious situation escalating with every passing moment.


    Marcus''s eyes fixated on Cynthia''s battered form.


    "What happened to her?" he inquired.


    "Don''t know, she came here like this," Erick explained.


    "So, you mean we went through all that for nothing?" Marcus expressed his frustration.


    Before the tension could escalate further, Jenkins strolled in, seemingly untouched by the chaos outside.


    "Yo, yo, yo, what¡¯s up party people! You really shouldn¡¯t leave the bunker door open," Jenkins greeted with a smile as he closed the door behind him.


    The shock of seeing Jenkins alive and well resonated through the bunker.


    "You¡¯re alive!?" Marcus and Cynthia exclaimed simultaneously.


    "Yeah, don¡¯t act so surprised. Y¡¯all either look like shit or are depressed as fuck. Come on, lighten up, people, I¡¯m alive," Jenkins declared nonchalantly.


    "And Josh?" Erick inquired.


    "Oh, fuck that guy. He left me to die," Jenkins dismissed.


    "Has anyone seen Tim?" Alice asked, but nobody had seen him.


    "Hey, where¡¯s the hot chick?" Jenkins asked.


    "Oh bro, she was a demon," Marcus revealed.


    "Shit. Anyway, came back with some loot," Jenkins announced, dropping a makeshift bag of runic items.


    "You mean my dad¡¯s stuff," Erick remarked as they sifted through the runic items.


    Cynthia queried, "So you really didn¡¯t run into any demons?"


    "Nope, just a ghost. It was that chick that got moved up to our class, you know, your friend," Jenkins explained as he prepared to take a seat.


    Kyle''s heart plummeted. "You mean Amb-"


    He was abruptly cut off as the bunker door swung wide open, revealing the archdemon Sir Crowley de Moniac.


    "Hail, progeny of the arcane! Worry not, for I come to offer my benevolent aid unto you," proclaimed Sir Crowley.


    Erick, Jenkins, Marcus, Alexander, and Leah, all readied themselves to cast in response to the intruder. The violent swing of the door rousing everyone who was slumbering, including Roseanne. However, two people knew better.


    ¡°STOP!¡± Cynthia and Thomas exclaimed simultaneously, causing everyone to pause.


    "Prudence dictates that you heed the counsel of the seer and simulacrum. The latter of which I extend my apologies for my prior indiscretion, and now perceive that your presence could be of great utility to me,¡± uttered Sir Crowley.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± asked Erick with a great degree of caution.


    "My sincerest apologies for the belated introduction. I am Sir Crowley de Moniac, shvur-zeeler and arch-demon. This feline companion by my side is Bastet. May I inquire as to your identity, beyond being a progeny of the arcane, of course?" intoned Sir Crowley as his cat materialized, seemingly from the shadows.


    Shvur-zeeler; again, his father¡¯s library had equipped him with the knowledge of what that meant.


    ¡°Erick Blaze, this is my house. Someone as polite and well-mannered as you surely wouldn¡¯t want to trespass on someone''s property,¡± asserted Erick.


    ¡°Ah, you are the proprietor of this magnificent abode, a true work of art. I extend my sincerest apologies for the inadvertent trespass, but my sole intention is to offer assistance. Too many budding mages have met untimely ends, and it is time to cease this senseless destruction. I propose to lend my aid; I can facilitate your return to the realm from whence you came,¡± said Sir Crowley.


    ¡°What¡¯s he on about?¡± murmured Jenkins to Marcus.


    ¡°Shh, I¡¯m trynna pay attention,¡± whispered Marcus.


    ¡°Yes, please send us-" Penelope attempted to speak, but Erick cut her off.


    ¡°Silencio,¡± incanted Erick, as Penelope suddenly lost her voice.


    ¡°Sorry Penny, it¡¯s for your own good, everyone get ready," Erick''s voice resonated with a mix of determination and caution as he extracted a golden runic dagger from the bag. Its surface radiated a faint, ethereal glow, signifying its divine properties. Jenkins, Marcus, Alexander, Leah, Alice, Thomas, and Roseanne each assumed their designated positions, their expressions a blend of anticipation and readiness.


    Sir Crowley, unperturbed by the preparations, observed with an air of bemusement. Bastet, his feline companion, purred softly, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that enveloped the bunker.


    "This is a bad idea," commented Thomas, voicing his reservations.


    "Most sagacious indeed, you possess a keen understanding of the workings of my ilk, and your soul exudes the essence of the sovereign¡ªtruly splendid. Do you harbor aspirations to vanquish me?" Sir Crowley questioned.


    Erick subtly gestured with his hand, granting Penelope the ability to speak once more as he redirected his attention.


    ¡°I¡¯m not falling for that one. Listen, Sir Crowley, you strike me as a gambling man, so here is my gamble: if we can so much as scratch you, we win; if not, you get us,¡± laid out Erick.


    "Does he articulate the sentiments of your entire assembly?" Sir Crowley responded.


    ¡°Fuck it, yeah,¡± Thomas proclaimed as he observed others nodding in agreement.


    "Indeed, it is a spectacle of grandeur¡ªa mage, stalwart in defense of his kin, mustering them against the demonic forces, akin to the tales of antiquity. Ah, the nostalgia for the vigor of youth, I accept!" declared Sir Crowley.


    ¡°Bunker; activate protocol ze-¡±


    A resounding clap echoed through the room as Sir Crowley plunged them into utter darkness.


    "Twenty-three serfs, a sovereign, an architect, a nurturer, a champion, a jester, an outlaw, a magician, and a simulacrum. Firstly, let us ensconce the explorer I have obtained previously within the confines of the simulacrum."


    <hr>


    Diana''s squad car brought her back to the scene, and the sight before her was nothing short of horrific. Ash, remnants of the chaos, drifted away in the cold night wind. Angela, on a stretcher, was being loaded into an ambulance, surrounded by a growing number of first responders. Men in suits emerged from black cars, approaching Captain Connors, while three portals opened in the sky, releasing helicopters casting their searchlights to illuminate the scene.


    One of the agents approached Captain Connors, inquiring, "What happened here?"


    While Connors briefed the agents, Richard approached Diana, concern etched on his face. "What happened here? Is Angela going to be okay?" Diana asked.


    Richard explained the unimaginable, describing an attack by a girl casting without incantations. As for Angela, she had overchanneled, causing third-degree damage. She is in a very dire state.


    Diana found it hard to believe. "Connors said that you found out she was in hell, which makes me think I might know what happened," Richard began to unfold his theory about Solomon Blaze''s interplanar research and the possibility that a high school student had inadvertently cast a planar travel spell.


    "That sounds like a real stretch. A high school student wouldn''t be able to cast something like that," Diana voiced her skepticism.


    Richard continued explaining, "It doesn''t have to be successful; it just has to¡ª"


    A deafening explosion interrupted their conversation as a burst of air and ash engulfed everyone. The residence had reappeared, closing the gaping hole. The once-destroyed neighborhood now lay in an eerie silence, the mansion casting a foreboding shadow with no signs of life emanating from within.


    The agent turned to his colleagues, declaring their mission as a search and rescue. He emphasized the need for caution, given the intel that indicated the residence''s connection to the infernal realm. Captain Connors agreed, signaling for assistance from Diana and Richard. Diana, in response, cast a protection spell on herself. The group approached the door with caution, and one of the agents illuminated the darkened interior.


    As the door swung open, the horrifying scene within unveiled itself¡ªan array of mangled bodies scattered across the floor, walls, and furniture. Diana, seasoned as she was in confronting the grim realities of her profession, found it challenging to comprehend the brutality that had unfolded in this residence. The gruesome sight overwhelmed one of the agents, forcing him to retreat as he emptied his stomach outside.


    "Gods, this was violent," Captain Connors remarked, acknowledging the severity of the situation. He turned to Diana, nodding in understanding.


    Diana, attempting to glean information from the spiritual realm, incanted, "Ostende mortuos." Closing her eyes, she awaited the ethereal response.


    "No ghosts," Diana reported, her voice betraying a mixture of relief and sorrow. Preparing for the next revelation, she cast another incantation, "Ostende Vitam."


    "No demons, but there is a group of people underground who are still alive," Diana shared, offering a glimmer of hope amid the grim circumstances.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    With a renewed sense of purpose, the agents and detectives mobilized to find a passage into the basement. Diana, employing her prognostication abilities, quickly located the basement stairs and signaled the others. Together, they descended into the depths, arriving at a sealed bunker. Diana tried to unlock the door with an abnegation spell, but her efforts proved futile.


    "This is going to be difficult to unlock. Are any of you rank A or above abnegators?" Diana inquired, seeking assistance from the agents. However, all of them shook their heads.


    Richard, resourceful as ever, retrieved a pair of runic glasses. After surveying the room, he approached one of the walls and produced a runic key. Turning it against the wall, a fuse box materialized. Opening the box filled with runes, some of which were deactivated, Richard made an observation.


    "Well, whatever happened, they might have disabled parts of the security system," Richard remarked. With a deliberate action, he disabled one of the runes, causing the bunker door to creak open.


    <hr>


    INCIDENT REPORT: IR-1068-ABZ-0423


    On 16/04/1068 at proximately 23:29 a mansion belonging to [redacted] in the Frey neighbourhood disappeared, and was reported at 23:31, first responders and Captain Zackary Connors arrived at the scene at approximately 23:42, the press followed suit at 23:46 drawing a crowd, detective Angela Pichler arrived at 23:53 followed by detective Richard Gautier at 23:57, and detective Diana Esposito on the 17/04/1068 at 00:06. At 00:08 [redacted] a student materialized injured at the scene, she was stabilized and taken to the hospital, detective Esposito accompanied her, and casted; a [redacted] (5 circled spell) [redacted] (sanctioned) to find out what happened to the student. At 00:34 result from detective Esposito¡¯s spell [redacted] managed to find out the residence has been sent to [redacted]. At 00:37 an unknown entity materialized possibly [redacted] and attacked people at the scene by casting unknown spells, Angela Pichler cast: [redacted] (6 circled spell) [redacted](unsanctioned but justified) 64 civilians, 21 uniformed officers, 11 first responders were killed, and one detective was injured (Angela Pichler). [redacted sentence] 00:38 [redacted sentence], the entity left at 00:39 due to hearing a seraphim¡¯s call. At 01:01 more responders came to the scene and stabilized detective Pichler. [redacted sentence]. The residence reappeared at 01:31, the detectives went into the residence [redacted]. There were an estimated 126 dead, 2 gravely injured, 3 injured, 7 minor injured, 17 uninjured and [redacted]. All the living students [redacted] seemed to be in a coma of some sort. 01:37 Detective Esposito collapsed due to burnout.


    ONGOING INVESTIGATION:


    17/04/1068


    08:38


    [redacted] is believed to be in [redacted] conducting research and has been for [redacted], he might not have been involved in this but will need to be questioned. The reason for the residence disappearance and reappearance is still unclear, due to [redacted], [redacted] must not be ruled out, however Detective Gautier presented an alternative theory. The [redacted] is unregistered and unresponsive, no [redacted] has been discovered further investigation has revealed that this [redacted] possesses [redacted] which is unprecedented efforts are being made to locate [redacted]. All the students are still unresponsive, efforts are being made to wake them up, all injured students have been stabilized and all living guardians have been contacted. The exact time dilation from dimensional travel of the student has been estimated at a factor of 0.33 when calculating for D, due to this we can estimate they have spent 30 to 35 minutes in [redacted] from their perspective. Due to [redacted] as well as knowing the most about the case, clearance is requested for Captain Connors, Detective Esposito, Detective Gautier and Detective Pichler. The whereabouts of the entity are still unknown. All runic items in the residence have been seized pending investigation.

 Chapter 5: Whispers

    Diana awoke in the hospital, her mind shrouded in confusion. Burying her head in her hands, she attempted to clear the fog slowly dissipating from her brain. Rising from the uncomfortable hospital bed, she changed into her clothes, grappling to piece together the events that led her here. Recollections flooded back¡ªa tumultuous week, days spent in and out of court, closing multiple cases, and the previous day''s peculiar incident involving a missing house. It hit her like a sudden revelation¡ªthe devastation, the mangled bodies of teenagers, and her collapse due to exhaustion and an excess of morning potions.


    As Diana grappled with her thoughts, Catalina burst into song with "Es-po-sito, acaba de salir de un coma, su nombre es Esposito, todo trabajo y nada de diversi¨®n, su nombre es Esposito, nunca tiene relaciones ¨ªntimas, su nombre es Espositoooooo!¡±,


    Catalina''s entrance carried a radiant and sanguine energy, infusing life into her every gesture. Her dynamic movements seemed to sync with the vibrant spirit pulsating within her. A captivating smile lit up her face, inviting others to partake in the dance of joy it promised. Catalina, a sun-kissed package of vitality and charm, exuded magnetic energy in any space she occupied.


    "Sooo, Esposito, guess who''s no longer suspended?" Catalina exclaimed, interrupting Diana''s reflections.


    Diana, taken aback, remarked, "Not even a ''are you okay?''"


    Catalina, undeterred, noted Diana''s improved state and urged her, "You got more than 3 hours of sleep; you''re more than okay. Come on, let''s go see Angela."


    Concern crept into Diana''s voice as she inquired, "Is she going to be okay?"


    Shrugging, Catalina nonchalantly replied, "Eh, dunno."


    The door swung open again, revealing Richard. Spotting Diana, he offered a relieved smile before his gaze shifted to Catalina.


    "Oh gods, not you," Richard lamented.


    Catalina, undeterred by Richard''s reaction, teased, "Ayy, Richy, come on, you love me. By the way, I''m back."


    "What? Why? You''re a goddamn public menace. Is Huang back too?" Richard retorted.


    "Nah, he''s in New Sodom, he went to blow off steam right after the suspension. I would''ve gone, but he didn''t want to spot me. Which leads me to my next point¡ªcould I borrow a hundred¡ª" Richard cut Catalina off.


    "No!" Richard exclaimed firmly.


    Catalina then fixed her gaze on Diana, adopting a puppy-eyed expression.


    "Yeah, I''ll let you borrow some money," Diana relented.


    "Alright, then you''re fine. Let''s go check on Angela," said Richard, shifting the atmosphere of the room. They gave Diana space to change, and together, they embarked on a journey to a different wing of the hospital to inquire about Angela''s condition. Diana''s mind was burdened with concern, recalling the precarious state she had last seen Angela in through the mirror. What had transpired exactly?


    "What happened to Angela exactly?" asked Diana, her worry palpable.


    "She overchanneled; to the 3rd degree, I think. She saved our lives," Richard said, his gaze lowered.


    Diana''s heart sank as she understood the implications. First-degree overchanneling resulted in symptoms like increased body temperature, lightheadedness, sweating, and nosebleeds, usually manageable with rest. However, second-degree involves burning living tissue, and third-degree caused even more tissue damage, leyline breakdown both potentially leading to death. Angela might survive, but her spellcasting abilities would likely be forever altered. Diana felt fear for Angela''s future but was thankful it wasn''t to the fourth degree.


    As they reached the hospital wing where Angela was kept, a sign read "NO CASTING." Using their badges to bypass the nurses, they entered Angela''s room. Angela was connected to an IV and various runic machines, faint blue veins visible beneath her skin.


    "Did they contact her family?" asked Diana.


    "Her father is in and out of meetings. He said he''ll swing by this evening. Her brothers are still deployed, and we haven''t reached her sister yet," explained Richard.


    The doctor entered the room, and all eyes turned to him.


    "What''s her condition?" blurted out Diana.


    "We''ve managed to heal her as best we can, but her leylines are severely damaged. She might not be able to cast when she wakes up, and if she can, it won''t be at the same level as before. Hopefully, your department covers leyline healing. It won''t be cheap," the doctor stated matter-of-factly.


    Diana felt a sense of relief. While Angela''s aetheric abilities had suffered, it was a far better outcome than the alternative.


    The doctor turned to Richard. "Is this what you wanted to see me about, detective?"


    "No, just wanted to know if you could tell me which of the unconscious students are over 18. This would help with our investigation," said Richard.


    "Okay, I''ll have a nurse get back to you on that," replied the doctor before turning to Diana. "As for you, we''ve given you some restorative salves, but be careful with your morning potion intake."


    Diana, Richard, and Catalina stole one last glance at Angela in her hospital room before venturing out to continue their investigation. The hospital''s cold corridors echoed with their footsteps as they delved into the unfolding situation.


    ¡°Only a few of them are 18 years old, so your prognostication won¡¯t cover all of them. Fortunately, the kids who lived in that mansion fall into that category,¡± Richard informed Diana.


    Diana nodded, her thoughts seemingly lost in contemplation.


    ¡°There''s something else. Amongst the students, there was a homunculus. Its owner, one Theo Marvel, retrieved it around 6 am. He¡¯s set for interrogation at 2 pm. If you''re not done by 1 pm, I¡¯ll swing by the station,¡± Richard explained.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not waiting around here. I¡¯ll go check out the scene. Adios,¡± Catalina declared, striding away. Richard considered stopping her but opted to let her unveil the surprise on her own.


    As they approached the hospital wing housing the unconscious students, they sought out the doctor to get a rundown of the conditions.


    ¡°We''re slightly unsure. We¡¯ve healed all the injured ones, but they¡¯re not emerging from their coma. No sign of any spell''s influence either,¡± the doctor explained.


    Richard nodded politely. ¡°Don¡¯t worry; we¡¯ll take it from here.¡±


    Walking away, Richard turned to Diana, whispering, ¡°Did you hear that? Not under the influence of any spell. You know what I¡¯m thinking?¡±


    ¡°They were in hell, so it could be a demonic art of some sort,¡± said Diana nervously.


    ¡°Wow, how do you know what those are?¡± Richard asked, taken aback.


    Exasperated by Richard¡¯s condescension, Diana replied, ¡°I helped you study for your invocation finals. Remember, I picked up a few things.¡±


    Entering Erick¡¯s hospital room, he slept soundly, the ECG beeping steadily. Richard gestured to Diana as she approached Erick, her heart quickening. Her breaths grew heavy, and Richard turned to her, curious.


    ¡°Something wrong, Esposito?¡± Richard inquired.


    ¡°It¡¯s probably still the morning potions,¡± Diana reasoned.


    Approaching Erick, she intoned, ¡°Mihi suam fabulam revela.¡±


    She saw a 9-year-old Erick at a funeral, a red-haired girl of the same age softly sobbing beside him. This wasn¡¯t what Diana sought. Trying again, Erick and the girl were eating dinner alone in a vast, empty mansion. No, not it. Diana needed something more recent. She cast again; a 17-year-old Erick spoke with his father, who mentioned being gone for the next few months, possibly missing his birthday. Birthday! Diana knew she was getting closer. Casting again, Erick drank with friends in the mansion''s hallway. This was it, the night Diana was searching for.


    The scene settled, Erick surrounded by friends¡ªPenelope, Josh, Jenkins, and Alexander.


    ¡°Hey, anyone seen Federica?¡± slurred Erick.


    ¡°She was in the kitchen with Cynthia and me when the party started but I haven¡¯t seen her since then,¡± Penelope replied.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯d be feinin for the Bday BJ too, bro,¡± laughed Jenkins.


    Suddenly, Diana couldn¡¯t see anything. She couldn¡¯t even leave the spell; she felt trapped, suffocated.


    A distinguished voice spoke, ¡°It is most unbecoming for an enforcer of the law to engage in the act of spying upon one''s private memories. I firmly believe we are all entitled to a modicum of privacy, a sanctuary for our thoughts and recollections.¡±


    Diana broke free¡ªor it was more like she was allowed to. She breathed heavily, retreating from Erick.


    ¡°Hey, are you okay?¡± Richard asked.


    But Diana did not respond. She was focused on the voice she heard. It was very familiar; she was sure she heard it recently too. It then struck her; it was the same voice as the demon with whom Rebecca made a deal to come back to the surface.


    ¡°Hey, Diana!¡± Richard shouted, filled with worry.


    Diana was taken aback. ¡°I think that kid might have made a deal with a demon,¡± she slowly uttered.


    <hr>


    Cynthia found herself sinking into the umbra, surrounded by a void devoid of light, sound, or thought¡ªa profound emptiness. Was this death? No, for that which is not alive cannot die. Yet, she was not alone in the umbra; a small ember accompanied her.


    Awakening abruptly, Cynthia discovered herself in a pod, submerged in a viscous fluid that allowed her to breathe. Memories flooded back; she hadn''t experienced this since her birth. However, a question lingered¡ªwhat had happened? Attempting to recall sent searing pain through her synapses, but amidst the agony, she grasped a memory of a distinguished man with demonic eyes. Overwhelmed, she ceased her efforts to recollect, her eyes scanning the surroundings of the pod. The clear viscous liquid made everything blurry, hindering her from seeing the environs. Muffled steps approached, and despite the anticipation of encountering her father or Galatea, an unexpected fear gripped her. Fear? Why?


    The viscous liquid drained, and the pod opened, revealing Galatea''s doll-like smile behind the glass. Cynthia emerged, and Galatea handed her clothes and a towel.


    ¡°Hello, Cynthia. I hope you had a pleasant recovery. Father was quite worried about you,¡± Galatea greeted.


    ¡°Why? What happened?¡± Cynthia inquired.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know, but when you were found, you were almost out of operation,¡± Galatea explained.


    Cynthia needed a moment to process. She was almost "dead"¡ªthough, as an artificial being, death wasn¡¯t the accurate term. Regardless, it was her "life."


    ¡°I see,¡± Cynthia whispered, her eyes wide, as she wiped herself off and got dressed.


    ¡°What¡¯s the last thing you remember?¡± Galatea asked.


    ¡°I was at the party, drinking in the kitchen, and then nothing... except a man with strange eyes. That¡¯s all,¡± Cynthia recalled.


    Galatea listened intently.


    ¡°Maybe the other people at the party know. I didn¡¯t know I could get this drunk. Father must be furious,¡± Cynthia lamented.


    Galatea''s face maintained its usual enigmatic smile but tilted in intrigue.


    ¡°You seem different,¡± Galatea noted.


    ¡°Different how?¡± Cynthia inquired.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but you seem more like Master Theo,¡± Galatea observed.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The laboratory doors opened, and Theo entered, slowly approaching Cynthia. Galatea turned to Theo.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t seem to remember what happened to her,¡± Galatea informed.


    ¡°Hmm, really. You were in quite a dire state¡ªcuts, burns, even missing an arm,¡± Theo remarked.


    Cynthia examined her entire body; there was nothing amiss. It was unfathomable that she could have returned from such a state.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. As long as your brain stays intact, I can always repair any of you. Now, I have to be interviewed by the police, as they want to know if you were involved in what happened,¡± Theo explained.


    ¡°What happened exactly?¡± Cynthia questioned.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Catalina relished the smooth journey in her car, savoring a bagel as she casually made a left turn. Suddenly, she found herself in the Frey Neighborhood, an area that exuded an air of affluence. Intrigued, she ventured deeper into the suburb. Abruptly, ash clouds enveloped her windshield, only to disperse and reveal a hauntingly desolate scene. The once picturesque neighborhood now lay in ruins, with cars and houses reduced to ashes. Amidst the devastation stood a foreboding mansion, swarming with law enforcement and onlookers, cordoned off by runic yellow tape.


    Undeterred, Catalina parked her car and confidently presented her badge to the uniformed officers, granting her entry into the eerie mansion. Once inside, a gruesome tableau unfolded before her ¨C bloodstains splattered the surroundings, markings on the floor outlined numerous bodies. As she absorbed the chilling scene, a mysterious man in a nondescript suit approached her.


    In a matter-of-fact tone, he inquired, "Who might you be?"


    Flashing her badge, Catalina identified herself, "Detective Alvarado. You?"


    The man responded, "Special Agent [redacted]."


    Catalina blinked, as if the agent¡¯s name had vanished from her mind just as quickly as she heard it. She narrowed her eyes.


    "Are you a fed?" she asked.


    "Yes. Can I inquire about your presence here, Detective Alvarado?" the agent responded.


    Catalina explained, "I came to inspect the scene. My colleagues responded to the call, and I thought I could lend a hand."


    The agent, unimpressed, countered, "Unfortunately, you haven''t been granted clearance. Didn''t Detective Gautier inform you?"


    Caught off guard, Catalina thought, no, he didn''t. Why didn''t he? Is he mad because I asked to borrow money? That guy needs to learn to relax. Frustrated but resigned, she bid farewell, "Okay then, adios," before walking away.


    <hr>


    Diana eased onto her hospital bed, breaths escaping heavily, and beads of sweat streaming down her forehead. She surrendered to fatigue, closing her eyes, as Richard lingered at her side, his expression etched with intense concentration.


    "So, the others experienced the same blackout in hell after being transported?" Richard inquired.


    "Yeah, it''s strange... Did they all make a deal with that demon?" Diana responded, her breaths weighed down by exhaustion.


    "And what about that girl, Penelope Scarlet? What''s your plan with her?" Richard pressed.


    "I''ll just have a conversation with her," Diana replied between labored breaths.


    "Alright, I''ll leave that to you. Rest up; I have to interrogate Theo Marvel. You could use more rest; you''re still a bit weak," Richard advised before heading towards the exit. Diana made no objections, closing her eyes as she heard the door close behind him.


    Her mind raced with the information she had gleaned through her prognostication spell on the affected students. Something had triggered the descent of the house into hell, a mystery yet to be unraveled. Starting from outside the school, Thomas initially appeared suspicious, but her divination revealed he was merely there due to a party expulsion.


    As they continued investigating, the students, all in comas, presented an enigma. Diana hypothesized a demonic art as the cause, given the absence of physical or ethereal abnormalities. Another pressing concern was the demon that surfaced during the incident. It remained at large, posing a potential threat.


    Then there was Penelope, a tragic figure in this unfolding drama. Diana couldn''t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. As her thoughts meandered through the complexities of the situation, fatigue overcame her, and she succumbed to a drifting sleep, anticipating the challenges that awaited upon waking.


    Diana found herself standing amidst a desolate wasteland, where seven towering pillars reached towards the obscured sky. Each pillar bore a distinct composition, weaving a surreal tapestry of darkness. The first, sculpted from ice, cradled a pale, red-haired woman atop it, her attire fashioned from sinuous snakes. Another pillar, crafted from the remnants of deceased rats, hosted a muscular, bearded man surrounded by swirling flies. A third, composed of burning oil in perpetual motion, supported a woman with a visage divided between two faces, draped in the pelts of foxes. The fourth pillar, ablaze with fire and brimstone, elevated a woman with silky hair, her sole attire consisting of black feathers. The next, fashioned from bloodied wheels, presented a confident man wearing a lion''s head as a crown.


    Continuing the macabre display, a pillar entwined with snakes bore an anxious man adorned in a bear''s pelt. The final pillar, constructed from severed limbs, upheld a muscular ebony man wearing the pelt of a wolf. Diana gazed upward, where a voice resonated through the desolate expanse.


    "Seven spirits for the nascent prince beneath the columns of vice, one itinerant heeding the summons. Four resilient transgressors ascend to sovereignty under a fresh edict, a myriad serpents snapping at the heel. The erstwhile fallen knight metamorphoses into the divine," echoed the haunting voice from above.


    "Wake up," reverberated the command in Diana''s ears, forcefully wrenching her from the clutches of a vivid nightmare. As she began to stir, her gaze fell upon her hands, where she keenly felt the Aether''s flawless choreography through her leylines. Every cell in her body throbbed with vitality, a telltale sign ¨C attunement.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    In the ensuing moments, a cascade of questions inundated her thoughts. Had she attuned before or after the disquieting dream? The answer materialized with sudden clarity; it occurred before. A quick glance in the mirror validated it, the azure flames of Aether flickering within her eyes. Pausing to acknowledge the silent guidance of the Aether, she stood and retraced her steps to Erick''s room. The door creaked open, revealing a figure positioned by the bedside.


    Solomon exuded an enigmatic presence. His impeccably trimmed goatee and flawlessly fitted suit bespoke a meticulous precision. Eyes radiating piercing intellect held a commanding aura, subtly tinged with condescension. As those eyes met Diana''s, amazement yielded to curiosity.


    "Attunement, amazing. I¡¯ve never had the pleasure myself. Tell me, is this your first time? I¡¯ve read studies suggesting attunement is not a singular event," Solomon remarked.


    "Second time, Solomon Blaze, I presume?" Diana queried.


    "Yes. Do you know that because you''re a detective or due to your attunement?" Solomon inquired.


    "A bit of both, really. But I need to question you about..." Diana began, only to be interrupted.


    "Why question when you¡¯re attuned to your main aspect, prognostication, I presume? All you need to do is wait to see what the Aether tells," Solomon interjected.


    He had a point; little could be concealed during this attuned moment. Listening, she posed a question. "Was your library secure?"


    "Absolutely. I only permitted my son and niece access when I was home," Solomon affirmed.


    "How was it secured precisely?" Diana probed.


    "Oh, I hired a runic company. They provide runic security and other services," Solomon disclosed.


    Aether whispered truths to Diana; the runes in his security system hadn''t been disabled, but rather, they had failed. Could Richard have been right all along? The glimmer of Aether in her eyes faded, and so did her attunement.


    "And just like that, a great mage is gone. I am aware of my son and niece''s condition, but what exactly happened?" Solomon inquired.


    "Well, all we know is that your house was transported to hell and back. But if you''d excuse me, I have to go," Diana declared before hurrying out of the room.


    Solomon made a call before leaving Erick¡¯s room, his enigmatic presence lingering.


    <hr>


    Richard pulled up a chair for Theo to sit, the chair proving a tad wobbly, much like the unsteady table before them. The light in the interrogation room emitted an off-color glow, flickering intermittently. Despite the room''s lack of windows and the sealed door, an uncomfortable cold breeze pervaded the space. Seating himself opposite Theo, Richard placed photos of Cynthia''s battered body on the shaky table.


    "So, Mr. Marvel, as the CEO of AlchymaLife Studios, a prominent homunculus-producing company, care to explain why we discovered one of your homunculi in a house filled with dead and injured students?" Richard inquired.


    "Are you serious? That''s why you brought me down here?" questioned Theo.


    "Just ensuring we cover all bases; this is an ongoing investigation," Richard replied.


    "Well, if you''re asking, you might not be aware, but we occasionally field test our homunculi to enhance their believability. We check if they can pass as other people. Most of the time, they get found out, but not my little Cynthia here¡ªshe''s quite the creation," Theo explained.


    Richard was taken aback. "Surely, that can''t be legal."


    "The bill passed ten years ago," Theo asserted.


    Although skeptical, Richard found himself in an interrogation room with Theo. On the other side of the one-way mirrors, someone was casting a truth spell, making it impossible for Theo to lie, as he would also have had to removed all runic items before entering the precinct and undergone a potion screening.


    "Your homunculus is a bit different from the others. It has leylines, allowing it to cast spells. A prototype, I assume?" Richard probed.


    "Yes, I would appreciate it if all findings regarding her were sealed once your investigation is over. After all, if one of my competitors got hold of this information, it wouldn''t be great for me or your department," Theo proposed.


    "My department?" questioned Richard.


    "Yes, of course. I''d have to sue for financial damages," Theo warned.


    "Let''s try to avoid that. Has your homunculus ever exhibited violent behavior or caused harm to an actual human?" Richard inquired.


    "For behavior, she might have a tone and manner of speaking that some people could classify as blunt or rude. Unless in a dueling context, she hasn''t harmed anyone," Theo responded.


    "How many circles can her leyline allow her to cast spells to, exactly?" Richard questioned.


    "For now, she can cast up to two-circled spells safely, and three circles if she overchannels a tad," Theo explained.


    "Interesting. What aspects?" Richard asked.


    "Alteration, Aetheromancy, and Evocation," Theo listed.


    "No Invocation?" Richard probed.


    They were both abruptly interrupted by the shrill ring of Richard¡¯s phone. A glance at the caller ID revealed that it was Diana on the line.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Richard declared, stepping out to answer the call. As he made his way out, Catalina emerged from the opposite side.


    ¡°Mama wevo, what are you doing, answering a call during an interrogation?¡± Catalina queried.


    Richard gestured for Catalina to hold on, and he answered the call. His demeanor transformed from stern concentration to a smirk that revealed his triumph as he absorbed the information from Diana. After hanging up, he returned to the room, extending his card to Theo.


    "You''re free to go, Mr. Marvel. There''s been a new development in the case. Call me if you think of anything," Richard announced with a newfound sense of purpose. Leaving the room, he strode towards Captain Connors''s office. Upon entering, it was evident that the captain had been anticipating his arrival.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already received Detective Esposito¡¯s call. This doesn¡¯t prove your theory, just makes it more plausible,¡± Captain Connors asserted.


    ¡°Sure, okay,¡± Richard responded nonchalantly.


    ¡°Get back to the mansion. Esposito will be waiting for you. She hasn¡¯t analyzed that place yet. And bring Catalina with you,¡± Captain Connors instructed, his tone leaving little room for negotiation.


    Richard''s car eased to a stop amid the desolation enveloping the Blaze residence. As both Richard and Catalina emerged from the car, a familiar bickering session commenced.


    "You owe me a new donut," Catalina asserted.


    "I told you, no food in the car," retorted Richard.


    "I haven¡¯t eaten all day," Catalina pleaded.


    "Sounds like your problem," Richard dismissed.


    Diana approached them, weariness etched across her face. "Guys, not now," she interjected. The bickering ceased as they followed Diana into the eerie mansion, flashing their badges to cross the yellow runic tape. In the living room, Catalina surveyed the bloodstains and forensic tape while a nondescript man approached them.


    ¡°Good to see you again, Detective Gautier,¡± greeted the man.


    ¡°Have you found any evidence of cultist activity?¡± Richard inquired.


    ¡°No, not yet. Anything new from your end?¡± the man responded.


    ¡°Yes, actually. We just need to verify something,¡± Richard replied, a cocky smirk playing on his lips.


    Diana sighed. "Let''s just get on with it."


    The trio of detectives proceeded to the basement. Diana, focused on the fuse box, verified that the runes had simply failed rather than being disabled. Her prognostication spell confirmed that a few fuses had given out, leaving the library unprotected and the mansion''s countermeasure system inactive¡ªpotentially costing the students their lives.


    Moving to the library, the detectives found books scattered haphazardly across the room. Diana, deep in thought, sat down.


    ¡°Mihi suam fabulam revela,¡± she chanted.


    In her vision, Diana witnessed Federica attempting to cast a spell from one of the books. The spell backfired, the Aether surged through her, and then darkness enveloped her.


    Diana sighed, and Richard, understanding the situation, exclaimed, ¡°So, I was right. Well, well, well. Of course, the best detective had the correct theory. I can''t wait until Angela wakes up.¡±


    "This is gonna last another month, isn¡¯t it?" Catalina remarked.


    "Yep," Richard confirmed, sporting a cocky grin.


    <hr>


    The sky bore a darkened red hue, as imps flitted around a desolate landscape filled with demonic horrors. A gathering of these infernal entities surrounded a lake of blood, resembling an oasis in a nightmarish desert. The stench of sulfur hung heavy in the air, while the howls and cackles of imps echoed throughout the hellish expanse. Though the vast landscape was expansive, the suffocating heat felt akin to being trapped in an oven.


    For Federica, possessed and hovering over this infernal realm, it felt like home. She soared towards a towering black mountain adorned with thousands of seemingly lifeless bodies. Upon a gruesome throne sat a barbaric-looking figure with great bloody horns, indulging in what seemed like a meal. Federica landed in front of the demon, observing his use of a hollowed-out skull as a bowl, small bones as chopsticks, and intestines consumed like noodles. The demon paused, taking notice of Federica.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    ¡°RANK?¡± he bellowed.


    ¡°Legionnaire,¡± she responded.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± the demon inquired.


    ¡°Your throne, Abaddon. This body I''ve acquired is like nothing you¡¯ve ever seen before,¡± declared the possessed Federica.


    Abaddon slurped the guts and discarded the skull. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since a no-name little shit DARED to challenge me!¡± he thundered.


    Nine arcane circles formed around the possessed Federica as she conjured a gigantic sword made of pure Aether. The solid Aether resembled a transparent blue crystal, radiating azure flames.


    ¡°After I kill you, I¡¯ll have a name of my own,¡± she grinned wickedly.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    In a swift motion, the gigantic sword cl Abaddon, splitting him in half. The victory seemed too easy, thought the demon inhabiting Federica.


    ¡°You know, most demons think these are my victims, but no, I just like to have spares,¡± remarked an elven-like creature, now possessed by Abaddon, rising from the ground. Simultaneously, all the other bodies that lay dormant up the mountain suddenly rose.

 Chapter 6: A New Name

    The air was choked with the pungent scent of sulfur, suffocating heat bearing down upon Federica as she found herself ensnared by the clutches of a nameless demon. Surrounding her were thousands of vessels, each inhabited by the arch demon Abaddon, robbing their occupants of their free will.


    With her aetheric azure blade in hand, Federica assumed a battle stance, her determination evident despite the overwhelming odds.


    "Let''s have some fun!" echoed Abaddon''s voice simultaneously from his numerous forms, ¡°Ars Maleficarum : daemonificatio,¡± his numerous forms incanted as each sprouted horns preparing for the confrontation.


    With a swift dash, the possessed Federica lunged towards the elven-like figure of Abaddon, her blade slicing through the air, only to miss its mark as Abaddon effortlessly evaded her strike. Suddenly, a hulking vessel crept up behind Federica, entangling her in a hold. In an instant, three magic circles materialized around them, pulsating with pure Aether that ignited into azure flames, consuming the vessel.


    Launching herself into the air, Federica dodged a barrage of arrows unleashed by several possessed bodies as they incanted ¡°Ars Maleficarum : daemonificatio.¡± To her horror, the arrows twisted in mid-air, transforming into malevolent entities with wicked grins and horned shafts. Federica conjured nine arcane circles, forming a portal that swallowed the sinister projectiles whole.


    One of Abaddon¡¯s vessels quietly incanted ¡°Ars maleficarum: Theatrum Macabrum.¡±


    An agile host, resembling a pale woman with bat wings and a bloodied robe whose smile betrayed her vampiric nature, engaged Federica in a frenzied swordfight. Despite Federica''s deft maneuvers, more vampiric vessels joined the fray, overwhelming her with relentless attacks, drawing blood from her uncrystallized flesh.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Summoning her arcane prowess, Federica conjured eight more circles, enveloping herself and her adversaries in a cloud of pure Aether. When the mist cleared, the vampiric vessels lay defeated, leaving Federica battered but standing, her uncrystallized form marred with bloody gashes.


    As a female fallen angel approached, Federica questioned, breathless, "How? We dybbuk cannot possess the dead. How did you possess the vampires?"


    Abaddon, speaking through the fallen angel, chuckled wickedly. "You dared to challenge me without knowing my demonic arts. I''m torn between calling you brave or simply foolish."


    ¡°Ars beneficarum: sanctum armamentum,¡± with a flick of her hand, Abaddon conjured a glowing holy chain, ensnaring Federica''s foot with burning, holy fire, eliciting screams of agony. With lightning speed, Abaddon plummeted to the ground, dragging Federica along with the chain and smashing her into the earth with bone-shattering force, the impact creating a billowing cloud of dust. When the dust cleared, Federica was nowhere to be seen.


    "Disappointing," Abaddon uttered with contempt as she pulled back the holy chain, revealing Federica''s severed foot at its end.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    The heart monitor''s incessant beep filled the hospital room with an unnerving rhythm, while the cold atmosphere seemed to press down on Stephen''s shoulders as he sat by Kyle''s bedside, clutching his hand tightly, hoping for any sign of awakening. His mind drifted back to the earlier moments when he had witnessed the gut-wrenching sight of Thomas''s missing arm ¨C an image he couldn''t bear to associate with his own sons.


    A faint thud from somewhere down the corridor snapped him out of his reverie, prompting Stephen to rise and investigate. Emerging from Erick''s room, a woman appeared, visibly exhausted, followed by Solomon.


    "Sorry, I¡¯m afraid this might be beyond my capabilities. You''d need an Arch Magus to help them," the woman confessed, her breath strained.


    Solomon frowned. "And I assume that comes with a hefty bill?"


    The woman narrowed her eyes. "Your concern is the bill when it''s your son''s life at stake?"


    Rolling his eyes, Solomon replied, "Thank you for your assistance. I''ll explore other options. Your payment will be arranged shortly."


    "I''ll inform the doctor of what¡¯s really going on with them," the woman said curtly before storming off, clearly irked by Solomon''s demeanor.


    Solomon''s gaze shifted to Stephen. "Detmer, it''s been a while. Theo mentioned you two still keep in touch."


    "Occasionally. You haven''t changed much," Stephen remarked, his disappointment evident as he looked away.


    "It''s a powerful demonic art, as Yuki just discovered," Solomon explained.


    "But what could have led to this?" Stephen inquired.


    "Does it really matter? I''ll find a solution, or my son will pull through. This is hardly worse than what we''ve faced," Solomon asserted.


    Stephen tensed, feeling a nerve struck by Solomon''s words. His once genial expression now grew even more somber.


    "Join me and Theo. You''d have the means to fix your son''s arm," Solomon offered.


    "I left all that behind¡ª" Stephen began, but Solomon cut him off, already walking away.


    "You''re a sentimental man, and this is for your son. Do you really have a choice?" Solomon''s voice trailed off as he left Stephen to ponder.


    Returning to Kyle''s room, Stephen sank into a chair, contemplating Solomon''s proposition. Perhaps with Theo''s resources, he could afford an Arch Magus to save his sons. But Theo wasn''t like Solomon ¨C he might do it out of friendship rather than business. After several minutes lost in thought, Stephen finally reached for his phone, deciding to call Theo.


    <hr>


    In the ethereal embrace of an azure light, Federica, still possessed, found herself transported to another realm of hell. A shroud of darkness enfolded her, illuminated only by a faint scarlet moon hovering in the desolate sky. Crimson wisps of flame danced around her, a spectral symphony heralding her descent. Yet, as she attempted to rise, her missing foot betrayed her balance, and she met the floor in an undignified collision.


    Undeterred, she conjured five arcane circles, weaving them into existence, crafting a crystalline foot of Aether to replace the absent limb. In a burst of determination, seven more circles materialized, and she unleashed a torrent of pure Aether into the umbral heavens, her frustration echoing in a scream that resonated through the shadowed expanse. This unfolding chaos contradicted the demon within her; possessing this new formidable form, it should have triumphed over Abaddon. Yet, the power it now wielded was unfamiliar, manipulating Aether¡ªan unnatural dance for demonic entities.


    From the obsidian depths emerged the haunting cadence of footsteps on wet ground. Swiftly, Federica erected nine arcane circles, propelling an Aetheric star into the inky sky, revealing the ground beneath her not as dampness but as a dark, viscous liquid concealing a myriad of soulless bodies. However, her apprehension was heightened not by this unsettling revelation but by the presence of Sir Crowley, enveloped in the same scarlet wisps.


    Sir Crowley, extending his arm towards the possessed teenager, uttered ¡°Taking in possession of another''s corporeal form and thus stripping them of their autonomy, you demons of the eastern realms exhibit a most unseemly and grotesque manifestation.¡±


    Now enveloped in an inky miasma, Federica struggled to breathe, and within this shadowy baptism, the rightful owner of the body reasserted control. Gasping for breath, Federica felt the weight of her liberation, courtesy of Sir Crowley. Yet, wisdom prevailed over naivety.


    ¡°Why? What do you want from me,¡± Federica''s voice trembled.


    ¡°You appeared remarkably composed despite having been recently afflicted with possession,¡± noted Sir Crowley.


    Federica¡¯s breath turned to chuckles. "Pray, forgive my impertinence, but might I inquire if all is well, my lady? It appears that your mental equipoise may be in a state less steadfast than heretofore presumed,¡± responded Sir Crowely.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just I really fucked up, didn¡¯t I? I killed all those people and I think I even killed Cynthia too, shit I even almost got killed by a demon hive mind,¡± Federica admitted, struggling to regain her composure.


    Sir Crowley¡¯s eyes widened; this took him aback.


    ¡°Do you suggest, madam, that you retain recollections of the occurrences that transpired during your moment of possession?¡± he inquired, trying to contain his astonishment.


    Federica took a deep breath and held it before slowly releasing it again and again, Sir Crowley, ever the polite Archdemon, patiently waited. Federica then finished and centered herself.


    ¡°Do not fret Mr. Archdemon. I''m something of a genius, now what do you want from me? I''m sure you didn¡¯t release me from the kindness of your heart,¡± said Federica.


    Sir Crowley''s smile, once benign, twisted into a sinister expression, and he extended his hand with an air of malevolence. "Ah, my dear lady, your spirited demeanor captivates my admiration. I discern the essence of a sage within you, which elucidates much. Now, I perceive your desire for power and knowledge. All can be bestowed upon you, should you be amenable to a modest arrangement."


    <hr>


    In the serene stillness of her room, Cynthia sat in a meditative pose. Its sterile ambiance, characterized by white walls and grey furniture meticulously arranged, seemed devoid of human presence, save for a lone picture on her nightstand featuring herself, Kyle, and Amber, radiating a faint warmth. As Cynthia delved into her meditation, she sought to recollect her recent experiences, only to be met with flashes of malevolent imps. Each attempt to remember inflicted searing pain, as if her synapses were ablaze. Yet, she persisted, only to witness the haunting vision of imps tearing through the flesh of her classmates in the kitchen.


    Her trance was interrupted by the doorbell''s chime. Wiping sweat from her brow, Cynthia descended the stairs to greet the visitor. Galatea opened the door for Stephan, whose eyes widened at the sight of Cynthia awake.


    "Cynthia, you''re... awake. Did your father do this?" Stephan inquired.


    Theo''s footsteps resonated as he entered the room. "I simply repaired her. She emerged from her comatose state on her own," he clarified.


    Approaching Cynthia, Stephan asked eagerly, "How?" Thoughts of his sons consumed his mind.


    Cynthia''s response was uncertain. "Honestly, I don''t know. I can''t even clearly remember what happened. Apparently, we went to hell," she admitted.


    With a soft exhale, Stephan glanced at the floor. "At least you''re okay," he murmured before following Theo to his study.


    In contrast to the rest of the house, Theo''s studio exuded warmth, adorned with brown wooden bookcases and a cluttered desk bearing various alchemical tools. Seated in an armchair opposite Theo''s desk, Stephen contemplated.


    "So, you''re ready to join the company?" Theo inquired.


    "I didn''t say that, but I need a lot of money to hire an arch magus to break my sons out of the demonic art they''re under... if it was just Thomas''s arm, my insurance would cover that but-" Stephen''s words were cut short by Theo.


    "No need to continue. I would have liked you to work with me, especially now, but if you''re that opposed to it, I''m not going to force you. I''ll look for an arch magus and cover the fee," Theo assured.


    Stephen exhaled deeply, closing his eyes to maintain composure. "Thank you," he said.


    "It''s the least I could do for an old friend, plus I owe you for using a lot of your work to build Cynthia," Theo acknowledged.


    "Speaking of Cynthia, she said she doesn¡¯t remember what happened, doesn¡¯t that alarm you?" asked Stephen.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Theo leaned back in his chair. "When it comes to cases like this, I prefer to see how she handles herself. When we were just a little older than them, we had our own mortal encounters."


    "Which you and Solomon love reminding me of," said Stephen before standing up. Theo followed suit, and they shook hands. "Thank you," uttered Stephen, his face slowly reverting back to its jovial state.


    As Stephen left the home, Cynthia watched him from her window, feeling a sense of awkwardness. Stephen was a man who had a hand in her creation but wasn¡¯t her direct creator. She never knew the proper way to interact with him. As Stephen¡¯s car left the driveway, Cynthia couldn''t help but dwell on what could have happened. The list of the deceased from the incident had been released, and Amber was among them. Fortunately, Kyle was still alive but unresponsive. Amber¡¯s death should have brought immense sadness, devastation even, she thought. But why did she feel so detached? Would she never be able to feel like a regular person?


    Unbeknownst to Cynthia, lost deep in thought, tears had already begun to well up in her eyes. However, her expression remained statuesque. The one thing she was sure of was that she had to remember what happened. She owed that much to her friends. With determination, she walked up to her bed to resume her meditation.


    <hr>


    Diana stirred from her slumber, her face appearing refreshed as she slowly emerged from her bed, beginning her morning routine. Before diving into her tasks, she switched on the news for background noise, then brewed herself a comforting pot of tea and settled down with a book. Despite her attempts to focus, her thoughts couldn''t help but drift to the students'' uncertain fate, though she reminded herself that it was now beyond her control. Still, she welcomed the brief respite until the tranquility was shattered by the persistent ringing of the doorbell. With measured steps, Diana made her way to the door, revealing Richard on the other side with a grin.


    "Case is closed," Richard declared.


    "I''m aware, and it''s Sunday, so if you wouldn''t mind, I''d appreciate some peace and quiet," Diana responded.


    "Ah, come on. When''s the last time we just hung out like old times from college?" Richard pleaded.


    "I would, but I''ve got a date tomorrow, and I want to be well-rested," Diana explained.


    Richard''s expression fell. "I didn''t mean it like that."


    Diana chuckled softly before closing the door in his face. "Catalina''s probably free," she called through the door.


    "Yeah, but she''s annoying," Richard muttered before departing defeatedly.


    <hr>


    In the vast expanse of the infernal west, Abaddon stood upon the ebony peak, surrounded by an array of vessels, awaiting the return of the nameless demon that had claimed Federica. A prophetic certainty swelled within Abaddon as a celestial rift unfurled in the firmament, and Federica emerged, a cocky grin etched upon her countenance. Sensing an unsettling dissonance as Federica materialized, Abaddon, propelled by her fallen angel''s wings, ascended to meet her.


    "What happened? Your infernea is strange, did our bout really damage you that much?" Abaddon taunted.


    "Infernea?" queried Federica, tilting her head.


    Abaddon''s gaze narrowed. "Wait, who¡¯s in control in there?"


    " Oh, Federica Martel, I understand names are a big deal down here," replied Federica, now the sovereign of her corporeal vessel.


    Abaddon''s laughter erupted, malevolent and wicked, reverberating through the darkened mountain range.


    "It¡¯s just that little bitch thought he could defeat me when he couldn¡¯t even keep his own vessel in check, well now it seems that you¡¯re still powerful in your own right since that worthless ant was using your power, and it looks like you¡¯re not quite mortal anymore judging from the infernae still in you, tell you what you would make a great subordinate, I could give you the title of duchess, even get you a demonic art of your own, what do you say?" proposed Abaddon.


    Federica cast her gaze upon the mountain. "231 werebeasts, 160 undead, 139 magi, 171 elves, 778 humans¡ªI didn¡¯t know those actually existed¡ª134 elementarius, and 1 fallen angel. you were really holding back uh?" she observed.


    Abaddon marveled, "Wow, you can sure count quickly."


    "Well, I am a genius, and I did start counting when you fought the other guy, " retorted Federica.


    Abaddon''s eyes narrowed, disquieted by this revelation. Federica should not retain memories of her possession. "So, genius, what is your response to my proposition?"


    "I¡¯d rather have your title," announced Federica with a sly grin, as twelve arcane circles wove around her being. The azure flames of Aether flickered and swirled around her form, casting an ethereal glow, and in the blink of an eye, she vanished. Above the black mountain, she reappeared, releasing a surge of Aether, its cerulean tendrils engulfing the once menacing peak. Abaddon, veiled in her Angelic vessel, unfurled wings like a protective cloak against the impending shockwave. Just before the cataclysmic blast, one of Abaddon''s vessels leapt away, narrowly escaping the destructive dance. The aftermath revealed the black mountain transformed, a colossal crater with crystallized Aether at its core.


    Abaddon surveyed the aftermath, realization dawning¡ªa miscalculation had occurred. The nameless demon had yet to assimilate fully, and Abaddon now faced a formidable magus wielding the unbridled might of Aether. The lupine vessel that had eluded the blast brandished an oversized cleaver.


    "Ars Maleficarum: daemonificatio," Abaddon intoned through the lupine form, morphing the cleaver into a demonic countenance adorned with horns.


    "Ars Beneficarum: sanctum armamentum," she chanted in her defected angelic vessel, hands raised toward the heavens. A cascade of divine swords descended, a lethal rain of heavenly weaponry. Federica, flames of Aether still coursing through her, looked up with eager anticipation.


    Abaddon, in the lupine guise, struck the ground with the demonic cleaver. The very essence of Hell transformed, a demonic visage lunging at Federica. Unfazed, she remained composed, the flames of Aether intensifying. With ethereal speed, she dashed toward the lupine Abaddon, piercing his heart with her hand, igniting him from within with Aether''s radiant flames.


    "Ars Beneficarum: Sanctum armamentum," Abaddon chanted in her final vessel. Enveloped in a divine glow, she adorned herself in a golden holy armor, wielding a golden holy shield and a golden holy glaive.


    Federica gazed intently at Abaddon, her nose bleeding from the uncrystallized part of her form. The spell proved overwhelming.


    " I am Ruler Abaddon Atrox archdemon of the dybbuk, and I will not be defeated by the likes of you MAGUS! " Abaddon''s proclamation echoed, a stark contrast to the grace of the angelic form she inhabited.


    Federica traced the air with ten arcana circles, conjuring a familiar azure sword, now grander in its ethereal splendor. Intensifying the azure flames that enveloped her, she readied herself for the final dance. They surged toward each other with transcendent speed, the clash of their blades echoing in a resounding boom¡ªa force so potent it thrust them apart. Ascending to the heavens, they gathered momentum to clash once more, repeating the celestial ballet. The very foundation of Hell trembled beneath the echoes of their thunderous blows. In the conclusive clash, Federica''s blade yielded, succumbing to Abaddon''s glaive that impaled her. Pulling away, Federica screamed in agony, conjuring nine arcane circles that wove Aetheric chains around Abaddon.


    "What is this supposed to accomplish, you¡¯ve already lost," Abaddon chuckled.


    Clutching her wound, gasping for breath, Federica found the once-intense flames of Aether had dissipated. With strained breath, she conceded, " You... You''re right I can¡¯t defeat you, but... I¡¯m sure... your vessel¡¯s old buddies can."


    Ten arcane circles materialized around Abaddon, and in an ephemeral moment, she vanished. Descending from the heavens, exhausted and spent, Federica was caught by Sir Crowley, who gently placed her on the ground where the black mountain had once loomed before silently departing.


    Abaddon reappeared in a celestial expanse, encircled by flaming wheels spinning upon themselves. Multiple sets of eyes adorned their rims, glaring upon Abaddon with disdain as she reciprocated in terror.


    "BE VERY AFRAID!" their voices resounded like celestial trumpets.


    Abaddon screamed as an internal burst of light consumed her, disintegrating from within, leaving nothing but echoes in the celestial void.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    Sir Crowley found himself once again in the umbral expanse of the northern realms of hell, standing stoically upon its obsidian sea and gazing upon the crimson moon. Flaming wisps gathered to illuminate his surroundings with their otherworldly glow, prompting a wicked smile to grace his lips.


    "Verily, the die has been cast, and the chess pieces are arranged in perfect order. Ere long, I shall attain my destined glory, don¡¯t you concur, my dear Bastet?" he addressed, and she materialized behind him from the shadows with feline grace.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Crowley. Does my opinion really matter? After all, demons of the eastern realms exhibit a most unseemly and grotesque manifestation,¡± replied Bastet, grooming herself with a hint of disdain.


    Slightly embarrassed at his previous choice of words, Sir Crowley said, ¡°Ah, my sincerest apologies for the misapprehension. The dybbuk, not thee, was the subject of discourse. Clearly, you, dear Lady Bastet, embody the epitome of grace and eloquence.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Bastet narrowed her eyes.


    A scream echoed from the umbra above them, as someone descended into the viscous black sea, only to emerge again a few moments later and stand upon it.


    ¡°Oh, Amon, how delightful it is to behold your presence,¡± said Sir Crowley in moderate surprise.


    ¡°Sorry for the disgraceful entrance, Sir Crowley. I was just unsummoned you see,¡± confessed Amon with a nervous smile.


    Amon seemed to resemble Sir Crowley in appearance though his appearance was more sun kissed and less ghostly, he wore a similar suit, though lacking grace. His shirt was untucked, a few buttons were undone, and his tie was quite loose. He wore a katana on his back held by a tied thin rope. Despite sharing Sir Crowley¡¯s demonic eyes, his face bore a certain innocence, very disarming and dangerous, for he remained a demon.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    ¡°You arrive at an opportune moment, my youthful duke. Lady Bastet was on the verge of departing, and I find myself in need of an attendant. Pray, lend me your esteemed company,¡± requested Sir Crowley.


    ¡°She is?¡± asked Amon.


    ¡°I¡¯m not your attendant,¡± said Bastet.


    ¡°I convey my sentiments in the utmost politeness. Now, I extend my sincerest wishes for success in your endeavor. Farewell,¡± said Sir Crowley as he clapped his hands causing Bastet to vanish.


    ¡°Are you sure you should antagonize Lady Bastet? She¡¯s an archdemon too,¡± warned Amon.


    ¡°Ah, fret not, my youthful attendant, for we engage in naught but playful banter,¡± assured Sir Crowley.


    <hr>


    Meanwhile, Stephen drove back to his home as the evening sun was surrendering to the horizon, his mind tired from a long dreary day. After parking his car, he stumbled upon a collapsed black cat on his walkway.


    ¡°Hey, you,¡± said Stephen gently, caressing the cat as it meowed back.


    Stephen picked up the feline. ¡°Come on, you look hungry. Let¡¯s see if I have something for you to eat,¡± he said as he brought the cat into his home.


    <hr>


    Upon the desolate ground, Federica lay, drained and battered, as the aetheric crater she had carved pulsed with ethereal energy. Its stones, once solid, now flowed like liquid, ascending heavenward in a graceful dance beneath the hellish sun''s gaze, casting a wondrous tapestry of light¡ªa fleeting beauty in these forsaken lands. As the celestial cascade converged upon her, Federica absorbed its azure essence, her crystalline form aglow with renewed vigor, though still dazed from her recent ordeal.


    Abruptly, darkness descended, a shroud of ominous mist cloaking the realm. Federica tensed, anticipating another trial. Had she truly vanquished Abaddon?


    A chorus of voices, somber and commanding, echoed through the obsidian veil. "Abaddon has been felled, fret not my new child, you will replace him."


    From the stygian depths emerged shadows, their crimson eyes piercing the gloom¡ªsome humanoid, others bestial, a few monstrous, and others beyond mortal comprehension. Federica quivered, then steeled herself, drawing strength from within.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    "I am sovereign of the eastern realm of hell, Prince Paimon Shichut," proclaimed the voices.


    Federica hesitated before asserting, "I am Federica Martel."


    "No more," decreed the voices, as they spoke, the flames of infernea surged within her as fervently as her screams, the nameless entity within her pleading for release as its existence waned.


    The mist ascended, its echoes reverberating across Hell''s domains.


    "Hear me, denizens of Hell! Abaddon''s epoch has ended. Welcome Federica La Mortel, Archdemon of the dybbuk," proclaimed Prince Paimon Shichut.


    In the distant northern reaches of Hell, the tidings reached Sir Crowley and Amon. A cunning smile graced Sir Crowley''s lips.


    "Did you hear, Sir Crowley? A new Archdemon," innocently remarked Amon.


    " My dear young duke, I fervently aspire that one day you shall revel in the exquisite delight of a meticulously woven scheme unfolding. Now, let us embark upon the next stage: emerge from the umbra and facilitate my ascent," declared Sir Crowley, his hands clapping with certainty.


    Amon regarded him, bemused. Despite their time together, the depths of Sir Crowley''s cryptic wisdom remained a mystery.


    <hr>


    Kyle found himself plummeting deeper into the abyss, surrounded by infernal flames licking at his skin. In the darkness, he struggled to grasp his identity, only to be tormented by demonic shadows emerging from the depths, tearing at his flesh. His attempts to scream were futile as he realized he had been robbed of a mouth. Amidst the chaos, his body was mercilessly torn apart, leaving only his disembodied, mouthless head intact. Within the ominous silence of the abyss, a chilling voice echoed, uttering the cryptic phrase, "Ars Maleficarum: Diablo ex Machina."


    Suddenly, Kyle jolted awake in a dim hospital room, gasping for air, his senses overwhelmed with the reality of his body''s intactness. Confusion clouded his mind as he struggled to piece together the events leading to his current state. Emerging from his room, he encountered Penelope in the hallway, seeking answers.


    "Penelope, what happened?" Kyle inquired, his voice laden with uncertainty.


    "I don¡¯t know. Are you alright?" Penelope responded, her concern palpable.


    "I¡¯m fine. I just... can¡¯t remember much after the party. Did we get into an accident or something?"


    As more students emerged from their hospital rooms, each awakening from their comatose state, Erick surveyed the scene, recognizing familiar faces among the bewildered crowd. Questions lingered in his mind, especially regarding Federica''s whereabouts. Before he could voice his concerns, a nurse intervened, signaling for medical attention and ushering them back into their rooms for examination. Amidst the chaos, Thomas remained secluded in his room, grappling with the surreal sight of his severed arm.


    "What the actual fuck," Thomas muttered in disbelief, his mind reeling from the grotesque reality before him.


    <hr>


    Meanwhile, Cynthia was abruptly roused from her slumber, her body drenched in a cold sweat. With trembling limbs, she stumbled towards the bathroom, her heart racing with an intensity rarely experienced. Gazing into the mirror, she watched in horror as her reflection began to distort, morphing into the likeness of another.


    "Amber?" Cynthia whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of her thoughts.

 Chapter 7: Doldrums

    The harsh glare of the operating room lights cast a bright halo around Thomas as he lay on the hospital bed. Without his sunglasses, he felt exposed, vulnerable to the unknown that lay ahead.


    "Just relax, don¡¯t fight it, and it will be over soon," the nurse reassured him, her voice a soothing presence in the sterile room.


    Thomas closed his eyes, inhaling deeply in an attempt to quell the rising tide of anxiety. The nurse''s hands gently rested on his forehead as she murmured, "I dormi."


    His breathing slowed, deepening into a tranquil rhythm as he slipped into a profound slumber.


    With a nod from the nurse, the doctor began his work, chanting softly, "Ossa, carnes, cutem, nervosque tibi dono, nova vita ex hoc corpore reples."


    In response to the incantation, the stump of Thomas''s arm began to stir, bones elongating and knitting together to form the framework of a new limb. Flesh followed suit, wrapping around the newly formed structure until the skin sealed it all together, restoring his arm to its former state.


    <hr>


    Penelope sat in the softly lit room, her fingers playing nervously as she glanced around, trying to find solace in the calming atmosphere. Despite the warmth of the surroundings and the soothing sounds, her nerves refused to settle. Unlike the stark interrogation room Theo found himself in, this space offered stability with its comforting ambiance and steady furniture. When Diana entered, Penelope couldn''t help but flinch, but her anxiety ebbed away as she noticed the warmth in Diana''s smile and the cup of tea she brought.


    "I can¡¯t remember anything," Penelope admitted, her voice trembling.


    "I''m aware. Honestly, considering the circumstances, it''s probably better for your mental


    state if you don¡¯t remember. Plus, we already have a clear understanding of what happened, so there''s no need to delve further," Diana reassured her.


    "What... What exactly happened?" Penelope asked, her curiosity mixed with reluctance.


    "One of your friends, Federica, cast a spell that proved to be too powerful. Instead of summoning a demon as intended, she inadvertently summoned the entire house to hell," Diana explained.


    "Is she...?" Penelope''s voice trailed off.


    "We don¡¯t know. We couldn''t find her remains, but given the intensity of the incident, it''s unlikely she survived. It was fourth-degree overchanneling," Diana informed her.


    Penelope felt tears welling up in her eyes as she clutched her mug of tea tighter, seeking solace in its warmth.


    "Would you like to take a break?" Diana offered softly.


    "I''m fine, it''s just... a lot," Penelope managed to say, her voice shaky.


    Diana glanced down momentarily, revealing a hint of how Penelope''s distress affected her, but Penelope remained unaware, patiently waiting until she regained her composure.


    "Penelope, you have a bright future ahead of you, and I''d hate to see it go to waste," Diana said gently.


    Penelope felt her chest tighten inexplicably.


    "While reviewing your past, I stumbled upon several concerning memories," Diana continued.


    She knew! Penelope''s mind froze, rendering her unable to respond.


    "Don''t worry, I''m not going to press any charges. I see that you''ve followed the proper channels for your university application, and I''ve helped push through your background check. However, if anyone catches wind of your activities before you start university, it could complicate matters. I''d like you to put a hold on your extracurricular activities for now," Diana instructed.


    Penelope remained frozen, shocked by the turn of events. Initially, she thought her life was over, but now she realized she was getting closer to her dream.


    "I... I don''t know what to say," Penelope finally managed to utter.


    Diana smiled and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Just keep your nose clean, okay?"


    After enduring that exhausting ordeal, Penelope desperately needed a respite. Fortunately, she had a scheduled appointment with a communer, timed perfectly to offer her much needed consolation. Exiting the cab, she stepped into a cozy office, infused with the comforting scent of sage. After checking in with the receptionist, she settled in, passing the time on her phone until a voice interrupted her reverie.


    "Penelope Scarlet."


    Raising her gaze, Penelope spotted Mr. Garcia, his expression tinged with surprise.


    "Oh, hi Penelope. I didn¡¯t expect you back until next month," remarked Mr. Garcia.


    "It¡¯s a cheat month. I just really miss them," Penelope nervously chuckled.


    "I understand," Mr. Garcia replied with a sad smile.


    They proceeded to a stark white room, adorned only with a single, softly glowing rune on the ceiling.


    "Effice visionem domus," intoned Mr. Garcia, and suddenly, the room transformed, morphing into a warm, inviting living space, complete with a photograph of a 7-year-old Penelope and her parents on the console. Penelope visibly relaxed, her breathing steadied, and a gentle light flickered in her eyes.


    "Ex velo voco eos qui nominantur Circe Scarlet et Edward Scarlet," Mr. Garcia chanted once more, as a faint ethereal wisp materialized into the form of Edward. Another wisp attempted to manifest but failed, causing Penelope to freeze, her already pale complexion causing her to be even more ghostly than her deceased father.


    "I¡¯m sorry... I¡¯ll give you some time alone," Mr. Garcia said before quietly exiting the room.


    "Hi, pea," greeted Edward looking to the side before his expression turned solemn. "I see. I hope she¡¯s at peace."


    Penelope burst into tears. "I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t fast enough. I¡¯ll get better, I swear I¡¯ll..."


    Her father interjected, "Listen, Penelope. I don¡¯t want you to make this your life. I want you to live for yourself."


    "But I have to bring you back so we can be a family... It¡¯s really hard without you, and now I¡¯ll never see Mom again. It¡¯s not fair; she should have had way more time," Penelope lamented through her tears.


    Edward tried to comfort his daughter, but his spectral hands passed through her, a reminder of their ethereal divide. "I¡¯m sorry, Pea, but this road, it¡¯s not the one I want for you. I want you to be happy and look to the future, not cling to the past. I¡¯m already dead," he said softly.


    Penelope continued to sob, the ache of losing her parents an old wound that refused to heal.


    After the bittersweet reunion with her father, Penelope found herself back in the cab, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, a veil of melancholy draped over her features as she slowly drifted off to sleep. In her dream, she was seven years old again, nestled in a field of flowers, embraced by both her parents. The sun showered them with its warm rays until suddenly, the light faded, and the sun vanished. The vibrant flowers withered, their life force draining away. Her parents began to lose their essence, their bodies growing pale and cold, lips taking on a macabre hue of blue. Decay set in, flesh yielding to grotesque rot as maggots and insects claimed their forms. Yet, young Penelope clung to them desperately, yearning for just a bit more warmth, one final embrace.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    "We''re here, wake up," her father''s voice spoke from his lifeless form.


    "We''re here, wake up," echoed the cab driver''s voice.


    Penelope stirred, still groggy from her slumber.


    "Sorry, thank you," she murmured as she slowly exited the cab and made her way back to the mansion. Stepping inside, she marveled at the pristine beauty and luxury surrounding her, as if nothing had ever disturbed its perfection. Erick descended the stairs.


    "Hey Penny, where did you go?" he inquired casually.


    "I was visiting my parents," Penelope replied with a tinge of melancholy in her voice.


    Erick observed Penelope closely; her eyes were slightly swollen, her nose tinged with red. Drawing nearer, he began to speak, only to be interrupted as Penelope enveloped him in a tight hug.


    "Please," she whispered softly.


    "Okay," Erick acquiesced, uttering the incantation "Laetus esto."


    Suddenly, Penelope''s demeanor shifted, her expression transforming into one of cheerfulness as she released herself from Erick''s embrace.


    "Sorry and thank you," she said with newfound brightness.


    "No problem, it''s cool," Erick replied.


    "Would you mind hanging around for a while? I''d like to stay like this, if it''s not too much trouble," Penelope requested.


    "Nahh, plus I was only gonna go grab a bite to eat. You wanna come with?" Erick offered.


    "Lead the way," Penelope accepted, and together they departed the mansion.


    <hr>


    The sun hung high in the sky, its warm rays caressing the cemetery. It was a picturesque day, with freshly cut grass and birds chirping joyously, welcoming the arrival of spring. However, for the mourners gathered there, the tranquil scene did little to ease their sorrow. As the priest delivered his sermon, tears flowed freely, particularly from Amber''s mothers Erika and Isabell, who were inconsolable.


    Kyle fought to hold back his own tears, struggling to remain composed as he grappled with memories of the night he shared with Amber, desperate to remember what transpired. Cynthia, meanwhile, felt a heavy weight on her chest, unsure if it was the haunting vision of Amber or something else entirely. When the priest concluded his sermon, he turned to Amber''s parents and offered them the opportunity to bid their final farewells.


    With a solemn nod, Amber''s mother approached the closed casket. The priest then invoked, "Ex velo voco eos qui nominantur Amber Griffin!"


    The room fell silent as everyone awaited a response, but none came. Yet, Cynthia felt a sharp pain in her chest, as if an invisible force was tearing at her insides. She suppressed the urge to cry out, clenching her teeth in anguish.


    The priest repeated the incantation, but still, there was no sign of Amber''s soul. Cynthia''s distress intensified, drawing concern from Theo, who stood by her side, though he remained silent.


    "Rare as it is, it seems that her soul has already passed beyond the veil. May she find peace," the priest solemnly declared.


    Unable to bare the overwhelming emotions any longer, Erika quietly left the church, seeking solace outside its confines.


    <hr>


    Life pressed on despite the lingering sorrow, and the students found themselves returning to their routines. Kyle gathered his history books, noting the sparse attendance in his classroom. Making his way to the arcane wing of the school, he entered Mr. Matheney''s class, which seemed unusually crowded with eleven students, including himself. Taking a seat beside Cynthia, Kyle observed the subdued atmosphere, with only intermittent greetings exchanged among the classmates.


    Mr. Matheney entered the room with a stern demeanor, beginning roll call.


    ¡°Erick Blaze.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± responded Erick.


    ¡°Alexander Bolton.¡±


    ¡°Present,¡± affirmed Alexander.


    ¡°Alice Brown.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± replied Alice.


    ¡°Kyle Detmer.¡±


    ¡°Present,¡± confirmed Kyle.


    ¡°Leah Erickson.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± acknowledged Leah.


    ¡°Zack Gordon.¡±


    The students exchanged confused glances, and some shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Zack was no longer among the living, so Matheney''s call felt unsettling. Pausing for effect, Matheney proceeded.


    Kyle braced himself, knowing what was coming next.


    ¡°Amber Griffin.¡±


    Once again, there was no response to the name. Matheney''s gaze lingered on Kyle, who averted his eyes, feeling the weight of the moment.


    ¡°[redacted] Jenkins.¡±


    ¡°Yo,¡± Jenkins answered.


    This was a regular but strange occurrence during roll call. Every time Mr. Matheny called out Jenkins¡¯s first name, it seemed to escape everyone¡¯s minds not a second later.


    ¡°Rob Jones.¡±


    Silence followed Matheney''s call.


    ¡°Federica Martel.¡±


    As Matheney spoke, all eyes turned to Erick, who met the gaze without flinching. An uncomfortable hush fell over the class, the tension palpable as Federica''s involvement in the incident was still fresh in everyone''s minds.


    ¡°Rick Martinez.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Rick replied.


    ¡°Cynthia Marvel.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± Cynthia answered softly.


    ¡°Tim Mathews.¡±


    No response came, and Alice looked down with a solemn expression.


    ¡°Joe Miles.¡±


    Once again, silence met Matheney''s call, and Rick glanced at the empty seat beside him.


    ¡°Roseanne Nakamura.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Roseanne muttered.


    ¡°Marcus Oles.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± Marcus chimed in.


    ¡°Penelope Scarlet.¡±


    ¡°Present,¡± Penelope whispered.


    ¡°Josh Smith.¡±


    Again, there was no reply. Matheney''s disappointment was evident in his expression as he surveyed the room.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Matheney''s frustration boiled over as he slammed his hands on his desk, his gaze burning with anger as he addressed the class.


    "So, it seems that all my lessons about the dangers of magic were lost on you," he stated sharply.


    "It wasn''t us, man. It was Federica," Jenkins interjected.


    Matheney paused, taking a deep breath. The class braced for an explosion of anger, but instead, his tone softened.


    "I suppose my anger is misplaced," he conceded, then continued, "Let this serve as a lesson on the dangers of magic. Half of what remains of your school year is sitting in this class."


    Unease rippled through the students as they exchanged uneasy glances. This was a heavy truth to confront.


    "But let this also motivate you to continue your studies. I assumed you all survived because you''re the best arcane students, but if you were stronger, perhaps you could have protected more," Matheney added.


    The truth in Matheney''s words hung heavily in the air. Kyle couldn''t help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing whatever events had transpired, he couldn''t protect Amber.


    "However, I''ve read the police report since the case is closed and it''s been made public. Many of you have Miss Scarlet to thank," Matheney announced, directing everyone''s attention to Penelope, who shrunk slightly in her seat, overwhelmed by the attention.


    ¡°Why?¡± Roseanne inquired.


    "Well, Miss Nakamura, many of you had wounds that were closed upon resurfacing, and the only one able to use vitamancy spells with you, was Miss Scarlet," Matheney explained.


    Penelope felt a mix of embarrassment and pride as all eyes turned to her. She was grateful she could help, even if she couldn''t fully remember it.


    "With that said, lessons from now on will be different. They''ll focus on combat and keeping you safe. Some will cover university-level material, but I''ll be teaching them to you early," Matheney announced.


    Marcus clenched his fist excitedly, whispering, "Finally."


    "But for those who can''t cast stable spells yet, I''ll be holding extra classes after school. If you choose not to attend and fall behind, that''s on you," Matheney concluded, his words lingering in the tense atmosphere of the classroom.


    <hr>


    Clumsily maneuvering the door of his dorm room, Thomas dropped his bag by his side and shut the door behind him. His room was strewn with clothes haphazardly tossed about, but such disorder hardly registered with Thomas at the moment; all he craved was more sleep. He promptly flopped onto his bed, his favorite pair of shades finding their way back onto his face. Just as he was on the brink of drifting off, the door swung open. Thanks to his glasses, Thomas didn¡¯t need to glance up to identify the intruder.


    "For fuck''s sake, Wynter," Thomas muttered, annoyance evident in his tone.


    Wynter''s eyes widened at the sight of Thomas.


    "Your arm, are you okay, love? I heard what happened," she inquired.


    Thomas sat up, displaying both his hands to Wynter. She carried herself with an unspoken elegance, bordering on regal, juxtaposed with her wholesome appearance.


    <hr>


    "Wow, it¡¯s completely fixed," Wynter remarked as she reached for Thomas''s arm to examine it. He pulled away and reclined back.


    "What''s wrong?" Wynter asked.


    "I''m waiting for an apology. I wouldn¡¯t have to go through all of this if it weren¡¯t for certain people," Thomas retorted.


    "I''m not going to apologize for kicking you out, mate. You can¡¯t bloody go around reading people¡¯s minds, and no one told you to crash a high school party," Wynter countered.


    "You guys are so goddamn sensitive. I was drunk," Thomas justified.


    "That''s not an excuse¡ª" Wynter began to argue but stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "Look, mate, you were being a nob, alright? People are only going to tolerate that for a certain amount of time," she said in a calmer tone.


    "Let¡¯s just play devil''s advocate for a second; your sister¡¯s even worse," Thomas added.


    "I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alright," Wynter said before exiting his room.


    Thomas was about to lie back down but hesitated.


    "Can¡¯t I get a fucking break, Sommer, leave!" he shouted as his door opened and closed.


    He settled back onto his bed, finally able to enjoy his long-awaited slumber.


    <hr>


    In the midst of Kyle''s Arcana class, Mr. Matheney prepared to delve into more advanced material, deviating from the standard curriculum.


    "One of the things we don¡¯t usually teach at the high school levels are Leyline types; today, we are going to cover the very basics," announced Matheney.


    The students, save for Cynthia and Erick, appeared puzzled.


    "These identify how your leyline systems are built and how you cast spells, cantrips, and use endo runic items. But first, who can remind me of the Leyline constitution formula?" inquired Matheney.


    Alice eagerly raised her hand.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    "Miss Brown," acknowledged Matheney.


    "LC = 1 AHV + (MS x 10). I also had a question; do these types have anything to do with the aspects we use?" queried Alice.


    "Correct on the formula. As for your question, only one type does, but really anyone can use any aspect provided they study. But first, let¡¯s look over them and what they actually do," replied Matheney.


    He turned towards the whiteboard and began explaining, "Alright, let¡¯s review the very basics of leyline types. Users of this type incur less AV when upcasting past their maximum. Who can remind me what an AV is?"


    Marcus''s attention began to wane. "Dude, I¡¯m bored," he whispered to Erick.


    Erick whispered back, "Animum tuum adverte," and Marcus suddenly found himself able to focus on Mr. Matheney''s lesson.


    Roseanne raised her hand. "It stands for Aetheric Volts, it¡¯s the unit by which we measure aether going into our leylines."


    Matheney nodded approvingly. "Correct. Usually, when upcasting past your maximum, you incur an additional 50 AV or 5 ADV to your leylines on top of the AV you incur by the spell. But a lion leyline type user would only build up 25 AV," he explained, scanning the room.


    "Mr. Oles, what is upcasting?" questioned Matheney.


    Marcus, now fully concentrated thanks to Erick¡¯s spell, answered, "Upcasting is casting a spell at a higher level than the original spell. Upcasting past your maximum is casting a spell past the circle which you can usually cast. For example, I can cast up to two circles. If I cast a one-circle spell as a two-circled spell, I would only take in 10 AV. But if I cast a one or two-circled spell as a three-circled spell, I would take in 50 AV," he explained with a hint of pride.


    The rest of the class looked at him somewhat bemused. Marcus was no fool, but such detailed answers were uncharacteristic of him. Matheney, however, narrowed his eyes.


    "I would be more impressed if you could do that without the assistance of Mr. Blaze," remarked Matheney.


    Erick''s eyes shifted downward, his expression revealing annoyance, while Marcus appeared like a deer caught in headlights.


    "I will give you points for effort; however, since you used yourself for your little example, I''ll correct you and say that you¡¯d only incur 25 AV, since you''re a lion type. Granted, you did not know this," continued Matheney.


    Cynthia looked at Kyle attentively, taking notes. Her usual statuesque expression turned into one of remorse. Sensing her gaze, Kyle nervously looked up. When he saw her looking at him, he felt as if she was pitying him. What had he done this time?


    "Did... did I do something wrong?" Kyle whispered.


    "I''ll tell you later," said Cynthia as she went back to listening to Matheney¡¯s lesson.


    Mr. Matheney was about to get back to his lesson when Jenkins interrupted, "And what¡¯s mine, dude."


    Matheney sighed. "I wanted to reveal them at the end of the lesson, but I guess I could do it now."


    He retrieved a sheet of paper from his desk. "For the record, I will be revealing ALL my classes'' leyline types."


    "For the lion types we have: Mr. Oles, Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Miles, Mr. Gordon, Mr. Martinez."


    "So, all the idiots," Roseanne mumbled.


    "For the serpent types we have: Mr. Detmer, Miss Brown, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Bolton."


    Alice grimaced upon hearing this; that type didn¡¯t sound pleasant.


    "For the falcon types we have: Miss Scarlet, Miss Erickson, Mr. Matthews, and Mr. Jones."


    "And for the wyrm types we have: Miss Marvel and Miss Martel."


    A few classmates glanced at Cynthia, uneasy about this association with Federica.


    "For the oak types we have: Mr. Blaze and Miss Griffin."


    "Maybe you should have gone with her instead; she was cute," whispered Marcus to Erick as he rolled his eyes.


    "And finally, for the golem type we only have Miss Nakamura. Now, how about we actually start learning about them?" said Matheney as he turned back to the whiteboard to continue his lesson. ¡° Lion type leylines are thicker than the others, the and bearers are usually physically resilient, furthermore they are much better at resisting the effects of overchanneling.¡± Matheney continued as a few of the students minds already started to wander.


    As the sun began its descent, Kyle and Cynthia strolled toward the nearest portal station, enveloped in an uncomfortable silence that once would have been filled by Amber, but now remained vacant.


    "So... Serpent type, that''s interesting. If I understood Matheney correctly, it means I use less AV when casting, right?" Kyle ventured.


    "Half right, as usual. You use less AV only for the spell you''re casting, but not for other circumstances like quick casting, upcasting past your maximum, aspect changing, cons..."


    Cynthia''s explanation was cut short by Kyle''s interruption.


    "Okay, okay. You could have just said I''m wrong." Kyle interjected.


    "If you don¡¯t want to be corrected, you shouldn¡¯t be wrong. And since when do you have the nerve to cut me off?" Cynthia''s icy gaze bore into him.


    "Uh... I... uh... you know... didn''t you have something to tell me?" Kyle attempted to redirect the conversation.


    Cynthia''s gaze shifted downward, as if contemplating. "You, okay?" Kyle inquired.


    Cynthia lifted her gaze once more. "Yeah, actually, I¡¯m not a hundred percent sure. And you''re already as annoying as it is," she retorted.


    As they reached the station, it bustled with students and a few office workers, all forming lines to pass through the portals. Cynthia and Kyle bid each other farewell as they headed toward different portals. Stepping into the abyss of the portal, Kyle experienced an eternal second where time lost its meaning. The darkness was chilling, prompting him to wonder if this was what death felt like. In that timeless moment, Kyle emerged from the portal, hurried along by security as another individual prepared to pass through.


    Finally, back home, Kyle kicked off his shoes and slumped onto the couch, his new black cat leaping onto his lap and purring contentedly.


    "Hey, Shadow," Kyle greeted the cat as he stroked it, feeling the tension drain away with each stroke.


    "I wish Amber were here. She would have loved you," Kyle murmured, his eyes growing somber.


    <hr>


    Solomon sat in his study, immersed in his notes and typing fervently on his computer.


    His furrowed brow betrayed his intense concentration, until a sudden realization lit up his eyes. Swiftly, he rose from his seat, producing two stopwatches. With precision, he triggered both simultaneously, placing one on his desk and pocketing the other. With a chant, "Mitte me per spatium et tempus ad planitiem inferni," he vanished into a swirl of azure aether, reappearing unfazed in the infernal realm. Observing the stopwatch, he repeated the incantation, "Mitte me per spatium et tempus ad planum materialem," and returned, comparing the stopwatches. They matched perfectly, displaying identical times. A smile graced Solomon''s lips as he resumed his notetaking.


    Meanwhile, in his atelier, Theo was engrossed in experimenting with new potions when Solomon emerged from a portal before him.


    "Normal people usually call first, or at least have the courtesy to ring the doorbell," Theo remarked, mildly annoyed.


    "Normal people don¡¯t usually figure out a flaw in an entire aetheric aspect," Solomon replied, dropping a document on Theo''s desk, his expression expectant.


    Theo sighed, picking up the document. His eyes widened in amazement as he read. "You figured it out, the way to cast interplanar spells with no time dilation," he exclaimed.


    Solomon smirked proudly. "And if AlchymaLife was the only one privy to this information, that would certainly give you an advantage when collecting extraplanar ingredients."


    "That it would," Theo agreed, giving Solomon an expectant look.


    Solomon maintained his gaze. "40%," he proposed.


    Theo countered, "33%."


    "Sounds good," Solomon agreed.


    "Keep this between us; we''ll announce it at the next board meeting," instructed Theo.


    Solomon inquired, "Will Detmer be there?"


    "No, but it¡¯s fine. His last boy is starting university in the fall; he''ll get bored and probably come to us," Theo reassured.


    "Hmm, I don¡¯t share your optimism. The council may ask for him when you meet with them tomorrow," Solomon cautioned.


    "The chances of that are low. While his research played a part in her creation, I and I alone brought her into being," Theo asserted.


    "Fair enough. Have your assistant put our agreement in writing; I must go see a friend," Solomon instructed, beginning an incantation. Theo interrupted, "Just one more thing before you leave."


    Solomon turned back, curious. "What is it?"


    "When the girl attempted to summon a demon from a spell in your library, what kind of demon was it?" Theo inquired.


    "The Archdemon of the Shvur-Zeeler," Solomon replied.


    "Shvur-Zeeler? I thought your soul meant more to you," Theo remarked.


    "It does, but my library contains a spell to summon all the archdemons of hell. I thought it would be a nice challenge to attempt summoning some of them," Solomon explained.


    "Prideful as ever. So, can you summon all of them?" Theo asked.


    "All except one¡ªthe Shvur-Zeeler," Solomon admitted, his brows subtly knitting together.


    "That''s odd. What prevents you? Can you not narrow down his composite wave function?" Theo probed.


    "I can, but he changes it every time I try to summon him," Solomon revealed.


    Theo''s brows furrowed. "What kind of demonic art can do that?"


    "Of the sixty-six registered demonic arts we know... there is none," Solomon confirmed.


    "I''ve never known you to give up easily," Theo remarked.


    "Well, thanks to someone, we''ll have seven Archmagi in the city tomorrow," Solomon said cryptically.


    A few knocks interrupted their conversation, prompting their attention to the door.


    "Looks like you have company; I¡¯ll see you next week," Solomon remarked before incanting, conjuring a portal, and departing.


    Cynthia entered the room, her expression curious, and took a seat. Theo narrowed his eyes. ¡°Do you have something to tell me?¡± he inquired.


    ¡°You asked me here,¡± Cynthia replied.


    ¡°It¡¯s unlike you to keep things from me; you think I haven¡¯t noticed?¡± Theo pressed.


    Cynthia tried to maintain her composure, but there was a slight twitch in her expression.


    ¡°Alright, keep it to yourself then. I just want to make sure you¡¯re ready for tomorrow,¡± Theo stated.


    ¡°I am. Is that everything?¡± Cynthia asked.


    Theo simply turned back to his potions without saying a word.


    <hr>


    Diana navigated her car through the bustling streets of New Nox City, a vibrant metropolis cloaked in the shimmering cloak of night. Towering skyscrapers, etched with ancient runes, adorned the skyline, casting an otherworldly glow upon the city below. Runic skateboards darted through the air, their riders weaving effortlessly through the urban maze. Portal stations disgorged streams of commuters, eager to return to the comforts of home after a long day''s work. Above, the sky was a canvas of illusions, painted with vibrant advertisements for the latest movies, games, and products, a spectacle that, while perhaps a touch tacky, still managed to captivate the eye.


    Parking her car near a quaint restaurant, Diana made her way inside where Elliot awaited her. Their greeting was tender, a soft peck on the lips exchanged between them before they settled at a candlelit table, enveloped in the warm ambiance of the restaurant. As they indulged in a romantic dinner, dessert arrived, a tantalizing tiramisu meant for sharing.


    Diana''s eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, this is my favorite dessert!"


    Elliot''s response was laced with sarcasm. "Oh, should I be jealous?"


    Diana''s smirk betrayed her playful demeanor. "Yeah, totally. I think I''m going to take this tiramisu home tonight."


    Before Elliot could reply, Diana''s tone shifted, her attention suddenly drawn elsewhere. They exchanged a glance, a shared understanding passing between them as Diana answered her phone, her voice taking on a professional edge.


    "Detective Esposito," she replied, her eyes widening as she absorbed the information on the other end of the line. With a swift motion, she rose from her seat, rummaging through her purse in a flurry of movement.


    "I''ve got this, don''t worry. Go save the city," Elliot reassured her, his words carrying a blend of pride and concern.


    Diana''s smile was grateful as she leaned in to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. "Thank you," she murmured before retrieving a vial from her purse, swiftly downing its contents. As the liquid coursed through her veins, it worked its magic, swiftly sobering her from the effects of the alcohol she had consumed.


    Diana''s arrival at the scene, at the base of the towering skyscraper, didn''t go unnoticed. Every gaze seemed to gravitate towards her, the crimson hue of her dress capturing the attention of the uniformed officers stationed there. As she stepped out of her car and made her way towards the building''s entrance, a uniformed officer intercepted her path.


    "Excuse me, miss, are you a resident here?" the officer inquired.


    "It''s me, Mitch," Diana snapped, her patience waning.


    Mitch''s expression shifted from confusion to recognition, his gaze darting between Diana''s face and the rest of her attire. "Oh, sorry, Detective Esposito. It''s just, well, you''re... uh, unrecognizable today, uhm..."


    Diana let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head in disdain before brushing past Mitch. As she ascended to the penthouse atop the skyscraper, a gruesome tableau greeted her ¡ª blood, limbs, and organs strewn haphazardly, with small crimson flames licking at the surfaces but refusing to spread. What had transpired here?


    The elevator chimed behind Diana, drawing her attention. Stepping out were Richard and Detective Phineus Geier, engaged in a heated discussion.


    "You''re not taking this one from us," Richard asserted, his tone defiant.


    Phineus, with his jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, couldn''t resist a taunt. "Wow, Esposito, you are one hot mama. Looking to impress me?"


    Diana rolled her eyes in response, unamused by Phineus''s antics.


    "Quick, Diana, before he steals this one from us too," Richard urged, a note of urgency in his voice.


    Diana hesitated, torn between her duty to investigate and her weariness from relentless work. Phineus was insufferable, but she couldn''t deny his competence. Perhaps he could solve the case as well as they could.


    "Now, let''s see who''s the fucking psycho that did this. Mihi suam fabulam revela," Phineus intoned, invoking a spell.


    But instead of witnessing a scene from the past, Phineus was met with darkness, save for a single eye staring back at him.


    "Why did you let him do that?" Richard protested.


    "I just¡ª" Diana began, before Phineus''s head abruptly exploded, showering Richard and Diana with gore. They stared at each other in shock and disbelief, the gruesome turn of events leaving them speechless.


    <hr>


    In the quiet of Kyle''s bedroom, illuminated only by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, the young man lay sound asleep, his body weary from a long day of school. His cat, curled up on his desk, mirrored his slumber, a dark silhouette in the dimness of the room. Yet, amidst this peaceful scene, an unexpected presence lingered.


    A hooded figure, draped in crimson robes, stood silently in the shadows, casting an ominous watch over Kyle''s sleeping form. The air seemed to grow heavy with tension as the figure observed, its intentions veiled beneath the folds of its hood.


    Sensing something amiss, the cat stirred from its slumber, its eyes flickering open to fix upon the mysterious visitor. In a surreal moment, the hooded figure turned towards the feline, acknowledging it with a respectful bow before vanishing into the darkness, leaving behind an eerie sense of unease in its wake.


    <hr>

 Chapter 8: For a coin

    Diana wearily pushed open her apartment door, her red dress a macabre tapestry of blood, brains, and... was that a bone? She slipped out of the dress and inspected it with a tired sigh. It wasn¡¯t as bad as it seemed; the blood, blending with the crimson fabric, spared it from utter ruin. She cast the dress aside and stepped into the shower, letting the water cascade over her as memories of the night resurfaced. By the time she collapsed into bed, she cradled her head in her hands.


    ¡°What the actual fuck is my life?¡± she whispered into the silence.


    The next morning, Diana arrived at the precinct. She let her purse drop onto her desk and made a beeline for Captain Connors¡¯ office, where Catalina and Richard awaited her. The captain¡¯s desk stood conspicuously empty.


    ¡°Where is the captain?¡± Diana inquired.


    ¡°Dunno,¡± Catalina replied with a shrug. ¡°So, I heard you guys got sprayed with Geier juice last night.¡±


    ¡°Catalina, gross!¡± Richard protested.


    ¡°What? I bet he¡¯s been waiting to do that to Esposito for years,¡± Catalina snickered.


    Diana rolled her eyes, weary.


    Suddenly, Captain Connors stormed in, striding purposefully to his desk. ¡°Detectives, good of you to come,¡± he announced as he took his seat. ¡°I wanted to inform you that Detectives Huang and Alvarado will be taking point on this case.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?¡± Richard¡¯s voice was laced with frustration as he glanced at Catalina.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be jealous, Richy. Green¡¯s not your color,¡± Catalina teased.


    ¡°I know the strengths of my detectives. Our analyst discovered an anti-prognostication field on the building, likely a ritual, meaning Detective Esposito will not be able to use her abilities,¡± Captain Connors explained.


    ¡°Well, maybe that¡¯s true for Diana but not for me,¡± Richard retorted.


    ¡°So, you¡¯d be happy working with Detective Alvarado?¡± Captain Connors queried.


    Catalina draped her arms around Richard. ¡°Oh yeah, come on. We¡¯ll make a great team, Richy. It¡¯s been so long.¡±


    Richard¡¯s jaw tightened as Captain Connors watched him expectantly. With a sigh, Richard gently pushed Catalina away. ¡°Point taken,¡± he conceded.


    Captain Connors nodded. ¡°Detective Alvarado, have you heard from Detective Huang? He should be back by now,¡± he asked.


    Catalina shrugged again. ¡°I don¡¯t know. He hasn¡¯t gotten back to me yet.¡±


    ¡°Try to contact him again. In the meantime, work with Detective Gautier. I¡¯ll assign you to another case, Detective Esposito,¡± Captain Connors instructed.


    Catalina¡¯s face lit up, a nearly malicious grin spreading across her lips. ¡°Yes, Captain.¡±


    Diana nodded politely.


    Richard could only bite his tongue.


    ¡°Dismissed,¡± said Captain Connors.


    The three detectives left the room. As they walked out, Catalina attempted to call Detective Huang, but there was no answer.


    <hr>


    The morning sun rose over the city of New Sodom, casting a light that revealed its similarity to New Nox. Skyscrapers infused with runes dotted the landscape, and phantasmic advertisements flew across the sky. However, New Sodom held a more hedonistic hue, with half of those advertisements promoting casinos, nightclubs, and other dens of vice. In a luxurious hotel room, ravaged by what seemed like a storm, broken furniture was tossed haphazardly across the space. A man lay unconscious on the floor, a wound on his head. The silence was broken by the ringing of a phone, echoing through the disarrayed room. The man awoke in a daze, clutching his head in great pain.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    ¡°What the hell,¡± he muttered, holding his hand to his head and pulling it back to see blood.


    He searched the room for the incessantly ringing phone.


    ¡°Shut up, I¡¯m looking for you,¡± he complained, as the ringing aggravated the pain in his head.


    To his relief, he finally answered the phone.


    ¡°What!?¡± he barked.


    ¡°Pendejo, where have you been?¡± said the woman on the line.


    ¡°I¡¯m suspended, we both are, remember?¡± he reminded her.


    ¡°We got put back on the field. We were suspended for two weeks,¡± she scolded.


    ¡°Well, fuck, I thought I¡¯d have another week off,¡± he said.


    ¡°Another week? Huang, it¡¯s been two weeks! Get back here; the captain¡¯s on my ass,¡± said Catalina.


    John''s almond shaped eyes burst wide open. Two weeks? No, he was sure he¡¯d only been here for a week.


    ¡°Just get back here... hey, Richy I found h-¡± Catalina hung up.


    John pulled the phone from his ear, looking around at his chaotic surroundings. He realized he wasn''t wearing his own clothes. Instead, he was in smart trousers and a white shirt with small splatters of blood. He hurriedly reached for his pocket, wallet yes, keys yes that¡¯s good, and -. No, no. It''s not there.


    John frantically searched the room for the better part of an hour but couldn''t find what he was looking for.


    ¡°Shit!¡± he shouted, punching and shattering a mirror.


    He looked at his shattered reflection. He had almond shaped eyes and olive skin, with an athletic frame. His face, usually sanguine, now turned sour. He found a blazer on the broken bed and headed out of the room.


    When John arrived on his hotel floor, he was greeted by the vibrant sounds and lights of the casino, which was alive even in the early morning. He hurried toward the reception area, every step filled with purpose. He needed to ask them for the camera feed to see what had happened to him. But before he could reach the reception desk, a loud voice interrupted him.


    ¡°THERE YOU ARE!!!¡± the voice shouted. John was suddenly forcefully hugged from the side, almost causing him to tumble.


    ¡°The fuck?¡± John exclaimed.


    The person the voice belonged to looked at him in confusion. She was a petite woman with olive skin, long umber hair, and rose-colored eyes that shared John''s almond shape. Despite her current look of befuddlement, she had a fiery demeanor.


    ¡°Where were you? You bastard, why did you leave?¡± she accused, her rage boiling over as she attempted to slap John. Even in his confusion, he caught her hand on instinct alone.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    ¡°Listen lady, you¡¯re gonna have to start making sense,¡± John said.


    Her mouth gaped open. ¡°Lady? Lady!? I¡¯m your wife, you asshole! Let me go,¡± she demanded, wrenching free from his grasp.


    John''s brow furrowed. "My wife?" he thought. He knew he wasn¡¯t the marrying type; the whole idea felt too constricting. However, when he drank, he was known to bend the truth to get what he wanted, and she was just his type. Maybe he promised to marry her and forgot? Wait, if she was with him, she might know what happened last night.


    ¡°Oh, sorry honey, I¡¯m still a bit drunk from last night. I think I hit my head,¡± he said, pointing to the wound on his head.


    She gasped, putting her hands over her mouth. Then she went to comfort him, wrapping her hands around him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you need to be more careful,¡± she said.


    ¡°Do you remember me? I¡¯m Rhea,¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yeah, and we met at a... strip club?¡±


    This slap he did not see coming.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a stripper, you asshole!¡± shouted Rhea.


    "Thank the gods above," thought John. That would have been such a clich¨¦. Rhea realized what she had done.


    ¡°Sorry, did I make it worse?¡± she apologized.


    ¡°You think!¡± he shouted, holding his hand to his head as his entire world started to spin. Suddenly, he realized he was going to faint. No way. Taken down by a woman of five feet without magic? If Richard knew, he wouldn¡¯t let this go for at least a week. John''s world went dark.


    <hr>


    Theo sat patiently in the waiting room, his foot tapping against the wooden floor as he read a book. Growing bored, he glanced around at the simple, wood-paneled walls devoid of any magical embellishments, which seemed odd for a place where the Archmagus Council convened. Perhaps they preferred the austere environment of their pocket dimension, much like his own sterile home.


    The door creaked open, and Theo stood as Cynthia emerged, her expression almost solemn.


    ¡°They want to talk to you, father,¡± she said.


    Theo nodded and journeyed into the next room. It mirrored the waiting area with plain wooden decor, except for the seven raised platforms arranged in a circle. Each platform held an Archmagus, their faces hidden behind white masks and their forms draped in blue robes. This anonymity was intentional, ensuring Theo couldn''t discern which Archmagus he was addressing; some among the twenty-one in the world kept their identities secret even from their peers.


    "Thank you for your patience, Theo Marvel," echoed a voice that seemed to emanate from all corners of the room.


    Theo felt a twinge of helplessness not knowing where to direct his gaze or voice. He swallowed his pride, aware they were observing not just his magic but his demeanor aswell.


    ¡°I should be the one thanking you for taking the time out of your busy days, but this isn¡¯t a place for flatteries, what do you think of my work?¡± Theo asked.


    ¡°We understand the homunculus is not solely your creation,¡± the voice reverberated.


    ¡°I built upon the research of a former colleague, but the creation itself was my endeavor,¡± Theo clarified.


    ¡°How many alchemical circles did it take?¡± the voice continued.


    ¡°Ten,¡± Theo replied.


    ¡°That is quite impressive, did you make the soul with an alchemical process as well,¡± questioned the voice.


    Theo¡¯s suspicions were now confirmed. However, in this room he could not lie, but some truths are open to interpretation.


    Theo hesitated. "No," he answered carefully.


    ¡°So, it¡¯s compounded with necromancy and not the product of a single alchemical work?¡± asked the voice.


    "The soul was not present in the beginning; it could have developed after, I do have to admit it was unforeseen, " Theo added, ¡°could¡± being the operative word in his sentence preventing him from lying, in truth Theo suspected that this had to do with his creation¡¯s recent trip to hell.


    A tense silence followed as the Archmagi telepathically deliberated. Theo wished he could eavesdrop, but his skills in bewitchment and prognostication were lacking.


    ¡°We have decided that you shall be accepted as an archmagus, the research of the archmagi¡¯s library will be available to you and you will have to contribute to its archives once a year, however we will be putting this alchemical work of yours on the list of restricted works and forbid you to make any copies of this homunculus , or make any other like it we assume you understand why,," the voice informed him.


    "The soul, I understand," Theo acknowledged, though internally, the setback concerning his creation''s soul nagged at him. However, he already had plans in motion, set since the funeral.


    A strange coin, covered in intricate runes, materialized from thin air. Theo''s face lit up with pride as he watched it settle into his hand.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    After being dismissed, Theo walked out, passing Cynthia.


    ¡°How did I do?¡± she asked.


    "Adequately, although there is a small setback but no matter, you¡¯ll have a new sister soon," he told her.


    Cynthia''s eyes widened in surprise.


    "No, you¡¯re not being replaced, but you must have known you would not be unique for long, come on or you¡¯ll be late for class," Theo reassured her as they exited through the portal at the room''s end.


    <hr>


    Catalina gingerly stepped over the pool of blood on the floor, mindful of where she placed her feet. This crime scene, though reminiscent of another from two weeks ago with its splattered blood and eerie ambiance, lacked the severity of that previous mansion massacre where the body count was far higher. Here, in this upscale penthouse, the remnants of a family of five had already been removed, leaving behind crimson flames licking the furniture and walls without consuming them¡ªa strange phenomenon that intrigued her.


    Investigation bored her; Catalina preferred swift justice delivered through a fireball spell, but her superiors had deemed her too qualified for street duty. So, she left the investigating mostly to her partner, Richard, and their team¡ªAngela, John, and Diana¡ªalthough Angela, with her doubts about Catalina''s competence, would sometimes step in.


    But for now, it was just her and Richy who made her pick up her slack.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    As they combed through the penthouse, Richard grew convinced they wouldn''t find physical evidence. "Catalina, let''s leave. We''re not going to find anything here," Richard suggested.


    "Oh, my gods, yes! I was getting so bored," Catalina exclaimed, eager to move on.


    Richard narrowed his eyes. "I guess this is going to be a cold case then," she continued.


    "No, from what we know about the assailants, they were meticulous in covering their tracks. They''ve done this before, and they''re likely A-ranked casters given the strength of the anti-magic ritual," Richard informed her.


    "How do you know it was more than one person?" Catalina inquired.


    Richard frowned. "I just said why."


    "No, you didn''t," she retorted.


    "They cast a ritual. You can only do that with two or more casters. How do you not know this?" Richard accused.


    "Sorry, Richy, I''ve always been more of a practical caster, you know that. But how did none of the neighbors hear what was happening?" Catalina wondered.


    "A spell to trap or cancel sound, most likely. We need to focus on finding out if they had enemies and on dispelling this ritual," Richard explained.


    "I''ll question the neighbors. There might be some hot gossip," Catalina decided before leaving through the elevator.


    <hr>


    Kyle and his classmates filed into the expansive gymnasium, its floor adorned with faint, translucent runes. On the bleachers awaited the school nurse, a sight that soured Kyle''s mood; he detested dueling, but Mr. Matheny had insisted on focusing their classes more on combat. Marcus and Jenkins, however, were enthusiastic, in stark contrast to Mr. Matheny''s stern expression. As they reached the center, the nurse descended from the bleachers.


    "Today, I want you to go all out against each other to reveal your true weaknesses," declared Matheny.


    "That''s what I''m talking about!" exclaimed Marcus.


    Several students shared Marcus''s enthusiasm, but Cynthia, who was the closest thing Kyle had to a friend now, appeared troubled. Despite his apprehension, Kyle leaned toward her.


    "Are you alright?" he whispered.


    Cynthia scowled. "It''s nothing."


    "Since no one attended my remedial classes, the losers will attend them after school," continued Matheny.


    Groans and moans echoed from the students.


    "First, I''ll have the two best fighters demonstrate how you should be going all out," Matheny announced.


    Curious, everyone looked around to see who Matheny deemed the best after Cynthia.


    "Marvel, Oles, come to me; the rest to the bleachers," directed Matheny.


    Marcus fist-bumped Erick.


    "I got this," bragged Marcus.


    However, Erick''s lack of enthusiasm was evident, though he didn''t voice it.


    "Sure, man, you got this," Erick lied.


    As the students settled on the bleachers and Marcus and Cynthia took their positions, anticipation filled the air. Matheny stepped back.


    "BEGIN!" he shouted.


    "GLACIES ILLUM INCLUDAT," chanted Marcus, sending a blast of ice toward Cynthia, who countered with her own incantation.


    "Glacies redeat ad aquam."


    The ice turned to harmless water, washing over Cynthia. Jenkins leaned toward Erick on the bleachers.


    "I wish I could get her that wet," Jenkins joked.


    Erick stifled a smirk. "Get someone wet first then you can aim that high."


    Marcus cast the same spell again, this time larger, but Cynthia skillfully turned the ice to water once more. Marcus continued casting, and Cynthia realized his strategy¡ªtire her out with upcasting, as lion type that would not tire him out as much as her. Impressed, Cynthia countered with a spell to reduce the ice''s size, narrowly evading it as Marcus closed in.


    "Gladii glacialis," Marcus incanted, summoning an ice sword.


    Marcus, stronger and more physically capable than Cynthia, would have the advantage in close combat and rushed at her to close the distance, but Cynthia had her own plan in motion. Marcus just needed to approach and step into the pool of water that had gathered underneath her. However, just as Marcus''s foot was poised to touch the water, he leaped, evading her trap and charging towards Cynthia with a slashing attack. Cynthia''s eyes widened in surprise, and the entire room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.


    "Minue tuam magnitudinem!" she exclaimed, shrinking herself to dodge Marcus''s blade as he struck at thin air. She darted away from the water.


    "Aqua redeat ad glaciem," Cynthia commanded, turning the water to ice. Marcus slipped and hit his head.


    "Oh, he''s fucked," muttered Erick.


    "That''s not enough to take someone of his build down," Cynthia thought. "Glacies vertatur in vaporem," she incanted, heating the ice into searing steam, sending Marcus flying before crashing down.


    Penelope winced at the sight.


    "Enough!" declared Matheny, signaling the nurse to heal Marcus.


    The nurse rushed over, casting healing spells on Marcus''s head injury and burns. On the bleachers, the class watched with various expressions¡ªdisappointment, indifference, and inevitability. Surprisingly, even Erick wore a resigned expression.


    "Damn it, I really thought he was gonna win at the end," lamented Jenkins.


    Roseanne shot him a disdainful look. "Then you''re even dumber than you look," she quipped.


    When Marcus regained consciousness, he stalked over to Erick, wearing an angry expression the entire way.


    "If that were me personally, I wouldn''t take that, but hey, that''s just me," Jenkins joked.


    Marcus shot up from his seat, ready to confront Jenkins, but Erick intervened.


    "Hey, come on, man. It''s just Jenkins being an asshole. Besides, you''ve beaten him twenty-one times already and you¡ª" Erick turned to Jenkins. "Chill out. Not the time."


    "I don''t know, bro. I really feel like knocking his ass out," Marcus admitted.


    "Come at me, bro," Jenkins challenged, standing up as well.


    "Okay, guys, I don''t want to state the obvious, but you both can calm down of your own free will or not. That''s your choice," Erick said calmly.


    Marcus glared at him, muttering, "Fucking control freak," as he moved to sit next to Penelope.


    Erick knew Marcus''s anger would pass soon enough. It was always fleeting.


    "Blaze and Detmer!" bellowed Matheny.


    Erick glanced across at Kyle, who looked at him with a mixture of terror and uncertainty. Suppressing a smirk, Erick descended the bleachers to the gymnasium floor.


    As Kyle prepared to descend, Cynthia couldn''t resist a jab. "You''re gonna lose. Just don''t embarrass yourself too much."


    Her words only added to Kyle''s nerves as he walked down the bleachers. He knew Erick''s main skill lay in Bewitchment. Kyle needed to clear his mind, to resist Erick''s influence. Taking a deep breath, he reached the center of the gymnasium, positioning himself opposite Erick.


    "BEGIN!" Matheny''s voice rang out, but neither Kyle nor Erick moved, each waiting for the other to make the first move.


    "I''ll wait for him to cast something, resist it, then counter," Kyle strategized silently.


    "Hey, Kyle, by the way, sorry about your friend. I didn''t offer my condolences. I know she meant a lot to you," Erick said with unexpected sincerity.


    Kyle''s thoughts turned to Amber''s passing, a painful memory.


    "Than¡ª" Kyle began, but Erick cut him off.


    "I Dormi," Erick incanted.


    Kyle''s eyelids grew heavy, his body betraying him as sleep began to claim him.


    "Asshole," Cynthia scowled.


    "Surrounded by idiots," Roseanne commented dryly.


    Erick wasted no time, rushing towards Kyle and landing a powerful right hook to his face.


    "Oh shit!" Marcus and Jenkins exclaimed in unison.


    Kyle''s world began to fade to black as he heard Erick mutter, "See, Detmer? You can''t take me."


    Confused, Kyle struggled to grasp Erick''s cryptic words as consciousness slipped away.


    <hr>


    Catalina sat on a bench, enjoying her ice cream as she took in the city''s sounds: honking cars, arguing people, and wailing police sirens. Despite the chaos, she found it pleasantly soothing. Her peace, however, was interrupted by Richard.


    ¡°What are you doing? Have you interrogated everyone?¡± Richard asked, visibly annoyed.


    ¡°Yeah, but they didn¡¯t have much to say. Plus, they were kinda boring, so I came here and got some ice cream. Want a lick?¡± She offered him her cone.


    Richard, on the brink of losing his temper, managed to restrain himself. None of the people he had interrogated saw anything either. Whoever did this was meticulous. They¡¯d have to wait for forensics to get back to them, which meant more interrogations¡ªfriends, coworkers, classmates, extended family¡ªto see if the victim had any enemies. This was going to take a while, and it wasn¡¯t the kind of case Richard wanted to work on. He sat down next to Catalina and snatched the ice cream cone from her hand.


    ¡°Hey, pendejo, I didn¡¯t say you could have the whole thing,¡± Catalina protested.


    ¡°Did Huang get back to you?¡± Richard asked, taking a lick.


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯ll call him again,¡± Catalina replied.


    She pulled out her phone and dialed, but someone else answered.


    ¡°Hello?¡± said a woman¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± Catalina asked.


    ¡°Rhea. Who are you?¡± the woman responded.


    ¡°Catalina. Is John there?¡± she inquired.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve heard so much about you. Jonny is a little busy right now, but he¡¯ll get back to you,¡± Rhea said before hanging up.


    ¡°He¡¯s with some chick. He probably won¡¯t get back to us soon,¡± Catalina commented.


    Richard sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to be stuck with Catalina and this case longer than he wanted. He stood up, handed the ice cream back to her, and said, ¡°Well, come on. We¡¯ve got a lot of work to do.¡± Then, he started walking towards his car, with Catalina following behind.


    <hr>


    The sun began its descent, casting a golden hue over the horizon, but Kyle remained trapped in Mr. Matheny¡¯s remedial class. Alongside him were Penelope, Roseanne, Rick, Marcus, and Leah¡ªthe latter having to confront Matheny himself, which seemed wholly unjust. Matheny¡¯s voice broke the silence, commanding their attention.


    ¡°When you enter the real world, defending yourself becomes paramount, as authorities won¡¯t always be there in time,¡± Matheny proclaimed, his gaze fixing on Marcus.


    ¡°Mr. Oles, you must vary your attack and defense. I know you can cast a few abnegation cantrips¡ªuse them. Right now, you¡¯re a glass cannon,¡± he remarked, then shifted his focus to Kyle.


    ¡°Mr. Detmer, you need focus and resilience. Your skill means nothing if your attitude gets you killed. The same goes for you, Miss Scarlet,¡± he said, turning to Penelope.


    ¡°When your life is at stake, kindness is always a weakness,¡± he admonished before addressing Roseanne.


    ¡°Miss Nakamura, never underestimate your opponent. Assume any mage or entity you face is more powerful than you,¡± Matheny warned.


    Roseanne¡¯s face burned with rage; she had lost to Jenkins, his half-completed spell rebounding on them both. Jenkins, with his strong constitution, had endured the hit, but Roseanne had not.


    He turned to Rick. ¡°Mr. Martinez, diversify your arsenal. You have very few cantrips useful in battle,¡± he advised before facing Leah.


    ¡°Miss Erickson, enter a fight afraid, and you¡¯ve already lost,¡± Matheny declared.


    The rest of the lesson was spent demonstrating useful cantrips and self-defense tactics. By the end, Kyle was thoroughly exhausted and eager to leave. As he made his way out, a gentle touch on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to see Penelope.


    ¡°I wanted to apologize for what Erick did. It was unfair,¡± she said softly.


    Penelope had always been kind, but Kyle barely knew her, only ever hanging out with Amber and occasionally Cynthia if Amber was there.


    ¡°T-thanks. It was my fault; I shouldn¡¯t have let it distract me. I do need to toughen up,¡± he chuckled nervously.


    Penelope gave him a look filled with pity, the kind of gaze one doesn¡¯t want from a beautiful girl.


    ¡°Do you hang out with Cynthia on weekends?¡± Penelope asked.


    ¡°Uh, not really. We usually hang out when Amber¡¯s around, and we talk during class sometimes,¡± Kyle replied.


    ¡°Do you have any other friends to talk to?¡± Penelope inquired, her voice laced with concern.


    ¡°Not really,¡± Kyle said, avoiding her gaze, feeling a pang of shame.


    ¡°You can talk to me if you need someone. I have... experience with losing people,¡± Penelope offered.


    Kyle paused. ¡°Everyone here has lost someone. Your cousin lost his girlfriend. Why me?¡± he asked, suspecting an ulterior motive.


    ¡°Because you''re alone,¡± she said simply.


    The words pierced Kyle¡¯s heart. He had his dad, but they rarely talked. His brother was studying at Gnostia and was too busy to call. She was right¡ªhe was alone.


    ¡°Think about it,¡± Penelope continued before walking away.


    When Penelope arrived home, she found Erick in the dining room, surrounded by tomes, engrossed in his reading. Summoning her courage, she confronted him.


    ¡°What you did to Kyle was unfair and cruel,¡± Penelope scolded.


    Erick looked up, bewildered, then dismissive. ¡°Detmer needs to man up. It¡¯s character-building, Penny,¡± he replied.


    ¡°His best friend died. You didn¡¯t have to use her death against him. You should understand¡ªFederica died too,¡± Penelope said.


    ¡°They never found her body. She could be alive. Plus, it¡¯s all her fault anyway,¡± Erick retorted.


    ¡°Look, I know we all grieve di¡ª¡± Penelope began, but Erick cut her off.


    ¡°Who says I¡¯m grieving? Federica is probably still alive, hiding somewhere. It¡¯s what she does,¡± Erick insisted.


    ¡°And how do you feel about that?¡± Penelope asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it. You couldn¡¯t possibly understand. Now leave me alone. I have work to do,¡± Erick said.


    ¡°I can try to under¡ª¡± Penelope started, but Erick interrupted again.


    ¡°Leave, or I¡¯ll make you leave,¡± he threatened.


    Penelope left, tears welling in her eyes.


    She would be alright, Erick told himself. They fought sometimes, but he had more pressing matters. He was researching shruv-zeelers, demons that make deals in exchange for souls. He needed to find a way out of his contract. Unlike others, he remembered hell and Sir Crowley with his dapper suit and demonic eyes. From his research, Erick knew shruv-zeelers were easy to summon but hard to control, offering assistance for a steep price¡ªusually souls. He put his hand on his head, regretting his lack of caution in the deal. He had aimed to keep everyone safe, but had he doomed them all? Were their souls sold, or just his? He needed to dig deeper, find more answers.


    <hr>


    Jenkins stepped out of the elevator and onto his floor, the sleek apartment complex offering a panoramic view of the city through its glass walls. He reached his door, turned the key, and entered. As he made his way to the living room, he noticed the TV was on, and a strange woman sat on the couch, half asleep. His gaze drifted to her fingers, recognizing the ring adorned with familiar runes.


    ¡°Mom?¡± he called out.


    The woman broke from her daze and looked at him.


    ¡°Oh, hey honey, you okay?¡± she replied.


    He blinked, and her face shifted again. This was common¡ªher face always changed. He could only identify her by the ring she wore. In truth, he didn¡¯t really know what she looked like.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you were coming home,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just a layover. I¡¯ll be gone tomorrow night,¡± she responded.


    ¡°Oh, so uh, guess what hap¡ª¡± Jenkins began, but his mother cut him off.


    ¡°Look, honey, it¡¯s been a long six months, and I just want to relax. We can talk when I get back. Come on, you¡¯re a big boy now,¡± she said.


    ¡°Uh, yeah, sure. I was just dropping my stuff off. I¡¯ve got to head out, gonna hang out with some friends,¡± Jenkins replied.


    ¡°You go do that,¡± she said, switching the channel and her face.


    Jenkins placed his bag in his room and left the apartment. At times like this, he wondered why she kept him around.


    <hr>


    Amon didn¡¯t mind being summoned. It kept the souls flowing, a welcome distraction from the monotony of hell. Yet, serving his Archdemon, Sir Crowley, had grown wearisome. Balancing Crowley¡¯s demands with the violent whims of the mages who called upon him was exhausting. Just the other day, a mage had ordered him to annihilate an entire family.


    As the eternal second of portal passage elapsed, Amon emerged atop a building, overlooking a city bathed in the glow of night and vibrant, spectral advertisements dancing in the sky. His invoker, a hooded figure much like the last, awaited him, but Amon sensed this was not the same mage.


    "I offer you twenty percent of my soul for you to deal with the little problem I have over there," said the figure, pointing to a warehouse below.


    "Done," Amon replied, clasping the man¡¯s hand to seal the pact.


    "Ars Maleficarum: Ignis Inferni," Amon chanted, as crimson flames enveloped his feet, lifting him toward the warehouse.


    Upon arrival, a peculiar scene unfolded: a lone mage in a suit battling other mages, but their combat was purely physical. The solitary mage dominated, striking swiftly, evading deftly. He disarmed an attacker with a swift break, tripped another, kneed him in the face, then slammed his head to the ground. Amon was impressed. But why no magic? Then he noticed the black sphere hovering over the mage¡¯s head¡ªa spell siphoning the Aether, preventing any casting. This explained why his invoker had summoned him from a safe distance.


    Only one opponent remained, and the mage was mercilessly pummeling him, his face emotionless, his hands stained with blood.


    In the corner, a woman sobbed. "It''s all my fault," she whispered.


    The man halted, confusion softening his expressionless face.


    <hr>


    <hr>


    John blinked, bewildered. What had transpired? The last thing he recalled was collapsing from a slap. He glanced down at the man beneath him, whose face was a swollen, bloody mess. Reaching into his pocket, he felt it¡ªthe coin, inscribed with runes typically reserved for archmagi. John was no archmagi, but this keepsake from his father held its own powers. He saw Rhea crying in the corner and hurried to her side.


    "Are you¡ª"


    "Watch out!" she cried.


    Instinctively, John dodged, barely avoiding Amon¡¯s blade.


    They repositioned, John locking eyes with Amon, and Amon with him.


    "This one is going to be tough," they both thought.