ã€ŠEldritch exorcistã€‹


 1. Exorcisms can be boring

    I never knew what to do in such situations, I thought, looking at the widow and her family''s crocodile tears. Is it better to just lie to them? Put on the classic fake exorcism, take the money, and go? It''s not like I cared much about the morality of the whole thing. Even if I refused, they would probably find some charlatan to ¡°help¡± them. And those people always left a bad taste in my mouth. They parodied something with history and tradition they couldn¡¯t begin to understand, just for a quick buck. Giving them any business was not on my to-do list, even if that meant scamming someone myself.

    Or do I tell the truth and hope that they will believe me and this will be the end of it? No more money will be spent on exorcists, energy experts, or some other crystal healing adjacent professions. That might sound funny coming from an exorcist like myself, but in my defense, I was a real one, one of very few remaining.

    With the widow''s second loud sob, my train of thought came to a screeching halt. I took another look around me, hoping that maybe an actual ghost or demon would pop out from somewhere. An old family house, dark wooden floors creaking with every step, an old kitchen to my left connected with the living room we were in. I stood facing a big window showing me the backyard, with around ten family members and the widow herself standing to my right. The air was filled with dust and the typical smell of old people mixed with the remaining odour of food from the wake.

    And to my greatest disappointment, no otherworldly entity in sight. The only thing that was haunted here was the bright pink dress worn by one of the women.

    ¡°So, to clarify, Miss Lena, you said that after your husband''s funeral, his favorite rocking chair sometimes moves on its own, and you now have nightmares about him?¡± I asked, not letting my thoughts affect my professional demeanor.

    ¡°Y-yes, I-I was peeling the vegetables as always.¡± She started once again on a story we all heard at least a couple of times already. But I did not stop her. I knew better. ¡°And then I looked toward the chair, where he would sit and read the newspaper while I made him dinner. A-and t-the chair.¡±

    She stopped for another nose blow accompanied by reassuring words from family. After a deep breath, she continued.

    ¡°It was rocking back and forth, as¡­ as¡­ as if¡­¡± Another deep breath ¡°as if he was waiting for his dinner.¡±  She finished with a new bout of treats flowing from her eyes.

    The supposedly haunted chair stood in front of me, and looking at it, I couldn''t help but sigh. The object of ghost activities was made from light wood, with the seat made from some sort of material stretched between the frame. The whole thing seemed very light¡ªso light that it could probably be moved by a gust of wind¡ªas it was standing there next to a window¡ªan opened window¡­ Should I just tell her? But from my experience with situations like that, people rarely accept their own mistakes. Usually, it ended with something along the lines of ¡®How do you explain the nightmares¡¯ or ¡®I felt his presence¡¯ or some other unprovable symptom.

    But if she could arrive at the answer by herself, maybe I wouldn¡¯t have to put on the stupid show.

    Let¡¯s give them a small nudge in the right direction.

    ¡°So, Miss Lena, does the chair always stand before that window?¡± I pointed.

    ¡°Yes, ye... OH my god,¡± She started crying again.

    Maybe maybe? Did she get it?

    ¡°He always sat next to the open window. D-d-do you think this is a sign?¡° the woman asked, her voice shaking.

    Well, fuck me. Not that I entirely blamed her for seeing the things she wanted to see, that was natural, but it was tough to understand people sometimes. My particular condition did not help much with my empathy, making some emotions even harder to identify with than they already were. Finally, letting go of any thoughts of getting away from the scam, I made up my mind and started on the good exorcist routine.

    ¡°Please, miss, do not despair. I can certainly help you¡±.

    Let''s start the show.

    ¡°I can sense the residual turmoil of emotions left by your husband,¡± I said with all the sincerity I could muster.

    ¡°Oh, wow,¡± said one of the spectators from the family flatly, clearly skeptical about my mystical powers.

    I had to stop a chuckle from escaping due to the unintentional comedy here. The powers were real, but the situation was fake. I¡¯m working with what I have here. I closed my eyes and raised my arms as if conducting some invisible orchestra into a slow waltz.

    ¡°Yes, yes, there is a lot of unwillingness to leave without you, yes.¡± I suddenly turned my head towards the chair. ¡°Some anger? No, no, not anger, more like pain. Yes, pain. Did he have a medical issue of some sort?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± she cried upon my revelation.

    Well, he was 87 years old, so of course, he had medical issues. Who doesn¡¯t at that age?

    ¡°Hmm, some of those negative emotions were left behind. I have to disperse them so he can leave in peace. Please give me some space,¡± I said, producing from my pocket a medallion with a strange symbol.

    The medallion was an inside joke among real exorcists. If you had to lead a fake exorcism, then you would use it. The mysterious symbol was an actual rune, part of a complicated alphabet used in spellcasting. But this particular rune used to chase out fake ghosts just said, ¡®fuck off.¡¯ I started chanting, using some words from actual spells mixed with Hebrew and ¡®me after a couple of beers¡¯ speech. And after just a few moments of that, lighting candles and ¡°special incense¡± (the cheapest I could find on the internet) was time for the finale. The medallion, you see, was not only a joke but also a prop. It had a strong magnet on the side, and if I held my hand with a metal ring on my finger next to it, the medallion would jump to my hand.

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    My chanting reached a high point, and I spoke in English, ¡°Leave this house. I release you!¡± With that, I brought my left hand closer, and the medallion obediently jumped to my palm, the whole thing accompanied by gasps from the family. I rocked on my legs a bit. Now acting like I was suddenly tired.

    ¡°*huff* The ghost has left. I think your house is clean now. However, the things that were associated with him may act like beacons for the remaining energy, making the atmosphere uncomfortable. Please, if you insist on keeping the chair, move it to the basement or maybe the attic so that it does not remind you of the one who passed.¡±

    I finished with a tired voice full of wisdom as the woman, now in tears, just nodded her head energetically.

    ¡°Oh *sob*, thank you, *sob*. I don''t know how to thank you. *Sob*¡± She said over the tears, patting herself for money.

    Finally, one of the family members tapped her on the shoulder and gave her an envelope.

    ¡°This is all I could gather for you,¡± she said, stretching her hand with the envelope in my direction. ¡°The agreed-upon 1800$ with 300$ extra for your service and giving me peace.¡±

    I stretched out my hand and touched the envelope. But before I took it, I stopped, just for a fraction of a second. At that time, I waited for a sting of guilt about scamming the old lady, an uncomfortable pressure in the pit of my stomach, or maybe disappointment in myself. But as always, nothing.

    The part of me that was supposed to produce any of those was hollow. A price paid long ago. But even now, I still wait for the emotion that will not come. My father told me that it was one of the things keeping our family sane, our minds relatively normal. We need to remind ourselves about some of the emotions when we are supposed to feel them. That kept us human¡ªwell, relatively human. Without the contact lenses in my eyes, I would probably not have been let into the house.

    I stopped my musings and bowed a little bit. ¡°Thank you for your strength and for calling me. Reaching out a helping hand is a reward in itself.¡± After that, I said goodbye to the rest of the family and started on my way home.

    The drive from the nice suburbs took a while as I lived in a supposedly ¡°bad¡± part of town. The apartment prices were relatively low, courtesy of several local gangs and drug dealers, and people kept to their own businesses. And this was just fine with me.

    Well, not all people, I thought to myself, looking at the old lady opening the doors I was about to pass on the staircase on the way to my apartment.

    ¡°Oh, Steve, honey, have you seen my cat ?¡± Asked the lady.

    ¡°No, Miss Helen, you should check under the bed,¡± I said calmly. After that, the lady thanked me and closed the doors, ending the short talk that was now an inseparable part of my routine.

    As for the cat, it was dead, and no, don¡¯t judge me, I didn''t kill it. It died of old age years ago. Also, to this day, I have no idea who Steve is.From what I know, the old lady was sent here to live where she wouldn¡¯t bother her family. And now she was something like an almost friend of mine, an unlikely friendship, but there was a reason for my liking her company. You see, while her disease makes her lose contact with reality, it also allows her to do what most can¡¯t¡ªlook directly into my eyes. The feeling of being close to another human in that moment is weirdly pleasing, like an itch that I didn''t know I had until it was scratched. So, each time I walked to my apartment, I would slow down and walk a bit heavier, waiting for that small piece of daily entertainment.

    Having a conversation with another person while keeping eye contact was a pleasant change from the skittish glances followed by gluing their eyes to the floor even if the talk revolved around some guy named Steve and a dead cat.

    After twisting the key in the old lock, I entered my place. A small one-bedroom apartment was all I could afford, considering I had to pay upkeep on a tightly protected storage unit where most of my family''s actual wealth lay. I could probably live in luxury if I sold any of the things there, but they were indispensable to me. They were instruments of one of the very few things that got my heart pumping¡ªmagic. Ahh, magic. A beautiful, fascinating subject.

    My thoughts were filled with spells and arcane knowledge as I went to the bathroom and delicately pulled out my contact lenses. I couldn''t risk any damage to them.They were specially made and expensive like hell, but they did the job quite impressively, I had to say. I appreciated the eyewear as I looked into my own eyes, now reflected in the mirror.

    In the past, when tales about my family were told, most people thought that our eyes would be deformed. Red reptilian slits, or like basilisks and turn you into stone, or curse you, or cause anyone who makes eye contact to have a bad harvest, or, well, you get the picture. But that was not it. The reason none made eye contact with the members of my direct lineage was more metaphysical, the price for our power.

    As I was about to lie down for the day after finishing a couple of tasks before bed, the phone rang. And not my ignore-notifications-and-emails phone, but to my dismay, my work phone. I immediately recognized the caller. It was my broker.Sadly, not exactly someone it was a good idea to ignore, so with a groan of someone made to go back to the office after leaving work, I picked up.

    ¡°Why are you calling me at that hour?¡± I sighed into the phone.

    ¡°How was the exorcism? I heard you did an outstanding job. Scamming people so well, they thank you for it.¡± There was a chuckle from the other side as I groaned again.

    ¡°If you know how the job went, then why ask? An honest day of dishonest work got me tired, so get to the point.¡±

    ¡°Well, I have a new job for you,¡± Came a weirdly excited response, considering scamming people wasn''t exactly exhilarating.

    ¡°I paid my rent this month. I''m not in the mood for another scam.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re in the mood for sitting in that magazine of yours, trying to figure out a way to cast third-circle spells or trying to summon some fucked up creature of myth.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not denying anything, but it''s still better than scamming some old people out of their money.¡±

    ¡°She''s young this time,¡± the voice said, still excited, as if that was all good then.

    ¡°Oh, that changes eeeeeverything. Should I heal her family with some crystals while I''m at it? Give me the address, and I will be there in an hour.¡±

    ¡°Aaaaaand.¡±

    This was getting annoying.

    ¡°It''s not a scam this time.¡± I could practically hear him smiling from the other end. ¡°A real haunting.¡±

 2. Preparations for the real deal

    ¡°Real haunting ?¡±

    Now, that was interesting. The last time I actually got to use some magic was three months ago against a barely solidified spirit.

    ¡°You sure?¡±

    ¡°Do you even have to ask?¡± Came a self-assured purr from the other side.

    ¡°Okay, okay, wait. Don¡¯t tell me. Let me guess what it is.¡± I was giddy like a child before Christmas now. ¡°A family moved to an old, weirdly cheap house, and it turned out that the house was haunted.¡°

    ¡°Nope.¡± I could hear the amusement in the voice.

    ¡°Ok. A group of college kids tried summoning ghosts and unknowingly used an actual medium.¡±

    ¡°Not even close.¡±

    ¡°Right. Some weird cult got their hands on a real Grimoire and screwed up a ritual.¡±

    ¡°Colder¡±

    ¡°But there was a ritual?¡±

    ¡°No ritual.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm,¡± I needed a moment to think this time. ¡°An old local legend turned out to be true, and someone who didn¡¯t know that they had magic in them did something wrong.¡±

    ¡°Oh wow, that was a long shot. Are you giving up?¡±

    ¡°A tall dude in a suit is standing around a forest like a twat, and I have to get the client their drawings back?¡±

    ¡°...Really?¡± The flatness in the voice cut deep into my soul.

    ¡°Ok, ok, but there is an artifact involved?¡±

    ¡°No artifact.¡±

    ¡°Grimoire¡±

    ¡°No¡±

    ¡°The family has some hidden lineage?¡±

    ¡°No special bloodlines.¡±

    ¡°Something that dates back at least a thousand years is somewhere in this story. But it is not a Grimoire and not¡­ ¡±

    ¡°No, nothing old.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­ wait wait, that doesn''t make any sense.¡±

    Was he pulling my leg all along?

    ¡°We are aware of the same world history, right? Or did you start to buy into the Vatican¡¯s cover-up? Any mana that was present after the war had already dissipated. So if there is nothing that dates back to when it was still around, and the family doesn''t have any mages or special bloodline, then this is not a real haunting.¡±

    I felt like a kid coming into a school pizza party just to get one slice of a cold margarita.

    ¡°Ok, tell me this wasn¡¯t some weird prank?¡±

    ¡°We checked the family, nothing special. The house is nothing special. We looked for artifacts and also nothing. No classic sources of hauntings. No runaway cryptid or mage in the vicinity. But¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, drop the suspense and tell me.¡±

    ¡°Buuuuuuuuttttt¡±

    Should I get a new broker? This one was starting to piss me off.

    ¡°The woman describes it as such. Two weeks ago, she killed a home invader. He was some loser from the internet. You know, the ¡®I''m a nice guy, so I will stalk you relentlessly¡¯ kind. But for some reason, she gave him a chance, and as you can imagine, things didn¡¯t work out. And before you ask, nothing special about the guy either, maybe except for his internet history.¡±

    ¡°I can imagine.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, he becomes a stalker and finally gets the bright idea to declare his love by breaking in, in the middle of the night. And she puts a couple of bullets in him in the end. And then it starts. Bad dreams, feeling of presence, sounds in the night, things misplaced when she returns home.¡±

    ¡°Ok, while it sounds like a haunting, you know those can be easily explained by the fact that she killed someone two weeks ago, and her moral compass is acting up?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I know that not everyone is the heartless killing machine you are.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said flatly.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Came a cheerful response.

    ¡°Anyway, we thought the same until she added a new detail. Every night after the sun goes down, she can smell the odor of burning hair.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡±

    ¡°Yeah, ¡®oh¡¯ indeed. Also, in the dreams, the man speaks to her in some strange language. The dreams are so vivid that she could cite some of the things. The language is the black speech.¡± He ended with a dramatic tone.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I was back to excitement.

    ¡°Yes, from what we can translate from the woman''s phonetic retelling, it should be something along the lines of ¡®you shall be mine in the other life¡¯ spoken again and again.¡±

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    Unlike all the rest, that part sounded like real haunting, a very strong one at that.

    ¡°Got you interested?¡±

    ¡°Very, 3000 dollars plus the standard amount based on the rank of the spirit. Paid in gold obols, obviously.¡±

    ¡°Deal¡±

    The deal was struck, so my broker just disconnected.

    Now, I was excited to the limit. Not only a hunting but one without any explanation. I had no idea what to expect, but there was a chance for a real challenge. Not the slugfest of fighting barely solidified ghosts with the maximum ability to move some chairs and moan at night, but a proper fight.

    I wanted to go to sleep and start the preparations first thing in the morning, but after a while, it became obvious that I would not be getting any sleep anytime soon. So, like an excited schoolboy before a school trip, I decided to lay out all of the necessary things.

    I put on some clothes and made my way to my rustbucket of a car. With the roads empty in the middle of the night, it took me barely 20 minutes to get to the old warehouse complex where my family''s wealth was kept. Part of the exorbitant price is the ability to open the unit at any time.

    I nodded to the 24-hour security guard and made my way to the warehouse.

    After entering my storage unit, I patted the two gargoyles on their heads like large dogs. They were big, black, ugly, stone things that looked like old Halloween decorations¡ªdecorations that would come alive and rip apart any trespasser just to feed on what remained of the body. They were over a thousand years old and some of my favorite possessions.

    The rest of the unit looked like something between an ancient library and a mad scientist''s laboratory. Books in piles on old wardrobes. Coffers locked with weird locks missing keyholes. And old statues depicting things that had no business being depicted in three-dimensional geometry, seeming to be in a constant state of battle against rules binding them to our Euclidean space. There was a lot. Most of my family''s treasures were lost to time during the age of the Inquisition, but the most important things were here, protected by enchantments and gargoyles. Big, ugly gargoyles powered by magic stored thousands of years ago.

    It couldn¡¯t go on forever, but a couple of hundred years more shouldn¡¯t be an issue.

    I sat by the only not cursed-looking object in the room, an old heavy desk used for work, and started on my tasks.

    What to take?

    It should be a spirit. The burned hair suggests apparition, and black speech suggests, at last, partial intelligence. So something for a head-on battle against a relatively smart opponent.

    Making a quick mental list of things needed, I started on the preparations. I would need rune paint for a seal on the house and a couple of basic potions for safety to deal with any more minor wounds I might sustain. So first, I started on my alchemy, mixing reagents in a laboratory set that could come straight from some movie set about alchemy.Once the elements for the seal and the essential potions were done, the next part was the attack.

    My dagger, staff, and my own magic should be enough for offense normally, but I couldn''t be too sure, especially with the enigmatic nature of the haunting. So after some hesitation, I decided to start on one more concoction.

    Stretching my back, I took a bottle filled with holy water from one of the shelves, the original, of course, not the bullshit they use in churches these days. But normal holy water was not enough. Now would be the hard part. After a bit of searching in the mess of my family¡¯s belongings, I finally located the right coffer. The lock had a strange sigil on it with no visible keyhole.

    I put my finger on the rune and whispered the correct phrase to open the thing. Inside were a couple of white bones that looked like they could fetch some money as haunted house decorations. If any specialist looked at any of the bones, they would probably say that it was the wing bone of some huge bird if not for the weird hole in the middle that looked weirdly like an eye socket.

    Now for the hard part. Taking a special carving knife, I pushed some of my magic into the blade, and previously hidden runes lit up like Christmas lights. Straining my muscles, I spent the next hour trying to scrape enough powder from the bone, feeling my magic flow out of me with every pass over the hard material.

    How anyone killed the bone¡¯s owner was beyond me.

    After scraping enough powder, I put the bone back in its place and mixed the fruit of my work with the holy water. Not many spirits should be able to live through coming into contact with that.

    With that, my basic preparations were done.

    The last part was surprisingly tiring. I wanted to rest a bit before returning home, but the feeling of emptiness quickly made itself known. It was like a pressure difference that desperately wants to be corrected but, for some reason, can¡¯t, a feeling of something missing from you that you want back but can''t locate. The nasty outcome of using magic in a world lacking any natural mana.

    With a heavy sigh, I opened one of the most protected chests in the room. It was filled to around half with blue crystal, segregated by size into compartments inside the coffer. Some of the crystals were the size of a pebble, others a bit larger than my fist. All strangely regular like they were cut by a professional, even tho all were natural.

    Most of the stash was spent on my training when I was younger.

    I took out one of the pebble-sized ones. Now with a source of mana I instinctively drew the energy into myself, slowly feeling the sucking sensation go away.

    That feeling of emptiness was the cause of so many mental illnesses these days. Untrained people with magic potential use their mana in a fit of rage or sorrow just to spend the rest of their lives thinking they miss something. That they can¡¯t be happy. Thank the abyss, I had the crystals.

    With everything prepared, I went back to the apartment to rest.

    Aaaand I can¡¯t sleep, too excited about something interesting finally happening.

    The next morning, after finally winning the battle with sleep, I woke up with the exorcism on my mind so much that I almost forgot it was a working day, and I couldn''t just not go to uni.

    You see, I needed a job in the future. With any hauntings and mana sources becoming more scarce every year, a normal job was a nice thing to have. A safe thing. I studied two courses, archeology, as there was always a chance of coming up on some ruin dating back to the age of myth, and the second one online, physics. My father decided that one, to have something logical, something that describes the world in specific terms to anchor the mind when delving into things that can¡¯t be truly understood or perceived.

    The archaeology course was a bit boring for me. Most of the events we studied were Vatican cover-ups or history told to mortals, so they stopped asking questions. Also, I didn''t have many friends to talk to to pass the time, considering that the eerie feeling I gave out was still present even with my eyes covered. Most warlocks that dealt with demons were unnerving, and I had a deal with something much darker than a demon, so people usually stayed clear of me.

    I was not one for human companionship, but sometimes, it would be nice to talk about anything to pass the time.

    Well, not all of them, sadly.

    ¡°Ayyyyy the exorcist. Fought any ghosts recently?¡± The college jock straight from the pages of any school drama and the bane of my existence,. Ever since, someone¡¯s grandmother became my client and showed the exorcism photos on her phone to one of my group mates, he wouldn¡¯t just fuck off.

    If not for the fact that it would be spending a finite resource that was magic, I would probably have put a curse on him long ago.

    ¡°The ghost of your mother yesterday in my bedroom.¡±

    I wish I could just fight the ghost already.

 3. Somethings not right

    The day at uni was a slugfest. All that was on my mind was the strange hunting that I was supposed to deal with. And as the last lecture ended, I bolted out of there like a bat out of hell.

    With everything loaded and prepared I made my way into my old family car and drove to the meeting place. It was a warm, cozy cafe in Manhattan. After an hour of driving, I arrived with 45 minutes to spare.

    Setting myself down, I took out my notebook and went over the case once again. The thing looked like a typical case of haunting with one exception. It was not supposed to happen. There was nothing dating back to the era of myth involved, and for any spirit to solidify after death, no matter how pissed or resentfull it was, mana was needed.

    My working theory was that it was hard to detect. like a cloaking artifact leaking energy into the surroundings but still functional. Of course, that theory was not very good considering that would also be one of the first things the broker and his people would be looking for, and I was sure that Q¡¯shar was one of the best in the business. But maybe the artifact was so good that it went unnoticed even by the agents of frumentarii.

    Another possibility was that it was some kind of trap. It''s not like there weren''t people interested in my family''s treasures. But again, an assassination attempt this elaborate without any info leaking, and on the territory of my broker, no less, was probably even less possible.

    The sound of opening doors stole my attention, and I saw a tall and muscular woman walk in. Her build was that of a sportswoman who you would expect to be full of energy and vitality. But that could not be further from the truth.

    Although her body seemed well maintained, her skin was as white as a paper, looking sickly. Her hair was in a mess, clearly not taken care of, and her posture was that of a tired office worker rather than someone young and energetic. But the most striking feature was her eyes. Lifeless, like dark pools of muddied water, once probably lively brown, now grayish with dark circles under them, a sign of the persistent problems with sleep.

    She looked around and finally saw me give her a small wave and made her way to the table, almost tripping when a loud bang came from the kitchen. Once closer I noticed something else, something that would not be visible to anyone normal, her aura. It was like looking at a dying candle, barely giving any light, seeming weak and feeble. Fear, uncertainty, a bit of desperation and most of all tiredness were radiating from her. Normally, people''s auras are not that visible, not unless they are in strong emotional states, but hers was practically screaming something bad happened.

    But I had to be on alert, not like aura was hard to fake. I mean, hell, a first-circle wizard could do that.

    ¡°You must be Mister Samael¡±

    As she extended her hand I did the same, but my other hand made a small series of hand gestures behind my back. Shatter I whispered in arcane speech and felt as a miniscule amount of magic left me.

    Normally this attack, if used with an amount of mana much larger than the opponents, could injure or even cripple their magic but in the weak form, it would not do any harm. No, the other effect was what I was after. If she was hiding her magic, the attack would find purchase. If there was any magic in you, it would try to disturb it. It was not the best method as you had to be in contact with the opponent. It was crude but unexpected, and she hopefully would not have prepared for it and counteracted.

    I felt my magic rush into her as she shivered a bit, but¡­ no purchase. The mana dissipated. Hmmmm, so there was no magic in the client, as the broker said, or she was that good at hiding it.

    ¡°Yes, but no need for misters, just Sam.¡± I said without missing a beat, and gave her what I was hoping came out as a warm smile. ¡°I have heard that you have an issue of an unusual nature Miss Wilis.¡±

    ¡°Please call me Sarah then, and yes.¡± She shifted in her chair a bit, fidgeting. She looked around as if proper words to explain what was happening to her were written somewhere on the walls. But finally after gathering her thoughts, she started to speak.

    ¡°So to start ummm. Look, I don¡¯t really believe in all the ghost stuff. You know I¡¯m-¡±

    ¡°Not crazy,¡± I finished for her. ¡°Please speak freely, and trust me, I will not think you crazy. If the phenomenon could be explained by normal means, I would not be sitting here.¡±

    I could see her shoulders relax a bit. Becoming a believer in ghosts overnight still makes you seem like a lunatic when talking about it aloud.

    After that, I got the same story I heard in an abridged version from my broker. A guy she gave a chance, became an obsessed weirdo, which finally ended up in a shooting. And then the classical hunting started.

    ¡°Yes, I understand.¡± I nodded. ¡°I have to ask some questions, and a few of them might seem weird or personal, but please do your best to answer them.¡±

    I got a nod in return.

    ¡°You said that you now moved out into your mother''s apartment, but the dreams and presence persisted although lessened considerably. But did the smell of burning hairs at the hour of the shooting also persist after the move?¡±

    Her eyes widened, and after a second to think, she opened her mouth. ¡°Yes, you are right. I think now that I sleep at my mother¡¯s house, the smell is gone.¡±

    She looked like she was expecting me to know exactly what was happening, to make sense of this weird thing that was making her life a living hell. The hope in her eyes made them look like beacons, bringing some liveliness back to them.

    But to tell you the truth, most of the theories I had about the nature of the creature haunting her just said goodbye. The smell was one of possible phenomena accompanying the ghost materialising, but if it didn¡¯t materialise in her mothers house, how in the everloving fuck was it still haunting her.

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    ¡°Did something out of the ordinary happen before the shooting, like some weird person or an object you came in contact with, Something that would leave an eerie feeling in you for no apparent reason?¡±. ¡®Like the one you get sitting with me, ¡® I finished in my mind.

    A couple more seconds of thinking and a firm shake of the head.

    ¡°In these dreams, do you relive the shooting?¡±

    ¡°No, well, sometimes I do when I take a nap, but those are, I think, normal dreams. Those vivid dreams are different. It¡¯s like I know I''m dreaming but can¡¯t wake up.¡± I could see her shiver a bit, but she kept explaining, ¡°I just walk in my house without finding the exit. It becomes like a labyrinth filled with white swirling mist, and I just walk and walk endlessly. And then when I wake up, I¡¯m really tired, like I barely slept at all. Also, I can sometimes see him at the edge of my vision speaking those weird words¡±. A couple more theories just disappeared from the list of possible explanations.

    ¡°Hmmm, are there any signs or sigils you see in those dreams?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, nothing like that.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I had to confirm.

    ¡°Yes, I remember those dreams very well, even if I try not to¡­¡±

    ¡°Did you have any unusual medical condition show up after the incident? Something strange like a rash in a weird shape or maybe you spit out hair or fingernails?¡±

    ¡°No, yuck. Can that actually happen?¡±

    ¡°In some cases, yes. Do you have strange states of arousal? Like in really awkward situations that normally should not bring any sexual thoughts.¡±

    ¡°No¡± A firm response. That was good to hear. Dealing with ghosts of that nature was usually disgusting.

    ¡°What is your greatest fear? And I don¡¯t mean metaphysical like ¡®failing to fulfill my dreams¡¯, I mean something simple, like spiders or a concrete scenario.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s strange actually, but I¡¯m afraid of being lost.¡±

    ¡°Please elaborate.¡±

    ¡°Well, I got lost once in a big city when I was a child. The city was like a labyrinth to a child, and I spent three hours of wandering, panicked, before someone had the idea to call the police and report a missing child. Ever since, I¡¯m afraid of not knowing where I am or being unable to find the way¡±.

    ¡°So the dreams must be extra tasking on you, being in your own house but also not at the same time¡±

    She weakly nodded her head. So, the thing was capable of learning the victim''s fears. Most ghost-type undead were so, so it was nothing new, but using her own house, where she was supposed to feel safe, as an unknown labyrinth was extra nasty. Whatever it was, it was good at mental work.

    ¡°Last question. Please give me all dates related to you, when you celebrate your birthday, name day if you celebrate one, and any other holidays related to you and you only.¡±

    She listed all of them, and sadly, numerology or horoscopes did not have an answer, too. It was not like I was a master of them, but I knew my sources of hauntings. I took a few seconds to think, mainly to pretend for her like I had arrived at an answer.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I think I know what is happening, and I should be able to help,¡± I lied.

    After some small talk, she quickly left, probably my presence slowly getting to her. Finally, I could drop the exorcist act. I stretched my fingers and popped my knuckles thinking about the case. Honestly, the whole thing was a massive mystery. There were signs of typical haunting that would suggest a good old haunted house kind of scenario. But at the same time, the haunting persisted when she moved out of the house, which suggested an attempt at possession or haunting of an object she had on her not knowing about it.

    But to counter that theory, the haunting was weaker when out of the house, which just doesn¡¯t make any sense. If the house was haunted, it was a simple ghost or apparition, and they shouldn¡¯t be able to make their way out of the hunting grounds. If it was a possession attempt, then lesser spirit most likely and the place would not make any difference, maybe aside from a church, but unless her mother lives in one or on a blessed ground, then no.

    I went over my knowledge of basic spirits but nothing made sense. Now alone at the table, twirling my tea in the cup I had a decision to make. Going half blind was dangerous but on the other hand, I wanted to unravel the mystery and a payday for anything supernatural was also a nice bonus. I had prepared the best weapons for any kind of dark spiritual being, so I should be good no matter what it was, even if I were not too keen on using them. And, well, who am I kidding? I was way too excited not to go. I needed to know what it was.

    I told the woman to try to sleep tonight with someone else in the room. And to pray before going to bed. That was more for comfort than anything else. Also to cover the bed in salt and silver if she had any to make the spirit¡¯s life harder if it wanted to send those dreams.

    Now, I had an address and ghost to deal with. I sent her a message that I would be dealing with it tomorrow.

    Having made the decision, I drank the rest of the coffee and went home, still going over the possible scenarios. The most problematic part was the smell of burning hair. This was a sign of the ghost taking a fully material form, which meant that it was around a second-grade entity. It was not very powerful and without a fully formed consciousness, but it could be annoying.

    Overall, ghosts and any other beings fitting the umbrella term of a ghost would usually have similar characteristics unless they had fully formed consciousness. They would always have an anchor, something that lets them stay and materialize in the normal world. This anchor can be a place, an item, or even a person. Ghosts can choose to materialize or not. However, once the night comes, the anchor is automatically connected to the world of tangible whether the ghost enters or not, allowing it to be destroyed or sealed. Usually, that''s how exorcism rituals work. But what was the anchor in this case? I have no idea.

    Well, there was the other method of dealing with ghosts, ripping them apart. If you used an attack that could hurt a spiritual being, you could go about it without an exorcism and just kill the ghost directly. The church frowned upon this method since it would not allow the soul to ascend to heaven, assuming one believed in the first place, but thankfully, I was not a priest, so this option was open to me.

    This was a bit harder since ghosts could be elusive, but not to toot my own horn, I was one of the best when it comes to curses and dark arts. So as long as I got my hands on the thing and it didn¡¯t run, I should be able to do it without an exorcism. Hopefully.

    With my mind set on the head on battle, I went to bed. Ready for a dreamless sleep.

    ***

    After a couple of hours of sleep, I finally woke up. Although my internal clock was telling me that I didn''t get the full sleep, it was nothing a cup of coffee couldn¡¯t fix. I opened my eyes and got up fro¡­ that¡¯s not my house.

    The place I was now standing at, with my bed that I could swear I was just lying in, nowhere in sight, was an old house. It was a classic American suburban home that anyone''s parents bought when house prices weren''t a cruel joke. The room I was in was a classical cozy living room. Old piano in the corner that was more of a decoration and a photo stand than an instrument. Sofa and a TV in front of it with a coffee table next to the sofa.

    But there were also strange things that didn¡¯t fit, there were a couple of family photos on the walls and the piano, but all of them had their heads scratched out. The clocks in the room weren''t working, all of them set to 2.34 pm., and the windows had bars in them, cold steel bars that fit more in a prison.

    The rest of the house was filled with dense white fog that seemed to swirl and move like a living being without any wind to be felt.

    ¡®Wait, this seems familiar. But how?¡¯ This was supposed to be the client''s nightmare, not mine.

 4. What hides in the mist

    I quickly focused my mind around me. I could feel my ability to sense my surroundings was diminished, and penetrating the fog was almost impossible. Shit I was somehow in the creature''s home turf.

    My senses warned me. A tingling feeling on my back told me something was watching me. I suppressed the urge to turn around and focused on the periphery of my vision. I could see a presence in the fog on the edge of my eyesight. A shadow that did not seem to be made by the constant random movement of the mist, a shape that persisted in the swirling. For now, it was observing me, but it would soon probably try something.

    I needed to think fast, whatever it was, it should not be able to pull my consciousness out of my body, and certainly not without me noticing. Entering my dreams was also not likely. With the ritual I went through in my childhood, entering my dreams was suicide for anyone trying. Then, there was one option left¡ªan illusion. I¡¯m actually standing in my room, and the spell is tricking my mind into believing I¡¯m in the creature''s trap.

    Not bad, I relaxed a bit now knowing what was happening. The illusion was extremely well made, how it was cast was another problem to solve but now was not the time. I could see the presence get a bit closer to the edge of the fog, probably preparing for an attack.

    Then, a sharp movement from the fog as two shadowy spikes went for my knees, aiming to maim me. The projectiles were quick, and they made contact before I could do anything. Blood spattered as I looked down at my mangled knees. But I did not fall.

    It was a creature¡¯s mistake. The illusion would work if the subject panicked and started to fall deeper into it, believing in anything they saw. This would allow for more and more damage to the mind until all but a husk was left. But the ghost picked the wrong opponent for that strategy, probably the worst in the world.

    ¡°Impressive spell work, bad execution, though,¡± I said, toward the presence, using black speech. ¡°If you can''t convince me that I''m hurt, I won''t be my shadowy friend,¡± I said calmly, but I got no response in return.

    Well, it doesn¡¯t matter. If the subject panics, the subject can be hurt, but if the caster panics...

    ¡°I know you can speak. So, since this is our first meeting, let me give you a lesson for free. It¡¯s very dangerous to keep a subject in an illusion after he realizes what it is.¡± I gave it a creepy smile. ¡°Let me show you why,¡± I said, extending my consciousness, trying to feel the connection made for the spell to work. Then, I started pressing my own mental energy into everything around me, corrupting things, overtaking the spell, and slowly creeping towards the mind on the other side.

    The floor and furniture around me started to rot and twist into weird, otherworldly shapes. I could feel the creature panic, good. It tried to drop the whole spell but it was too late. I was anchored. Then I let the ink on my hands float to the surface like a sea monster popping its head from the water, shapes and runes started to appear on my skin. My tattoos were used for curse weaving, and I had a perfect curse in mind.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t leave yet, we haven¡¯t gotten to know each other¡± I said playfully. It should be panicked enough to be convinced that I could hurt it. My fingers danced in a couple of runnic shapes as I said Decay and put my hand into the fog.

    The previously white fog started to turn greenish black, and the thing howled in pain. I was right. I was hoping that maybe I could destroy consciousness now, but then the floor around me cracked, and I was back in my room, sitting on my bed.

    Running by cutting off your own tail, huh? Smart. The thing will be injured a tib, but it was quick, and I didn¡¯t manage to put any permanent curse on it.

    One might think that getting my opponent hurt before the battle was great, and it was, but not all was good news. The thing picked the wrong spell for the opponent, but it was capable of magic, which suggests very high intelligence. Moreover, it was capable of magic outside of its lair, which means that it should be able to do much more inside of it.

    Also, how was the spell cast? I doubt it sneaked up on me or had any spell component that would lead the magic to me.

    The fight might not be as straightforward as I believed it would be.

    ***

    The next day was the go time. I was planning on going after midday. If the ghost had any intelligence, it wouldn¡¯t show itself when the sun was still up, and even if, playing whack-a-mole with a ghost was not on my to-do list. So I started to get ready to move around two hours before sunset.

    Before me lay a black robe, screaming Fantasy wizard. Anyone knowledgeable would recognize it as a battle robe. Unlike normal decorated ones with wide sleeves, this one was simple. It had silver details and a series of runes around the seams, a bit more material on the chest area, and tight sleeves ending a bit before the wrist, a mark of curse wever.

    After putting on the robe, I locked my black skin belt around my waist and started adding weapons to its many holders. I liked this part It made one feel like Batman or an action hero in an arming montage. A black obsidian dagger with a white bone handle, ready to be pulled out next to my right hand. A series of bottles at the back and, finally, a couple of amulets in holders on my left with the chains sticking out of the cases for easy pulling.

    And finally, the most important part of the get-up, a black and gold staff with a crystal arcane focus at the top and five smaller ones underneath it. The whole thing was almost my height and made from black wood with golden vein-like lines going through it. The crystal at the top was part of the forehead of a sculpted skull at the top that looked a bit like it belonged to an elk, but smaller.

    I was really putting the ¡®dark¡¯ in ¡®dark wizard,¡¯ huh.

    Although the staff was not very helpful when fighting hand to hand, it was a basic for any proper mage. Each smaller crystal on the staff represented a spell to be instantly cast without any components at the speed of a thought. Three spells of the first circle and two of the second.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    I checked if everything was in place once again, activated the staff as it snaked around my wrist changing its dimensions, now looking like a bracelet.

    Finally, considering last night''s incident, I ensured all my mental shields were up and that the robe''s mind-boosting effect functioned properly.

    ***

    I arrived at the place after about fifteen minutes. It was a typical suburban American house. Two levels, porch, and lawn in front. The house was well taken care of, the only thing suggesting it was empty was the newspapers lying on the porch.

    I looked through the window and immediately recognized the place. It was the same as the one in the dream slash illusion. No surprise there.

    I entered.

    A kitchen on the left side with a separate dining room connected to it. A saloon that I already knew on the right. The basement doors under the stairs to the first floor in front of me to the left. Probably a toilet and some other rooms further down the corridor.

    I had about thirty minutes of daylight. A quick check of the second floor revealed some more rooms and finally, at the end of the corridor, the fated room where the dude died. I could feel a presence in the house but as I thought, the ghost was hiding, waiting for the daylight to recede. And I was waiting for the same thing. I made my way to the porch. Uncorking one of the bottles, I dipped three fingers in the red substance and began writing a seal on the front doors.

    Once I close them again, only one of us will be getting out of that house alive.

    It was a bit excessive, but I didn¡¯t know how the creature functioned or what its limits were, and I didn''t fancy a chase through the streets with a ghost-like creature.

    After around 10 minutes, with my work done, I stood there looking at the setting sun. The sky was turning a deeper shade of red as the shadows lengthened, overtaking the world from the grasp of light. I could see some people looking at me standing in front of the neighborhood''s now new haunted mansion in a classic wizard getup, minus the pointy hat.

    I raised my left hand towards my heart and felt my pulse. It was a steady but loud beating, a bit quicker than usual. A smile made its way to my lips. Those were the moments I was living for, the moments when I remembered that I was alive, really alive, and not just mindlessly going through the motions of the same routine. I raised my eyes, and finally, the shadows covered the last tile of the house.

    It was time to go.

    As I crossed the doors, I could feel a presence once again, but this time it was tangible, like someone standing at the edge of my sight prompting me to look behind me. Yes, the thing was here, waiting, finally fully manifested. I took a breath and looked at the fog slowly filling the house, rising seemingly out of nowhere.

    ¡®It¡¯s time to hunt,¡¯ I thought as I heard the doors close behind me.

    And with the click of the lock, the seal on the house came alive.

    A delicate fog filled the house, not exactly blocking the view but making the shadows and contours a bit obscured, seeming not entirely real. It gave the house a dream-like, ethereal feeling in contrast to the white wall that I saw in the dream. Also, there was the silence, the silence where you could hear your own heartbeat. It was unnatural and unnerving for anyone present, making you want to turn on a radio or music to make it go away.

    I had two possible actions. Catch the spirit in action and destroy or seal it or find the place where it is anchored to the world. It can be the home or some item connected to its history or its place of birth, and once I have the place locked in then do an exorcism when the anchor is connected to our world.

    The problem with the anchor was that I had no idea if this creature even had one or if it was something unique, as suggested by the range of motion shown by the ghost. So the plan was simple, if the anchor was here I would assume it was somewhere near the place the dude died. Strong emotions help create the anchor, after all.

    But preferably, the creature would show itself when I was making my way upstairs, and I could just kill it with a spell. Hopefully, it would double down on mental attacks and try to do something like reading my fears and phobias. Once it did, I would be ready to start on the plan.

    I slowly made my way through the fog towards the stairs. The floors that previously were fine now creak with my every move.

    *Bang!* A loud noise could be heard right behind me, coming from the doors to the kitchen.

    Anyone would take a look, but it was not my first rodeo. Instead of looking, I immediately used one of the spell charges in the staff. Decay. A black and green, seemingly squirming ball flew out of the staff and exploded right in front of me, making some of the wood rot and wither. Just in time to see some of the shadows vibrate and adjust, retiring to their correct placements.

    I froze. I couldn''t feel the attack coming or the spell finding the target. My spell dispersed the attack, but the attacker was nowhere to be seen. The presence was still here but also not entirely here.It didn¡¯t have to get closer to attack, it seemed.

    Wailing armor I said, making a couple of hand gestures, and I could feel some energy wrap itself around me like a wet blanket. Not the best feeling, but it could take a direct attack, increasing my survivability.

    Was the whole house a big anchor? That could be felt immediately. The attack originated from the shadow, but the presence didn¡¯t strengthen. Should I go for an exorcism right away? I needed some time for the exorcism, and I couldn''t go through with the ritual if I could not see an attack coming. I had the bottle with the blessed liquid, but no target to use it on.

    ¡®Fuck¡¯ I swore and chanted Watchers circle to give myself some breathing room feeling the space around me come into focus in my mind despite the fog. Then I took one of the talismans from my belt.

    It was a contraption similar to a compass, but the needle was not moving. Pushing some of my magic into it activated the talisman, now I just needed to catch just a bit of mana belonging to the creature. Touching the compass to an attack would work, but that was a dangerous maneuver.

    Deactivating the circle, I made my way towards the stairs. Two more attacks came my way from the shadows. I managed to defend against both, not using the staff this time, but I could not catch any mana, they were way to quick and unexpected. But I noticed a pattern. The attacks always came from the shadows. The creature probably had some connection to the shadow element, making attacks powerful but limited in variety. It was annoying because it was stealthy, but at the same time, it needed a medium.

    I cast Light, and most of the shadows around dispersed, though the fog didn¡¯t make the spell that effective.

    I went onto the stairs, each step accompanied by an unnerving squeaking. The portraits on the walls seemed to follow me with their hollow eyes as the fog downstairs thickened, making it look like I was walking over a white swirling abyss. Any misstep threatened to throw me into it.

 5. Call upon the abbys

    I had to give it to the creature. The mental work was excellent. Every ghost had the natural ability to cause fear, but this show was really good. So good, in fact, that I almost missed the slight poke in my mental landscape. The presence in my mind slowly made its way deeper into my mind, towards the part of the psyche where surface fears and phobias were placed as I stood looking around, trying to find the enemy.

    Breaking into someone''s mind was difficult if you did not have a natural ability, like ghosts or seers. But even for those creatures, it was hazardous because to break into someone''s mind directly, you must establish a two-way connection. And if you run into someone proficient in mind arts¡­

    If I were a normal person, I would probably just wonder why I am thinking about some scary memory from the past right now, as the creature got a good look at my fears. But I was not a normal person, and this was precisely what I was waiting for.

    The presence in my mind was moving forward cautiously until it suddenly stopped. It finally noticed that something was horribly wrong, probably warned by a primal sense of fear that arose in it. But it was too late. Using my own mental strength, I grabbed the tentacle-like construct in my mind, locking it in place, and made my way to the thing on the other end, no stealth, just brute force attack. Once there, I started to rummage through the creature''s psyche like an elephant in a glass shop, looking for anything useful.

    I could feel the mind on the other end, it was much more complex than any spirit I encountered before but I had no time to ponder. The part of it in my mind started to retreat in a panic. Having access to some of my memories, it started bombarding me with my own childhood, hoping some memory would elicit enough of a response to break my concentration.

    The memories flashed before my eyes as I made my way in the creature''s mind, looking for its plan or, preferably, location. I could see my own past intertwined with the ghosts as part of me was looking at it, and part of it was bombarding me with my own childhood.

    A memory of a head in a complicated glass container looking at me with a warm smile flashed inside my mind.

    The creature was preparing a trap.

    People chanting in strange language as thirteen-year-old me sat in front of a massive sculpture with dimensions, angles and colors not of this world.

    A distraction, then an attack, the creature was planning a killing blow.

    An old massive book with strange symbols, the most blasphemous text of mankind passed to me.

    Something more, a rouse within a rouse, something was wrong, something¡­ As I tried to make my way deeper, the connection was lost, and the presence retreated as I hastily used one of my talismans to block a hasty attack.

    I revealed part of its plan, but there was something else, something I did not get to see. I had to be extra careful. But there''s no point dwelling on that right now. All I could do was increase my focus and hope to kill it before any new variable came into play.

    Time to spring the trap.

    I raised the talisman as another black needle crashed into a see-through shield created by it and sprinted towards the place where the creature probably had its origin. The doorway at the end of the corridor where the man was shot was my destination. I pulled out a glass bottle with my special holy water concoction. Whatever was living here should feel the antithesis of its own energy radiating from the bottle.

    As I was almost by the place where the man died, the trap sprung.

    The doors to my left leading into the bathroom swung open, and a massive spike made out of shadows flew straight at me. No shield at the first or second circle could block that attack entirely as it was prepared in advance. The feeling of triumph could be felt radiating from the creature.

    Gotcha.

    Panther''s agility

    I used a second circle spell stored in the staff and barely twisted myself out of the way of the spike. My left hand, holding the compass-like talisman, just barely made contact with the attack, some of the mana making its way into the contraption as the strength of the attack threatened to rip it from my hand.

    A trick only possible thanks to the creature''s exact angle and moment of attack being revealed to me. I heard a shriek of anger coming from down the hall. I took the comas-shaped amulet and activated it with my own mana.

    I got the fucker now, once the compass locked in the direction of the spirit all I needed to do was to rip it to pieces, and if it retreats ino it¡¯s layer it will point at the entrance, I got it cornered now. I checked for any attack and looked at the compass.

    My moment of triumph was a mistake. As the amulet activated, I was ready to fire off a spell in any direction it pointed, ending it with a corrupting curse right to the soul after, followed by a holy water bath for the ghost just to be sure. But the compass started to spin around like a carnival ride.

    I tried to use a shield talisman. But I was a heartbeat too late. The attack connected. It was another one prepared in advance, but this time, it just materialized right in front of me out of nowhere. The only thing saving my life was the fact that I was on edge, knowing there was a variable I was not aware of and the lingering effect of the panther''s agility.

    The attack ripped through my armor spell, and only the movement I managed to make changed it from one that would have cut my throat to one that just left a long wound on the side of my neck. I quickly used the staff to cast Whaling armor, using up my last second circle spell stored as two more attacks connected.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    What followed seemed like rain pattering on concrete. The attacks now rained from everywhere, originating right next to me, not from shadows or the creature now standing at the end of the hall smiling.

    No, they just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the air.

    I didn¡¯t understand how. It made no sense, but I had no time to think about it now. I was recasting a first circle shield repeatedly, using the time brought to cast another one before the old spell gave out. But I could not keep going like that. The creature had more resources in its home territory, and once my mana was out, it would rip me to shreds.

    I needed to break the balance.

    I tried to move towards the stairs, but the attacks seemingly could originate anywhere in the house. Nothing was changing.

    The thick tendrils of darkness protecting the doors and windows smashed any thoughts of running. I was too deep in the house.

    If I were capable of panicking, I probably would be right now, but my mind was still focused, allowing me to think clearly.

    I needed a solution in the next thirty seconds. It was time to gamble. Instead of armor, I cast Dome of Protection, a second circle spell much stronger than armour or shield but not mobile, putting as much mana into the spell as I could without it going out of my control. Muffle, I quickly chanted after, cutting off all sound from my surroundings. I sat down like a monk meditating in the rain, the water drops replaced by deadly needles ready to turn me into a skewer.

    With the stronger cast of dome, I had maybe 15 seconds. With my thoughts speeding up in the state of meditation, I may have bought a minute of uninterrupted thinking time before my demise. How was the creature attacking? Spacial magic? But that was hard to cast, took massive amounts of power that I would feel.

    Some artifact? a trap created by my broker? no that was stupid, the organization wouldn¡¯t fuck up their thousands of years old image for one assassination.

    No, I needed something simple. Most of the time, the most obvious answer was the right one.

    I felt the dome creak. And it hit me, a simple answer. My eyes shot open from the emotional rollercoaster. There was an explanation that I didn''t consider as it was impossible.

    But it was simple and fit, and if it was simple and fit, then it should be correct.

    But it can¡¯t be, some part of me protested.

    A torrent of thoughts was now squirming inside of me

    How?

    why?

    impossible.

    But am I sure?

    Should I gamble on the impossible being true?

    The simple answer was not dimensional magic but planar magic. The difference was that planar magic was possible to cast silently and with little effort by creatures that lived in other plains and had the natural ability to interact with ours. If this was the case, then the creature fit as well. It was not a ghost, spirit, apparition, or any other being that I knew, but one that I read about in old books.

    It was a spawn, a creature that creates a nest where the universe''s mana vein meets the mortal plain. Its specialty was the ability to cast from anywhere near its nest, as the plains in that place would overlap. It was said that walking into the nest without a spatial lock, which I did not have, was suicide even if you were more powerful than the beast. It all fit, but there was a problem. Mana veins no longer existed, they were shattered by the war two thousand years ago.

    I felt the dome strain. I needed a solution fast. All I confirmed now, assuming that I was right, was that I¡¯m screwed.

    But wait, a terrible idea entered my head.

    If this place connects to a vein, then it also connects to other plains. If that were the case, then could I, or more importantly, should I contact something from another plane?

    It could be suicide but¡­

    I firmed my resolve as I let the dome crack, not casting a new one. I closed my eyes once again as arrows of death hurled towards me. This time, instead of meditation I went deeper into my mind. Time outside stopped to have meaning as I fell through my own psyche. The feeling was similar to the falling sensation one gets as they jerk awake in their beds, but constant. I felt myself in a free fall until the feeling stopped, and I arrived.

    A place near the primal fears, a part of the unconscious mind responsible for the greatest fear of all.

    The fear of the unknown.

    If entered by any person, their mind would collapse, seeing the manifestation of fear itself. But it was just an empty space for me. Well, almost empty. I knew that time had no meaning here. This space was ruled by its own laws. Everything gambled on this one card. The moment I exited this place, I would be killed.

    I looked around. It was missing any landscape, like a massive field of gray, cracked ground in permanent half darkness. Whenever I arrived, it was always the same. The point where I stood was lit up like I was standing under a street light in the night. And no matter what, I would arrive standing with my back facing IT when falling here.

    I took a peek over my shoulder.

    A swirling abyss, a wall of darkness so deep that even looking at it made it seem like the light never existed and was but a fever dream of humanity. And if you stared too long, it would stare back.

    I ripped my eyes from the darkness and looked to my right. There was a rope there. I could not tell you where it originated, even if I tried. It looked like an old linen rope, one end stretched far into the gray landscape, disappearing on the horizon, and the other end disappearing in the darkness behind me. The rope was a symbol of a contract made years ago.

    But I knew exactly what was there on that end. What I was feeling now was the closest I could get to fear. Like I knew I should be terrified, everything in me screamed to cower in fear. My mind should be pulverized by the smallest part of the entity behind me, but at the same time, I could not feel the emotion that should kill me right now.

    My shaking hand approached the line, knowing I couldn¡¯t stay in this space forever. I was still running through scenarios for other solutions, but nothing came to mind. I firmed my resolve.

    Placing my finger on the rope, I tugged ever so gently and¡­ it was attached. Any other time I tried that anywhere other than in front of the statue back in my family¡¯s storage, it would just fall to the ground on any touch. But now it firmly stayed attached to something in the darkness.

    One more deep breath. ¡°Let''s get it over with,¡± I whispered to myself.

    I cleared my mind of any doubt, I was empty,

    ¡®No emotion to spiral into madness, no desire to become obsession, no fear to become phobia¡¯.

    I recited the mantra, and with one quick move, I pulled on the line and invoked the eldritch god''s name.

    ¡°Azathoth¡±

 6. Chaos is coming

    The being on the other end answered according to the contract made years ago.

    Back in the real world, I awoke from the trans to the accompaniment of a shattering dome spell as the arrows of darkness made their way toward my heart.

    But that didn¡¯t matter.

    An eldritch energy exploded from me, an energy with a will to twist, corrupt, and unmake all it touches. With a titanic flex of my will, I got it under control so that it would not start corrupting everything around me, myself included. The darkness itself was also gone in front of such power.

    Then I opened my eyes, that was the hardest part. I could feel the blood seeping out of them as I gazed upon raw, unfiltered existence. The particles, other planes, and the knowledge of their workings laid bare before my eyes as I struggled to stop the information flow threatening to split my mind in half. Everything I wanted to know and should not be able to know was begging to be understood.

    I could also see the creature in its small, plain-like nest, retreating, knowing something was wrong. Its form, previously layered in shadows, now clear to me alongside the very energy that made it.

    I couldn¡¯t hold out like that for long. It was a miracle I was still standing as I felt my focus slipping. And once I made a mistake, it would be the end of me in the most gruesome way possible. I would be cursed to join the strange procession of pipers of Azathoth, keeping him slumbering until the stars are aligned. Not a fate I was eager for.

    Opening my mouth, I fought with myself to get my muscles under control. The signals my Brian sent to them were lost somewhere in the chaos. I needed to focus. I bit my cheek hard, the pain bringing my control back for a split second, enough to command my tongue to move. Finally, I managed to speak in the eldritch tongue of the abyss.

    Squirming void.

    A strange, otherworldly magic circle with a crack in the middle, in colors no mortal being could describe, appeared behind me. Eight black tentacles squirmed from it, waiting for my command.

    All I had in me was one attack.

    The creature looked amused, thinking that the plane would save it and that I couldn¡¯t attack it unless I made my way to its layer, but that was a mistake. This kind of magic ignored rules concerning planes as it originated in the void itself. ¡®Rip¡¯ was the short command I could muster, and the tentacles made their way to the target.

    The creature realized too late, and its hubris was its demise. Arrows of shadow tried to block the attack but in vain. The spell caught the spawn in a tight embrace.

    The last thing I saw was the tentacles moving as if to rip the creature¡¯s body in all directions, and I lost consciousness. I ended the spell and let go of the contract simultaneously, hoping I was fast enough to wake up again.

    ***

    Pain, that was my current state of existence, like the worst hangover of my life times thousand. I groaned, still lying on the hardwood floor, probably exactly where I lost consciousness. It was good news that I even woke up, but currently being alive didn''t sound so great with a battle for the first place in suffering between a splitting headache, burning pain in my muscles, and ache in my bones radiating to the rest of my body.

    With a grunt, I opened my eyes, thankfully not to be assaulted by light, meaning it was still night.

    Good, that meant I wasn¡¯t out for long.

    I tried to move some of my magic, but the pain that assaulted me almost made me unconscious once again. My entire spiritual self was a massive mess with mana pathways twisted out of place by the strain of rapid spell casting and my last abyssal spell. And that was really bad news, as I needed to do some magic to find out if the spawn had tried to possess me before it died. The longer that state would persist, the harder it would be to get rid of a spirit later if it somehow survived long enough to try to attach itself to me, and right now, I couldn¡¯t even check for any signs of possession with the condition my body was in.

    Ok, first things first, I need to recover my body to where I can move.

    Struggling and gritting my teeth through the pain, I finally managed to take one of the bottles from my belt and drink its contents. Ironically, the bottle was red. It looks like the video games got it right, I chuckled to myself. Now, it was time to lie still and let the potion do its work. As I lay on the floor, I started to think about what had just happened.

    It was impossible. Two thousand years ago, when the Holy War, later renamed to War of Tears happened, Stan and the God of the bible ended up ripping apart all veins leading mana to our world.

    But now there was one. It should be somewhere right next to me. The dude actually died right on it, explaining how he became a spawn. Even though the vein was small, and by ancient standards, second level spawn was one of the weakest, it should have been an impossible creature in this world.

    After ¡®The Shattering,¡¯ as the event was called later, many scholars believed the world would heal itself like a body heals. No one knew how long it would take, as that was a new situation, but they waited for the old days to return. The fantasy races, now trapped on earth without access to travel veins, started to go into hiding. And with time, over hundreds of years, it became clear that the magic wasn''t coming back.

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    The previously abundant energy started drying up. Any spell or enchantment used was burning through a finite resource. Finally, the ancients changed their strategy, trying to preserve what was left of their ways. Many of them built tombs for themselves and their legacies, hidden by enchantments, waiting for a day when the mana outside would return and awaken them.

    Many races and spirits made their homes in hidden forests and valleys, destined to spend the rest of their days in isolation. Other races that needed mana to function went into hibernation, and many spirits dissipated to reappear when the world was ripe for them. But those were legends. It was foolish wishful thinking, and after two thousand years, no one believed in any change for the better.

    But a thought entered my mind. My father must have known something. With the genetic material left from his body, he could create precisely one offspring¡ªexactly one¡ªand he waited over 1300 years to do it, just for me to reach maturity precisely at the time when something like that happened.

    Yeah, that''s a huge coincidence, and I don''t believe in those.

    I will have to ask about that. My broker was a sworn family friend ever since I could remember, apparently owing quite a bit to my clan, although never telling me what exactly.

    One thing was now circling in my head. Things would get exciting. I made a fist, thinking of all the changes, and quickly regretted my show of excitement as pain shot through me. But that did not matter in the face of chaos and the new world that was about to come.

    Looks like my family and its ancient ways will be making a comeback. I smiled to myself and cursed at the pain in my face immediately after.

    ***

    After about half an hour more of lying on the floor with my thoughts as my only company, I slowly sat up. My joints were stiff, and my head was pounding, but I could move.

    Now, for the most crucial part. I took a blue potion and gulped it down. Then, I went into meditation. My spiritual world was a mess. The mana was all over the place, not under my control, but to my great relief, I saw no permanent damage.

    I could feel the soothing energy of the potion, and I started to direct it to get my magic under control. After half an hour more, I was done. I wouldn''t be casting any spells in the next few days, but the pain from my spirit was more bearable now.

    Next was the possession. I thought about checking myself, but in that state, I could miss something, and I had no intention of gambling with my soul. So, instead, I took out the potion with holy water and bone dust.

    With a deep feeling of regret, I took a swig. The soothing, warm energy filled me, and¡­ nothing happened. That means the attack completely obliterated the spawn. I was honestly almost pissed off that it didn¡¯t try to possess me as the potion wouldn¡¯t be wasted then.

    My resources are hurting.

    With a sigh, I made my way towards the doors on the first floor. I would have to get the reward, talk with my broker, and start preparing. If the pathways to other plains are really healing, then I need to prepare and do it really seriously. The first item on my list was a base of operations with powerful security, which would cost a lot.

    ***

    I took an Uber to my client''s apartment to get the boring part over with. After arriving, I placed reflective dark glasses on my nose to cover my eyes, not caring it was still dark in the early morning hours, and knocked on the doors.

    ¡°Well, miss, the job is done, the ghost is gone.¡± I somehow mustered a smile once the owner opened.

    ¡°You look terrible.¡±

    I grimace at her words.

    ¡°Um well, I-I¡¯m sorry. I meant you look like you didn''t sleep, not like you¡¯re terrible, you looked fine before.¡±

    I stretched my hand to stop her awkward monologue.

    ¡°The exorcism took much more than I thought, and the spirit was really strong, but I succeeded anyway. If you could please prepare the money, I would like to rest as soon as possible,¡± I said in my best customer service voice.

    After receiving an envelope without even counting it, I returned downstairs and dialed my broker on my way home. After a few beeps, I heard someone pick up the phone. I waited to see if he would start the conversation with an explanation.

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°Did you know about the veins?¡± I went to the point after he did not say anything.

    ¡°The veins?¡±

    ¡°There was a connected mana vein in that place. And a spawns nest in it, almost lost my life.¡±

    ¡°...oh¡±

    I silently waited for my broker to pick his words, as I could practically hear the torrent of thoughts on the other end.

    ¡°We suspected something was out of place, but nothing concrete. This case was interesting and out of the ordinary, so we took it, that''s all.¡±

    ¡°You could have warned me if there was even a hunch.¡±

    ¡°We really didn''t know that would be a vein. Look, I think we know much less than you suspect us of. As you probably guessed, your father had some info, and we figured out that something big might happen since he finally created an heir, that''s all. It was shot in the dark.¡±

    ¡°Ok, let''s say I believe you for now. So what¡¯s the plan?¡±

    ¡°The rest of the talk is not for the phone. Meet me at my place tomorrow at 1 pm. We will talk then.¡±

    The phone clicked. Well, it looks like I will get some answers tomorrow, then.

    I went back home and lay in bed, dreading going to sleep. On the one hand, I knew I really needed it but on the other hand the power I used had its side effects. And as much as I was incapable of having nightmares typically, a night after I invoked the contract was the exception.

    Well, sleep would find me anyway, and with a heavy heart, I closed my eyes.

    That night, I dreamed of the unknowable. I meandered through massive black spires alongside processions of weird creatures with black chitin bodies and membranous wings. I played strange instruments in the halls of the slumbering one. And I drowned, slowly falling to the bottom of the ocean and into something deeper and darker as the city of otherworldly geometry started to reveal its spectral spires. Its ancient master, ready to open the gates for me.

    I finally woke up on the floor trying to cough up the non-existing water from my lungs, my fingertips bloody from scratching the floor. Before waking up, I tried to swim down, deeper and deeper into the dark, cold void.

 7. Talk to the cat

    It was morning, and I was supposed to wait for the meeting, but I couldn''t sit still. Theories about how and what happened raced through my mind and wouldn¡¯t let me relax. So I decided to go for the one thing that could always distract me from other things.

    Magic.

    I made my way to the storage, but this time, I did not go for one of the books lying in the open bookshelves. I opened one of the coffers. Some books supposedly didn¡¯t matter. Of course, my father still made me read them, but I never used them afterward.

    They were the books on summoning and dimensional magic, as well as a couple of tomes of magic of the fifth circle and higher. Achieving such a level, although theoretically possible, in this world was just a dream, with my almost third circle making me one of the best wizards alive. It was honestly pathetic when compared to mages of old, who were supposedly capable of leveling cities.

    I picked a magic book on summoning. During my teachings, I was made to go through the motions of all the rituals to understand how to cast them. During my lessons on contracting demons, I remember that one of the old servants was made to act the demon part, trying to trap me in an unfavorable contract. I lost many times because I couldn''t take my old nanny calling me a ¡®pathetic mortal¡¯ seriously.

    Chuckling at the memory, I opened the book and started studying its contents with renewed interest, hoping to use the knowledge soon. Like that, I spent the next few hours until midday studying the arcane knowledge. Until the time for the meeting slowly came.

    ***

    I arrived at one of the wealthier apartment complexes. Nothing for millionaires, mind you, but the building was renovated recently, and I could see the garden taken care of and a security man reading a newspaper in the booth.

    Apartment 23, there it was. I knocked on the doors and waited as I heard shuffling inside.

    ¡°Yes, honey?¡± Came the voice of an elderly woman.

    ¡°Hello, Miss. I''m here to pet the cats,¡± I replied happily, like an excited teenager, cringing at the procedure I had to undergo.

    After that, I could hear lock after lock being opened, and focusing on the magic, I could sense several seals being deactivated. Finally, the doors opened.

    Inside stood an elderly woman looking like a stereotypical grandma slash old cat lady with a head of gray hair, glasses the thickness of glass bottoms barely holding for dear life at the end of her nose, and a hunched back. Behind her, there was the inseparable entourage of all cat ladies¨Cthe cats.

    Many of them, in different shapes and sizes, wandered about doing cat things. But an astute observer could notice that a couple of them always observed me, a spark of recognition in their gazes.

    I made my way inside.

    ¡°Tea? Coffee?¡±

    ¡°No thank y-¡±

    ¡°I just baked cookies. wait, I will get you some¡±.

    ¡°You really-¡± I started as the woman turned her back and went to the kitchen. ¡°Don''t have to, ¡° I informed the now-empty space.

    Sighing, I sat by the table, moving one of the cats from its sitting place, which earned me an irritated meow, and then waited, looking around the room.

    It was a typical grandma apartment, from the old wooden furniture to the mandatory old, gray, creepy photos and a sewing kit inside a cookie box, if you didn¡¯t count a couple of the enchantments that would take my head clean off my shoulders if activated, that is. The place also had a massive number of pictures of cats that somehow posed for them like an employee for a badge picture.

    Shuffling announced the lady carrying a tray with cookies and tea. I knew arguing was pointless, so I took the tea and a cookie and devoured them to make this part as short as possible. The grandma just sat there smiling with a motherly smile as I ate and made some small talk.

    Finally, three cookies and a tea later, she stood up and went to the doors leading further into the apartment.

    ¡°There you go, honey.¡± She opened the doors to reveal a lavishly decorated room with red Persian carpets on the walls and floor and a couple of distinctly Egyptian decorations, making it even more oriental.

    There were only a couple of cats present. In the middle was a small table with a comfortable-looking chair on one side and a stand with a massive pillow on the other. On the enormous pillow was just as huge, even by the race''s standards, Maine Coon cat.

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    ¡°Hello, Samuel. Long time no see,¡± said the cat.

    ¡°Hello, Q¡¯shar¡±

    ¡°Shar is enough, as you know.¡± The tail, showing irritation, swung behind the cat. ¡°I see you were already served some cookies and tea, she really perfected the recipe didn¡¯t she? Do you want something more concrete? Wine, whiskey, beer? Blood of the innocent?¡± The cat purred, apparently happy about the joke, if you can call it that.

    ¡°The blood¡¯s only for special occasions, you know, dark rituals, world domination, the stuff,¡± I answer flatly.

    ¡°Ah, yes. How could I have forgotten?¡±

    ¡°Your priestesses are getting older and older, I heard you were once cared for by pharos and only the most beautiful of young priestess and now an old lady and her cookies?¡±

    ¡°Well I heard your family had a mansion and a vault instead of an apartment and a warehouse. Times change I guess¡±

    ¡°I geass so¡± I locked eyes with the animal.

    ¡°Well, then, let¡¯s get to the point.¡± Now the animal''s face turned serious. ¡°Leave us.¡±

    At that firm command, the cats got up and left without any questions. The closing of the doors was accompanied by a couple of silencing and anti-spying enchantments activating. Some of them really strong, burning through any mana storage quite quickly, I imagined.

    ¡°Ok, did you know about the veins?¡± I asked immediately.

    ¡°No, the thing I said on the phone was true. We had no idea.¡±

    ¡°Why send me to this case?¡±

    ¡°Because it was weird.¡±

    ¡°Look, I know you tend to speak in riddles as all members of frumentarii, but I didn''t come here to solve them. I know you and my father knew something. And I want to know what it was.¡±

    The cat sighed in resignation. ¡°Well, we don¡¯t know much. Honestly, all we knew was that your father knew something.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come o-¡±

    ¡°Let me finish, and then you can whine. Look, the theory that the magic will return was just that, a theory. And after two thousand years without anything happening, the theory itself was practically forgotten. We thought that we were a dying breed. A couple of groups remembering the old ways¡± The cat paused, locking eyes with me ¡°And even those that practice magic do it sparsely these days¡±

    ¡°I know, every spell cast, every enchantment, every ritual brings us closer to oblivion. But it¡¯s not like we are that close to the end tho. There are still thousands of people practicing the old ways, just to a much lower level, and not like all creatures need mana to sustain themselves, some are still on and about¡±

    ¡°Yes, but I''m talking about the mindset. Even families with massive resources left were, well, how to describe that. ¡®Deficitist¡¯ would be the world. They practiced teaching their children a glorious history, knowing they were but a shadow of it. It¡¯s more like a couple of old groups still holding onto old ways out of honor and melancholy.¡±

    ¡°But you knew something, now that I look at it, you always gave me the strange requests. The more there was not explained, the more you insisted.¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t know anything. We suspect the only person who knew something more concrete was your father, and he was well¡­¡±

    ¡°A madman. I know. With all my love for the man or what was left of him, you don¡¯t have to sugarcoat it with me. He was a madman.¡±

    ¡°Yes, a genius in the art of magic. But a madman. So the world of the old ways, which was slowly stagnating into death, shook 27 years ago when your father created you. He was around for over 1300 years, and with his condition, it was not an easy task to create an heir. But exactly 27 years ago, he did it. After 1300 years, he chose to do it. Not only that, but he burned through half of your family resources to train you. Your power rise was unprecedented, similar to that of a mage in the mythical era, meaning you got to cast spells daily, which is not cheap. Moreover, your family''s financial resources were also spent, and unlike the artifacts, you did not have much money remaining. Your bank account was practically cleared for testing sites and travel all over the world.¡±

    The cat took a breath as I remembered my childhood. Magic, books, and traveling to distinguished groups around the world to learn about them and their ways. Old servants carried my father to be shown the ways of the dead of Egypt, the alchemy of English witches, the Japanese spirit arts, and many more. Those were the good times. The wealth needed for contracts and travel was massive, but my father burned through it without a second thought.

    ¡°So when you came about and were raised that way, some thought that maybe it is a sign that something massive will happen if your father wanted a well trained apprentice. Some even started to prepare for war, but then what no one could predict happened.¡±

    ¡°My father died.¡±

    ¡°Yes, the man died after 1300 years, and for a couple of years, nothing happened. People thought that that was it. Whatever held him clinging to life was running out, and he made the decision to pass on the knowledge out of desperation.¡±

    The cat lowered its voice into a conspiratorial whisper.

    ¡°But only a few people and I knew that made no sense. Only we knew the nature of technology holding him alive.¡±

    ¡°You knew?¡± I asked, surprised.

    ¡°Information is my specialty, and you father needed that covered up, so I was informed of the details to blur the picture better¡±.

    Still, the technology was a big secret, to reveal it to someone was a massive show of trust.

    ¡°The tech holding your father was created by the great race of Yith, and such a thing as 1300 years is nothing to them. If your father''s life support ran out, that meant it was supposed to. I assumed that when your father made the deal with Yith, they wouldn¡¯t just let him live forever. He probably bargained for a specific amount of time or a specific event¡­¡±

    ¡°You thought my father made a deal not to preserve his life but to live until the time of myth returns.¡±

    ¡°No, the return of magic was such an impossibility that we just assumed something substantial would happen. Like god descending or something. So, ever since you started to work, I have had my eyes and ears open for anything unusual.¡±

    I chuckled at the thought. ¡°You looked for some demon awakening or some spirit or artifact, and instead, we ran face-first into the impossible. Into the return of the age of magic.¡±

 8. So, what now?

    I took that in. It meant massive change to the world, to me, to everything. The power balance would be reshuffled, and the species with it as well.

    How exciting.

    I have always felt that I am not meant for this world. The only fun parts of my life I can remember were when I got to cast magic, fight a creature outside the mortal world, or study something new. But I ran out of those not long ago. However now the world would become a shit show, a very entertaining one I hoped.

    ¡°Well, ok, so when will the return happen, and do others know?¡±

    ¡°The answers are we don¡¯t know, and we don¡¯t know, " the cat smiled. ¡°We should operate on the premise that no one noticed anything for now and move really carefully not to alarm them.¡±

    The cat¡¯s face changed into a smug look.

    ¡°Well, we might get to know something, buuuut information like that costs¡±

    ¡°Out with it.¡± I groaned internally, dreading the coming negotiations.

    ¡°We want you to make an exclusivity contract with this branch. Don¡¯t worry, I can guarantee the best information for the best price. If our reputations are tight together, we can trust you won¡¯t abandon us, and you can be sure we will not change sides in the future.¡± The previously mysterious cat now sounded more like a sleazy car salesman.

    ¡°Well, that would be making a statement to the world. Not only would I tie my reputation with yours, but you would tie yours with mine. Are you sure you want that?¡± I chuckled.

    ¡°Yes, we are willing to take that risk to make our cooperation smoother in the future, with both parties benefiting.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but that also puts me as your official backer, meaning if you pull something, people might pester me about it.¡±

    ¡°Even if we, as you say, ¡®pull something, ¡¯ shouldn''t you help anyway? Or do you prefer to get your info elsewhere if something happens?¡±

    ¡°Well, you are not completely wrong.¡±

    I had to think a bit. It would mean tying myself to this branch of frumentarii, but then again, they never failed me before.

    ¡°Throw in a clause that if you can¡¯t provide something, I can seek out other brokers and that you won¡¯t go beyond market prices.¡±

    ¡°Deal!¡± My broker and now new partner, shouted excitedly.

    ¡°That was quick,¡± I said, surprised at the lack of the lengthy negotiations the brokers were known for. ¡°Did you scam me in some way I¡¯m not aware of? because that would be a nasty way to start a partnership.¡±

    ¡°No, I would not do that. But, if your infamous family makes a return, then that is the best deal of my life. You know how this world works. It¡¯s not about the money. It¡¯s about who your backer is.¡±

    ¡°Using my name to threaten the opposition? How nice¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± The cat purred, pretty proud of itself, not even trying to hide the bad intentions.

    ¡°Ok, so I made the deal. Now, what info are you offering?¡±

    ¡°Well, I sent a couple of people, or rather cats, who know how to keep their mouths shut to the site to study the vein, and we have some initial info. We got our paws on some research into mana veins, and although they were a mystery even thousands of years ago, the healing process was theorized about after the war. And if the theory is correct and they were right about the mechanism, just not the timeline, then it would go like this. First, the smaller veins, much like the blood vessels in your body, will connect. The rise in mana caused by that will be minuscule, but in around a year, the overall level of mana should be felt everywhere, even though barely. Like that, the mana will slowly but steadily rise until the big event.¡±

    The creature made a dramatic pause.

    ¡°The main pathways connect and shit will hit the fan¡± I finished absentmindedly ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°Hard to say, the main pathways are big. Much bigger than the veins, so our timeline for now is around two to three years. When that happens, the mana level will rise dramatically worldwide, quickly archiving the level of the mythical era. And you know what will happen then?¡±

    ¡°All the hibernating creatures will wake up and start fighting to establish new territories, a lot of seals on tombs will awaken, allowing for exploration and¡­ Oh shit¡±

    ¡°Oh shit indeed, any seal on a demon, plague or anything from the war that was eroded by time if activated will most likely brak releasing whatever was inside. Also, any artifact that needed to pull mana from the environment will be ready to use.¡± We both paused, thinking about what that might look like.

    ¡°Well, that''s gonna be interesting to witness.¡± I could imagine the world after that. Would humans even be the dominant species afterward?

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    ¡°More like the apocalypse.¡±

    My mind raced through possible dangers, but the list was so long that it was an exercise in pointlessness. Basically, preparing for anything and everything was the answer.

    ¡°Do others know?¡± I need to know, the race for resources will soon start.

    ¡°For now? No, we don¡¯t think so. There were no unusual movements from other groups. You only noticed it because you ran into a creature that only lived in mana veins. For now, any mana that bleeds through those will be localized, so anyone would have to find one randomly and check for magic energy in the surroundings. But sooner or later, the mana around the vein would be strong enough to be sensed on instinct. Also, even if the amount compared to the old level is like that of a puddle compared to the ocean, the puddle is constantly growing, and sooner or later, someone will step into it. Especially as more and more hauntings and artifact awakenings take place. Once someone gets a case of an artifact that needs ambient mana to function, they should arrive at the same answer as we have.¡±

    The cat stretched a bit, repositioning on the pillow.

    ¡°We can certainly expect that once a couple of groups know, this will finally reach the Vatican. And once that happens, we all will get an invitation to an actual Common Sabbath. Once the invitations arrive, it will confirm it is practically common knowledge.¡±

    ¡°A Sabbath, really. Do we have to go?¡±

    ¡°Are you actually asking that question? It will decide how we all deal with what¡¯s coming, probably the most important sabbath since the ¡°See no evil, Hear no evil¡± law was passed. And our branch can¡¯t show up without its backer, now can we?¡± He finished with a smile.

    ¡°So we have to go, I take it. But you handle the politics. I don¡¯t do well in negotiations.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I know, they tend to end up in violence when you are involved.¡±

    ¡°Not my fault.¡±

    ¡°Was the incident with the cultivators also not your fault?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I said without hesitation. It''s not my fault that some people have titles too long to remember.

    ¡°If your skin was any thicker, you would be a dragon. We don¡¯t want you anywhere near politics either, so don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°Good to hear.¡±

    The cat locked his eyes with me, becoming unusually serious. ¡°Anyway, no movement from any church was made, so we have the advantage now. And we should use it.¡±

    ¡°You want me to claim a place with a mana pathway connected to it before the race begins,¡± I said, thinking about our next move.

    ¡°Yes,¡± both of us smiled.

    Before the war, places like those would have been fought over like crazy, but now, it was free real estate¡ªwell, not entirely free.

    ¡°You need the formal ownership of the land to have a claim so that anyone trying to take it away from you will have to use violence.¡±

    ¡°And they call me the evil one,¡± I chuckled.

    ¡°That''s the best case. Once you formally own the land, the ownership recognized by the mortal world will also be recognized by the Vatican based on law from the 134th Sabbath.¡± Said the cat in a know-it-all voice.

    Thank the Dark Gods I had him, as my knowledge of law was not the best, to say the least. It ended with how not to commit war crimes by accident and which permits to get if I needed to commit any on purpose.

    ¡°After that, we can protect you from any tricks with a good lawyer team. Sitting on a treasure pile will attract more unlawful attempts, but I assume that once you have enchantments powered by a mana pathway and the weird things from your family''s storage, the attacks won¡¯t be a problem.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I can''t wait for someone to try.¡± I practically giggled thinking about all the nasty enchantments possible if powered directly by something that big.

    I heard my grandfather once made a spell that would replace people''s motor controls with those of a slime. He would then tell them he would spare them if they could get through the doors and watch them flop around. I wonder if the spell was in one of my books.

    ¡°Looking at that nasty smile, I''m assuming you''re thinking about something horrible. But first, you have to localize where the mana pathway ends and buy the land.¡±

    That wiped the smile off my face.

    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly rich or connected when it comes to the mortal world.¡±

    ¡°But you know of one connected mana vein.¡±

    ¡°Sure, that widens my magic options considerably, but making a fortune by magic is not exactly allowed by the status of secrecy, from what I understand.¡±

    ¡°Not exactly. Using magic and leaving a usable proof is illegal or making a big commotion. You know that some actual magicians work as showmen, like David Blane. Also, make sure no mind control in gaining resources, we don¡¯t want any lawyer to have any way to make a case stick in a court. But if you do something that doesn''t leave much evidence and the person giving you money or land is not influenced by a spell, then no problem. Buy it with cold hard cash, preferably.¡±

    The cat¡¯s tail tip danced in a couple of runes, and a scroll levitated from one of the bookshelves towards my lap. ¡°We can provide you with a map of old mana pathways, but through so many years, they would have moved, so you need to get a big stretch of land around the place to be sure.¡± My expression dropped even further.

    ¡°That will cost millions.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, get to work then.¡± Chuckled the cat. Even though that was a challenge, I couldn¡¯t help but grin thinking about it. Finally, something fun, and with even a tiny vein connected to the universe, my magic just got an upgrade. Now, I need to think of a way to get the money.

    ¡°Also, you should try going through the judgment ritual. You are not an appraiser, but knowing your skill level and strengths and weaknesses is always good.¡±

    ¡°Right, I did not think about that. The ritual should be somewhere in my family books.¡± The judgment is a ritual asking He-Who-Knows, the god of records, basically for an appraisal of yourself. Before the war, everyone would use that to check their growth, appraisers were a big part of the magical world. This was interesting. Using ancient magic is always exciting.

    ¡°Well, good luck then. Tell me when you have the land, and we will register it with the Vatican as your family''s new estate and get all the permits for enchantments and stuff. Anything we should be aware of?¡±

    ¡°Remember the permits for sacrifices and rituals. Also, if you can push through a permit for the undead, then do it, but if it slows things down, we can get it later.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I have some people who owe me favors, but we need to move quickly. If everyone all of a sudden starts moving onto old mana pathways, then they will figure out something''s not right.¡±

    ¡°Sure, I will get to killing and plotting when I get home.¡± I started planning, and I needed a good plan. I needed to make a couple of millions as quickly as possible without too much law-breaking and buy land that¡¯s probably not for sale. Yeah, a really, really good plan.

 9. Feline discussion

    ***

    After the man had left, the cats shuffled back into the room. They were met with the sight of their leader sitting on this pillow like a statue, lost in thought. They knew better than to bother him when he was in that state. So, everyone just went to lie down in their favourite spots on the Persian carpet, holding back the curiosity to start asking all the burning questions.

    Around thirty minutes later, Q¡¯shar finally loudly exhaled, announcing the end of his thoughts, and started to make himself more comfortable on his pillow. Once he was done, one of the younger cats immediately asked a question, his burning desire to ask it making him forget his manners, not waiting for the elders to start the business talk.

    ¡°So, did he take the deal?¡±

    The question was met with raised eyebrows as the young one realised his mistake.

    ¡°I apologize. If one of the elders would like to start.¡± His voice became quieter and subdued as he spoke, ending in barely a squeak.

    ¡°Apologies accepted, young one, but mind your manners in the future. And yes he did¡± announced the Maine Coon.

    ¡°That quickly?¡± Asked another cat, surprised. In his mind, negotiations like that should take at least a couple of hours, if not days.

    ¡°Yes, it might be strange to us, but I would be surprised if he tried to negotiate at all. All wizards tend to view things like politics as distractions. They usually delegate them to other people when they can. Samuel is no different in this case.¡±

    ¡°But is it wise? While his strength may be formidable, from what I heard, his family has enemies, and his enemies will become ours once the deal becomes public knowledge.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is definitely a dangerous move, but any business worth doing comes with risks, and this time, I would say it was worth it.¡± Q¡¯shar¡¯s eyes lost a bit of focus, lost in a memory for a second. ¡°Most of you probably don¡¯t remember his father. I was the one dealing with him after Hyas retired. I still remember seeing him for the first time. I thought that maybe someone was pulling a trick on me. Do you know what he was? In what form did he spend the last 800 years out of his 1300? Take a guess.¡±

    ¡°I heard that he sacrificed his body. Was he a ghost?¡±

    ¡°Nope¡±

    ¡°A zombie or a lich? Did he turn himself into an undead?¡±

    ¡°Colder. He was a head in a jar.¡± The revelation was accompanied by gasps of surprise and confusion. ¡°Preserved by a mixture of magic and technology.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Yep, that image is hard to reconcile with the infamous mage and the terror he has caused according to stories. He lost much of his power, but still if you could feel his presence.¡± Q¡¯shar paused for a second, smiling to himself. ¡°When I was younger and began taking over deals with the Alhazred family, we ran into an issue with one of the noble clans. They wanted to pressure us to join the frumentarii branch associated with them. The Wealch family, if my memory serves me right, just changed heads to one much younger and ambitious. He wanted a monopoly over the information in our area and thought that the legendas about our backers were just that, legends.¡±

    ¡°The bloodless massacre,¡± One of the older cats whispered, realising where it was going.

    ¡°Yes, we asked the Alhazred family for help, arguing that they would relay their information on another family. That, of course, was out of the question, so they did ¡®help¡¯. One night, the Wealch family just disappeared, all but the previous patriarch. He returned home to an empty house, no blood, no signs of battle. The man went crazy after, some say with the help of someone from Alhazreds. He said that he had nightmares about his son and the abyss. He dreaded going to sleep and even tried to sue for the unprovoked attack, but there was no evidence. He was left alive, slowly losing his sanity as a warning to all the rest. I saw what a fully realized abyssal mage can do, so that is a good deal we made.¡±

    ¡°But still, are we sure this abyss or whatever it is won¡¯t be turned against us?¡± questioned one of the younger orange cats.

    ¡°Why the concern? You never were this cautious.¡± Q¡¯shar spoke from his pillow, looking at the speaker from behind half-closed lids with a bit of amusement on his face. ¡°Does he unnerve you?¡±

    ¡°Well, not that, it¡¯s like, I don¡¯t know, like¡­ yes, he does unnerve me,¡± The cat tried to explain, his tail¡¯s quick and short swings betraying his emotions.

    ¡°At least you are honest, and yes, he does that. Alhazred''s presence takes getting used to. It becomes easier with time.¡±

    ¡°If we want to bet on the abyss, aren¡¯t there any others with better reputations?¡± Asked another from the audience, a gray smaller cat responsible for negotiations.

    ¡°The thing is, there are no others.¡±

    ¡°There has to be. There are many practitioners of diff-¡±

    ¡°There is no other. Do you know what the abyss or void even is?¡±

    ¡°Well, not exactly.¡± The speaker now realized that they were discussing said abyss without actually knowing what they were talking about. It was like everyone assumed it to be a mystery of some sort, not to be explained.

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    ¡°No one exactly does. Even I, after all those years of dealing with the Alhazred family, don¡¯t know. But I do understand that it is the antithesis of sense, the un-existence of rules, the perfect void where nothing makes sense, the well of nightmares, the perfect chaos, the thirsting madness, and so on. There are many names. But one constant is that if you interact with it, you will go crazy sooner or later.¡±

    ¡°Unless you are from that family? Is it their bloodline?¡±

    ¡°No, they are human. It¡¯s a ritual. Once a family member is of age to handle it, they go through a ceremony of sorts. No one knows what it entails, but once performed, they lose the ability to feel fear.¡±

    Everyone was clearly expecting something much more impressive as they started to look at one another with questions and confusion clear in their eyes.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound complicated. There are people without the ability to feel emotions on earth. We can find them if needed.¡±

    ¡°No, not like that. sigh, I really have to get you to study more, don¡¯t I?¡±

    The cat shifted in his seat, straightening up a bit to be heard better. Now, he looked like a professor teaching a class.

    ¡°Any living being is composed of three things: body, mind, and soul, all three deeply intertwined, all influencing one another. The body is the easiest to understand, the biological component of your existence, the least complicated one. Then is the mind, a much more ethereal, a composition of your experiences and inborn preferences that make you, you. And then there is the soul. Not much is known about the soul, but it is the part of existence that is given to you by the very universe. No one knows its origin, but it is believed to be the source of free will.¡±

    Q¡¯shar checked if everyone was listening. They were, without a sound.

    ¡°The fears that you are talking about with people that don¡¯t feel fear originate from the body, a chemical reaction that can be easily blocked. Those are the fears of getting hurt, for example, easy to suppress. One layer deeper are the fears coming from the mind. Those are the fears that are gained during your lifetime, such as fear of darkness, fear of being alone, or maybe fear of cars if you were in an accident and have trauma. Those are deeper and tougher to deal with but still can be suppressed. Although mortals need therapists and strong medication, it can be done.¡±

    Q¡¯shar paused, looking around the room at everyone listening. Even the old priestess who somewhere along the story made her way to the room was attentively listening. The mysteries of the soul were a rare subject to hear about.

    ¡°But not many know there are other fears, fears that come with your soul. There are few, and not much is known about them, but one such fear is the fear of death that everyone alive has. It can be countered to where you accept it when it comes. You can learn to live with it or ignore it, but the fear will always be there. Another one, and as some say the greatest fear of all, is the fear of the unknown. Fear that keeps you from pursuing things you were not meant to see that you can¡¯t comprehend. It is the feeling you get when thinking about the infinite void of the universe. Your thought will probably go to how awful it would be to be stuck in it for eternity. Even tho that is not very possible, it is that fear speaking. That is because we are not meant to understand things of such vastness. What the Alhazred ritual does is remove the very concept of fear from their existence, even from their soul. Fear and all emotions associated with it, like disgust, are gone. That is why they can interact with the abyss with relatively few side effects. Even when seeing something so incomprehensible, they can study it as long as their body and mind can hold. And that is a massive advantage for a wizard.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t the ritual be reproduced?¡±

    ¡°Many tried, no one succeeded. A soul is a tricky thing. Interacting with it is tough already. Removing parts of it will usually collapse your entire existence, especially that the fear sits deep in the soul.¡±

    ¡°Ok, it all sounds great, but you did not say ¡®interact with the abyss without side effects,¡¯ you said ¡®with relatively few.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Well, knowledge like that has its burden, and the presence of the void can still twist them in other ways. This is why many Alhazreds, according to history, were a little bit mad. Nothing substantial, usually a bit of obsession here, disregard for human life there. But the family has a set of rules to follow by its members, so our partner shouldn¡¯t do anything too crazy.¡±

    ¡°You sure? That doesn''t sound convincing.¡±

    ¡°Well, I have to say there is something more that pushed me for that deal. His father, aside from the void that peeked through his eyes, had a sense of madness to him. But Samuel, he doesn¡¯t. I can¡¯t put my claw on it. Maybe it is because he is relatively young, but he seems to be taking in the sight of the void surprisingly well, even for an Alhazred. His eyes have the presence of his god in them like all clerics do, but aside from that, the madness is not there. It¡¯s a bit weird¡­¡±

    The cat paused, mulling over his words, ¡°Well, nothing more to it. We will honor the deal, and hopefully, once the race for resources starts, we will be able to secure a sizable part. That¡¯s all, now stop lying around and get to work, there should be a lot of it coming our way.¡±

    The other cats went about their own business, leaving Q¡¯shar alone with one more cat. It was an old orange cat with bite marks on his ear and a couple of scars on his face. Hori was his closest confidant and friend.

    ¡°Are you sure about that move? You know it is not all that easy.¡± Hori asked once they were alone.

    ¡°It hopefully will be.¡± Answered Q¡¯shar absentmindedly, still thinking about something.

    ¡°You know that the things abyssal mages are capable of can put us against a lot of people, if not a whole world. What if he decides to contact Yith like his father? That can put a whole species on the road to extinction. We would be associated with a traitor to the human race.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, he will not be that stupid.¡±

    ¡°That''s not much of an assurance.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is all the assurance we have.¡±

    They both locked eyes for a second. Finally, Hori looked away.

    ¡°Fine, so what¡¯s the plan?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t sell me that bullshit about securing resources, you would not tie us to someone out of nowhere if you didn¡¯t have a bigger plan, you always were ambitious. So what''s the plan?

    Q¡¯Shar smiled. His old friend really knew him well.

    ¡°Well, you know that there were three main powers in frumentarii. The information network, the auction and market houses, and the third one, the exorcists created right after the war. Now, the first two remain, but exorcists were disbanded by the church when the inquisition came around. The remaining two have old, already established powers that are hard to move. But if we can make a move to recreate the third one¡­¡±

    ¡°And then take control of the network. You want to join the council as a third party?¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡±

    ¡°New chaos is coming, and you want to add to it. I think the Alhazreds are rubbing off on you,¡± Sighed Hori.

    ¡°This universe supposedly emerged from the primordial chaos, and so shall we. This should be fun.¡±

    ¡°They definitely rubbed off on you.¡±

 10. God-given stats

    First things first, I need to determine which land I need to buy.

    I took the map of America I picked up on my way home and got to work. First, I marked all of the pathways on the map alongside the radius of land to buy to mitigate any movement the pathways might have made.

    Eight pathways existed in the USA, three of which were under major cities, so they were off the table.

    Another three were in bum fuck nowhere like a middle of a desert or straight up mountains.

    That left two options, one on the east and one on the west coast.

    The next couple of days were spent compiling information about the land and anyone associated with it, with the help of my favorite fluffy organization and some lawyers, as mortal law was not a specialty of mine or my broker.

    On the third day, I finally got the papers with info on both places.

    Aaaaand not good. Both were already owned by companies intending to build housing projects or some storage on the land. Both companies had already started their projects, so buying that land right now was not possible.

    I could try moving to another country, but that was harder. Europe had many old powers still around, and Asia had the same, making the competition harder. Africa and South America got the short end of the stick during the colonial era. While the hidden world was relatively fine, I did not like the existing infrastructure and political regimes. Australia was relatively isolated, and the local powers were not very welcoming to newcomers.

    The best option was the USA, with relatively fewer powers, a strong presence in international politics and law that could be easily avoided with enough money.

    I started looking through the compiled info. As they say, if not by legal means, then by illegal means. While mind control and other magical means were out of the question, doing some jobs for some rich people, bribery, or just pressure through connections were fair play.

    Aaaand finally. I got a lead. Not the best one, but a lead.

    The land on the west near Boston and New York was owned by a small development company, but as it is with American capitalism, the smaller company was owned by a medium company and the medium company by a big company, ES Electric, and it was the big company that I was interested in.

    The CEO, Mark Rusel, should have enough influence and money to get me the land. And why would he do that? you might ask. Well, that is where the interesting part comes in. The big company recently made their move towards the air transportation industry, and soon after that, the CEO''s daughter was kidnapped around a week ago.

    That was common knowledge, with the kidnapping being sold to the public as a typical ransom attempt, but the information I got from my broker was much more interesting. The company made its move because, during research into electric engines for cars, which was its original field of expertise, it found a new technology that should allow for the production of electric planes. As one can imagine, that is a fortune in the making. The company quickly patented the technology before anyone could steal it, but that did not sit well with Doeing.

    Doeing was an established airplane company known for its shady business. Just a couple of months earlier, some whistleblowers had gone missing, and that was not the first such case. Doeing was overall evil, as most corporations are, but they put in some extra effort into the bad part.

    After ES Electric wouldn¡¯t sell the technology, and many threats and even an assassination attempt, they finally got the daughter of the CEO. The CEO has enough shares to make the decision to sell technology, but he is not stupid. The guy knows that technology is the only thing keeping his daughter alive, so they are at a standstill.

    Perfect for me. The only bad news is that, according to my sources, the girl was transported out of the country out of her father''s sphere of influence and disappeared. Finding her would be a pain, even for me, but not impossible. Well, first, I need to locate her and get a photo or something for negotiation leverage.

    It was time to get to work. There were many ways of localizing someone, but most required mana to fill the world or a strong connection to other plains to get information from otherworldly entities.

    But I had an idea. Shaking with excitement about my first attempt at summoning magic and a judgment ritual, I made my way to the house where I had previously fought the spawn. I went inside the house and started on the first step of my plan. Back in the days of magic, the exact locations of the veins and pathways were marked and prepared for any ritual, but now I had to do it the old way by hand.

    Starting in the relative center of the house, I began drawing runes in a spiral-like pattern, with each next rune around 1.618 from the previous, forming a spiral. Next, I placed an empty mana crystal in each of the runic nodes of the spell circle and activated the spell. Looking closely at the mana crystal, I could see a bit of energy seeping into it.

    Nice it worked, Holy shit it actually worked. It was a simple gathering-charging circle, but it was probably the first one operating in a long time, and it was made by me on the first try. After patting myself on the back for the excellent rune work, I started on the second part.

    Taking out some finely crushed mana crystals, I spread the mist-like powder around. Looking closely, there it was. The mist moved alongside the movement of mana. With the small vein, the movement was minuscule, but it was there. I followed it and finally found its origin. Sure enough, it was in the hallway, probably right where the guy died.

    I sat cross-legged next to the opening and started on the ritual circle. The ritual of judgment, or appraisal, as some later called it, was one of the easier ones. Basically, write the name of the god in a summoning circle and the requirements of what you want appraised, and then power it up with a mana crystal or your own mana, and you are done. Just provide something on which the appraisal can be printed. Scroll paper is the best, but it can be dust on the ground just as well.

    I drew the circle with the pentagram in the middle, wrote the name of the god at the top, and copied the instructions from the book I had with me. Due to its popularity, appraisal was one of the rituals that easily survived the Inquisition. Everyone could cast it. Depending on what you used in the spell, you would get numerical descriptions of aspects of yourself and the skills you possess. How much detail and what scale was used depends on what you write in the spell, but there was a catch.

    If you are not an appraiser, you can¡¯t learn anything new, so if you are cursed but don¡¯t know that, the spell will not say you are cursed, for that you need an appraiser, a follower of the god of records to cast the spell. But it was still valuable. The judgment would be without bias and emotion. If a narcissist and a depressed person ask for an appraisal of their charisma, both get numbers based on what the average person thinks of them rather than their perceived greatness or their lack thereof.

    I set the spell for numerical descriptors, with 10 being the human average, as it was customary. Also, I did not include information on skill levels compared to the average, as that would take way too long with this small mana vein.

    I finished the circle and activated it with a deep breath. A couple of seconds later, after I almost thought I had messed something up, letters in dark blue ink started to show on the parchment provided.

    Name: Samuel Alhazred

    Age: 27 years

    Race: -

    Dexterity left hand: 15

    Dexterity right hand: 16

    Speed left hand: 16

    Shit. I immediately realized my mistake when I saw the letters. I wrote it as is in the book, and it must have been written for some sort of a warrior as bodily details started to show on the paper, details I did not care about.

    Like a person quickly hitting escape on a page that might freeze the PC, I reached for the mana crystal. But it was too late. The mana was siphoned out of it, and the spell stopped by itself after the last information.

    Charisma: 3

    Great, we''re adding insult to injury, are we? I¡¯m surprised it didn¡¯t call me a loser while at it. I went over the spell once again, wiping the parts about my body and telling it to average everything into one stat, as I did not have the mana or time to get everything.

    I separated stats that I was interested in. I also removed charisma-based stats from the spell. I did not need commentary on my lack of social skills. Finally, I produced another mama crystal and redid the ritual. My stats started to show in the dark blue ink on the scroll partchment.

    <hr>

    Name: Samuel Alhazred

    Age: 27 years

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    Race: -

    Stats

    Body: 16

    Intelligence: 22

    Wisdom: 14

    Willpower: 22

    Mental defense, fear-based: inf

    Menta defense, other: 24

    Soul: 18

    Skills: Multilingual, Authority over mana, Authority over mind, Eldritch madness, Eldritch tongue, Servant to the abyss, Spell casting, Ritual casting, Curse weaving, Full Astral Projection

    Secrets: Fire, Space, Death, Mind

    Mysteries: Space, Death, Curse, Soul, Mind

    Enigmas: Eldritch

    <hr>

    Not bad, if I say so myself. The stats were the most straightforward to understand. The body was average overall for dexterity, strength, and speed, but hand-to-eye coordination, etc. 16 was not bad. I was relatively well-trained. My father always said, ¡®Nothing¡¯s better for holding down an unwilling sacrifice than Brazilian jiu-jitsu¡¯ to keep my body in shape.

    Intelligence was the processing power and ability to learn, the base for any wizard. 22 made me probably one of the best currently, but nothing to write home about if considering the possible heights.

    Wisdom, the ability to act on the given information and predict the outcome, could be better. Still, I guess that comes with a lot of theory and practice but not many opportunities for actual experience.

    Willpower, the mental muscle, the will used to move mana and manipulate the mind. The most important stat for any spellcaster, 22 is also good but not inhuman.

    Mental defense for fear, as I thought I''m immune. For other types of attacks, 24 was very high, but if you interact with the void, not much can damage your mind afterward. From what I understand, it is also scaled with willpower. If I wanted a detailed calculation, I would need to find an appraiser, which would be tough since I don¡¯t think there are any of those around anymore, at least for now.

    And soul. It was tough to get this stat since you needed to be aware of your own soul in the first place, but I got it. 18 was a lot for the strength of a soul, considering the hard and dangerous training needed. It scales a bit with mental strength, but not that much.

    As for skills, multilingual was just knowledge of a couple of languages: Black speech, arcane, Abyssal, Elvish, English, Arabic, and Latin. Black speech to talk to the dead. Arcane for spellcasting. Abyssal for well, the abyss. Elvish for trying and failing to impress elven women. English is obvious. Arabic due to my family roots. Latin was more for archaeology. Quite the list, but Black speech, Arcane and Elvish were very close, know one you know all the rest.

    Authority over mana was the ability to control ambient mana for lower-level spells to not use one''s own. It was an ancient skill no longer practiced since you needed, well, ambient mana. The only way to learn it would be to crack mana crystals, lock the mana in a room, and try controlling it, which was a waste of mana no sane person would attempt aside from my family. Especially for a useless skill in a world without mana, but my father did it, making me even more certain that he knew something.

    Authority over the mind, the ability to navigate the mind, and to use mental energy. Nothing unusual. Most could do that to some extent.

    Eldritch Madness, that one was strange. My family called this ability The Blessing of the Abyss, but the spell used the most common name I see, and others called it the eldritch madness. This was the inability to feel fear of any kind. Eldritch tongue came with that skill, the ability to speak in the language of the void.

    Servant to the abyss was the contract I had with the eldritch god.

    Spell casting, ritual casting, and curse weaving were three different applications of mana: the runes and mana control for normal spells, the ability to interact with ritual circles, and the ability to weave curses using symbols.

    And finally, Full Astral Projection, the ability to push the soul out of the body. Useful for training the soul but dangerous, exceptionally so, as it leaves the body without any control and leaves the soul bare without the shell of the flesh. But it also allows for interacting with other souls and is a must-know ability for any mage interested in souls.

    Secrets and mysteries were representations of knowledge, but the thing that caught my attention was the enigma. I did not think the spell would recognize an enigma. Was it because I recognized it as such? Enigmas were not common, and some said they were not real, but here one was technically made real by the spell.

    With all the excitement, I almost didn''t catch the one thing on the sheet. The race was left blank. From all I knew, I should be a human. I was not sure who or what my mother was, but I never showed any signs of a bloodline awakening, and god knows I looked. But then again, what was the line for being human? Were the effects of my contract enough for the spell to not be comfortable calling me one? God, I could use an appraiser right about now. Blank also meant that I might have asked for it in the spell in the wrong way, but I had no way to tell. Well, there''s no use in dwelling on it. I went over the spell once again to make sure everything was fine and dropped the subject. At least for now.

    It was time to summon something. finally.

    After a couple of swearwords about how many mana crystals I had to use to summon a small bug with this low magic concentration, I was done with the summoning circle. The whole operation was made easier by the base being reusable from my previous ritual.

    Taking a bunch of moon powder, an alchemical ingredient made during a full moon, I kneeled in front of the vein and started to chant in the arcane speech, tracing runic shapes in the air with one hand while pointing my staff at the opening with the other.

    After a few minutes, I finally threw the powder into the middle of the circle under the vein, finished the chant, and waited. For a second, I thought that I might have messed up. But then I could feel something akin to a reverberation, a wave traveling through the vein like a string being pulled and then released, and after a while, pop.

    A weird creature showed up.

    A Moonhunter Dragonfly. Similar to a dragonfly in shape, the creature was all white with a black head and two large eyes, looking like two moons replacing eyes in esocket. If someone looked closer, they would notice that the craters and colors of the moon-eyes didn¡¯t align with the moon in our orbit.

    The creature hovered over the circle, looking curiously around, only to freeze a bit when it noticed the moon through the opened window.

    I whistled at it from the lack of things to do to get its attention. How do you call over a Moonhunter Dragonfly from another dimension? Should I have gone with pstpstpst or mooooooon mooooooon or something?

    But my musings were cut short as the creature turned to me. I took out more of the powder from my pocket, and the thing made for it as I quickly pulled my hand back as if taking a dog''s bone right from underneath its nose.

    The bug froze in the air now, with a bit of hostility behind its strange eyes. The feisty little thing was probably judging if it could take me on. I locked my eyes with it, raising slightly from my knees, making myself look hostile, and the bug moved back a bit.

    Now it was time to bargain.

    I took out a photo of the CEO''s daughter and laid it on one side, with a bit of the powder next to it. The offer was clear, and the creature probably was used to bargains, as it moved back a bit without thinking.

    I increased the powder. It was still a reasonable offer, but the creature moved back again. Now I started pulling the phono to myself as the bug quickly moved forward but still hovered away from me.

    I added a pinch to the powder on the ground, and the summon landed on the photo, the bargain was made. Now, it was time for the creature to work. I could see it turn its head towards the night sky, and the bug¡¯s moon-like eyes started to spin quicker and quicker.

    I waited with bated breath. If I could find the girl on the first try, it would be a fantastic, quick job.

    But the hunting ability of the fly was not that great. The catch was, the fly could hunt anything that was currently lit up by the moon as it looked through the moon¡¯s light itself, so if my target was inside during the night and away from windows, you know like a kidnapping victim in a hideout for example, it wouldn¡¯t do shit.  I was hoping that at least one of the people on the list was currently next to an open window.

    The eyes stopped spinning, and the summon started to gouge itself on the powder. There was no reaction. I sighed. After the meal was done, I laid out the next photo with the same amount of powder.

    It was one of the possible so-called ¡°cleaners¡± working for a corporation that seemed to disappear after the kidnapping.

    Their identities were strongly protected, and while the frumentarii were good with magic and myth, they weren''t that good with technology, sadly. So, getting addresses or real identities was almost impossible when they were protected by a giant corporation.

    Nothing again, I breathed out as the creature started to gauge itself on the powder. I repeated the process with three more photos, swearing at my crumpling amount of powder, and finally, on the fourth photo, the creature froze.

    Good.

    I focused on the bug and felt a tug on my subconscious, similar to the one made by the spawn but not hostile. Looking through the eyes of a bug was a pain, and getting anything from it would be hard, but I had to try. I focused on the tug, allowing it to enter my mind, and concentrated as hard as possible.

    I saw the world from the moon, with a vision that was almost 360 degrees, like I was looking through some weird camera. The unnatural way of seeing was beamed straight to my brain, and I could feel a headache coming on.

    My vision quickened as I flew from the moon with the light, everything turning to blur as I gritted my teeth to avoid puking from the ride. Finally, I could see a man. He was apparently on the job, dressed in black, in the garden of an apartment complex. I assume someone was about to have an accident.

    But now came the most challenging part. I needed to get the address. I could see everything around me, but getting letters through my distorted vision was a pain. I desperately looked around as I felt the vision slip from me. There was a number¡ªI think 44. But 44, what street? The number was big enough to read, but deciphering the distorted letters was another thing.

    The vision was ending, and the image was becoming blurry. Now, I couldn¡¯t even make up the letters. I strained my mind to get something, to cling to the image with all the mental strength I could. But no such luck, the distortion was getting worse and worse.

    Finally, with my last thought, I looked up towards the horizon, and there it was. This had to be Manhattan, and the thing in the distance would be the Freedom Tower, so this was an apartment complex on the right bank.

    The vision ended, and a sharp headache assaulted me.

    I looked at the bug considering if I should risk redoing the vision to get more info, headache be damned but the summon, now visibly rounder, was apparently full as the creature slowly and lethargically made its way towards the vein.

    I chuckled a bit as it got stuck on the entrance. It was now rounder from the powder, barely fitting through. Finally, after giving it a bit of a push, the summon was gone, and I fired up the Maps app to look through the street view, finally localizing the apartment complex.

    I hoped to get more substantial info, but the night was young. I assume that whatever job the guy had, he would do it later in the night when everyone was asleep. I should have around three hours before he was gone, and I could get there in two.

    Somebody was going to go missing tonight, and it wasn¡¯t the people in the apartment.