I resentfully stared at the old witch, my hand still stinging where an open wound had been, until just a few seconds prior.

“What?” She unabashedly returned my glare. “Stop, being such a baby, it’s just a little prick!”

I scoffed. “But I am a baby, you senile old thing! And you just forcibly drained me of, like, half a pint of blood, what are you going to do if I become anemic, or worse!? You monster! Child abuser!”

She didn’t even flinch, at all, despite my pretty well-founded accusations. “If one of us deserves the title of ‘monster’, it’s probably not me.” Her gargoyle-like face contorted into a mockery of a grin. “I’m only a few centuries old, so probably young enough to be a distant granddaughter of yours, right?”

Touché.

With a flicker of her hand, the dagger she had used to mix our blood landed in front of me, sticking into the floor almost perfectly perpendicular to it, right next to the ominous crystal our blood had coagulated into after establishing our ‘contract’. I indifferently glanced at the crystalline blade, then back at the witch with a raised eyebrow.

“My athame is enchanted,” She started. “Look at the runes. It’ll replenish your blood almost as fast as you lost it.”

A second, closer look at the completely pitch black thing revealed that, indeed, It was covered from handle to end by small, ideogram-like etchings. Of course, I couldn’t make head nor tails of them, and, actually, giving more than just a cursory glance at it made me feel nauseous, as if my mind couldn’t even properly process its image.

I took a deep breath, both to sort my thoughts and to avoid throwing up.

Alright, so, if I believed her words, anemia was out of the equation, for the time being. That was good. Our contract wasn’t too bad either. Well, it would have been a pretty one-sided thing, had I had the means to follow through on my end, but...

Yeah, sorry. Not sorry.

Essentially, it was a non-aggression treaty, with an added clause stipulating that she would have to teach me the basics of ‘Practice’ or ‘the Call’, as she called it, to the best of her means, for ten years or until I got back my memories about it. The wording was a bit too dramatic for my tastes, but, overall, I counted myself quite lucky. Since those memories didn’t exist, at all, well, I had just acquired a teacher pretty much for free.

Although, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly ‘free’. Technically, I had to answer any question she might ask, to the best of my ability, until the memories came back to me. At that point, in order to fulfill the contract, I would have to teach and train her in the usage of the ‘Ritual of Transcendency’, and at least two other spells of her choosing.

That last bit did worry me a bit, though. Mainly, because I was never getting any memories on the matter back -I was fairly certain about it-, and violating a contract in my new world didn’t seem to be as easily solved as back on earth. There would be no prosecutors to bribe or threaten; instead, it seemed like the world itself would rise to the task of judge, jury, and even executioner too, apparently. It was a prospect I wasn’t too fond of.

Congratulations! You have established a Soul-Anchored Contract with Grisella, The Immolator of Sinners.

Warning! In order to avoid infractions, we strongly advise concerned parties to take note of the exact wording of any relevant Soul-Anchored Contract(s). Note: Infringing a Soul-Anchored Contract may entail Soul Termination.

I mean, perhaps I’m biased, but ‘Soul Termination’ sounded like a bit too severe of a punishment to me. Also, while I didn’t exactly know how she got the title, someone called ‘The Immolator of Sinners’ didn’t strike me as the kind of person anyone sane would attempt to scam.

Then again, needs must, I guess, and I’ve never claimed to be particularly sane...

“Ok,” The witch unceremoniously plopped down on the ground, right in front of me, her bony hand almost immediately taking hold of our crystallized blood. Once again, I couldn’t help admiring her casual display of nimbleness, despite her looks suggesting that some museum’s curator might soon come looking for her.

“The contract’s written in this bloodstone.” She stated.

Indeed, I hadn’t previously noticed, but the ruby-like, egg-sized thing was covered in small etchings.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

“I can give you a copy of it, later,” She added, giving me a shit-eating grin. “But I’m keeping this beauty, if you don’t mind. Otherwise, we would have a hard time explaining the origins of your newest toy to Lina, wouldn’t we?”

“Sure,” I sat down too. “Whatever.”

I wasn’t too worried. Despite the circumstances, and her rather ominous epithet, she didn’t particularly feel like an ill-intentioned woman, and I’d long since come to trust my gut when it came to such matters.

“So? What do we do now?”

She clapped her hands, looking excited, almost delighted. “Right! let’s start from the beginning then!” Her grin seemed sincere, her shriveled face looking comically happy because of it. “Exactly who are you? Where did you come from?”

Oh, boy, things promised to be fun. After all, hadn’t she already tied her own hands?

“Don’t you already know who I am, girl? Abramel, the mighty toddler, bane of all swaddling!” I shrugged, a smirk curling my lips. “As for where I came from, well, you see, when a man and a woman, really, really love each other-”

She shot me an annoyed look.

“What?” I shrugged again. “I’m trying my very best to answer, you know? I don’t wanna die. Again. If you’re not satisfied with it, maybe try wording things a bit better next time?”

“You little-!” She stopped mid-sentence, as if experiencing a sudden epiphany. Her eyes took a quick glance at the proof of our contract, evidently scanning the runes for something. A few seconds later, she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment.

I yawned, twiddling my thumbs.

Eventually, she looked at me once again, before sighing. “This is going to take a while, isn’t it?”

I almost immediately answered, but something stopped me right as I opened my mouth. I quickly reconsidered my options. Was I making a dumb choice?

Undoubtedly...

Then again, it was also oh-so-very satisfying.

“Oh, dearest child!” My grin became Cheshire-like. "You can bet on it! Why hurry? We’ve got ten years, don’t we?”

******

Sleep has always easily dragged me into its insouciant embrace, regardless of the age of my body or my mental circumstances. Perhaps because of that, I belong to the particular kind of men who become grouchy when waking up, and doubly so when undergoing sleep-deprivation. It stands to reason, then, that I was starting to feel particularly bloodthirsty after being jolted out of my dreams, for the nth time that month, by the frenetic slapping of flesh against flesh, and poorly muffled moaning.

It seemed like my most recent escapade with my newly acquired -and self-imposed- tutor/co-conspirator had served to rekindle the flame between Lina and Munok. Or perhaps it was just the change in season. Whatever the case, they had been going at it like rabbits, whenever possible, apparently very intent on making a brother or sister for me. I couldn’t really blame them, though; life has its needs and the beauty of youth happens to be ephemeral.

Then again, the blood god also has his needs, and he happens to be particularly fond of blood, or so have I heard.

Could I really be blamed if I were to put them out of their misery during their sleep?

No. Breathe.

Violence certainly does solve a lot of problems, but patricide’s bad karma. Not to mention, babies have a hard time wielding knives.

At least the family was wealthy enough to have separate rooms. In previous lives, I had experienced the alternative; it was supremely awkward and even more aggravating.

A sigh escaped my lips.

It was completely dark outside and, while I couldn’t tell the time with precision, my inner clock guessed there were still several hours left until sunrise. Since it would simply have been impossible to go back to sleep with all the noise, I decided to just focus on messing with my magical balls.

Grisella, the old witch, had given me a few pointers and they had proven to be very useful. Well, to be fair, the balls themselves were still pretty much useless, but I could now somewhat change their shape, turning them into misshapen cubes or pyramids, and willingly shifting their colors. If nothing else, it made for an interesting light-show, and, if she hadn’t lied, enough practice would open the doors for much, much more. It was pretty exciting, actually.

Of course, there were other, allegedly better ways to improve my control over Pneuma -I hadn’t miraculously come up with the best method-, but I enjoyed playing with the shiny balls much more than the idea of spending hours visualizing and meditating while chanting mantras, as Grisella had suggested, thank you very much.

My life has taught me that, at least when it comes to learning, suitability is as -if not more- important than sheer efficiency, and, despite all of its merits, I’ve never been particularly suited for that kind of idle practice. Even those times when I dallied with the occult, while I did eventually get the hang of them, I much preferred to use other avenues to induce trance; rituals, dancing, even pain... Though, I was never too fond of psychedelic substances either. As one of my masters once put it ‘your mind is already too pitiful to further muddle it with Kykeon’, may that old Syracusan goat rest in peace.

But I digress once again. Let’s go back to turning my balls into cubes.

Congratulations! After repeatedly interacting with Pneuma, your Skill Terribly Primitive Pneuma Manipulation has slightly improved.

Skill: Terribly Primitive* Pneuma Manipulation [Passive] (+)

“-Magic? Bah, no way dude!

-Have I ever lied to you? I swear on me mum my fart was shining!”

Vriya, 369 B.G.E.

Effect: Slightly enhances control over Pneuma and insignificantly reduces its expenditure while casting. (+)

Finally! I’ve been waiting for this for-

“No~! That’s my~” A grunt of pleasure mixed with pain reached my ears, making me lose control over the construct I’d been manipulating.

Alright, that’s it! I’ve had enough! Time to bring out the big guns!

Resorting to the old method proper to all toddlers, I bawled my eyes out.