Finally, they were all reunited. All fourteen of them. It had taken them a while, since some of them had entered way too far away. But now, the wait was over.
And the ritual could be started.
Vina had finished setting the altar, and Peril, once he arrived, had started drawing the summoning circle, with all the magical sigils from memory.
The result? An enormous circle, with fourteen smaller protective circles surrounding it, every single one connected to the others and the big one with triangles, pentagrams, and straight lines; all of them having text written in Hell’s tongue in the middle.
Inside the big circle was another circle, this one smaller, and away from the fourteen safe zones.
No amount of precaution was enough when summoning a devil’s conscience. Even if it was a sealed one.
From the big circle to the small, central circle, an insane amount of text, coupled with a myriad of symbols, written in a spiraling sentence, was still being written by a sweating Peril, even after all this time.
And, in the total middle, not only of the summoning formation, but also of the whole pocket dimension, was a book.
It was not a small book. Vina needed Bermu’s help to set it correctly, without ruining any of the sigils. If opened, she could lay inside without bending any extremity, simply positioning herself from the top left corner to the bottom right corner.
Not like the book was getting open. Not because she didn’t want to, which she didn’t, but because she couldn't.
She didn’t have the means, nor did any of the other thirteen mages, even if they all combined forces. The seal had been made by high-ranked mages, reinforced every year.
Under the book, was a silver chalice. Its parts had no soft edges, made with sharp, thin, resembling broken glass splinters. She had to wrap the base with a cloth to handle it, due to not only looking sharp, but being sharp.
If circles, spirals, and round edges facilitated the magic conduction; straight angles, pointy figures and polyhedrons did the opposite, isolating and breaking the magic.
The chalice was an insulator, its primary function making sure that the thing they were about to pull out from the book could not extend its influence too far.
Another security measure was in the formation itself. All the drawn triangles had the mission of breaking the magic who went from inside the formation to outside it, while allowing them to use their magic from outside the formation to inside it without any obstacle, all due to the spell Peril was writing.
Apart from the chalice and the book, there was a lectern, where the book was resting. It had no more uses than that.
What they were about to do was siphon some of the sealed devil’s blood. With it, defeating all the mages guarding Syon would be a piece of cake.
Mages consumed demons to get stronger, and the same could be said for devils, except that doing the latter was impossible.
Mages were no match for devils. Udulluay resided with absolute freedom in the middle of the island where the strongest mage families inhabited. He was before them, and would remain after them. No one could change that.
So, even when they had a fully sealed, weakened and starved devil, eating it was still impossible.
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The boon from drinking the devil’s blood wasn’t eternal, only spanning for a week.
But they didn’t need a week, only a few hours.
“It’s done.” Peril said, cleaning the sweat from his forehead with his sleeves. “Give me five minutes, and we can start.”
…
Ethra had lived better days, to be honest. Worse ones too, but that depended if Velvet chained him again. He didn’t trust what the madwoman could pull off before the safety measures kicked in.
“Why are you running?” Velvet laughed a bit when he rolled on the floor to escape one of the chains.
He knew she was toying with him, making feints and letting him escape on purpose, dragging the fight.
Ethra had somewhat assumed she had forgotten about the poisoning intent on the airship. Clearly, she had not.
“Say…” Alrai started, tapping on Dianthus’ back with his shoes. “Do we get a truce if I let you go?”
“Lemme think about it…” He slightly lifted his cheek from the floor. “Nope, in fact, once I get free, I’m taking you down first. And then I’m taking down your boyfriend. Ngh!” He winced when Alrai increased his pressure, breaking something else.
“I have to say, your dedication in pursuing such a woman is admirable. Suicidal and masochistic too, but admirable nonetheless.” Alrai snickered. “Oh, but I do hope your balls hurt after it.”
“Thanks for your sympathy.” Dianthus said.
But the time it’s almost up.
…
Igern wasn’t coming back. Creftalia noticed. She had been waiting, at least until the shield decided to give up, which would be soon enough, under the repeated chops of Drifa’s axe.
She had lost once again.
Will they send me home if I keep failing?
She had doubts about that. Failure probably meant an intensification of trials, just like when she lost at the Arena, and the higher-ups ordered her to do more, not to take a break.
I wish they would send me home.
Not because of Velvet, Drifa or Igern. She simply didn’t feel safe. At least, not on the Mergifari.
It smelled too much of rot.
…
Peril had rested, so now they were ready to start the siphon summon.
Vina entered one of the external circles, and so did the remaining members, one in each circle, carrying a golden staff.
She cleared her throat, feeling scared and excited, all in the same measure. Looking around, she waited for everyone to be ready, nodding when each one of them gave the signal.
“Alright. One… two…” They raised the staffs in unison, their hearts beating like crazy.
“Three!”
Slam! They hit the bottom on the floor at the same time, a reverberating, metallic sound jumping over the walls, the formation starting to activate.
The staffs were raised again.
“Frenese!”
Slam!
“Frenese!”
The formation activated, a red light emanating from it.
“Tighten the seal, break the skin, drain the blood.”
Slam!
“Frenese!”
The light didn’t stay still, moving to converge around the book, ‘awakening’ it.
“Close the eyes, shut the mouth, bow the head.”
Slam!
“Frenese!”
Some light particles disobeyed the formation, going backwards, but were intercepted by the sigils, disappearing under the earth.
“Bend the knees, unsharpen the claws, unbare the teeth.”
Bang!
“Frenese!”
The red light was now flowing continuously into the book, stirring the one inside.
“Carnage devil, beast of a hundred mouths, walking famine.”
…
Kartal’s face revealed a grim expression once the chant started, watching the Opening Arena from the Selection room. Not only him, but any official mage who recognized the spell had changed their attention to those fourteen novices.
Fear, expectation, admiration and envy were the principal emotions surrounding the scene. Whispers could be heard, everyone wanting to display their opinion.
“Using a sealed devil on the Opening? My, the Tarius really want to flaunt all their riches.”
“Isn’t it a bit overkill? If money can buy victory, why do small families even bother? Certain artifacts should be forbidden.”
“And who decides which artifacts are allowed and which aren’t? You? Do we big families need to handicap ourselves so as to not harm your feelings?”
“I say we remove shields, no one wants to watch wall-punching.”
What they were doing, didn’t break the rules. It fell under ‘artifact usage’, and Kartal knew it. And so did Sirius Tarius, the official mage under the Third Prince of Idir, and Vina’s father, who was leisurely drinking some wine as he watched the summoning.
Kartal saw the book trembling, its pages becoming tainted with dripping blood. Blood which slowly fell inside the chalice, drop by drop.
The Scales of Poine weren’t an ancient organization, able to compete with big families in terms of resources. Even if Kartal himself was a powerhouse, and could deal with mages who consumed devil’s blood, the same couldn’t be said for Syon and the others.
After all, protecting was harder than punishing.