Deep red energy swirled within Irthrothun’s demon core, almost appearing more wild and sinister than when I’d held it in my hand for the first time not too long ago. The other core in Helas’s hands was a medium violet—the color of a Primordial core.

So that was why Helas had taken a while to find me and help me fight Irthrothun. She’d been fighting a demon elsewhere. A stronger demon than I’d faced.

“Yes,” Helas confirmed. “Two.”

“Two in one night…?” Yalgor asked, hesitantly taking the cores from her. “How?”

“Yes, two in one night.” She put a hand on my back, the light touch registering to me now with weight I hadn’t been able to perceive before. She was strong. “I think one of the Rashirat may have made some trouble on his way out of town. And we have a new slayer. So you’ll help us then, old friend?”

Ezrenad being responsible for the demon that’d killed Harorin seemed about right.

Yalgor nodded, his cheeks no longer ruddy. “Of course. Always. Anytime.” His eyes fell to me, and when he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. I couldn’t read the emotion in them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Both of you, please, follow me.”

In the middle of the trees stood an open-ceiling stone shrine that looked like a throne. The back wall towered over the rest of it, a waterfall like a sheet of crystalline blue light pouring from the top of it. Tree branches stuck out at odd angles, each adorned with double-sided mirrors and elaborately designed talismans of opal, celestite, selenite, and quartz.

Yalgor showed us up the steps, careful to keep the bottom of his robes from extinguishing any of the candles lining the way. Inside, the waterfall of light cascaded into a round tranquil stone-lined pool where a tall mirror stood in the center. He gestured toward it.

“If you’d please wait here,” Yalgor said, “I’ll return with a few other clerics.”

“One for each Shevira,” Helas instructed.

Yalgor’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “As you wish.” He pivoted away the way we’d come, his steps quick and certain.

Helas stepped into the pool of water without taking off her heavy leather boots. “Come on,” she said, waving at me to follow her. “Let’s get started without them.”

Any sane person would avoid wet shoes in this weather, but I did as she asked. The water didn’t wet my boots, though, even though I felt its weight against my feet as I joined her in front of the mirror.

When she sat, I did the same and ignored the way it pinched the back of my neck. This wasn’t the same mirror that Father had used to summon a demon. This one was taller than me and jutted out of the pool of water like a shard of glass that’d been shattered from a larger piece, exposed edges jagged and rough.

“Drink,” Helas said. She cupped her hands, dipped them into the water, and leaned over to swallow down what she could. “The more, the better.”

I didn’t know how the water pooled into my hands yet didn’t get my skin wet. I copied the way she’d bent forward and drank what didn’t slip between my hands. The taste of it was sweet at first, almost nectar-like as it tingled across my tongue, but with a subtle hint of something otherworldly, something divine that intensified into a biting metallic taste that burned my palette.

“Yeah, it gets worse,” she said as I recoiled. “Keep drinking. Now tell me about the core Adna gave you.”

“What do you want to know?” I asked between drinks, forcing myself to swallow.

“The quality. What else would I want to know, kid?”

I hadn’t checked yet, but that answer wouldn’t satisfy Helas. I hadn’t realized I could check, but now I recalled that my status had started to keep track of my core like it kept track of my skills. That meant I could check the quality in the same way.

【NOTICE】

Cores: 1 ⌵

Primordial [2%]

Mother had said the demon that Father summoned was a Grand Cross, and that they usually had a Transcendental core. It didn’t feel believable that I’d tethered to such a powerful core until this moment.

But Primordial?

A spark of excitement, a rush of adrenaline surged through me. Mother had killed a being with a Primordial core almost effortlessly, and I certainly had the potential to be as strong as her. Especially when I’d level up quite a bit more if the rest of slayer class quests gave out rewards like when I unlocked the class. I’d be able to surpass my father in all but soul quality.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

But what should’ve felt like a weight off my shoulders was a sense of uneasiness.

I wasn’t under any delusion that leveling up would be all I’d need to kill Ezrenad. He’d killed Mother just as easily as she’d killed his Grand Cross. I couldn’t rely on what I knew about Father’s stats anymore after fighting Irthrothun; Father had been much stronger than that drunk man when he’d been possessed, and I had no idea how much Ezrenad had been rewarded by the system for possessing him. On top of that, Ezrenad probably had the equivalent of an SSS-Rank soul.

I was getting ahead of myself, as badly as I wanted him dead.

“It’s Primordial,” I said under my breath. “But I’ve only tethered it by two percent, and I don’t know how I even did that much. What does it even mean to be tethered to a core?”

“Good question,” Helas said. She took in one last drink of the pool water and then massaged her knees. “And one that every slayer would probably answer differently. Me? I like to think of tethering as a process that makes it yours. So it’s like gaining another soul, but one that we can strengthen just like demons. By devouring other cores. You’ll get that skill as a reward for your second quest. That’s why we’ve got to get this out of the way.”

I’d wished she’d said just like any Cored Being, since it wasn’t as if the Demeot were any different than dragons or kobolds. And she knew that, which meant she’d chosen to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t sit right with me on purpose. To make sure I knew that to defeat a demon, we have to become like them, and I had to just deal with it.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t have blood on my hands already. I couldn’t pretend to have the moral high ground. I couldn’t afford it, either—not when the demon I needed to defeat was one of the Rashirat.

After I took my last drink, I caught a gaze of myself in the mirror. I’d forgotten how much I looked like Mother. Except my hair was stained red-brown from dying in a pool of my own blood. Thankfully, I knew Helas had some alchemical solution for that.

Yalgor appeared over the shoulder of my reflection, nine other clerics trailing behind him. Some of them smiled when they noticed I was watching them in the mirror. One of them waved. The majority of them, though, had wide-eyed looks, set jaws, and their hands clutching their brooches.

“Did… you get started without us?” Yalgor asked, fidgeting with his own teardrop brooch.

Helas gave him a business smile over her shoulder. “You know me so well, Cleric of Sak’hed. I’m honored. Now, please, let’s get the hell on with the summoning?”

“Yes, of course.” Yalgor glanced at the other clerics, and they fanned out around the pool.

Part of me understood Helas’s insistence. Being a slayer put a target on my back, and the quicker I could complete my slayer quests, the quicker I’d get stronger.

On the other hand, the system hadn’t given me the quest. Could I really complete a quest I hadn’t been given? I hadn’t received an encounter notice for Irthrothun, either, but I had received experience points for defeating him. Maybe this would work.

I wanted it to—no, I needed it to work.

The clerics started to hum together until their pitches matched, rich and full. Their harmony resonated through the air and filled the space with a vibration that sank through my skin and into my soul, all light and airy like a gentle breeze.

Helas tapped my knee with hers, having shifted closer to me in the water.

“They’re synchronizing,” she explained. “So their magic spells can be linked and strengthened by each other. Summoning a god isn’t easy, and some of them don’t particularly enjoy crossing over often.”

I hoped Ket’ha wasn’t one of those types.

Because of their class, clerics were said to be much closer to their patron gods than anyone else, their quests regarded as tasks and duties given to them by the god they serve. Their skillset and class items were meant to aid them in fulfilling their role as an intercessor between our plane and the divine plane.

“In a moment,” Helas said, “they’re going to start chanting a series of spells. Just warning you now, don’t try to replicate this on your own. Until you fully tether to your new core, you won’t be able to replicate this. Even then, you’ll have to hope your patron god is taking pity on your poor attempt at summoning them.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said without meaning it. If ten clerics combining their abilities couldn’t get my patron god to visit, then I didn’t know what would.

Yalgor’s voice rose above the others, stringing the spells together as if they were one, “Manio nix fin lux mutio mirayat manio arivi manio shevirat.”

He hummed for a breath and, when he repeated the series, the others joined in with him with their eyes closed. The atmosphere shifted as they raised their arms in unison, the air growing so thin it wisped in and out of my lungs.

Helas whispered, “They’re calling on the Divine Light to transform the mirror into a portal through which the Shevirat can cross over into our plane. Once Yalgor decides their spells have worked, we’ll start chanting the name of our patron gods. That’s when you’ll call on Ket’ha. I’ll be going first, and you’ll go last. Good to start and end in the same place.”

“Why are we calling on all of them though?” I asked.

“Quest bonus.” She gave a toothy grin.

Well, that was thoughtful.

The clerics continued chanting the same series of spells until the mirror’s surface flashed from silver to gold then back again. Yalgor must’ve given Helas a signal, because she joined the next round by chanting the name of Sak’hed while the others continued the spells.

At the end of it, Yalgor switched to chanting Sak’hed’s name as well, and after the next repeat, a cleric of Khavura switched to chanting the name of their patron god. One after the other, the spell gradually faded until it was my turn.

I joined them by chanting Ket’ha’s name, but it came off my tongue like tar—heavy and wrong. My chest burned with the feeling of it as the mirror’s surface flickered between the various colors of the divine minerals. Shining gold hued in silverish white, yellow, and rose. Gleaming bronze and antiqued bronze, copper and antiqued copper. Shimmering diamonds that fluoresced in a purple-blue fractured crystalline pattern.

A final flash of white light overtook the mirror, brightness radiating from its jagged edges like heat on a blistering day. It was sensory overload, but I couldn’t blink, couldn’t turn away, couldn’t move.

The hair at the back of my neck stood on end as a divine being came out of the mirror. The liquid-like metallic surface of their humanoid form swirled with the glimmering shades of the divine minerals. I’d say it was beautiful if not for the distinct knowledge that this being could end me with a thought.

My stomach churned as their form amalgamated into lean arms and legs, a slim waist and willowy shoulders, a long neck and a small face with long hair. Features slid onto their face—round lips, soft nose, and big eyes.

“Finally,” the god said.