Chapter 30 – The Greatest Fool

“Why isn't it working!?” Symar looked around his room, where nothing had changed. No devil. No mystical summoning effects. Nothing. He alone remained standing within the bloody circle he'd painfully drawn with no results to show.

He wondered what went wrong and thought the matter over more carefully. There shouldn't have been any mistakes with the summoning circle itself, at least that was what he hoped. So ignoring that possibility, he eventually realized the crucial part he'd forgotten in his excitement.

“I need a sacrifice...” He muttered quietly to himself. But knowing this didn't really help him. What was the right sacrifice for a devil? His life? His soul? Obviously, those were out of the question, so what other options were there?

“I can make do with a few years less of my life...” It was the only conclusion he could come to. Devils were infamous for taking the lives of others in all different ways possible. A mixture of rumors and reality Symar hoped. He couldn't think of anything else and decided to proceed with that. Once more, he called out his made-up incantation with only a slight correction. The goal – becoming an archmagus in exchange for ten years of his life.

Yet, there still were no changes, and the world ignored his plea. At this point, Symar was certain that he'd used the correct method and wasn't overlooking anything else, but nothing was happening. Cursing at devils and gods alike, he continued trying all that he could think of to make the summoning would work.

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Outside of the estate, Aien stood in front of a fence that was more than twice his height and adorned with numerous spikes at the top to prevent intruders. He had to be careful to avoid the unbelievable number of guards that were hired for a single family. For better or worse, this Noble House relied more on human resources than constructs, which made things slightly more difficult for Aien. The snowstorm had already subsided, making it easier to observe Symar from this distance, yet at the same time, making it harder for him to hide.

With too many unknown variables, Aien would never dare to carelessly perform a summoning without testing the waters first. That's why Symar was the first of many future test subjects he'd guide into a summoning to gain more information. However, It had already been hours since Symar tried his first summoning. Aien was slightly annoyed when he looked at Symar's antics from afar and wondered whether he'd chosen the wrong person.

'He keeps failing... Assuming he isn't too stupid to follow the instructions means there's a problem with the sacrifice as expected. Still... Is he too afraid?'

Aien silently pondered, buried within the snow. Should he look for a different person that was more willing to sacrifice others? After all, the only successful summoning he knew of was Zeristin's, and it had been done with a living sacrifice... For Aien, Time was a valuable resource he couldn't waste. Zeristin was certainly still chasing after him, and something told him that he wouldn't give up easily.

Still, he was reluctant to give up on Symar that easily. His situation was very appealing, and he barely hesitated at all before his decision to summon a devil. Regardless, quantity was more important than quality in his current situation. Aien needed to watch as many summoning as possible of all different kinds so that he could be confident in his own attempt.

Keeping all of this in mind, Aien decided to observe Symar a little while longer before changing his approach. If he could, he would prefer it much more to see him more up close and guide him in the right direction. His application as a servant was still pending, but he could probably get the position of a gardener if he remained patient. It might also be necessary to retrieve the books afterwards. Sneaking inside once had already been a tall hurdle to overcome with all of these watchful eyes that barely slacked on their job.

But then, everything changed. Whatever he'd planned up to this point didn't matter anymore. Whatever he'd thought would happen in the future became redundant. Because at that very moment, the world as he knew it, was no more.

“What the hell is this!?!?”

Aien's plans for the future or his thoughtful approach - They were all overturned and rendered meaningless by the sudden appearance of a red light.

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 “World, hear of my desire! What I seek is revenge against those that have wronged me! I hope to attain my freedom, and for that, I would sacrifice everything I have!”

Symar stopped counting how many times he'd shouted the same thing over and over. He arrived at a point where he didn't care anymore and even began doubting whether the book was real or not. In his last attempt, before accepting his circle was a defect, he tossed all caution to the wind. Rumors were just that – rumors. Even if they had some truth to them, they'd surely be overexaggerated. Thus, in the heat of the moment, Symar chose the right sacrifice for the summoning to complete. He could later decide what the devil wanted from him, and if it would finally work out, they would surely come to an agreement.

The shabby summoning circle beneath him glowed in a faint red before the entire room was filled with lightning. Soundlessly, they tore away at the carpet and scorched everything in their way. Only Symar, who stood at the center of the circle, remained unharmed as the lightning turned his room into ashes. Nothing caught fire, and yet it each spark turned everything it touched into cinders, erasing part of it from existence.

Symar watched on dumbfounded as the badly-written symbols on the ground transformed into flawless characters. As if shattering the bindings that kept them on the floor, they struggled upwards into the air and began circling around his body. He soon realized that he could no longer move. No matter what Symar did, his body wouldn't listen, as the floating runes trapped him inside the circle. Their ghastly appearance as they danced around him sent shivers down his spine, finally causing fear to fill his mind when he was confronted with this unknown turn of events.

Suddenly the runes stopped in their movements. He didn't realize it before, but they had appeared to be talking, or rather singing in a language he couldn't understand. As soon as they stopped moving, they changed their direction, turning towards him. None of them had anything resembling eyes, but Symar could feel their piercing stares that contained a longing desire to approach him. They struggled against an invisible wall until they were finally granted passage. Following that, each character headed straight towards his right hand, where they entered his body against his will. One after another, the characters disappeared, and a symbol that resembled an intertwined chain became visible on his right hand. The process brought with it an excruciating pain, making him feel like his hand was burning from the inside out. When he could no longer endure and was about to pass out, an ethereal voice in his mind kept him awake again.

Symar couldn't make out to whom it belonged to. He had never heard it before in his life, but he instinctively knew that his fate rested in that voice. Every word it said reverberated throughout his entire body. He grasped his head with his trembling palms, trying everything to endure this new assault to his mind. But there was nothing he could do to drown out the voice that sunk into the depths of his consciousness to announce the divine decree that would change his life forever.

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Contract 

I, Symar von Ranzes, will herby offer everything I have. In exchange, I demand revenge against those that have wronged me. I demand that I attain the freedom I seek. 

The world acknowledged your plea. 

To grant what you desire, I was born as Aien, a devil under the Law of Death. I will heed the world's call to take it upon myself to honor the contract. 

The devil was born, and the contract was made.

Barely able to hold on from completely passing out, Symar slowly opened his eyes after the pain had faded away. A throbbing sensation remained in his right hand as well as a ringing in his head. Still, he'd recovered enough to study his surroundings.

Out of thin air, and before Symar knew from where he'd come from, a young man appeared in front of him. The two stared at each other without speaking a word. Symar was left bewildered that the devil he'd summoned looked like any other ordinary human. Moreover, he was perplexed when he realized that this devil seemed more astonished than himself about the ongoing events.

Symar and Aien continued staring at each other, each dealing with their own thoughts. The former was too afraid after going through the painful summoning process. He didn't know what was going on and decided for his counterpart to open the conversation. But after Aien remained silent for some time, he wondered whether this devil was even capable of human speech. Just because he looked like a human to him, didn't mean he had to be one. In fact, Symar knew he wasn't. Additionally, there was also the voice that spoke to him.

The devil was born.

Did that mean the devil in front of him was an infant? Because he didn't have an artifact? Symar soon realized he knew absolutely nothing about what he'd just done, and the surfacing doubts and fear began overwhelming him. It made him regret his rash decision, but it was too late for that.

On the other hand, Aien, too, had not the least inkling what was going on. He was summoned? As a devil? How? Why? Countless questions were filling his mind with not a single answer in sight. Just like Symar, he'd heard a voice in his mind. But when the contract was formed, Aien's own opinion was completely ignored. No matter how he refused to accept the contract, the voice had answered and accepted it in his stead.

It was difficult for him, but Aien forced himself to calm down. He had to tackle the problem slowly, one issue after the other. However, that's when he remembered those words again. That voice. He'd heard it once before. In that forgotten transit between two lives.

'Do you agree?' It had asked.

But his thoughts didn't stop there. It wasn't only once, but he'd heard that voice dozens of times, more than he could bother to count after that.

Slowly, this fragment of his suspicion grew into the realization of an undeniable truth that explained everything.

“N...o...” Aien silently muttered in a weak whisper. His body lost all of its strength as he dropped with his knees onto the ground like a puppet that had its strings cut. Pressing his arm against the ground to barely support his upper body, he stared at the floor with his quivering eyes that saw a glimpse of the truth. His mind came to more conclusions against his will, turning his suspicion into a certainty he couldn't possibly ignore anymore.

“NO! Stop!” He couldn't bear it anymore and rammed his head against the floor to drown out his own unceasing thoughts. Without caring about anything else, Aien began shouting words in a language, Symar was unable to comprehend. Terrified and frightened, Symar crawled into a corner and made himself as small as possible as he watched this devil seemingly losing his mind.

“Why!? This can't- This can't be real... Don't let it be real! This has... has to be a dream. Yes... All of this... is just one... long...and cruel... nightmare...”

At that moment, the only thing Aien wished for was for all of this to end. To let him wake up back in that torture chamber and that all of this was just a hallucination. A dream that his mind had created in a delirium in response to the enormous suffering. Even if the endless days of torture were all that awaited him, it would be better than this. Better than to be toyed with in a manner like this.

Naturally, that prayer fell on deaf ears.

Through the wide window that revealed the backyard of the mansion, the first rays of moonlight peeked through the clouds. The snowstorm left behind a pearl-white blanket of snow that stretched into the infinite distance. For some reason, none of the servants or the head of the house had noticed the outbursts coming from Symar's room. This whole world of white appeared to be devoid of any souls as the numerous guards were nowhere to be seen. Aien's eyes remained glued to the ground in disbelief and denial, refusing to accept reality and the conclusion he'd come to when he suddenly caught a glance of a single figure.

Outside on the white carpet, a person kneed in front of a fountain. The moonlight illuminated their surroundings as the falling water of the fountain echoed within the vicinity, filling it with the splattering sounds of peaceful tranquility. Amid this serene picture, the person offered a prayer to the moons in the sky.

Their back was turned to the window through which Aien was looking through. He felt his heart sinking into a bottomless pit when he saw the figure outside. He couldn't, rather didn't, want to believe his eyes. They frequently blinked, trying to desperately get rid of the tricks his mind played on him. When the person suddenly disappeared from his sight, Aien sighed heavily in relief.

Nothing of this was real. His brain was making things up, and all of his thoughts were utter nonsense. Those were the thoughts he deluded himself with.

“That's where you are, Michael!”

All of a sudden, that familiar, far too familiar voice sounded out from behind him.

“Oh my... What's with that look on your face? Aren't you happy to see me again?” The gentle voice of an elderly woman asked him, exuding a warmth that he'd indulged in for years. The strained expression on his face relaxed as he saw Mother Catherine stepping into the room. Her voice lulled him into a trance where he forgot about anything that had happened. He forgot about the crimes he'd committed or anything related to them. At this very moment, he returned to that orphanage where he had spent his days in peace, accompanied by a blissful ignorance he wouldn't trade away for anything else.

“Don't cry, my dear!” Mother Catherine smiled gently as she put her arms around him into a soft embrace and caressed his head like she'd used to do to the spoiled brat that had once been him. No tears left his eyes, but the impossible mixture of relief and despair turned his expression into an indescribable sadness.

'Another illusion. It has to be.' He concluded. Even so, he embraced this warmth. He ignored the voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that this was far too real for it to be a dream. But he refused to accept that. Instead, he chose to flee from that reality, no longer thinking about what should be or what was. All of that had to be wrong. And this had to be fake. It had to be.

Because if not...

“That's right, you go by the name of Aien now?” Mother Catherine asked with a slight tone of disapproval in her kind voice. “What an ungrateful child you are... To discard the name your mother gave you, I didn't raise you like that."

But as Aien knew from an enormous wealth of experience, reality wouldn't turn out to be that kind to him. In response to her remark, Aien felt his heart skipping all of its beats as his mind slowly returned to the reality he utterly dreaded.

"I... I... This isn't..."

“If you want to change names that badly...” Catherine ignored him and stared directly into the eyes. He couldn't avoid her gaze that pierced into the depths of his soul, accompanied by that faint flickering red behind her pupils. It was then that he realized what had tipped him off since the beginning of their reunion.

Since when did she speak that language he hadn't heard in over eighty years?

“Why not go with your old one?”

Those last words, sent him into a spiral of despair, he'd never have thought could go any deeper. He'd believed that at some point, he had already reached the bottom and that it could only go up from there.

“Mentor, right?”

But he was wrong.

Oh, so terribly wrong.