In his brief eighteen years, Merlin had encountered his fair share of oddities.

Take, for instance, in 1980, when Merlin was nine, he witnessed a meteor wrapped in scorching flames streak across the sky towards the southeast. It was said to have crashed in Kansas, one of the most sensational events of that year.

Rumors abounded that the meteor was, in fact, an alien spaceship.

Then, in 1985, at fourteen, Merlin saw on television the Michigan Lake's waters rise tumultuously, nearly flooding Chicago—another sensation of that year.

Not to mention, Merlin held vague memories of the night a month after his birth when his parents perished in a fire. He remembered the mysterious figure in a blue cloak and black suit, and the flames that parted around him.

Merlin's somewhat reclusive nature wasn't due to his disposition but because he was luckier—or unluckier—than other mortals. From the beginning, he knew beneath the veneer of normalcy, the world operated on a different trajectory.

The myths were not all make-believe.

Even so, Merlin had never found himself in such an awkward predicament as now.

A clearly abnormal person was asking Merlin to become his "son"...

"I already have two fathers."

Merlin took a step back, eyeing the mysterious figure before him, slowly revealing the pipe wrench he held behind his back.

"I'm not interested in finding a third, so I'm sorry, I..."

"Before you refuse, mortal, hear me out."

Merlin's words of refusal were cut short as the white-haired man spoke.

He regarded Merlin with an expressionless face, the dark red flame dancing on his fingertip as if enduring extreme impatience, and said:

"Your unique soul carries the scent of death, an advantage beyond the reach of foolish mortals. Your birth was accompanied by death; you've crossed its threshold at least once, purifying your soul, making it more precious. In my eyes, that purity signifies potential."

"The human world grows increasingly vile, like a fetid pond. Fish like you are rare."

He emphasized his point:

"I am offering you power, mortal, and you should not refuse. Moreover, I think you ought to look at this..."

The man's finger traced in the air, unfurling a shimmering halo before Merlin. Within the fragmented light, he saw his foster father, James Coulson, lying in a pool of blood amidst a panicked crowd, and a wrecked black pickup truck, clearly James's, collided with a bus.

Glass shards and blood were scattered everywhere, along with the groans of the injured and the pervasive scent of death.

And flames... flickering flames.

Though the vision was not clear, Merlin saw James struggling on the ground, leaving a trail of vivid blood on the asphalt as he tried to escape the inferno.

But as James reached out once more, the flames, bursting forth, consumed everything.

It was so real that Merlin held his breath. In the reflection in his eyes, he could see the despair, the agony, and an undeniable look of yearning in James's...

"Buzz"

The suffocating vision dissipated, leaving Merlin gasping. He looked at the white-haired man and asked:

"What was that?"

"Tomorrow's events."

The man's flame grew more diffuse as he watched Merlin, stating:

"Of course, you can consider it a joke. I assure you, you'll wake up tomorrow unaware of any anomalies, happily sleeping until you receive news of your father's death. Or..."

The light in the man's eyes flickered as he added:

"You could try to change it. Is that what you mean by your pact?"

Merlin's mind raced. He was familiar with fairy tales and superhero comics; he didn't regard the figure before him as an "opportunity."

His eyes were full of skepticism.

This look seemed to infuriate the entity. Under Merlin's gaze, the white-haired man's hair stirred. Only then did Merlin realize it wasn't hair at all, but more like white smoke left by extinguished flames.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A faint glow of fire wound around the man's arm as he glared at Merlin, releasing a ferocious aura like an invisible, heavy force pressing down on Merlin's shoulders.

At that moment, the young man felt as though he bore the weight of a mountain, his bones groaning under the strain.

The white-haired man's upper garment shattered into fragments, burning into red flames that vanished into the air, revealing his muscular torso covered in ominous dark red demonic runes.

On his forehead, a pair of black horns pierced the skin, and beneath his ears, larger, bull-like horns emerged, as if the final touch to his demonic form.

More terrifying were the additional pair of eyes appearing on the demon's cheeks, forming a sinister square with his original eyes.

He seemed to have revealed his true self, stretching his body comfortably, and with a voice even deeper, he said:

"Pah, Mephistopheles's methods never work. As loathsome as the old devil's deceit..."

"Mortal, I've had enough of your babbling. Perhaps, like with my other 'sons,' I should thrust a ball of hellfire into your body. Either endure and grow, or be reduced to ashes."

"I prefer this method of 'selection.' Most importantly, I don't like... your eyes!"

The white-haired man no longer concealed his power. The terrifying oppression, just from his presence, forced Merlin's body to the ground, like a collapsing column.

"Bang"

Merlin knelt on the ground, struggling to rise.

"Good!"

The unveiled demon nodded in satisfaction, tossing a scroll filled with dark red runes before Merlin. A flick of his finger, and Merlin's hand felt sliced by countless blades, his blood soaking the scroll.

He was forced into the pact, his choice unrespected, unheard—decided long before he was drawn into this dream, or even earlier.

"Ants should look like ants."

The demon, having completed the pact, took back the scroll, looking down at the wailing Merlin, and said:

"The pact is complete, my 'son.' Your precious, pure soul is mine, and your pitiful father will be 'redeemed.' Pah, I detest that hypocritical word, as much as the angels who coined it! Alas, the other little one refused me, so... only half the 'redemption.' Fair is fair."

"Midnight the day after tomorrow... the pact will be formalized, and then I will bestow upon you..."

The demon pointed his dagger-like finger at Merlin's contorted forehead in pain, his sinister dark red eyes gleaming maliciously:

"Power!"

"Buzz"

The world around Merlin shattered like broken glass, and as it collapsed, he heard the demon's triumphant voice.

"Mephistopheles, old fiend! See? I too have... my own 'knight' now!"

And as Merlin fainted, only two thoughts echoed in his mind.

"Who is this demon? And who is Mephistopheles?"

"Most importantly, wasn't it agreed... that I'd make my own choice?"

——————————————

"Ah!"

Merlin screamed, bolting upright from his bed as if seized by extreme terror.

He gasped, extending his hands before him, inspecting them—they were whole, unmarred by any cuts.

He looked out the window to a serene moonlight bathing his room, another tranquil night on the Coulson farm.

"Just a... dream?"

Merlin approached the window, opened it, and took several deep breaths of the night air. He grabbed a glass of water nearby and drank it down.

It didn't feel like a dream.

Everything had been too real.

But if it wasn't a dream, then it meant that tomorrow, James might really...

No!

Merlin squinted. If it wasn't a dream, it meant James wouldn't die because the demon had promised he would live.

"Ah, I must be going mad."

Merlin raked his hands through his hair, returning to bed. Staring at the ceiling, he muttered:

"I can't believe I trusted a demon's promise, that I believed in the pact."

"Anyway, better not let James go to work tomorrow."

Merlin closed his eyes, attempting to fall asleep again. He thought it would be difficult, but surprisingly, it was easy. Within minutes, soft snores filled the room.

And by Merlin's bedside, in the unnoticed darkness, sat the mysterious figure in a black suit and blue cloak, as leisurely as he claimed, an observer to all that had transpired.

In the darkness, he seemed to speak to himself.

"I never expected the crude and barbaric San Gong would one day honor a pact... His politeness almost made him unrecognizable."

"So, my lord, did you modify the world line and San Gong's personality as well? If you can do that, could you please adjust Pandora's temperament so she stops bothering me?"

Another voice answered from the darkness.

Deep and slightly hoarse.

The voice of the overlord.

"Of course not, Shadow Guest. It is the power of fate. Did you really think the name 'dice of fate' was a joke? And one last thing, once it's done, come back."

"Of course, all as you wish, my overlord."

The Shadow Guest stood, glanced back at the sleeping Merlin, then leaped out the window into the night. A gentle breeze closed the window behind him.

Once more...

All was silent.

———————————————————

The next morning, the sun shone brightly—a truly fine day.

Merlin, who awoke punctually at 8 AM, descended to find his mother, Anna Coulson, had prepared breakfast for him and Phil.

Simple bacon toast, yet truly delicious.

"Mom, where's Dad?"

Merlin, fresh from washing up, bit into the toast—still the familiar taste—and casually asked. Mrs. Coulson, busy in the kitchen, replied:

"James has gone to work. Oddly enough, the principal called this morning, asking him to come to school early."

"Bang"

The toast fell from Merlin's hand onto the plate. Before he could rise, Phil, rubbing his eyes and coming downstairs, shouted:

"Big bro, you won't believe the dream I had last night! Some weird white-haired guy wanted me to sign a pact with him, but I refused outright. The coolest part, you'll never guess his true identity. He's a..."

"Demon!"

Merlin cut Phil off, grabbing his brother's hand and rushing to the garage.

Moments later, the fueled Lola roared to life, the red convertible darting out of the Coulson farm like an arrow released from its bow.

Merlin's grave expression silenced Phil, who dared not speak a word. He had never seen his wise and composed brother look so perturbed.

Something big must have happened.

Lola sped along the road leading from the farm to the school, and as they rounded a bend, Merlin's eyes widened in shock.

At the end of the street, a chaotic crowd screamed, trying to flee. In front of them, a black pickup had collided with a bus, glass and blood strewn everywhere, the injured strewn about.

In the midst of the wreckage, a familiar figure was struggling to crawl out of the hellish scene.

"Dad!"

Phil screamed, standing up, only to be pulled back into his seat by Merlin, who then flung open the car door and ran towards James. And just as he sprinted a hundred meters...

"Boom"

Red, searing, explosive flames...

Engulfed everything.

"No!!!"