The specter hung somewhere at an altitude of about a mile above London, and if the disembodied ghastly cloud had a face, it would be smiling right now.
"Perhaps I went a little overboard?" He thought, looking around the city below him. Or rather, what was left of it.
The Thames river was frozen in both directions as far as the eye could see, despite the fact that it was the middle of summer. However, the river was not frozen uniformly: for example, where the Tower Bridge was located, the water rose up dozens of feet, as if depth charge went off just under the surface, and then it froze, locking the fragments of the bridge itself in the ice, creating an impression that the destruction of the bridge was stopped in time. Elsewhere in the river, ships and boats could be seen frozen in the grip of ice, some completely submerged before freezing, and others still on the surface as the river froze. Big Ben, like the surrounding buildings, was frozen inside a giant ice obelisk, the size of which easily rivals the skyscrapers of Dubai. In other places of the city, smaller ice monoliths could be seen, and between them, on the ground, on roads, streets and alleys, one could see either immense amount of ice, as if during a severe flood someone had simply frozen all the water, or much more dangerous looking ice spikes that often pierce through unwanted houses or random cars. If you look closely, you could see not only city buildings and transport frozen or destroyed by spikes, but also people. The latter suffered the same fate as their cars: some were frozen into the new glacier, to the delight of future archaeologists, while others were crushed by the impacts of water and ice, and some were pierced through by the ubiquitous ice spikes.
"Nah, the important thing is that it was fun." The specter decided as he continued to scan the landscape. In several places smoke rose into the sky: airplane debris. The Air Force was the first on the scene, and they paid for it, but the ground troops were still quite far away, although this no longer matters. The ghost turned his attention to Trafalgar Square, the only place in the city not covered with ice. This place looked surreal: a square destroyed down to the sewers, around which walls of ice rose, creating the impression of some kind of ancient coliseum, and this impression was not far from reality. In addition to the fact that this place was the only one without ice, it was there that the only survivors were located - half a dozen people crowded around one of the corpses. There were plenty of dead bodies, yet the surviving people crowded around this particular dead person…
“And what are they looking for there? First time seeing a dead body?” The ghost grinned to himself, not harboring an ounce of anger or hatred towards his killers. They defeated him fair and square: competent leadership, excellent team play, not to mention that only the cream of the crop faced him. There was simply nothing to be offended by.
"Okay, what's next on our list?" The ghost finished replaying the details of the recent battle in his head, analyzing the right and wrong actions of both himself and his enemies, and finally flew away. Now that he was killed, his time in this world ends, but since he was not immediately thrown into the River of Souls, this world was either closed or partially closed. In the first case, he will have to be reborn here and start looking for a way to leave it: although he enjoyed playing around with superpowers, or “Esper Abilities”, as they called it here, he was not interested in repeating the same experience again and again. Sure, you don't get to destroy entire cities in every life, but at the same time too much of anything can get dull and boring very quickly.
On the other hand, if this world is only partially closed, all he needs to do is find an exit, a gate of sorts that would allow him to plunge in the River of Souls and move onto his next life. Where can he find such an exit? Well, his first option would be located nearby, just southwest of London, exactly where Stonehenge is located.
“What kind of Lovecraftian shit is this?” With interest, but without much fear or anxiety, the ghost watched as in front of him, from some kind of light-distorting whirlpool, which appeared right in front of his “face”, tentacles black as night began to crawl out. About as thick as a man’s finger, they looked wet and slippery, but the specter was deprived of such sensations, and when several dozen tentacles began to quickly entwine him, he only watched with interest what was happening, without doing anything.
“Am I being summoned or something?” The ghost thought as the tentacles pulled him towards the light-distorting whirlpool. He quickly analyzed the situation. He could break free without much effort, he knew that for sure: the tentacle's grip was strong, appendages themselves were not, and when he tried to struggle, he easily ripped one out. Question was, should he struggle? His life in this world just ended and what awaited him was a short trip in the River of Souls, followed by a new life. On the other hand he could go where the tentacles were taking him and… And what? He knew that a soul cannot be destroyed, he had plenty of time to find that out: shattered, sealed, yes, but not destroyed. In other words, whatever awaited him on the other side posed no real danger: at most he would lose a thousand or two years finding a way to escape and that would be that. That is of course, if this was really a summoning attempt and not some sort of young eldritch monster trying to feast on him. In that case it could take upwards of ten thousand years to break free… Not that time meant anything to an immortal soul anyway. Ultimately, he decided to go with the flow simply because he was curious.
His assumption turned out to be correct: a few seconds of a kaleidoscope of light and shadows, a feeling of free fall, which is unusual for incorporeal beings who can’t feel gravitational pull at all, and now, he stands on a flat, stone floor.
“Yep, not only summoned me, but also provided with a body!” The ghost mentally nodded to himself, opening his eyes and analyzing the situation in a split second.
First of all, his body. Outwardly, it was the same body that had recently received a bullet between the eyes, but it felt different, full of strength and energy! And there was no heartbeat in this body. Golem? Homunculus? Magic construct? Not yet known. It was interesting that in addition to the body itself, the ghost also received clothes. And exactly the one in which he recently died.
Secondly, the floor: smooth, perfectly level, without gaps, cracks or joints. Most likely a single rock, ideal for painting on. Painting what? Well, for example, that magical figure, in the center of which he was currently standing. And this already meant that magic was practiced in this world. Is that good news or bad? Well, it depends on how attached you are to electricity: around the perimeter of the huge, spacious hall, in the center of which the magic diagram was drawn, candles were placed, the light of which barely dispersed the almost material darkness. There were no sources of natural light visible: the ceiling was hidden in darkness, and he could not locate any windows either... Even though there was a possibility that it was simply a dark, moonless night in this world, specter ultimately decided that it was unlikely. Also it didn’t matter in the slightest..
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And thirdly, the one who called him. Or rather, they called. Outside the perimeter of the circle in which the specter stood, he spotted a little girl, no more than eight or nine years old. Large, green eyes reflected the light of candles and the faintly glowing lines of the magical figure, dark brown hair went down to the waist, and fluttered as if in the wind, although the specter himself did not feel the movement of air: maybe the wind did not penetrate inside the barrier, or maybe there was a different explanation. Yes, specter had no doubt that there was a barrier separating him from this girl: firstly, what kind of idiot would summon a creature from another world without the appropriate precautions, and secondly, he could simply see a barely noticeable wall of light running along the perimeter of the magical figure’s inner circle, and rising to the ceiling hidden in the darkness. It looks thin and flimsy, but most likely it can easily withstand a raging demon. Although the darkness did not allow him to clearly see the girl’s face, specter was still able to see slightly pointed facial features, thin lips, and a straight nose. The girl was not exactly beautiful, but there was something... Strange about her. Not ugly or beautiful, just different. Something that attracts attention. But behind this girl, exactly where the largest amount of lines of the glowing magical diagram were connected, sat an adult woman. And yes, she didn’t stand, but sat, and judging by the huge, thin wheels, it was a wheelchair, albeit a bit too massive. The woman was completely lost in the darkness, and it was impossible to see anything other than the general silhouette.
“Failure?“ The girl asked uncertainty, examining the man who had appeared in front of her, before turning to the woman behind her.
“Why do you think so?”
“You strengthened my summoning ritual.” The girl said capriciously. “Shouldn’t it have summoned someone more…” She looked again at the man who had appeared in the center of the summoning circle. “More impressive?”
“How many times have I told you not to judge a book by its cover?” The woman complained in the voice of an experienced mentor. “Continue.”
“Are you sure?” There was no answer. “Well, okay...” the girl said somewhat hesitantly, and approached the barrier, separating her and the summoned person. “Hey, you! Can you hear me?”
“I can.” All this time, the former specter silently watched what was happening, while simultaneously examining the magical figure on the floor, comparing it with everything he had seen before. He was quite surprised to recognize a more or less standard figure for summoning an incorporeal creature. Quite clumsily made, yet for some reason it works much better than it should. But then again, the ex-specter was not surprised by the latter fact: each world has its own laws and what works in one may be parlor tricks in another. What was more important was that this world seemed to be unfamiliar with demons: the security measures woven into this figure... Left much to be desired.
“You shall be my familiar!“ The girl declared without a shadow of doubt, pointing her finger at the summoned creature's chest. “In return, you will receive my mana, which will make you stronger both here and in your home world. No matter how you look at it, it's a good contract for both of us.” The girl stated, shamelessly glancing sideways at the piece of paper in her hand. A cheat sheet? Really? The ex-specter chuckled internally: in his home world he was already dead, so such a contract would not bring him any benefit. It is impossible to resurrect him: in his “previous” world there was no resurrection of the dead, and some witch from a completely different world certainly cannot change the laws of the world order.
“A contract, eh?“ The summoned man said thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly to the side. In principle, he had nothing against playing a role of a familiar: it was no worse than being reborn in a new world, like he had planned a few minutes ago. Meanwhile, the girl's face brightened, and with the face of a victor, she turned to the woman behind her.
“See? It's simple.” She declared proudly.
“You haven't signed a contract yet.” The woman reminded patiently.
“Right!” She turned again to the summoned person. “You! Shake my hand!”
“What, you won’t even ask my name, young lady?“ The former specter asked with feigned offense, no longer looking at the girl, and instead trying to pierce the veil of darkness on the woman sitting in the wheelchair.
“What difference does it make to me? You are my familiar, and nothing else matters. Now shake my hand!” And she extended her hand right through the protective barrier. The summoned person finally turned his gaze away from the woman hiding in the darkness and looked at the tiny, childish hand for some time.
“No.” He finally said.
“What do you mean by no?” The girl was quite taken aback.
“I don’t mind becoming a familiar of the one who called me...” He once again stared at the darkness behind the child. “But becoming a familiar of someone's pawn? Servant of a servant? I refuse.” He stated with a slight smile on his lips.
“You say that as if you have a choice.” The woman spoke from the darkness. “We can keep you here as long as it takes to change your mind. Sooner or later…”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha!” The former specter laughed in a loud, cheerful voice, interrupting the speaker. ”Do you really think that a thousand or two years in captivity frightens me? Or maybe you think that this barrier cannot be broken?” He tapped his finger on the wall of light, which responded with indignant pink sparks.”Ta-ta, ladies.” The summoned person took a couple of steps back, bowed with the elegance of a born aristocrat, after which he grabbed his head and sharply twisted his own neck!
“What the?!” The girl recoiled from the barrier, quickly looking from the corpse lying on the floor to her mentor and back. ”What did he do? Why?” She asked, struggling to understand what just happened.
“He beat us.“ The woman said in a calm tone, but with obvious notes of respect. “I didn’t put a magical barrier on the floor, under the summoning site: it’s pure granite, going down for half a mile, even Surtr can’t get through something like that.”
“And?” The girl still didn’t understand.
“Granite can’t stop incorporeal creatures.” She simply stated. “He hasn’t signed a contract yet, which means that his soul is not tied to this body. So he killed his body, and then he simply flew through the granite floor somewhere away from my castle. Clever.” The woman approved with a grin.
“So now what?”
“Nothing: without a witch he is not able to interact with the material world, and without a body, he only has enough mana for a few days, maximum a week. Then he will be thrown back to his home world. It’s a shame that we won’t be able to teach him a lesson for such arrogance, but you need to know how to lose.” Then she added in a more business-like tone. ”The first attempt failed, I will prepare a second one, taking into account the lesson we just learned. You go and rest: in six hours I will be waiting for you here to repeat the ritual.”