Grantham, clearly flustered, quickly composed himself.
"This is an unexpected development, to say the least. I will need to consult with a summoning expert to confirm what exactly just happened. But first..."
He withdrew a pair of bifocals from one of his pockets and, putting them on, he first scrutinised Ed, then the trapped demon.
What are those?
Trouble.
Ed's heart thumped. Those were a special pair of cursed spectacles that could see the bonds of the demonic Pact between a summoner and his summon. As much as he and Grantham had developed a mentor-student relationship over the past year, Grantham was deeply faithful and would kill him without hesitation if he caught a whiff of an archdemon.
Looking between the boy and the demon once more, Grantham frowned.
"There's... something strange about your Pact. Though that might be a result of the summoning getting taken over."
Grantham took them off and sighed.
"I don't have the required expertise to say anything definitive. But you're not screaming and writhing on the ground while your eyes burn out of your skull so I'd call this a success. You're officially a Squire."
Yes!
Yes!
Grantham made a few more notes in his pocketbook, then, after supervising Ed's clean-up process, told him to go recover in his room. Summoning was usually quite taxing and he had no way of knowing that the entire event had been a mere formality.
Now, lying in bed, Ed interrogated Abe.
Abe. I have questions.
There are some things I can't say but ask away.
Why did Satan call me his 'antichrist'?
He was trying to get you to panic, probably, knowing what you'd think. Didn't you actually fall off your chair hahaha, classic. Anyway, an antichrist and The Antichrist are two different things. Anyone in a Pact with an archdemon is an antichrist. Whoever manages to enter a permanent Pact with Lucifer becomes The Antichrist, though as far as I know, there will only ever be one, whereas there have been many antichrists over the years.
Ed breathed an internal sigh of relief. He did not want to bring about the end of the world.
Okay, that's better than I thought. But why me? Was he telling the truth about my mother?
Honestly, I have no idea. I've been in Tartarus ever since King Solomon dismissed me. But I think he is. The details around the story make too much sense.
How?
He said he wanted to smuggle something here within you. I think that was the Pact. Having an antichrist on earth allows an archdemon to spread their influence more directly, start speaking into people's minds, etc. But because of the Truce, any antichrist allows for a corresponding messiah to appear, a messiah that would be solely tasked with hunting you down. That’s where I come in, as your disguise to prevent this from happening.
A messiah? You mean small m 'messiah' right? And what's this Truce?
Yes, it's much the same deal. A Covenant with an archangel produces a messiah, but there can only be one capital M 'Messiah' who I hear already came while I was in Tartarus. Word of advice, never let an archangel get a look at you. They'll see your real Pact immediately and kill both of us. I can't tell you about the Truce though, you'll have to ask Uncle Sath directly.
Great. So not only will I have to hide this from the Church, I have to avoid God's chosen. Can I even still call myself a Christian? Can I enter Heaven?
Abe chuckled in his head.
Take it from someone who's seen both, Hell is way more fun. Don't go to Tartarus though, terrible place.
You mention it a lot for someone who hates it.
Nah, I don’t hate it. It’s just a very lonely place. My only company was a mad archdemon and about two hundred fallen angels he loved torturing. I thought the solitude was what I wanted, but eventually the sounds of torture get old. At least I didn’t have to see my father.
Mad archdem- You know what? We’ll talk about this in depth later. I have more questions.
And I’m a captive audience.
Funny. How do I use my Infernal Armament?
What's that?
The weapon. The one in the summoning.
Your Demonblade?
We don't just use swords any more, Abe. It's not a blade.
No wonder I didn't see one. I thought you were a pacifist or something. Luckily for you, I added a blade. No need to thank me.
It's a gun, it doesn't need a bla- you know what? Whatever. How do I make it appear?
Squeeze your Numen.
... Squeeze? What?
Yeah just squeeze. Try compress it. You can't fully do that yet, but the action is the same. You'll see.
Shrugging internally, Ed tried to squeeze his Numen. His only experience with the ethereal substance was in powering summoning circles and the occasional blasting rod. All he'd needed for that was a few drops of blood and the circle would do the rest. But every circle he ignited pulled something from him. He'd felt it tremor then flow out of his body countless times by now. He just had to seize that feeling.
Hours later, he was still clenching and unclenching his hands in vain. He'd come close a few times, feeling a warm vibration gestating in his core but it never fully materialised. Ed gave up trying to grab that fleeting sensation.
This is probably what they teach at the Scholomance.
Who needs Scholomance? I'm ancient, Edward. I've forgotten more about demon magick than your Church has ever known. Just wait.
Puzzled, Ed sat back in his bed, waiting for-
"AHHH!!"
He screamed in pain as his entire body buzzed. The warm vibrations had become searing palpitations, reverberating through his body looking for a way out.
Now squeeze!
Ed curled, tensing every muscle in his effort to compress the now overpowering sensation roiling through his limbs. Straining and flexing, Ed followed Abe’s instructions as best he could until, with a feeling akin to a pop, the vibrations stopped. He lay in the bed, sweaty and panting from the exertion.
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Did it work?
Of course it did, I know my business. Look to your right.
Ed turned his head and there, laying on the bed next to him was a pistol unlike any he’d ever seen. It was ornate to the point of looking ceremonial, with irregular whorls and mesmerising swirls of black and red that suggested only confusion and madness awaited any who looked too closely. Underneath the barrel was a small add-on. Gingerly picking the pistol up, a wicked six-inch edged stiletto blade sprang out of the little contraption, startling him.
Every man needs a blade to defend himself. I couldn’t get it any bigger than that without the weapon looking ridiculous and unbalanced.
Do you even know what a gun is?
I know it’s an excuse to stay as far away from the enemy as possible. You should have more self-respect than that. You’re possessed by demon royalty, you know.
I had been meaning to ask about that actually. You call Satan Uncle?
Yes, most of the current Princes of Hell are aspects of Lucifer, broken off when he was cast out of heaven. Sathanas, my dearest father Beelzebub, Leviathan and the original fallen one himself all used to be one entity, second only to the Lord Himself. Now, they call each other brothers though all they do is quarrel.
Yeah, that sounds about right.
Still, the implications of this boggled his mind. There were only seven Princes of Hell, archdemons strong enough to subdue all the rest. To find out that four of them only have a quarter of the power they once wielded and yet still remain at the top… How much greater was the Lord?
Before joining the Knighthood, Ed had been ambivalent on church and religion in general. After being confronted with proof of angels and demons however, he’d had to re-evaluate his stance and had started praying regularly. He’d even had the faint hope he might literally hear the voice of God one day; it would be no less fantastical than many of the things he’d seen during his year as a page. But something Satan had said plagued Ed’s mind.
Abe, what did Satan mean when he said “the big man’s indisposed”?
That’s ah.. let’s call it a delicate situation. I know what you’re assuming and no, He’s not dead. All I can tell you without permission is that it’s related to the Truce.
Ed exhaled in frustration. This was the type of question he’d normally go to Grantham with, but he had no answer for the man’s inevitable queries on where he got such ideas. With Satan’s warning still replaying clearly in Ed’s head, he had no intention of giving anyone the slightest cause for suspicion. Still, the questions troubled him.
But what does it mean? Does He not answer prayers anymore? Is He restrained in some way? If we’re going to work together, however unwillingly, we both going to have to compromise.
Okay, I can tell you refuse to let this go. Tell you what, whenever Satan next contacts us, I’ll ask for leave to fill you in on what’s been happening. Until then, there’s nothing I can do.
Ed grudgingly accepted this concession. Until he could get definitive answers, he’d put it out of his mind and concentrate on one thing. Escape. No way he was staying in a Pact with an archdemon and its spawn.
Hey, you know I’m in here too, right? I didn’t get to choose this either, and it’s hurtful being reduced to just ‘demon spawn’. I’m a musician too, not that you care. I’m trying to make the best of this and honestly, you should too considering its either me or my uncle.
Mother of Christ, will I have no privacy even in my own head?
Nope, I’m not leashed like the rest of your organisation’s demon fodder. I won’t always be listening, but I can do it whenever I want and you have no control haha.
Ed buried his face in his hands. This was all he’d wanted for the entirety of the past year but now that he was theoretically exactly where he’d hoped to be, in a Pact with a powerful demon, success did not taste at all sweet.
Hey hey, it’s not all bad. My powers are awesome to behold, and now they’re at your disposal.
Thinking about it for a second, Ed realised Abe was right. There was nothing he could do about the Pact right now and most likely, only an education at Scholomance could equip him with the know-how to break it.
He stood up off the bed, stuffed his new pistol in his waistband as he had no idea how to dematerialise it, and strode out of the room. It was time to test out his new abilities as a Squire of the Knights of Solomon.
----------------------------------------
Thud!
Ed landed heavily on his back once again, but the smile never left his face. For the past five minutes he’d been sprinting around Grantham’s training yard at a blistering pace, yet he never once tired. Currently he was trying to see how high he could now leap. Unfortunately, he still hadn’t learned how to stick the landing.
That was 10 feet that time, guaranteed!!
Abe remained unimpressed.
When I suggested trying out your new powers, I meant doing cool stuff.
I grew up around gangsters and cutpurses yet I still shudder to think about what a demon finds “cool”.
Abe had a point though. Ed was a bit nervous to try the gun out, but he steeled himself and took it out of his waistband.
There were a trio of training dummies set up at one end of the yard and Ed, on the opposite end, took aim. He expected to miss as revolvers were notoriously inaccurate at range, but as he put his finger on the trigger, he felt a prick in his palm, the telltale tugging of his Numen, then the pistol started to hum. The red and black patterns started shifting and warping and what looked like a faint mist rose from the metal. The wind picked up and air started slowly swirling around his hand.
Okay, this might be cool.
Raising the gun to eye-level, Ed aimed, then squeezed.
Bang! Bang! Whooshhh!
As Ed fired, a furious vortex of wind appeared directly in front of the barrel, extending it like a rifle. The barrel spat the shots directly into the spinning whirlwind, accelerating the bullets to ridiculous speed.
BOOM! BOOM!
In quick succession, the head and chest cavity of one of the training dummies simply exploded into splinters as the projectiles drilled through almost unimpeded.
Wood chips rained down as Ed just stood there, dumbstruck.
That. Was. AMAZING!
I told you. You’re doubly empowered right now. I’m mainly a wind demon, with some control over sand, but Uncle Sath is the Prince of the Air. All our wind abilities will synergise.
Ed looked down at the gun in his hand, barrel still smoking. He smiled.
So what else can this thing d-
“Edward! I heard a racket outside, what’s going on?”
Grantham strode into view, stopping for a second to raise an eyebrow at the headless dummy with the gaping hole in its chest.
“I manifested my Infernal Arm, sir, and I was trying it out. I didn’t expect it to be so… bombastic.”
Grantham put out his hand and Ed handed him the new and improved revolver. Grantham held it up as he marvelled at its design.
“This is remarkable. You were only meant to learn how to manifest this in class at Scholomance. The natural ease with which you’ve taken to goetia is nothing short of astonishing.”
He turned to look at the destroyed dummy again.
“And such strength. One would think you were firing cannon balls. I’ve never seen someone manage to use this much power straight out of forming their Pact.”
Ed’s heart thumped.
“Well I had an amazing tutor, sir, it was only to be expected.”
Grantham gave a small grin. Over the past year, Ed had figured out that it was his own version of a beaming smile.
“Flattery inspires pride, young Edward. You should be careful how easily you dole it out.”
“I figured I should start practicing my brown-nosing now, before I have to deal with uptight teachers.”
Grantham chuckled. Ed surreptitiously exhaled in relief.
Smooth deflection, kid.
Kid? I just saw someone ruffle your hair.
“Yes, the teachers at the Scholomance are notorious for standing on tradition no matter what. That should work in your favour now, as they tend to shower the best resources on those that are already excelling. At this stage, only the legacy children from Knight families have manifested their Arm.”
Because of how rare it was to find people with infernal Numen that weren’t already consorting with demons, many new Knights came from Knight families, making the entire Knight community quite close-knit. Only the best of the best made it through Scholomance’s acceptance trials, so just by virtue of having been around demonologists their entire lives, legacy kids tended to take all the spots.
Hearing that, then remembering how Grantham had called the registrar before Ed had even been there a week, warmed his heart. The man really had faith in him.
That feeling was quickly doused by shame however. Like it or not, he was an antichrist. His very existence allowed Satan greater influence in the lives of innocents. It was a sobering thought.
While Ed was lost in his thoughts, Grantham, who’d continued speaking, clapped his hands suddenly, startling Ed.
“Well, there’s no real reason to delay then. The next round of acceptance trials begins next week. I doubt you’re so skilled you can fully control your new physique so we’ll be focusing on that before you leave.”
One more week.
----------------------------------------
Grantham watched the boy speed through the makeshift obstacle course he had built. He was almost fluid with his movements now, nearly completely acclimated to his new powers.
He felt nothing but pride at the sight. He’d known from the moment he saw him that the kid would be something special. The raw potential in his Numen was… breathtaking. Equal to or even greater than Grantham’s himself.
I still call foul.
Gaap, we’ve talked about the constant complaining. We were there for the summoning and we analysed his Pact afterwards. Don’t make me suppress you.
All I’m saying is that in my thousands of years of existence, I’ve never seen a summoning get commandeered like that.
Most of your “thousands of years in existence” were spent in Hell. We both know why you really feel uncomfortable.
That was eons ago. The whelp’s demon hadn’t even been born yet.
But it still stings, doesn’t it? You used to stand at the top of Hell, and the boy’s demon is the son of one of those in your old positon.
I accepted long ago that my time as Cardinal King was done, even before Lucifer was cast out. That summoning felt strange and you’re ju-
Grantham sighed as he suppressed Gaap, banishing him to an isolated corner of his mind. He had a real camaraderie with the demon but the former Cardinal King could not let go of past glories.
His binding of one of the baddest demons in Hell, the King of the South, had sent shockwaves through the demonologist world. Everyone had been asking how he’d managed to wrangle such a powerful Pact.
If only they knew how annoying he was.