One observed the twelve acolytes carving lines and symbols into the floor of Chamber Seventy-two. The sigil had been drawn onto the floor with chalk to create a clear blueprint to follow. One had carefully overseen its creation, so that no mistakes were made.
The sigil itself was a symbol and representation of someone whose name was now lost to her, although she faintly remembered a few conversations she attributed to that lost figure. She could no longer read sigils, or draw them, but she could correct them if she saw a mistake, which was why her master had ordered her to act as an overseer.
But since Two and Three also could have done it, One understood that her master simply tried to slow down her growth by handing these kinds of miscellaneous tasks exclusively to her. She had assisted her master in seventy summonings so far, and with this one, it would be seventy-one and mark the last summoning to be conducted.
She pitied Seventytwo, for he would be the last of the summoned and have the least time to grow. And while she technically had the most time, she had recently spent more time babysitting these mortal fools that played on the ground with knives like children.
She had an urge to rush forward and slaughter them all, but her body was frozen in place, and her bloodlust was soon enough suppressed. Breathing a long sigh, she approached the middle of the chamber and looked upon the sigil. To her, it now looked like a random arrangement of lines, curves and circles, but they held a hidden meaning, one no mortal soul could ever hope to understand. Fortunate, then, that she was no mortal.
Acolytes working close to her avoided eye contact, acting as if they were fully absorbed in their task, but One knew these mortals better than they would like. They were afraid of her and those like her, so every Acolyte swore a vow of silence. Because the wrong words in the vicinity of a spirit could unleash a disaster. Or so they think, One thought as her eyes scanned the sigil. A… n… d… she concentrated on the lines, her memory working harder than ever.
The door to the chamber opened with an ear-grating creak as metal scraped on rock. One turned away from the sigil. Her master strolled into the chamber, dark robes hiding most of his body and only his head poking out through the collar. She had been summoned almost two years ago and in that time, the wrinkles in his face had doubled, his hair, those that remained, had changed from gray to white and his back was slouching. Despite the age deteriorating his body, his eyes held wisdom and strength that was unbecoming of the rest of his appearance. Even if he looked like a single flick might break him, he commanded seventy-one spirits and no mortal would stand a chance against him. Had he summoned us normally, that is, One thought before falling into a polite, yet not subservient bow. To think such potential will go to waste because of his mortality. Such a waste.
Her master bowed to One, deeper and more respectful than she had. One cared little for these formalities, but like her obedience had been enforced with the contract, so did it enforce his respect toward her station. Even if she no longer occupied that station.
“Have you ensured that there are no mistakes, Your Majesty?” he asked, voice croaking out from dry lips. A nervous finger tapped against his walking stick. It was made from hazel, and to some of her kind, it was like sun for a vampire or fire to an undead. To her, it was no more than a stick.
One gave a nod. “The ritual will work if performed correctly,” she said. “Master, are you alright?” she asked.
Her master stopped his finger and grunted. “I am, One. I am. We are running out of time, however. I will begin the ritual immediately once the sigil has been carved,” he said. “Do you want to bear witness to the final summoning?”
“A generous offer, but I will have to decline,” she said, putting her right hand onto her chest and bowing politely.
Her master regarded her for a moment, his yellow eyes attempting to stare beyond what she was showing on her face until he conceded with a sigh.
“Very well. As always, your services have been greatly appreciated, Your Majesty. Then, until further notice, relocate to your chamber,” he instructed.
One responded with a nod to confirm and a bow before she made her way out of the chamber. She could hear her master barking orders at acolytes and tapping the ground in a nervous beat. While One could not remember Seventytwo’s face or name or sigil, she did remember his personality to some degree. Many of the seventy-two were wicked and cruel, but Seventytwo hated evil above all. Someone as wicked and terrible of a man as her master was bound to have a difficult time subduing him. Thieves he liked the least of all, and yet the man that was about to summon him would rob him the very moment he came into this world.
One slipped out of Chamber Seventy-two and emerged in the hallway that connected all chambers. Opposite of her was Chamber Seventy-one, home to Seventyone, currently youngest of the spirits. He was a useful fellow to her master, but due to his recent summoning, was not yet lacking in capability.
Turning left, One started down the hallway. The walls, like the chambers, were constructed of simple bricks with a pillar integrated into the wall between every door, left and right respectively. On each pillar, a torch had been placed to light the space, although the light barely reached the ceiling. There was a red carpet rolled out in the middle of the hallway, although it left enough space on the left and right for two people to walk side by side still.
Normally, she disliked the hallway a lot, because it had hidden sigils and magic circles that bore down and monitored her, but during the preparation and summoning phase of rituals, they were empty and allowed for some quiet and peace. Running, she could reach her own chamber in no time, but she was never one to rush things if unnecessary.
In her passing of the chambers, she could hear the roaring and shouting of fellow spirits and their opponents. Rock shattering, bodies and attacks thudding, debris crumbling. Many were fighting, growing stronger by the second, but none would reach her level yet. That was not what worried her however.
“What’chu thinking about?”
One halted and looked to her left, staring into a pair of sand-colored eyes.
“Why are you outside Fortyseven?” she asked. The spirit named Fortyseven had the appearance of a human man of maybe thirty years of age, with a lean, yet muscled body. He had short, dirty-blonde hair and wore nothing but a loose-fitting pair of white pants that gathered at his ankles, a red sash that was wrapped around his waist, and three pairs of golden arm rings around his forearms on each side.
“As cold as always, eh? I was just taking a walk, and talked to Two for a moment. But man, what a surprise to see you here! We haven’t seen each other since–whose summoning was it? Fifty? Fiftytwo?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Fiftysix,” One corrected him.
He nodded vigorously. “Right, right. Been some time, eh?” He said with a grin, then looked right. “If you came from there you helped with another summon?”
One did not reply.
“You know basically everyone else hates you because of this, yes?” he said, his voice taunting. Then he shrugged, “Except for me, of course, I like you.”
Again, she said nothing. Fortyseven leaned against the wall with his right shoulder, crossing his arms. “Two likes you, too, I think. Though I can’t read the old man. And hey, Twelve and Thirtyfour never go outside, so they probably don’t even know how you have been whoring yourself out to that mortal,” as he kept going, his grin widened, “Oh, and Thir-”
One interrupted him there. “Be quiet, Fortyseven,” she said. “I will not hear another word from that pathetic mouth of yours.” She did not shift the weight of her body or pretend to start an attack. They both knew that it was impossible to kill each other anyway. That did not mean Fortyseven could throw provocations at her without consequences, and he knew that, too.
Fortyseven stopped grinning. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, before eventually, Fortyseven gave up with a groan, throwing his arms into the air. “Alright, alright. I’m gonna drop it.”
One did not react, not even with a twitch or frown. She simply continued to stare at Fortyseven. When he said nothing else, she took it as her sign to leave, but just after the third step, Fortyseven spoke up.
“Say,” he began, making her look over her shoulder. “Which one is he going to summon?”
One considered for a moment, but concluded that deception was about as pointless as it was futile. “Seventytwo.”
A mocking smile rose onto his lips again, this time not directed at One directly. “So he’s almost done, eh? Seventy-two of us in one place,” he said, looking into the distance where Chamber Seventytwo lay, “You are his favorite pet, no? Did he ever tell you what he was planning?”
“He did not,” she replied and then started walking away.
“You are just gonna leave?” she heard Fortyseven yell from behind, but ignored it and kept going. She had known the spirit for a long time and never liked him, even before she had been summoned and robbed. And she could swear that she remembered herself speaking his name with annoyance more than once. Though it was not one she regretted having lost.
By the time she had Fortyseven out of her mind, she had reached Chamber Twenty-five and Twenty-four. The doors of both chambers were twice as large as the others, and not only reinforced, but made entirely out of steel. One could also feel a layer of mana, a barrier, covering it. She had told her master beforehand about Twentyfour’s and Twentyfive’s huge forms, and so he had prepared accordingly. This made it clear that, at some point, he intended to let every spirit out of their cell. When and why, One couldn’t tell.
Behind every door she passed lurked a spirit deprived of a part of their being. What Fortyseven had said was not wrong. She was responsible for allowing her master to summon all these spirits so quickly. And in a way, she had betrayed her own kind. It did not matter that half of them wanted to kill her even before entering the mortal world, or that she had no allegiance to any of them, but it was undeniable that, with her actions, she had become a traitor to her species.
The door of Chamber Thirteen came into view. One had never interacted with the spirit that was now called Thirteen, but she knew some things about her. The one now called Sixtyeight had spoken about her a few times. A pit of oil that only needs a single torch to burst into a blazing fire of anger, they had said. She had no doubt that Thirteen would come to kill her sooner or later.
From the summoned spirits, she was the most quiet, despite her reputation, and her master also had deemed her useless as she did not have a particularly unique ability to bring with her. It was stupidity only a mortal was capable of, to deem a spirit weak, but One saw no reason to correct her master on that. Especially one who once was a king like One herself.
As she was getting closer to her own chamber, she picked up her pace a little. Spirits from Two to Eleven she knew best, and all of them knew of her involvement in their presence upon the mortal world. She hoped that she would not run into one of them, but to her disappointment, when she arrived at the door to Chamber One, on the opposite side, where Chamber Two was, stood something in the shape of a human man of considerable age, carrying a goshawk on his arm.
He had long wide hair and a beard that gave him an aura of wisdom. He wore a monk’s robe, in orange and yellow, with a beaded necklace around his neck. When he turned to One, he revealed a set of blackened eyes that had no irises.
“You have been away,” Two began, index finger gently brushing against the bird’s neck. “That was Seventytwo, right?” he asked, goshawk chirping and nuzzling against his hand.
One nodded. “Yes,” she replied. “Soon, all of us will be gathered here.”
Two chuckled. “You say that it is of no concern to you, One, but there can come no good from a mortal with the power of seventy-two spirits under his thumb,” he grumbled. “What is he planning, One?”
One walked over to the door of her chamber and grabbed the handle. “We will find out soon, I suppose.”
Two took a long, loud breath, before sighing. “How close are you?” he asked.
“Three,” she answered, honestly.
“You have slowed down,” Two remarked, frowning. “Three and Four are catching up to you, and Ten has surpassed Five, Six, Seven, Eight and Nine.”
One gave a short, unbothered shrug. “Why are you telling me that?”
Two clicked his tongue. “I don’t resent you for what you did, One. But others that know do, and more will once they learn of it. They will try to find an opportunity for revenge.”
Giving the door a push, she stepped into the chamber and looked over her shoulder. “Let that be my concern, Two,” and with that, she closed the door behind her, leaving Two behind. He would only tell her what she already knew, and she had no interest in his worries.
The problem was that he was not wrong, which was also why she had no time to listen or talk to him. She was close to a breakthrough, to the first of a spirit’s ascension, and she had to reach it before her master proceeded with whatever plan he had in mind.
Her chamber looked bleak and boring like ever. Her sigil was engraved on the ground. Once, she had known it like she knew herself, now, it was just scribbling on the ground. But it was there, and as long as she could look at it, she could learn it. Not today or tomorrow, but she was learning, and her true name would soon be hers again, but for now, she was stuck with bothersome mortal world mechanics.
Name: One
Species: Spirit (Level 22)
Mana: 22,000/22,000
Strength: 20
Agility: 15
Vitality: N/A
Intelligence: 15
Perception: 11
Willpower: 11
Skills:
[Invisibility (S)], [?a?l-Wrath (S)], [Partial Bodymorph (D)], [Mana Manipulation (B)]
She could not understand why she had such a thing like this status. It did not exist in her homeworld and it certainly did not the last time she visited this plane. Even now, it did not appear as if humans possessed a system, but only her and the other spirits had one.
At least, based on that system, she could tell how close she was to the first spirit ascension. Before this always had been a feeling difficult to precisely estimate, and while it was not that much different now, One could at least assume that the ascension would happen at level twenty-five or somewhere around that.
One lifted her head and stared at the ceiling, which was nothing but the rough rock one would find in any cavern. She did not look at the rock, however, but something unseen that lay in it. She said nothing, but the reply to her inquiry came in the form of a rumble as the ground where the backwall met the floor started to glow and a magic circle appeared. It glowed with a bright light, making it almost impossible to read and dissect it, impossible to learn. But that was unimportant for now.
From below the elbows, her arms elongated and thinned into two blades, while lighting coiled around the blades. And she watched as the circle grew ever brighter.