Demon Summoning (1)
What... in the world?
Behind me stood a jet-black throne whose layered exterior resembled the carapace of a giant trilobite, and radiating outward from it, everything in sight was drowned in a suffocating wash of pitch-black and crimson. No, to be more precise, this entire place was made of it.
Bizarre, tentacle-like appendages writhed in the corners, and the walls were constructed out of raw, pulsating meat. It was terrifying beyond words.
Under normal circumstances, clapping eyes on such a nightmare would make anyone cower or freeze in sheer terror. But... I didn't. Compared to the visceral horror churning in my mind, my physical state was unnervingly peaceful. The dizzying incongruity made my head spin, yet the meat suit I inhabited remained completely serene, as though none of this mattered in the slightest.
"..."
I reached a hand straight out. What entered my line of sight was unequivocally not human—a twisted, grotesque extremity of dark crimson and obsidian. Along the back of the hand ran coarse, rugged scales resembling cracked tree bark.
Hoping against hope that it belonged to someone else, I turned my wrist. Obligingly, the hand rotated a smooth half-turn at my command, displaying a palm that was slightly paler in tone, though not a shred less monstrous.
And what made it all the more tragic... was the creeping sense that I had seen this bizarre, monstrous hand somewhere before.
"Perplexing indeed..."
...? What the hell is with this voice?
It distinctly sounded human, yet at the same time, was entirely inhuman. There was a hollow, dreadful resonance to it that sent chills crawling down my spine. More to the point, I had no recollection of intending to utter those words. Why did I sound like an ancient codger? What... what on earth was happening right now?
...I need to see my face. Where's a mirror?
Flash—!
The moment the thought crossed my mind, an eerily transparent, colossal crystal materialized directly before me, only to be instantly dyed pitch-black. It looked as though someone had dropped black ink into water and played the diffusion at fifty times speed. As I stood there bewildered by the bizarre spectacle, the darkened crystal paid no mind to my confusion, dutifully carrying out the purpose for which it had been summoned.
Like the pristine hood of a freshly polished black sedan, the dark crystal mirrored the light, casting back a crisp reflection of my face.
"..."
And the face reflected in the crystal... was thoroughly monstrous, yet undeniably familiar.
It was ostensibly a human face, but the skin was deathly pale. The whites of the eyes were pure black abyss, framing piercing yellow pupils that burned with an eerie luminescence. Atop the head rested a midnight-black helm that could easily be mistaken for a crown at a glance, and protruding from the temples were dark crimson horns that curved forward like a raging bull's, albeit longer and far more sinister.
This guy was... Faust.
The upcoming raid boss slated for Noah, the dark fantasy online MMORPG serviced by my company—no, by us.
...All we had made was some rough concept art and a skeletal story summary.
Once a legendary archmage renowned across the lands, Faust forged a pact with a demon, surrendering his soul in exchange for the fulfillment of his wish.
Yet the demon harbored no intention of truly granting it, twisting the wish like a cruel monkey's paw.
Infuriated and driven to despair by the horrific result, Faust claimed the contract was null and void. But because the demon had acted strictly within the letter of the text, Faust found his soul forfeit, ensnared by the binding magic of his own blood oath.
Yet as his soul was being devoured, the archmage's bottomless despair triggered a descent into fiendish corruption. Transforming into an archdemon, he turned the tables and consumed his contractor instead—annihilating the other party and wiping the very existence of the pact off the face of the world.
—...Or so went the bare-bones synopsis we had thrown together.
What Faust had actually wished for, the identity of the demon who granted it, or why an ex-archmage of all people went around swinging a massive greatsword—none of that had explanations yet, simply because the narrative hadn't been written. Under the Game Director's relentless, unyielding demand that the boss look "unconditionally menacing and majestic," we had slapped together concept art first and were retrofitting the lore around the visual.
I knew it. I knew how laughably amateurish that pipeline was.
But this entire industry ran on scotch tape and amateur hours anyway, so who cared? Besides, Faust wasn't scheduled to hit live servers for at least another twenty-four months—slated only after four other brand-new raid bosses and multiple major narrative arcs had run their course. It was totally fine to leave him half-baked for now. There were far more pressing dumpster fires to extinguish.
No, screw that. I wasn't an amateur. Just recalling those memories brought back the phantom taste of Monster Energy burning the back of my throat. Prioritizing the immediate live patch over a raid boss due two full years down the line wasn't amateurish—it was common sense. I was a damn professional.
Then what in the world is this?
In any case, precisely because our schedule was booked solid, our team had left Faust as nothing more than a rough wireframe while grinding through immediate milestones like the Azrael raid. Not a single detail had been locked in—what shape his helm should take, whether his face should be a skull or human, what kind of armor he'd wear, whether we should give him wings or not, how his greatsword should look... absolutely nothing was finalized.
Yet the figure standing here now was practically perfection incarnate. A far cry from the disjointed pile of mood boards and undecided concept sketches we'd left behind.
...Damn, he actually looks badass. Overwhelming, too.
There was even a faint, shadowy miasma billowing off my body like mist, radiating an aura befitting an endgame raid boss. If I hadn't literally become that Faust, I would have thrown a party celebrating the fact that an agonizing future milestone had somehow completed itself. Alas, reality was cruel.
Usually, when absurd crap like this happened, it was always... well, maybe seventy percent of the time, just a dream. This had to be a dream... right?
It's way too vivid for a dream.
I could move my body entirely at will, my train of thought wasn't drifting haphazardly but following deliberate logic, and the surrounding scenery had absurdly high resolution—if that was even the right word. In short, it was hyper-real. I could even reach out and touch this wall shaped like grotesque chitin.
...Ugh, disgusting texture. It feels like stroking the shell of an overcooked shrimp.
"First, I must ascertain what has transpired here."
My gut screamed that this wasn't a dream, and inwardly I was seething to the point of hysteria. Yet completely detached from that inner tempest, my physical vessel—Faust—remained uncannily composed. I wanted to scream bloody murder, claw at my hair with both hands, and demand to know what the hell was happening. Instead, Faust defied my panic, keeping his chin held proud and rigid while rolling out those tranquil, imposing words.
What the hell was wrong with this body?! It was as if someone could be murdered right in front of me and I wouldn't even bat an eye—
Screeeech—!!
...?
At that moment, a subtle vibration resonated through my skull, only to subside a few seconds later—taking all my wildly turbulent emotions down with it. The cooling of my emotions was instantaneous, like a sea thrashing under a raging typhoon suddenly flattening into the stillness of water in a glass. It was a calm so absolute it felt grotesque.
...Well, standing here doing nothing won't change a thing. Might as well move.
Where on earth even was this place...?
It was vast. Insanely vast. If I recalled correctly, a marathon was around forty kilometers, and this place surpassed that by a mile. No matter how far I walked, there was no sign of an exit from this revolting cavern—or was it an architectural structure? Whatever it was, there was no way out.
There wasn't even a shred of natural light. The only illumination so far was the eerie glow radiating from my own eyes.
...Wait, how the hell am I even seeing anything? There's zero light.
Never mind. Don't think about it. Thinking only leads to a headache. Giving up is always easier.
Come to think of it, I've completely gotten used to this.
Now, I didn't harbor a shred of doubt that I was Faust. It wasn't that I had weighed the facts and rationally accepted it. Rather, like trash being forcefully stomped down into an overflowing bin, the concept—I have become Faust—had been crammed into my brain against my will.
Under normal circumstances, I should have felt sickened, horrified. Yet strangely, no such feeling arose. Because without a single doubt, I believed I was Faust.
...Fuck me. I'm seriously going to lose my mind.
In any case... that means this must be the raid map.
Connecting the dots between my transformation into Faust and this oppressively menacing environment, there was only one conclusion. This was the raid zone where players of Noah were meant to fight Faust.
...Wait, does that mean I can't leave?
Where in the world would you ever see a raid boss sprint out of his own raid instance? Don't tell me I'm trapped here forever until someone—meaning a player—finally walks through the door?
...No, that can't happen—
Flash—!
"—?!"
Right then, an intense crimson light began surging beneath my boots. Startled, I looked down. There, tracing the floor like curving beams of light, a blood-red magic circle was literally drawing itself into existence. Following the intricate geometric lines, arcane runic scripts—the very same script used in Noah—began manifesting in glowing sequence.
To any sane observer, standing still here was pure suicide. I ought to throw myself out of the circle this instant. An unpleasant, invasive sensation, like someone forcefully yanking the roots of my hair, grated against my nerves.
And yet... strangely enough, I felt no urge to flee.
Because my instincts whispered:
If I stay right here, I can get out.