Demon Summoning (Part 3)
Who the hell is this guy…?!
Just when I thought it was finally over, that lunatic had to go and summon a demon to save his own miserable hide.
Damn it… That was my best shot.
There were countless treatises on how to face a demon, but every doctrine converged on a single, uncompromising rule: never let them strike first.
Demons wielded magic fundamentally alien to the mortal realm, drawing on reserves of mana that defied the very laws of reality. When a demon cast a spell, detecting any warning signs or precursory mana shifts was nearly impossible. Granting them the opening move could decide your defeat in the blink of an eye. Worse still, every demon possessed a warped morality, thriving on malice and negative emotion. Hesitate for even a heartbeat, and you would fall prey to foul, sadistic trickery until death itself seemed a mercy.
That was why confronting a demon demanded no parley, no hesitation—only driving your strongest attack straight into them to strike them down on sight.
Yet… I had failed.
A failure in the truest, most absolute sense of the word.
Tsk…
I had poured everything into that arrow, only for it to be repelled with staggering ease. No, could I even call it repelled? If my eyes hadn't deceived me, the demon hadn't done a single thing. He had simply stood there and let my strike hit him. Was my arrow not even worth blocking…?!
A violent shudder ran through me.
Ugh…!
It was painfully obvious now, but this demon was unimaginably strong. He wasn't doing anything more than looking at me, yet my heart thrashed wildly against my ribs and my knees shook. Every instinct in my body screamed in defiance of my will, demanding that I turn and run. Pure fury had consumed my mind only moments ago, but that wrath was gone now, and into the hollow void it left behind crept an overwhelming, suffocating dread.
Things had gone terribly wrong at the final hour. Matthias, you bastard… Unleashing a demon just to save your own skin? Burn in hell.
"What are you waiting for?!" Matthias shrieked. "Kill that bitch this instant!"
“…?”
Something wasn't right. The demon just stood there in silence, completely motionless. One look at the terror and frantic desperation on Matthias's face proved this hadn't been agreed upon beforehand. Of course, no demon would ever truly bow to a mortal's whim, but once bound by a contract, they would at least make a pretense of obeying.
Could they not have formed a contract yet…? No, that couldn't be it. Seeing the blood pouring from Matthias's hand made it clear a summoning rite had been enacted. So why wasn't the demon moving? Don't tell me he was already weaving some insidious trick—
"You dare give me orders?"
Ngh…!
The moment the demon opened his mouth, the atmosphere in the chamber transformed completely. Where before he had merely projected a quiet, suffocating pressure, now that immense presence sharpened into invisible blades and warhammers, battering the surroundings without mercy. Darkness encroached upon the edges of my vision, and every fine hair on my body stood on end as goosebumps rippled across my skin.
…No. This demon wasn't plotting some underhanded scheme. He simply despised being told what to do. But why? Demons treated contracts as absolute, immutable law. Why would he act like this? Could it be…?
"…Demon," I managed to squeeze out. "Did you forge a contract with Matthias?"
"A contract?"
Damn it…
Common sense dictated that one must never converse with a demon. Most demons commanded Word-Magic, making any verbal exchange nothing short of suicidal. Yet why had I… ugh, I didn't even know. The question had slipped from my lips as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Had I already fallen under his hypnotic spell? Why would a demon ever give a straight answer in the first place—
"No," the demon answered. "I have not."
"Hurry up and—wait, what…?"
Matthias froze, and so did I.
Astonishingly, the demon had answered my question without the slightest hesitation. An ordinary demon would have dripped sarcasm from every syllable, mocking me to his heart's content.
"What are you talking about?!" Matthias yelled, his voice cracking. "I—I summoned you and made a pact!"
"Summoned, yes. But no contract was forged."
I wondered for a second if the demon was lying, but judging by Matthias's frantic panic, no pact had been sealed. He had summoned him, but the contract remained incomplete. All right… That means there's still a chance this could end well—
"What… Damn it, then let us make the contract right now!" Matthias screamed, trembling like a broken wreck as blood gushed from his wounded hand. "I will give you my soul! Grant me your power!"
Oh, shit…!
Flailing his pierced hand, Matthias splattered a shower of blood directly toward the demon. Damn it all—he moved too fast for me to intercept. I should have put my first arrow through Matthias's skull instead of targeting the demon! Any hope of this ending well vanished in an instant.
"Now, strike down my enemy… Kill that… bi—"
“…?”
What was wrong with him?
Just a heartbeat ago, Matthias had looked relieved, convinced he was saved, but now his face turned pitch-black. It wasn't a figure of speech—his complexion literally blackened, as though he were violently suffocating or his throat had clamped shut. And that wasn't all. In stark contrast to his darkened skin, the whites of his eyes flushed a terrifying, congested crimson.
…Wait. Don't tell me—
"H-Hurry… u-up…"
BOOOM—!!
…
The world went red for a split second. When my vision cleared, the man who had been standing there whole moments ago was gone without a trace.
…Well, technically speaking, since Matthias was now painted across every square inch of the room, perhaps "gone" wasn't quite the right word.
The smell… Ugh.
Mana overload.
It was the catastrophic physical backlash that occurred when an inadequate vessel forced more mana into their body than their capacity could bear. Normally, exceeding one's limit didn't produce results anywhere near this grotesque. At worst, mana would regurgitate outward, causing bouts of vomiting or nosebleeds. With proper medical treatment and rest, a typical mana overload could be completely cured.
Yet this was on an entirely different plane from mere mana excess.
To put it into perspective, it was like taking the entire volume of a vast lake and violently cramming it into a fragile teacup—and not clean water, either, but rancid, putrid filth that reeked of corruption.
"Hmph. Weak," the demon murmured.
The cause of Matthias's gruesome demise was blatantly obvious: the demon had rejected his contract.
But why? Demons answered summons specifically to feast on mortal souls. By letting Matthias detonate before a contract was sealed, wouldn't he lose the soul entirely?
"…Did you not desire his soul?" I asked.
"Do you truly believe I would covet the soul of something so weak?"
Well, aren't we honest.
It was such an arrogant, absurd reply, yet the sheer brazenness of it made it indisputably believable. Looking at him—from his imposing silhouette to the dense, reality-warping mana humming through the air—this was an entity capable of making an Archdemon look like an insignificant imp. The notion that such a monster would grant a mortal's wish just to claim a single, mediocre human soul was laughable. It would be like an emperor stooping into the gutter to scavenge moldy breadcrumbs.
Then… why had he answered Matthias's call at all? If not to reap a soul through a pact, was his goal simply to manifest in the mortal realm…?
"…Go back," I urged, my voice trembling. "There is no place for a demon like you here."
If my suspicion was correct, this was a catastrophe beyond imagining. Having a demon summoned into the world was disastrous enough, but a demon manifesting of its own accord without being shackled to a mortal contract was a phenomenon recorded only a handful of times in history. And without exception, every single one of those rare incidents had brought unspeakable ruin upon the world.
Damn it, what do I do—
Thud.
“—?!”
The demon, who had remained stationary this whole time, took a step forward. With every stride of his boots, light warped and the surrounding air vibrated. Was he… coming toward me? I had to react, I had to raise my bow—
Crumble…
"What in the…?"
My bow rotted away. Not metaphorically—it literally, physically decayed in my hands. Having rotted to the core, the wood lost all elasticity, unable to withstand the tension of the bowstring. With a dry snap, it broke clean in two and disintegrated into gray ash.
"Ah… aah…"
I had to move. I had to scramble backward, out of his path. But I couldn't move an inch. My limbs, which had been trembling and screaming for flight only moments before, had frozen completely rigid like blocks of ice. The edges of my vision had darkened, and now tears blurred what little sight I had left.
"Hic… ugh…"
Trickle…
No… please… I don't want to die like this… Not like—
"How unsightly."
The demon glanced down at me, his brow furrowing in faint disgust. Without another word, he walked right past me, stepping out through the shattered breach in the fortress wall I had entered through.
I wasn't… dead?
Huh…?
Thud.
The crushing aura that had suffocated the room vanished, and the frozen stiffness in my legs gave out completely. My knees buckled, sending me collapsing hard onto the stone floor. Landing squarely on my tailbone should have stung, but compared to the terror I had just endured, the pain didn't even register.
"Ha… haha…"
After everything I had worked for… after every trial I had bled to overcome… to cower before a demon without mounting even a shred of resistance… Had I always been this weak? This cowardly? The tears streaming down my cheeks felt like a scathing rebuke, branding me a pathetic failure.
How could I have shed so many tears that they completely soaked the floor beneath… me…?
…
Wait.
These "tears" felt strangely warm.
And they weren't clear, either.
"How unsightly."
The expression on the demon's face as he had brushed past me flashed through my mind.
I… I was so… unsightly…
“Ah… uugh…”