The Lightning Ravisher
Inside the darkened classroom, Grantoni was busily preparing a necromantic ritual to summon the Lightning Caller.
He drew a massive magic circle in goat's blood and scattered bone dust of an unknown origin over it. After spending quite some time fussing over the preparations, Grantoni finally looked up, wearing a proud expression.
"This really sets the mood."
"Grantoni, this is completely pointless, isn't it?"
What Grantoni was doing was, after all, simple necromancy. I had never heard of necromancy requiring such elaborate theatrics.
"Heheheh, with things like this, the atmosphere is everything."
As expected of the eccentric. He was doing all this simply because he wanted to.
"So, who is it we're summoning?"
Did he forget already?
"The Lightning Caller."
"No, not his nickname. His real name."
Ah, right. Summoning him by a mere moniker like "Lightning Caller" probably wouldn't yield any results.
"Barcavaran."
The northern reaches of the Empire. The highest mountain range in the world. It was a name typical of the barbarians who dwelled there.
"Heheheh, got it."
Grantoni clattered his teeth as he stepped into the center of the magic circle. Dragging a classroom chair over, he sat on it backward, resting his chest against the backrest.
"I'm going to call him now. Shh, quiet."
Grantoni was a soul mage. And even among his peers, he possessed unparalleled talent. A being far closer to the dead than the living. The Little Ossuary. He wasn't called by that chilling moniker for nothing.
The eerie light in Grantoni's skeletal eyes dimmed, and the surrounding atmosphere began to warp. The mundane classroom was transforming into a chamber that beckoned death.
Before I knew it, my Steel Skin vibrated, reacting to the encroaching death. A bizarre, spine-chilling sensation swept over my entire body.
The colors of the world began to bleed away. The vibrant hues drained, leaving behind a desaturated, monochromatic gray. This shift meant only one thing: this space had crossed over into the Flip Side, the domain of wandering souls.
The reason Grantoni was praised as a soul mage of supreme talent. Grantoni's unique trait: Dweller of the Flip Side.
He was the only living soul in the world who could freely traverse the Flip Side. Yet, he was well aware of the danger. If he lingered in this gray world for too long, a day would come when he could never return.
Even so, the reason he kept stepping into the Flip Side... was likely because he was searching for someone.
And that search...
...would eventually be abandoned after a certain turning point. In Act 4, during the final battle with Vinesha, the Mad Mage, Grantoni is presented with two choices: to remain in the Flip Side, or to return to the real world.
If he chooses to remain in the Flip Side...
...Grantoni would blossom into a new catastrophe. In the Flip Side, he would experience his happiest moments. But as a consequence, the world would plunge straight into one of the thirty-eight bad endings: "The Flip Side."
Conversely, choosing reality would leave Grantoni with nothing but eternal separation and despair.
His happiest moments versus endless despair. The choice of which path to take lay entirely in Grantoni's hands.
And I...
...even though I knew everything he was going through, had to force him to choose reality.
Though that is still a story for another day.
Looking around the Flip Side, a bitter smile tugged at my lips. To think that this lifeless, monochromatic world would be the place where Grantoni found his greatest happiness. It only proved how much grayer and bleaker the real world appeared to him.
"Barcavaran."
The moment Grantoni uttered the name, the windows slammed open, and the blackout curtains whipped wildly in the air. A biting, northern gale rushed into the room.
The cold was so sharp it stung my skin, nearly making me gasp. Thanks to my past experiences, I was well-accustomed to intense heat, but freezing cold was a different story. To make matters worse, my Steel Skin was highly sensitive to extreme temperatures. My body tensed up, and my teeth began to chatter.
I'll need to get my hands on some cold resistance soon.
Indeed, considering the events to come, cold resistance was an absolute necessity. I would have to secure it as quickly as possible. As I made a mental note of this, Grantoni raised his hand toward the ceiling.
"Barcavaran."
He called out once more.
CRACK! A deafening roar of thunder ripped through the howling wind. He's coming. The instant that realization struck me—
"Barcavaran!"
KRA-BOOM! A blinding bolt of lightning scorched the heavens, illuminating the entire room in a brilliant flash. Temporarily blinded, I blinked rapidly. As my vision gradually cleared, a silhouette began to take shape amidst the rising smoke.
The man's lower half was faint and translucent, and his entire upper body was covered in terrifying, jagged scars shaped like lightning bolts. He cast a wary, disgruntled gaze around the room, as if searching for something.
As he turned his head, his gaze locked directly onto mine. He stared in silence for a moment, his brow furrowing. Then, his expression turning to one of utter disinterest, he let out a dismissive snort.
I felt like I had just heard some incredibly novel bullshit.
"Hey there, friend!"
At that moment, Grantoni popped his skeletal head out from right behind the man. Startled by the sudden appearance of a skull, the ghost swung a fist in sheer reflex. But his fist merely passed harmlessly through Grantoni's head.
It made sense—he was already dead, after all. A man who had survived being struck by lightning 108 times during his life. Barcavaran. He was the true Lightning Caller.
"Heheheh, that's a spicy punch! My friend here has some business with you, so I called you over."
"Come on, don't be like that. Just hear him out. He's a pretty interesting guy."
Grantoni did his best to persuade Barcavaran, proving he was worth every penny of the pendant I had given him. He might be eccentric, but he was a reliable guy who always paid his debts.
Looking thoroughly annoyed, Barcavaran finally relented and plopped himself down on the floor.
I smirked. He was the one who told me to get to the point.
"So, how exactly did you end up defiling the lightning?"
Barcavaran shut his mouth.
The Lightning Caller, Barcavaran. How did he earn that title? To put it bluntly, the story behind it was rather scandalous.
It all began when he defiled the sacred statue of the Goddess of Lightning, whom his village worshipped.
How does one go about defiling a stone statue of a deity? I had no idea. But he somehow managed it. And as punishment, he was struck by divine lightning exactly one hundred and eight times.
Barcavaran feigned ignorance.
CRACK! At that moment, another rumble of thunder echoed through the Flip Side.
Barcavaran flinched, his shoulders tensing up. Having been struck 108 times, the trauma of lightning was likely engraved deep into his very soul.
"I came here knowing the whole story, so there's no use playing dumb. Let's not do this. See? Even your 'wife' is angry that you're denying it."
Barcavaran coughed dryly several times.
As mentioned, he had defiled the statue of the goddess and was struck by lightning as a result. However, this wasn't because the Goddess of Lightning hated him. To be precise, it was a manifestation of her jealousy.
A legendary womanizer.
Under his barbarian guise, he was a legendary libertine who would try to bed anything that caught his eye. For some inexplicable reason, after this madman defiled her statue, the Goddess of Lightning actually fell for him.
It sounded utterly absurd, but the truth was that every single one of the hundred and eight lightning strikes had occurred right after he bedded another woman. And each strike targeted a different bed.
"Whoa, what stamina!"
Upon learning this, Grantoni clapped his hands and laughed.
"But didn't they say the hundred and eighth strike happened after you were buried in your grave?"
A sudden question seemed to occur to Grantoni. I remained silent, and Barcavaran didn't say a word either. Only the distant rumble of thunder outside the window broke the quiet.
"Personal life or not, it's information anyone can find with a bit of interest. It's recorded in history, after all."
He was legendary, indeed—in more ways than one.
"Anyway, back to the main point."
I hadn't summoned Barcavaran just to gossip about his past. What I wanted to discuss was something entirely different.
"The divine armament you took when you defiled the Goddess of Lightning's statue."
A divine armament was a special artifact that directly channeled the power of a god. However, with a few exceptions, most were treated as unusable hazards and sealed away.
One divine armament spewed infinite seawater; another constantly unleashed plagues. To humanity, most divine armaments were closer to natural disasters. Thus, despite their grand title, they were treated as hazards that had to be sealed away.
Among them was Barcavaran's divine armament.
"The Lightning Caller."
It wasn't called the Lightning Caller just because of his nickname. The name of the divine armament he stole from the lightning statue was literally the Lightning Caller.
"I'd like you to hand it over to me."
I had come here specifically to obtain the Lightning Caller from him. Unless the owner willingly handed over a divine armament, it remained bound to their soul even after death, until the soul itself dissolved. Knowing this, I had summoned Barcavaran.
Barcavaran stared at me as if I were a madman. The Lightning Caller literally summoned lightning upon its wielder. It was an artifact that subjected its owner to constant, violent lightning strikes. Asking for it was no different from expressing a desire to die.
But I needed it. The Lightning Caller would become my strongest trump card.
"Everything has its use."
"Unfortunately, I'm doing this precisely because I don't want to die."
I wasn't doing this because I wanted to get struck by lightning either. Realizing I was serious, Barcavaran stroked his chin thoughtfully.
For a dead guy, he sure was greedy. Left with no choice, I pulled out a book I had brought along.
"Grantoni, can you offer this as a tribute?"
"Yeah, put it here."
Grantoni pointed beneath his chair as if it were the simplest thing in the world. I carefully placed the book there. A moment later, the book materialized in Barcavaran's hand. He tilted his head in confusion, flipping through a few pages. Almost instantly, his eyes went wide.
"It's called a gravure magazine."
Wherever living humans gathered, such things were bound to exist. It was a luxury completely unobtainable in the Flip Side, a world inhabited solely by the dead.
"I have a few more, by the way."
I lightly lifted the bag I had brought. In that instant, a jolt of static electricity surged through my body, making me flinch. A moment later, something was pressed into my palm. It was a small ring—a golden band set with a gemstone engraved with a jagged lightning pattern. The divine armament, the Lightning Caller.
Barcavaran wore an extremely satisfied expression. I offered all the remaining books to him as a tribute.
Good grief.
To think a divine armament could be traded for a few gravure magazines. Even reflecting on it now, it was utterly ridiculous.
I slipped the ring onto my index finger. The gemstone of the Lightning Caller flashed briefly along my finger.
Barcavaran spoke, his eyes never once leaving the pages of the book.
He pointed to the lightning-shaped scars covering his own body as he spoke.
It was, in essence, the curse of the Lightning Caller. A divine armament held the power of a god. Humans who repeatedly channeled divine power would inevitably find their mortal vessels failing them—hence, the curse.
Clutching all the books, he walked toward the window.
"That's fine."
At my nonchalant tone, Barcavaran stared at me as if looking at a bizarre specimen.
"Isn't destiny meant to be bent by an even greater destiny anyway?"
I quoted Sharin's words. Hearing my reply, he fell silent for a moment.
With those parting words, he stepped out of the window.
CRACK! Thunder roared once more outside. The Flip Side that Grantoni had invoked began to dissolve, and our surroundings slowly returned to the real world.
Meanwhile, Grantoni quietly stared out the window, as if waiting for something.
Watching Grantoni's back, I clenched my fist, feeling the Lightning Caller on my finger.
To hell with destiny.
When we were hurtling straight toward a bad ending, I didn't have the luxury of being picky. But now, my preparations were complete.
The group battle.
Let's go stir up a storm.