Desolate Mage: A Legend Reborn! 33 Demon's Summoning

Lars lay in a pool of his own blood, unable to take in air anymore due to the gaping hole where his throat used to be.

His oxygen-starved brain struggled to function, his vision beginning to blur as he made a last-ditch attempt to thwart the destruction of the Earth at the hands of the 3rd Prince of All-Heaven Divine Empire.

"It is futile, puny Earthling. Submit now and... Oh, sorry. I forgot. You'll die soon anyway! Hah hah hah hah!" A cruel grin was on the imperial scion's face as he mocked the dying Lars who lay beside countless of his fallen comrades including Kizorik, Linges, Moira, Duke Silvan and General Lighthouse, highest commander of the PCPE[1].

'Must... Live... Survive... Protect... Revenge...' But it was useless. The mana heeded not his call, nor did his hands and legs follow any of his instructions. He was impotent, powerless and defeated.

He could only watch as Prince Luo Bin triggered the Deathstar formation erected on the Moon to fire a 100km wide beam that would detonate the entire Earth.

As his consciousness faded away, all he saw was a Divine ray of light rupturing the entire the world, then a great explosion of magma.

Then nothing.

It was over.

* * * * *

"NO!!!"

Lars woke up with a start, panting and covered in cold sweat.

"Haahh... Haahh... Haahh..." He gripped his throat and chest frantically, breathing heavily and savouring the sweet freshness of oxygen once more.

A dream.

A lousy, horrid dream.

Robin was dead anyway!

"Are you alright, honey...?"

He looked up and realised he was seated at the cafeteria of the Arena. Across from him were Moira and the overly-handsome Duke that made Lars' heart itch in an uncomfortable way. He was sitting too close to her...

Then his eyes bulged.

He wasn't just sitting too close to her - he had his hand round her waist!

But before he could stand up and fight to the death with the older man, his ears pricked up at the sound of some unbelievable words, forcing him to blink in confusion and ask, "Sorry...? What, what did you just say...?"

Moira sighed crossly, obviously irritated at his distractedness. First he fell asleep while she was talking, and then he drifted off when she tried to repeat herself? How many times did this kiddo want her to go over this?

"Look, I said, it's been a good few years together, but it's time to move on. I'm a Princess now, and we're breaking up! I can't be with a street rat!" She paused then her eyelids drooped.

"...And I'm in love with Seline..." To prove her point, she shared a hot, passionate kiss with the curvaceous red-head beside her.

'Seline??? Wasn't it the Duke beside -- Since when was she--'

His train of thought was cut off again, this time by a humongous hand on his shoulder.

He turned and looked up to see a blushing, embarrassed Sarin dressed in his racy maid uniform.

Gaping in horror, he forgot to move.

The brawny scar-faced "maid" leaned over to smack Lars on the lips.

He froze, his mind and world shattering like shards of glass, never to be repaired ever again.

While he was in a stunned state, he felt another hand caress his hair from behind.

With a sense of dread, he turned around, only to hear the following words: "It's ok... You have me too anyway..."

And he saw the dark-skinned gargantuan Linges' lips close in on his.

* * * * *

'NOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

Lars woke up with a start, panting and covered in cold sweat, clawing at his mouth to burn off and destroy the parts of his body that were forever soiled by the monstrosity who violated his lips!

Lars panicked even more than when the world had crumbled before his eyes, he huffed and puffed, trying desperately to gain his bearings.

Moira... Lesbian?

Himself... Gay...?

And with both the invigilator and Linges...?!?

No no no no no no!!!

Then he heard the ringing in his head of his alarm spell, a mental sound: 'Wake up! The time is 3 in the morning! Wake up! The time is 3 in the morning! Wake up! The time is 3 in the morning! Wake...'

'F***!!! So annoying!!!' He dismissed the infuriating spell with rage, face twisted into a grimace of disgust, anger and relief that it was all a dream.

"Haahh... Haahh... Haahh..." He breathed heavily, looking around, finally realising that the nightmares and falsehoods were over.

"F***!!! What kind of nasty f***ing dreams are these!!!" He cursed out loud and exclaimed quietly, as he did not want to startle Khalid or any of the other passengers with the supply wagons. The mild-mannered transformed into a foul-mouthed old man in an instant due to the emotional scars he still bore from the cursed spell.

Nightmare Wakey-wakey - the only alarm spell taught in the military. As for why the alarm clock spell was like that, firstly, it was truly effective. Who could sleep through such traumatic visions???

Secondly, the creator was a sadist...

'I'll never, ever use it again...'

Shaking his head and even hitting it repeatedly to dispel and try to forget the dreams, Lars was tempted to try out the taboo spell - Forbidden-level: Amnesia... But he decided not to. It was too risky. What if the spell failed and those dreams became all he remembered...?

Would he change his orientation and forget Moira overnight...?

He shivered at the hypothetical thoughts and dismissed them, deciding to settle the work at hand - the reason he had set his alarm for 3:00 AM.

To summon a demon.

* * * * *

He cast a lesser silence spell on his surroundings then turned himself invisible. He didn't worry that he would be noticed - the strongest member in the supply train was only around Linges' level. They wouldn't notice him.

He trotted quickly down the dirt road that winded through the forested area. As he had learned in his studies that focused on domestic knowledge, the Kingdom of the Sands had once been a desert land with the only inhabitable areas being nearby oases or rivers.

However, the lay of the land had been slowly terraformed by magic combined with science to irrigate and rejuvenate the dry lands.

As a result, more than 1/4 of the central regions of the nation were now covered in greenery, a great change from the earlier trademark yellow sands of the dusty country.

He finally neared an area of higher ground, cresting the small hill and finding a relatively clear area behind a copse.

He kneeled down and began inscribing the not-overly complex demonic circle burned into his memories by the little bird before his sojourn into the Stream of Myriad Planes, the inlet of reincarnation of this side of the universe.

He traced his fingers through the slightly damp soil, the aftermath of a slight drizzle earlier in the evening. The nutrient-rich loam felt firm under his fingers despite the flaky particles with some of the reddish brown particles caught under his short fingernails.

He took a deep breath even as he spared no time to complete the summoning circle, finishing it in less than 4 minutes. After the damp, musty and heavy air of the Arena and the blood, rust, gunpowder and grim of the battlefield, the fresh atmosphere of nature was a panacea to his soul and lungs!

He determined to enjoy it as much as he could, every day and every moment he remembered to.

Stepping out of the circle, he began to infuse mana into the formation, causing it to light up with a mild golden glow along the lines of the patterns drawn. He checked, double checked and triple checked that the formation was drawn correctly and no prying eyes were watching.

Then he took out a throwing knife secreted in his belt and pricked his finger with it, adding the final component of the summoning circle: the blood of the demon's contractor.

Finally, he would get in touch with the only companion in this foreign world with whom he could be open to about his past and his homeworld.

He knelt down once again and continued to infuse mana into the magic circle. Within a couple of seconds, a vortex the size of two fists emerged in the centre of the 2 metre-radius circle, spinning round and round while suspended in place roughly 1.5 metres above the ground.

At that moment, he spoke out the simple summoning incantation: "I, Miller Knight Larsson, beseech the contracted demon Razku'rak Kizorik - heed my call!"

Immediately a change could be seen. The vortex turned murky and dark while the glow grew in intensity but also turned darker, changing into an ominous red light; foreboding and threatening.

Then unexpectedly, the vortex froze, and the light, magic and mana surged into the now-still blood-red vortex.

*CRACK!*

Then a fissure line split the vortex in half with a loud cracking sound like an egg being broken into pieces.

The next scene shocked Lars greatly.

Suddenly, a squirrel-sized black-and-white bird jumped out of the egg, tumbling as it landed on the ground. Then it hurriedly picked itself up and scampered away out of the magical circle.

Although, it has to be mentioned that this entire string of events actually happened quite slowly. The little bird with red pupils had stubby short flipper legs.

"Ahhahaha!!! Freedom... Hahahaha!!! Free at last! Free!!! Free!!! Free at last!!!" The little bird tried to run away, cutting a comical figure as it moved only 2 metres in 5 seconds - a distance that a regular adult could cross in less than a breath's time!

Lars couldn't help but smile. Such adorable sights were hard to come by in the Arena. It had been too long since he saw such a cute thing!

The penguin suddenly froze on the spot and turned around balefully.

"You just laughed at the Great I, didn't you...?" Its eyes looked like it would shoot out hellfire and ashes from the depths of the Abyss!

Embarrassed at his thoughts being seen through, the boy spoke apologetically, "Kizorik, or Razku'rak, I mean, I didn't--"

"That's Sir Kizorik to you, boy!!!" The diminutive penguin jumped towards him, its fierce demeanour startling the mage despite its tiny size.

"Sir Kizorik, I didn't laugh at you. I just smiled. It's just, in that form..." He smiled sheepishly as he said, "You're really cute!"

Then he covered his mouth. He realised that he should have used his brain and Insight soul-imprint to think through what to say before he spoke.

He had just called the self-christened Demon God cute.

Bracing himself for an outburst of rage from the charming but angry bird, who, before Mikael/ Lars' reincarnation, had already frequently flared-up at the most minor perceived slight.

The little bird drew himself up proudly, puffing out its chest and said, "Hmmph! It's good that you finally noticed how cute the Great I am!"

Then it peered at him from the corner of its eyes, looking seedy and with a pose like a gangster.

"By the way..."

It looked him once over, then twice over, up and down, left and right, then asked.

"Who are you...?"

*

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[1] PCPE = Permanent Committee for the Planar Expedition - mentioned in chapter 1.

Chapter end