There had been some interesting developments in his life recently. It was one thing to know your formerly magicless brother had somehow 'found his magic', but quite another to learn exactly how he'd come to do that. Percy had never asked him about it until he'd had no choice. He'd always assumed he'd just worked hard and somehow unlocked something deep within, which was something Percy had accepted as something he could eventually do as well. Finding out the truth had been....a shock. And painful. And terrifying. Artemis hadn't simply accessed something that had always been there. He'd found a way around it. Made a deal. It stung to be forced to truly confront that perhaps he had no magic at all within him, that maybe he'd never be a mage unless he did something as reckless as his brother (and unknowingly, his other siblings as well). Percy deeply disapproved of what he'd done, and yet...
And yet here he was, standing in the Cursed Lands. Technology had always been his secondary passion, one to hold him over until he could join the magical ranks. It had been enough to soothe him, but suddenly it wasn't anymore. If truly the only way for Dagger children to get strong enough to prove themselves was to seek out deals with demons, then tinkering within his lab, relentlessly training his body, and studying tomes and texts would never bear any fruit. All this time and effort had been wasted. Maybe he wasn't in the right mindset when he decided his next course of action, but despite how nightmarish Morte was, the more he considered it all the more he became convinced this was the only way.
His feverish research into deals with demons for power had ultimately led him here, to this dark land running wild with malevolent creatures. Banished spirits lurked in every shadow he could see out of the corner of his eye. The veil between the land of the living and the depths of hell was thin here, especially in the middle of the night. In theory, this would be the easiest place to encounter such a being, which was exactly the plan. His life wasn't exciting enough for him to meet one otherwise. The details on the ancient map he'd found took him to an alter deep within a dead forest. The whispers flittering around him had the two-toned young man on edge, since he'd made the unfortunate decision to come alone. He wasn't like his brother. Making friends didn't come easy for him, so he spent a lot of time in solitude. There was no one to even ask to accompany him that he trusted enough not to stop him, and he didn't trust himself enough to go through with this half-baked idea if he met any sort of opposition.
It was funny how someone so smart could be so dumb.
With blackened, claw-like trees creaking around him in a breeze he didn't even feel, Percy stepped up to the old alter made of onyx and blood-colored crystals. It looked defunct, cracked deeply down the middle in a way that he wondered how it hadn't collapsed into two different directions. Pulling his backpack around, he pulled out some candles, an old parchment, and a knife. He lit the candles, casting an eerie light on the page of hastily scrawled writings. With the knife he slashed his hand, sprinkling the blood onto both halves of the alter. Then he read from the paper. "With blood and flame, I knock on the door of sin. An audience with Ozin Kezraxul, the one who devours souls from the shadows and lends strength to the one who would offer him entrance to the world forbidden, is what I desire. Taste my blood and test my soul," he read his translation of old runes from the paper, then paused to see if he'd need to repeat it, or perhaps reexamine his understanding.
However, the flaring of the candles caught his breath. They extinguished in the second after, producing thick smoke. It condensed into a horrifying form, drifting down to lap up the spilled blood. This solidified the spirit a bit, enough to notice sanguine eyes rolling around in their sockets and settling on him with a judgemental gaze. Ozin Kezraxul was humanoid much like the demon his brother had been, though he noted this one had more of the stereotypical look. Horns, sharp features, fangs. Unlike the other he'd seen, this one didn't seem capable of any expression other than a deep scowl. The summoned demon spoke something in a guttural language Percy couldn't decipher, causing the trees to quake and chatter like dry bones. "I-I'm sorry. I don't understand..." the boy spoke, to which Ozin roared in enraged disapproval. The shadowing being hovered a few more moments, considering something. Then the smokey tendrils rushed forward, overwhelming Percy and his airway as the demon made his way inside without warning. Then it all went black.
Sometime later, Percy came back to consciousness, laying flat on his back at the base of the altar. His body was battered and bruised and his heart fluttered from blood loss. There seemed to be a deep gash in his side, but he was more concerned with the acidic taste that he violently expelled from his mouth and stomach. The liquid produced was thick, almost too thick. He thought several times he might choke to death on it but somehow managed to clear it from his throat each time. It was black, some sort of vile ichor. Once his system was clear of it, he dragged his weak body up to try and make sense of what had happened. The light of day filtered through thick clouds overhead, and though it wasn't very bright, it seared through his senses like a spotlight.
Worse still, he noticed the smoke lingering over the altar, glaring at him as if waiting for him to wake. Percy already knew. "Please," he begged pathetically, though the hostile being only shook his head and disappeared back into the crack of the black stone. Like a hundred car horns blaring at the same time, he both heard and felt the rejection. Too weak. Too useless. Waste of time. A vessel like him would do the demon absolutely no good. It was over. LEAVE!
Somehow Percy made it back home, though his spirit was about as broken as his body. Walking through the doors of his home, a Dagger employee looked up and caught sight of him, rushing forward with obvious alarm. "Master Perseus, where have you been!?" he wanted to know, eyes ragged with exhaustion. "We've been relentlessly searching. We thought the worst!"
"Relax," Percy started, tiredly waving the man off. "It was only one night. I know the Daggers are monitored, but that's a bit extreme..."
"One night? It's been nearly two weeks!"
[1149/1000 - B rank exam finished]
And yet here he was, standing in the Cursed Lands. Technology had always been his secondary passion, one to hold him over until he could join the magical ranks. It had been enough to soothe him, but suddenly it wasn't anymore. If truly the only way for Dagger children to get strong enough to prove themselves was to seek out deals with demons, then tinkering within his lab, relentlessly training his body, and studying tomes and texts would never bear any fruit. All this time and effort had been wasted. Maybe he wasn't in the right mindset when he decided his next course of action, but despite how nightmarish Morte was, the more he considered it all the more he became convinced this was the only way.
His feverish research into deals with demons for power had ultimately led him here, to this dark land running wild with malevolent creatures. Banished spirits lurked in every shadow he could see out of the corner of his eye. The veil between the land of the living and the depths of hell was thin here, especially in the middle of the night. In theory, this would be the easiest place to encounter such a being, which was exactly the plan. His life wasn't exciting enough for him to meet one otherwise. The details on the ancient map he'd found took him to an alter deep within a dead forest. The whispers flittering around him had the two-toned young man on edge, since he'd made the unfortunate decision to come alone. He wasn't like his brother. Making friends didn't come easy for him, so he spent a lot of time in solitude. There was no one to even ask to accompany him that he trusted enough not to stop him, and he didn't trust himself enough to go through with this half-baked idea if he met any sort of opposition.
It was funny how someone so smart could be so dumb.
With blackened, claw-like trees creaking around him in a breeze he didn't even feel, Percy stepped up to the old alter made of onyx and blood-colored crystals. It looked defunct, cracked deeply down the middle in a way that he wondered how it hadn't collapsed into two different directions. Pulling his backpack around, he pulled out some candles, an old parchment, and a knife. He lit the candles, casting an eerie light on the page of hastily scrawled writings. With the knife he slashed his hand, sprinkling the blood onto both halves of the alter. Then he read from the paper. "With blood and flame, I knock on the door of sin. An audience with Ozin Kezraxul, the one who devours souls from the shadows and lends strength to the one who would offer him entrance to the world forbidden, is what I desire. Taste my blood and test my soul," he read his translation of old runes from the paper, then paused to see if he'd need to repeat it, or perhaps reexamine his understanding.
However, the flaring of the candles caught his breath. They extinguished in the second after, producing thick smoke. It condensed into a horrifying form, drifting down to lap up the spilled blood. This solidified the spirit a bit, enough to notice sanguine eyes rolling around in their sockets and settling on him with a judgemental gaze. Ozin Kezraxul was humanoid much like the demon his brother had been, though he noted this one had more of the stereotypical look. Horns, sharp features, fangs. Unlike the other he'd seen, this one didn't seem capable of any expression other than a deep scowl. The summoned demon spoke something in a guttural language Percy couldn't decipher, causing the trees to quake and chatter like dry bones. "I-I'm sorry. I don't understand..." the boy spoke, to which Ozin roared in enraged disapproval. The shadowing being hovered a few more moments, considering something. Then the smokey tendrils rushed forward, overwhelming Percy and his airway as the demon made his way inside without warning. Then it all went black.
Sometime later, Percy came back to consciousness, laying flat on his back at the base of the altar. His body was battered and bruised and his heart fluttered from blood loss. There seemed to be a deep gash in his side, but he was more concerned with the acidic taste that he violently expelled from his mouth and stomach. The liquid produced was thick, almost too thick. He thought several times he might choke to death on it but somehow managed to clear it from his throat each time. It was black, some sort of vile ichor. Once his system was clear of it, he dragged his weak body up to try and make sense of what had happened. The light of day filtered through thick clouds overhead, and though it wasn't very bright, it seared through his senses like a spotlight.
Worse still, he noticed the smoke lingering over the altar, glaring at him as if waiting for him to wake. Percy already knew. "Please," he begged pathetically, though the hostile being only shook his head and disappeared back into the crack of the black stone. Like a hundred car horns blaring at the same time, he both heard and felt the rejection. Too weak. Too useless. Waste of time. A vessel like him would do the demon absolutely no good. It was over. LEAVE!
Somehow Percy made it back home, though his spirit was about as broken as his body. Walking through the doors of his home, a Dagger employee looked up and caught sight of him, rushing forward with obvious alarm. "Master Perseus, where have you been!?" he wanted to know, eyes ragged with exhaustion. "We've been relentlessly searching. We thought the worst!"
"Relax," Percy started, tiredly waving the man off. "It was only one night. I know the Daggers are monitored, but that's a bit extreme..."
"One night? It's been nearly two weeks!"
[1149/1000 - B rank exam finished]
