Chapter no.2 The Devil

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In the shadowy annals of forbidden knowledge, there exists a tome shrouded in dread and fascination, known by many names - the Necronomicon, the Book of the Dead, or Liber Mortis. This ancient and mysterious book, steeped in the darkest arts of necromancy and the occult, is said to hold the secrets to life, death, and that which lies beyond. Its origins are as enigmatic as its contents, with whispers of its creation tracing back to the desolate deserts of the Arabian Peninsula, under the guidance of the fabled 'Mad Arab' Abdul Alhazred. Throughout history, the Necronomicon has surfaced in hushed tales and rumors, appearing in various forms, from weathered scrolls to leather-bound volumes, its pages filled with arcane symbols and unsettling illustrations.

Legend has it that those who dare to delve into the Necronomicon's secrets are confronted with knowledge so potent and terrifying that it comes at a great cost to their sanity and soul.

.....

Zhu's quest to gather the items for the ritual outlined in the Necronomicon became an odyssey that tested both his resolve and his ingenuity. The list was macabre, each item more unsettling than the last, and acquiring them posed challenges that stretched Zhu's moral boundaries to their limits.

First, there was the 'Dye of Death,' a concoction made from the rare Nightshade Belladonna, known for its lethal properties, and the ashes of a deceased unbaptized infant. The idea of using such ingredients was repulsive, yet Zhu's desperation pushed him beyond his ethical comfort zone. He scoured the internet, finding a dubious seller on a hidden marketplace who claimed to have the ashes. The exchange, done under the cover of night in a desolate parking lot, left Zhu feeling like a character in a crime novel.

"Are you sure this is what I think it is?" Zhu asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"As sure as death itself," the seller replied, a smirk on his face that made Zhu's skin crawl.

The Belladonna was easier, sourced from an old herbalist who didn't ask questions. Zhu knew the risks of handling it, the plant's history as a poison looming large in his mind. He handled it with gloves, careful not to let any part of it touch his skin.

Next came the 'Skin of the Damned.' The Necronomicon specified it had to be skin from a corpse, not more than three days deceased. The very thought sent shivers down Zhu's spine, but he couldn't turn back now. He found his solution in a local medical college with a morgue. Late one night, clad in black, he broke in. The stark, clinical smell of death hit him as he entered the morgue, a smell he'd never forget.

Zhu's hands shook as he cut a small piece of skin from a donated body, his stomach churning with every slice. "I'm sorry," he whispered to the corpse, "I just need to bring him back."

The other items were just as grim - a feather from a crow that had feasted on human remains, soil from a grave where a murderer was buried, and a candle made from the fat of a hanged man. Zhu's journey to gather these items took him to places he never imagined he'd go, speaking with people he wished he'd never met. The crow's feather was found in a desolate field, the soil from a graveyard at the dead of night. The candle, however, proved the most difficult. He finally found a supplier on the dark web, someone who specialized in the macabre.

As he assembled the items, Zhu felt like he was losing a part of himself, his soul stained by the darkness of his task. But the image of Lao, the thought of bringing him back, kept him going.

The final step was to mix the Dye of Death and apply it to the Skin of the Damned. Zhu set up in his aunt's garage, ensuring he was alone. The process was meticulous, each step followed with precision. The dye had to be perfect, the skin had to be coated evenly. As he worked, Zhu couldn't help but wonder if he was crossing a line from which there was no return.

"Is this what you wanted, Lao?" he murmured, his voice heavy with doubt. "Am I doing the right thing?"

But there was no answer, only the silence of the night and the weight of his actions. With the items prepared, Zhu was ready to perform the ritual, to make the contract with the devil in hopes of bringing his brother back. It was a gamble, one that could cost him more than he ever imagined. But for Zhu, the chance to undo the past, to see Lao again, was worth any price.

...

In the pitch darkness of his room, Zhu laid the contract on the ground, the macabre parchment illuminated only by the flickering light of the candle made from the fat of a hanged man. His heart pounded in his chest, a rhythmic drumbeat echoing the gravity of what he was about to do. With trembling hands and a voice laced with uncertainty, he began to chant the words he had painstakingly translated into Arabic, words that felt ancient and powerful as they left his lips.

"أيها الأرواح القديمة، أدعوكم لإعادة الحياة إلى الذي فقدته. أعطوني القوة لإعادة أخي."

(Translation: "Ancient spirits, I summon you to bring back the one I have lost. Grant me the power to return my brother.")

As the final syllable hung in the air, the candle's flame sputtered and died, plunging the room into an abyss of darkness. Zhu's heart raced, anticipation and fear a tangled knot in his stomach. He waited, every second stretching into an eternity, but nothing happened. No sound, no movement, no sign that his ritual had worked.

With a heavy sigh of disappointment and resignation, Zhu stood up to switch on the light.

"Click, click."

But the darkness remained, unbroken and absolute. A sense of unease crept over him, the air around him feeling heavier, as if charged with unseen energy.

"Aunt..." Zhu called out, his voice a mix of confusion and apprehension. He reached for the door, hoping to escape the oppressive darkness of his room.

But as the door swung open, Zhu's eyes widened in absolute horror. This was not the familiar hallway of his aunt's house; instead, he found himself staring into what could only be described as the realm of hell. The landscape before him was a nightmarish vista of fire and brimstone, an inferno of flames licking at a blood-red sky. Twisted, charred figures roamed aimlessly, their moans and screams a cacophony of despair. The heat was suffocating, the smell of sulfur and burning flesh overwhelming.

"This... This can't be real," Zhu stammered, his mind reeling in disbelief. "I must be dreaming."

But the searing heat that radiated from the open doorway, the guttural sounds of suffering that filled his ears – it was all devastatingly real. His chant, meant to bring back Lao, had opened a door to something far more sinister, far more dangerous.

Zhu's heart raced as the entity, a grotesque semblance of a woman with a steel mask melted onto her face and a thorned crown, charged towards him. Just as the terror became almost unbearable, the door slammed shut with a resounding thud. The sudden silence was broken by a haunting laughter echoing around him.

He spun around, the hair on his neck standing on end, and saw the hanged man's candle now burning with a sinister crimson light. The eerie glow cast twisted shadows across the room, converging on a figure reclining on his bed. The sight that met Zhu's eyes was beyond the realms of comprehension.

The being before him defied all natural laws. It – or she, as it vaguely resembled a female form – had four arms, each grotesquely different. One was a serpentine limb, coiled around an apple; another was a human hand, clutching the severed head of a goat. The remaining two arms, one of a man and the other of a woman, were equally disturbing. Its neck was a writhing mass of insects, moving and pulsating with a life of their own. The hair was not hair at all, but long tendrils of fire that danced and flickered in the dim light. The flesh appeared stolen, a patchwork of various beings stitched together to form this avatar of the devil.

Zhu's throat went dry, his fear manifesting as a physical weight upon his chest. He could barely breathe as the devil spoke in a voice that was both melodic and terrifying.

"You want to make a deal."

Zhu gulped nervously, his eyes fixed on the devil's unsettling smile.

"Quite the strange boy, aren't you?" the devil mused, its voice a chilling melody.

"You dared to summon me, yet you're afraid of my avatar."

"Avatar?" Zhu thought, perplexed.

"Of course," the devil responded, seemingly reading his mind with ease. "I am a being beyond human comprehension. We can't be detected by anything in the mortal realm."

Zhu's heart pounded in his chest.

"Are we in hell?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," the devil replied with a dismissive wave of its bizarre hand. "Think of it as a guest arriving and trying to put some décor into the guest house. You invited the devil, do you not like my gift?"

"I would prefer not to be attacked by monsters," Zhu said, his voice shaky.

The devil snapped its fingers, and Zhu cautiously opened the door. To his amazement, everything was the same, but frozen in time. "I am not removing my décor; if this can annoy a few angels, it's worth it," the devil remarked with a hint of amusement.

Zhu nodded, still processing the surreal situation, and closed the door. "You can read my mind, right?"

"Yes," the devil answered, its insect-ridden neck writhing.

"So, you must know why I summoned you here," Zhu continued, his desperation evident.

"Of course," the devil responded, its multiple arms moving in an eerie dance.

"Do we have a deal?" Zhu asked, the confusion evident in his voice.

"Not really," the devil replied nonchalantly. "Your brother's soul is currently in heaven, and I don't plan to invade heaven for a soul."

Zhu's heart sank. The realization that his quest was futile, that there was no way to bring Lao back, hit him like a physical blow. He stood there, a mix of disappointment, relief, and overwhelming sorrow washing over him.

The devil's presence, once terrifying, now seemed almost pitiful to Zhu. He had gone to such lengths, dared to summon the devil itself, only to learn that his efforts were in vain.

A thought suddenly pierced Zhu's swirling torrent of emotions. "Can you invade heaven?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and desperation.

The devil's response was matter-of-fact, tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "Of course, I used to be the commander of the angels."

Zhu took a deep breath, his mind racing with the implications of this revelation. "If you invade heaven, will God stop you?"

"No," the devil said, a smirk playing on its patchworked face. "God works in mysterious ways. He always allows all of his creation to do whatever they want. He won't interfere."

"If He did..." Zhu began, but the devil cut him off.

"Well, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

A subtle hint in the devil's tone caught Zhu's attention.

"What do you want?" Zhu asked, his voice steadier now.

"Looks like you figured it out," the devil replied, its chuckle a disturbing cacophony.

"Your attitude towards my deal is very telling. You can invade heaven and retrieve my brother's soul, and God isn't going to stop you. You responded to my calls, meaning you can give me what I want, but there is something you want in return."

Zhu said while his heart was pounding in his chest.

The devil's eyes gleamed with an unholy light.

"Smart kid, I'll give you that. Well, I can give you your brother's soul back, but in exchange, I want you to do something for me."

"What?" Zhu asked, his voice barely a whisper, dreading the answer.

"I want you to kill a Heavenly Monarch for me."

Zhu, his confusion growing, asked, "What's a Heavenly Monarch?"

"It's a title given to the ruler of the universe," the devil explained with an air of nonchalance.

"God?" Zhu ventured, trying to grasp the concept.

"No, God is the creator of the universe. A Heavenly Monarch is the most powerful entity within the bounds of the universe," the devil clarified.

Zhu's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "So, I am supposed to kill the most powerful being in my universe?"

"No, not your universe," the devil corrected, a sly grin crossing its bizarre features.

"What do you mean?" Zhu asked, his confusion evident.

"I am going to send you to another universe where you will find and hunt down the Heavenly Monarch: The Sage Emperor," the devil revealed.

"Why?" Zhu asked, his curiosity piqued.

"He insulted me once," the devil said, as if that were reason enough.

"And you want me to kill the Sage Emperor because he insulted you once?" Zhu asked incredulously.

"Yep," the devil replied nonchalantly.

"You're petty," Zhu remarked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"I am the devil," the devil responded, as if that explained everything.

Zhu sighed, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him. "Since you are aware I am a normal human, how am I supposed to kill the Sage Emperor?"

"Don't worry, I'll give you some training from a guy I know," the devil reassured him.

Zhu nodded, his mind racing with the enormity of what he was about to undertake. He sat down heavily, the weight of his decision settling in. "It's a deal then," he said, a sense of resignation in his voice.

"It's a deal," the devil echoed.

As they agreed, the contract on the ground began to change. The edges of the parchment curled as if touched by an invisible flame, the text shimmering and shifting into an indecipherable script. The devil extended one of its grotesque hands, a quill materializing out of thin air. Zhu took the quill hesitantly, his hand trembling as he signed his name. The moment the quill touched the parchment, the text glowed a deep crimson, pulsating with a sinister energy.

The devil signed next, its signature a series of symbols that twisted and writhed like living things. As it completed its signature, the contract emitted a blinding light, enveloping the room in an otherworldly glow. The air crackled with power, a tangible force that Zhu could feel resonating through his very being.

When the light subsided, the contract was gone, vanished as if it had never been there. In its place was a sense of binding, a connection between Zhu and the devil that was irrevocable. Zhu knew then that his life would never be the same. He had made a deal with the devil, a pact that set him on a path far beyond the ordinary confines of his world.

As the devil's avatar faded, leaving Zhu alone once again, he realized the gravity of what he had done. He had agreed to kill a being of immense power, all for the chance to bring back his brother.

But at what cost? And what would become of him in this other universe, facing a foe beyond his wildest imaginings?

.....

Dear Zhu,

At the stroke of 3 AM tonight, your journey begins. A portal will open, a doorway unlike any you have ever seen, leading you to a realm where your destiny awaits. You need not bring anything; all that is required is your presence and a mind prepared for the unimaginable.

Prepare yourself, for time in this new world flows differently. What may seem like millennia there will barely brush the passage of a day here on Earth. Yes, Zhu, you are about to step into a realm where time bends to the will of forces far greater than the ticking of a clock.

In this place, under the tutelage of a master I have chosen for you, you will witness wonders beyond your comprehension. Magic, in its truest form, will be at your fingertips. You will learn to harness powers you never dreamed possible, to weave spells and command energies that defy the laws of your mundane existence.

Be warned, though, such knowledge comes at a price. The path of magic is fraught with peril, and the powers you seek to wield are as dangerous as they are awe-inspiring. Your resolve will be tested, your spirit challenged, and your very essence transformed.

When you return, you will not be the Zhu who left. The experiences you gain, the powers you master, will mark you forever. Be ready to embrace this change, for it is the price of the deal you have made.

Remember, Zhu, the portal will not wait for you. Be there at 3 AM, or miss your chance to change your fate forever.

Yours in darkness and light,

The Devil.

.....

Zhu sat in his room, the letter from the devil in his hands. He read it over and over, each word etching deeper into his mind. It was real – he had done it. He was going to learn magic and get his family back. A rare smile flickered across his face at the thought, a glimmer of hope in the long darkness that had become his life.

Just then, he heard the front door open. Curious, he stepped out of his room and saw his aunt in the hallway, holding bags of Chinese takeout.

"Hey there, buddy," she greeted him warmly. "I got us some food."

Zhu found himself staring awkwardly at her. Their interactions over the last few years had been minimal. She was always busy, and he had been consumed with his obsession to bring back Lao. He often wondered if she blamed him for the disintegration of her sister's family. There was an unspoken distance between them, a gap widened by grief and preoccupation.

But tonight was different. Tonight was, in a way, his last night on Earth. Zhu's smile broadened, genuine for the first time in what felt like forever. "I should get the plates," he said, moving towards the kitchen.

His aunt, surprised by his sudden enthusiasm, smiled back. "That would be great, Zhu. It's nice to have a meal together, isn't it?" she responded, her voice carrying a hint of something long missed – a semblance of normalcy, of family.

As Zhu set the table, his aunt walked into the kitchen, her eyes lighting up at the sight. "Well, look at Mr. Chef here! Should I be scared for my tastebuds?" she joked, her tone light and playful.

Zhu smirked, playing along. "Only if you can't handle the culinary excellence of takeout."

They sat down to eat, and Zhu found himself unusually talkative. "Did you know fortune cookies aren't actually Chinese? They're more American than apple pie," he quipped, breaking open the cookie.

"Really? Next, you'll tell me you're actually a top student masquerading as an average Joe," his aunt replied, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

Zhu laughed, a sound he hadn't heard from himself in a long time. "Top student? Please, I'm the Bruce Wayne of underachievers – rich in potential, but mostly just brooding."

As they ate, Zhu couldn't help but feel a sense of surreal normalcy. It was an odd, comforting feeling, like wearing a pair of shoes you thought you'd lost. "You know," he said, "I always thought if I were a superhero, my power would be making people forget I'm there. Kind of like my superpower at school."

His aunt chuckled. "Ah, the Invisible Man returns. You know, if that's your superpower, I must be Wonder Woman. I manage to make all my patients disappear... right out of the hospital when they're healthy!"

Zhu raised an eyebrow. "I guess that makes us a dynamic duo. The Invisible Man and Wonder Woman – saving the world one unnoticed deed and healthy patient at a time."

As the night wore on, the conversation flowed easily, peppered with light-hearted jokes and witty banter. Zhu found himself enjoying the moment, the heaviness of his secret quest momentarily lifted by the laughter and smiles.

His aunt, picking up on his lighter mood, raised her glass. "To Zhu, the most mysteriously average nephew in the world. May your powers of invisibility always keep you out of trouble."

Zhu raised his glass in response. "And to my aunt, the Wonder Woman of nursing. May your lasso of truth always keep your patients in line."

They clinked glasses, the sound echoing in the kitchen like a symbol of their renewed bond. For a moment, Zhu allowed himself to forget the daunting task that lay ahead. He was just a nephew, sharing a laugh with his aunt, two unlikely people enjoying an ordinary night.

But as the clock ticked closer to 3 AM, Zhu knew that his moment of normalcy was coming to an end. Soon, he would step into a world beyond imagination, leaving behind the simple comforts of a family dinner. Yet, for now, he relished the laughter, the jokes, and the warmth of a shared meal, a brief respite before his life changed forever.

....

At precisely 3 AM, Zhu sat alone in his room, the weight of the impending moment pressing heavily upon him. The silence around him was palpable, thick with anticipation. He had prepared himself as best as he could, mentally bracing for the unknown journey ahead.

Suddenly, the air in his room began to shimmer, and a portal materialized before him. It was a swirling vortex of blood red, pulsating with a strange, otherworldly energy.

Beyond the swirling red of the portal, he could see glimpses of a beautiful meadow. It was a stark contrast to the ominous entrance that had opened in his room. The meadow was bathed in the soft light of an unseen sun, the wheat fields swaying gently in a serene dance.

Zhu took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions - fear of what lay ahead, sadness for leaving the only world he knew, and a faint glimmer of hope for what he might achieve.

He thought of his brother, Lao, and the family he had lost. This was for them, a chance to right the wrongs of the past, to bring back what had been so cruelly taken from him. It was this thought that gave him the courage to move forward.

With one last look around his room, a silent goodbye to his old life, Zhu stepped forward. He closed his eyes and leaped into the portal. The sensation was disorienting; for a moment, he felt as if he were both falling and floating, the boundaries of reality blurred.