2 Never cross the circle.
Lukasz Mariek nervously paced around his laboratory; his gaze would continuously wander to the chalk circle he had drawn in the middle of the room.
The dust, raised by his pacing, danced softly in the bridge of sunlight penetrating the old blinders on the window. A weak gas lamp illuminated the rest of the room.
A fume hood descended from the roof on the other side of the room above a lab table cluttered with alembics and ampoules. Mysterious powders and swirling liquids that would capture anyone's attention rested in the various containers.
Mariek took a breath, focused, and headed to the circle before backing off. This little act had been going on for the past 20 minutes, with nervous glances and sighs breaking the monotony.
Tired of his indecision, he sat down at an old mahogany desk and started flipping through the pages of a leather-bound tome. Black ink seemed to wriggle and shift on the slightly yellowed pages, forming into words and diagrams.
The book, as if self-aware, felt his owner's doubts and decided to lend a hand. As if alive, the ink started moving and assembled into a circle identical to the one on the floor. After a moment, some segments on the formation turned red and moved slightly.
The young Lukasz quickly went to work and fixed the circle as the book had shown him. When he asked the book for a second confirmation, the ink turned a soft green.
"Thank you, master." He said and gently closed the book.
Then, reassured, he moved to the circle and cut his finger with a silver knife. A few drops of blood immediately escaped their fleshy prison and dropped right in the middle of the pentagram.
Quickly the blood seeped in and mixed with the chalk. A moment later, a bright light appeared from the center and spread to the ancient symbols, the pentagram, and finally, the encompassing circle.
With a final flash of light that blinded him, an amorphous body of red light emerged and slowly shaped up into a man's figure. When the light finally subsided, Mariek saw a naked man covered in sand lying weakly on the floor.
His lips moved weakly, mouthing the word for water, however, no sound escaped his cracked lips.
Astounded by a scene outside of his imagination Mariek stared at the pitiful figure of the demon he had tried summoning and questioningly looked at the tome. Not receiving any answer, he looked back at the circle.
'Maybe my offering wasn't up to par or my formation too amateurish.' he wondered.
He approached the circle, being careful not to cross the line, and spoke with his best impression of authority.
"D-demon from hell! I-I, the great and powerful sorcerer SkullDagger have summoned you to serve my infernal legion!" He spoke with only a slight hesitation and a cracking voice. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment, but he knew it was essential to give a powerful impression to convince a demon to sign a servitude contract.
The 'demon', apparently unimpressed by the grand declaration, ignored him and remained immobile.
Slightly abashed, Lukasz threw the half-dead man a last look and left the room. He came back a few minutes later with a jug of water and approached the formation.
"Promise to serve me loyally, and I'll give water to quench your thirst!" He offered solemnly, then his facade cracked when ignored for a second time.
"Oh, for fuck sake."
Flustered by the unresponsive nature of this pathetic summon, Mariek decided to wake him up a little before continuing the negotiation.
Lukasz warily looked at the collapsed man, and slowly he moved the jug over the formation and poured a small stream of water on the man's face and mouth. He was ready to move back at any suspicious movement.
As he was about to retract the jug, he saw the man's lips curl upwards in a smile, and his arm shot up, clamping down on Mariek's wrist. That's when he realized.
He fucked up.
---------------
Robert's plan was simple. Pretend to be too weak to do anything and wait until a summoner lowered their guards. What came next would depend on Robert, the master of improvisation.
The first attempt ended badly. Seeing what a waste of space Robert was, an old witch didn't even bother communicating and beheaded him with a twitch of her index finger.
The second time almost worked. Robert had grabbed a distracted apprentice's leg and pulled him in. However, the boy's master had turned Robert into ashes before he could do anything more.
This time was the one. Robert could feel it. His act was perfect, notably because it wasn't just an act. It had been over two days since he had drank anything, and between crying and screaming, his throat was seriously parched.
The target was a lone, nervous-looking teenager.
'Jackpot!' Robert maliciously thought.
When he saw the boy lean forward and carefully pour water into his mouth Robert immediately shot to action.
His right arm snaked forward and bit on Lukasz's wrist. Then he pulled back with all of his body. He pushed his legs against the invisible barrier to produce further thrust.
The poor mage, taken by surprise, fell on top of him. Then, as he felt his body tight against his, Robert's head lunged forward and sank his teeth into the target's neck.
Blood seeped from the bite into Robert's mouth with a strong iron taste. After days of thirst, the warm blood on his tongue tasted heavenly.
Screams of pain and shock filled the previously silent room. The small trickle of blood awakened a primordial desire for violence in Robert's head, and he bit down harder.
He had aimed for the jugular, but the expected fountain of blood didn't come, so he proceeded to plan B. He flipped their positions, mounting the kid.
Plan A was quickly killing him. A lacerated jugular would cause death in less than twenty seconds.
The old witch only needed a flick to kill Robert. So to avoid making the same end, he immobilized both of his hands against the floor. To stop him from uttering any spells, he quickly headbutted his face three times, in quick succession.
"Just!" *Thump* "Fucking!" *Thum* "DIE!" *Thump*
The first headbutt broke his nose, the second knocked a few teeth loose, and the third right on the forehead knocked him up cold.
Robert looked down at the bloodied pulp of a mage. Tiny bubbles made their way through the blood overflowing from his mouth.
Without saying anything else, he grabbed the mage by the hair and used his head like a sponge to erase the magical barrier. The fresh blood easily washed the chalk.
He took a tentative step on the soon-to-be-corpse and used him as a bridge to walk out. The accursed feeling of being blocked by something invisible didn't materialize.
And finally, for the first time since he died, Robert was free.
He broke out in a burst of mad laughter and filled his lungs with the dusty air of the room. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth tasted sweet, like the freedom he had finally achieved.
He only stopped when the body under his feet moaned in pain and shook. Filled with gratitude and compassion, Robert grabbed a heavy tome from a nearby desk and, wearing a pious smile bowed to the mage.
"Thank you for this gift. I'll take you out of your misery now." and then decisively smacked the tome down on the mage's head. Mariek's body jerked in pain, but Robert wasn't done.
He repeatedly brought down the book on his defenseless victim and didn't stop until he flattened the mage's head to the floor.
Wiping some sweat from his forehead, Robert looked at the flattened melon of the mage and smiled, appreciating a job well done. A part of him, a part he thought dead during the academy demonstration of offensive magic, cried in horror at what he had done.
However, the feeling didn't last long. Formidable energy filled Robert's chest, concentrating around the area of the third chest rib. As if injected with adrenaline, his body demanded more action and to exhaust all this power.
Another phenomenon attracted his attention. On top of his scalp, two lumps began growing under the hair, it itched a little and felt hard against his hand but nothing else.
"I truly am becoming a demon, like in the bible. If next, I turn red like a lobster, I swear I'll take revenge for my homochromatic crustacean friends, and start poking people around with a big fork," He said with a serious face, and then clapped his hands as if he had taken a big decision.
Turning his attention to the bloodstained book in his hands, Robert opened and saw page after page of arcane and illegible texts and diagrams.
He felt like throwing away the mysterious book until he stumbled upon a diagram he knew very well; the summoning circle that trapped him, time after time.
Realizing the value of the book, he kept flipping the pages hoping to find something understandable he could immediately put to use, and, when he reached the middle Robert witnessed something inexplicable.
Ink moving on the paper like fishes in the water. He felt the book observing him back. As if angered, the ink first turned red and then went back to black, before suddenly expanding and pouring out like a faucet.
Robert almost dropped the book right and then as the ink tried latching on him but slipped on his skin.
Comprehending that those weird pages were a defense mechanism of some kind that would destroy the content of the book he immediately ripped the two guilty pages, however, the ink didn't stop. Like a disease, all the soaked pages kept spreading.
Only when he ripped away half of the book's pages that the book was finally safe. He looked in regret at the black pages of forever lost knowledge and closed the book with a sigh.
He caressed its spine while reflecting. "I should stop. At least for now, I can't even read this mess without learning the language, if only I had a native..." his eyes moved to the corpse on the circle, and he sighed softly.
"It can't be helped, I guess." he gently walked to the window and observed the street below from the window. Carriages and steam powdered cars moved to and fro. People dressed in Victorian-style clothing walked around with a certain calm and grace, almost as if parading.
"Time to make some new friends." He said with a malevolous smile opening.
