The Summoning of the Lost [Chapter 12]

"Here, drink this water."

I extended the glass toward her, but as she grasped it, the look on her face shifted to one of disbelief. A flicker of recognition swept across her features. She glanced at her attire—intact, unsettled but safe. Then, without hesitation, she darted toward the cradle where her baby slept peacefully. Relief flooded her expression, but the sight of me in her home stirred a myriad of unanswered questions. With her heart still racing, a tempest of inquiries tumbled from her lips, even as tremors coursed through her frame and fear lingered in her eyes.

"Excuse me, Mr. Brave Sir, how did you find me here? And what happened to the goons?"

"Mr. Brave Sir?"

I chuckled softly to myself, a hint of amusement mixing with the gravity of the situation. "I'm Red, not some gallant knight. The leader of that trio guided me to your door and enlightened me about who you are, the town's turmoil, and what befell your attackers. One perished in the fray, and the other two lay unconscious."

In an unexpected gesture of vulnerability, she fell to her knees, clinging desperately to my leg, her eyes shimmering with tears. Yet, amidst her anguish, there was a resolute strength in her grip as she pleaded,

"Oh, hero, please—save this child and take her away from this town. This place is a wretched hell where no child should grow. I beg you, please safeguard her future."

"Lily, please, keep calm. Don't cry."

I gazed at Lily, her tears a testament to her selflessness. Even in the face of danger, her foremost concern was the safety of the child, not her own. It was a testament to the loyalty and courage that coursed through her veins, though I had already pledged to liberate this town from its shrouded darkness.

"Lily, do you believe in the goddesses whose statue stands proud in the dome?"

"Do I believe?" Her voice wavered just slightly before gaining strength. "Yes, I believe in the goddesses! Even though Stone's men insist there are no gods, I refuse to surrender to such despair."

Her not just loyalty, but a profound devotion to Alzeria, the goddess, spoke volumes about her character; I found myself deeply moved.

"Why do you ask, sir?"

"I am also a follower of your goddesses, dedicated to vanquishing the evils that plague this land, so that the names of the goddesses may thrive once more."

"Are you going to challenge Stone?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

My declaration hung in the air like a storm cloud, and Lily fell silent, her face a mirror of shock. I could scarcely blame her; challenging the most feared man in town was no trifling matter—I'd signed up for something that felt akin to madness.

"If this is your wish, sir, then I shall pray for you. I see the flames of determination in your eyes, the strength in your arms, and I implore you to free this town from that tyrant."

"Do you know where the guild master is buried?"

"Yes, but why do you ask?"

"Just take me there; I want to check something."

"Could we possibly go tomorrow? It's past midnight, and you must be exhausted from all that fighting."

"Yeah, that works."

Honestly, fatigue pressed upon me like a lead blanket, but sleep eluded me. The ugly history of this town clawed at my thoughts, reshaping my understanding of the task at hand. I had come here to summon the four dragons, but what I'd encountered was no mere game. The suffering etched upon the faces of the townsfolk told me they had endured enough. They were desperate either for death or for someone—a hero—to emerge and save them.

I am no hero; I can't wear that title. Yet, I possess strength—strength that is building into a resolve I could feel solidifying. I will change everything. Thank you, Lilly, for rekindling this purpose within me.

Lily stood before me, a woman who appeared to be in her forties—though the malnourishment etched her features with weariness. Her hair, white with the weight of hardship, and her gait unsteady due to lack of nourishment, painted a picture of someone exhausted by life's toll. But amid those wrinkles and fatigue, hope still shimmered in her eyes as she spoke, illuminating the darkness around us.

And as dawn broke, we made our way to the grave of the guild master.

"This is where we have buried the guild master and his wife,"

As I gazed at the weathered stone and the flowers wilting nearby, I pondered the legacy that lay beneath, a legacy intertwined with the hope of the town and its people. Tomorrow, the tides would turn.

A thick veil of uncertainty hung over the stillness of the evening as I prepared myself for a task that felt simultaneously overwhelming and exhilarating. The air crackled with anticipation as I addressed Lilly, who stood a few paces away, her expression reflecting a mix of skepticism and intrigue. 

"I cannot be certain if my abilities will prove effective on someone who has lain in the embrace of death for so many years but I am willing to attempt it. Lilly, I am about to summon a ghost in your tongue, so please—do your best not to scream or lose your composure."

Her reaction was immediate, her eyes widening in astonishment, while her mouth formed silent words of disbelief. 

"What are you going to do?"

With a deep breath, I steeled myself, attempting to focus amidst the whirlwind of her emotions. "My skill is to summon the deceased," I clarified, trying to maintain an air of confidence. "If you could kindly refrain from shouting or panicking, it would greatly assist me in concentrating."

"Okay, sir," she replied, though I noted the tremor in her voice and the way she instinctively retreated a good hundred meters away upon hearing the mention of the ghost. It was as if the very word had conjured a chill in her spine.

Focusing deeply on the energy coursing through me, I drew upon my most formidable skill,"Undead," I whispered, channeling the essence of the forbidden incantation. 

Inhaling steadily, I spoke with conviction, "Resurrect Guildmaster, I call upon you. Come forth from the realm of souls."

A circle began to take form around me, a semblance of ethereal energy vibrating with power. However, just as swiftly as it had appeared, it dissipated, failing to illuminate the night. 

"You are mistaken," a voice echoed, laden with a sense of judgment far beyond my realm. "SOUL IS REJECTING YOUR COMMAND."

I would be lying if I said this was the outcome I had anticipated. The unexpected rejection sent a pang of frustration through me, but I was unyielding in my resolve.

"I will summon you, Guildmaster. You have my word," I proclaimed, reasserting my concentration.

"Resurrect Guildmaster," I continued with a newfound fervor, "I, the ruler of the undead, summon you! Come!"

Once more, the circle began to take shape, a shimmer of hope igniting within me. Yet, it faded again like a flickering candle extinguished by the wind. 

"What a resilient soul,"

I mused, my thoughts racing to craft a strategy. My heart pounded in my chest, urgency and determination compounding within me.

"Resurrect Guildmaster, for your daughter's sake, come forth and serve me!" .

Suddenly, the air thickened as the circle glowed with a fierce intensity. This time, it stayed, its light swirling with vitality, and from its center emerged a luminous figure: a soul that shimmered with an aura of its own, patterns of light dancing across his form. He emanated strength, perhaps greater than my own, before elegantly sinking to his knees before me.

"Master," he intoned, his voice reverberating with an unfamiliar resonance, "how may I serve you?"