1 - The Ritual / Summoning

"Hm? What's all this commotion?" an old man grumbled as he sat in his rickety chair, soaking up the warm sun. He leaned on his cane, squinting at the chaos unfolding in the streets. "Everyone's running around like chickens with their heads cut off."

The streets were in pandemonium. Crowds surged through alleys and main roads, people screaming as they fled the city. Cars careened recklessly, horns blaring, and soon the cause of the chaos emerged. Demons. Hulking, grotesque creatures materialized, wreaking havoc on everything in sight. They tore through buildings, flipped cars, and smashed houses. Some grouped together, roaring as they carved a path of destruction through the city.

The old man watched the mayhem unfold. He sighed, pushing himself to his feet with an audible groan. As his mana began to radiate from him in shimmering waves, his grip tightened on his cane. "Damn it all," he muttered, cracking his stiff back. "I'm too old for this bullshit."

In an instant, his cane shifted, the wood splintering and reshaping into a massive axe. Without hesitation, he leapt into the fray, a blur of speed and deadly precision. One by one, the demons fell, the old man cutting through them with an ease that belied his age.

Far from the battlefield, in the depths of a dimly lit temple, a hooded figure in a crimson robe barked orders to a group of robed followers. "Set the candles! We only have one chance to stop this city from falling into ruin. Do it right, or we're all dead!"

Sixteen figures encircled a massive stone table, upon which rested an ancient coffin etched with glowing runes. They moved swiftly, arranging the ritual elements with trembling hands.

"Begin!"

The group began chanting, their voices weaving a forbidden spell long banished for its uncontrollable power—a spell of resurrection. As their voices rose in unison, the coffin began to glow with an eerie green and red light. The energy built rapidly until a piercing beam shot skyward, illuminating the entire world in its unnatural brilliance.

Far away, those who witnessed the light reacted in awe and fear.

"What the hell is that?" someone muttered, capturing the phenomenon on their phone and immediately uploading it. Videos of the light spread like wildfire, while demons who glimpsed the beam froze in terror.

The old man paused mid-swing, wiping blood off his axe with a wry grin. "Well, I'll be damned. Whatever that is, it's scaring the hell outta these beasts. Works for me!" He chuckled, taking advantage of the distraction to finish off another group of demons.

Back in the temple, the chant reached its climax. After several agonizing minutes, the light dimmed, and silence fell over the room. Slowly, the coffin creaked open. A girl emerged, her hair a deep, unnatural purple that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Her eyes, a haunting blend of purple, green, and grey, scanned the room with a quiet intensity.

A follower hurriedly draped a black robe over her shoulders, and she exhaled slowly as if coming to terms with her surroundings.

The silence was broken by a deep rumble, followed by the sound of splintering wood. "My barrier won't hold much longer!" one of the robed figures shouted. "Prepare yourselves!"

The doors burst open as a horde of over a hundred demons poured into the temple, their monstrous forms surging toward the group. The robed figures unleashed high-level spells—dark magic, lightning, and waves of fire—but the demons countered, a barrier forming to block the attacks.

"Damn it!" one of the robed men cursed, drawing his sword as the demons closed in.

The girl stood motionless, confusion flickering across her face. Then, slowly, she raised her hand, her palm facing the advancing horde. The faint rustle of her robe caught the group's attention, and they turned to see her step forward.

The demons froze, sensing a sudden shift in the air. A wave of oppressive mana radiated from her. Their eyes locked onto her, their feral growls turning to uneasy murmurs.

"Death."

The single word reverberated through the chamber, and with it came an explosion of dark energy. The wave of shadow tore through the horde, disintegrating every demon it touched in an instant.

As the last of the creatures fell, silence returned. The girl swayed, exhaustion overtaking her, and collapsed onto the stone table. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drifted into unconsciousness.

The crimson-robed figure stared in awe. "It… it worked," he whispered. A smile spread across his face, equal parts relief and fear. "The Holder of Principles has returned. Aria Noctis"

As Aria lay motionless on the cold stone table, the crimson-robed figure stood over her, his expression stern but filled with reverence. With a sharp, commanding tone, he ordered, "Bring her to the chamber we prepared for her years ago."

His followers nodded in solemn agreement, each one moving with practiced efficiency. They carefully lifted Aria's limp form from the table, ensuring not to disturb the delicate balance of her energy. Slowly, they made their way through the labyrinthine halls of the temple, descending several flights of stairs into the deep, shadowed depths beneath the earth. As they passed through layers of magical wards, each designed to suppress and limit any uncontrolled outbursts of power, the tension in the air grew palpable.

Upon reaching the seventh ward, the group passed through a set of ancient stone doors that groaned in protest. Beyond them lay the chamber, its walls etched with cryptic runes, symbols that had long since faded from most of the world's memory. In the center of the room stood a simple, yet meticulously prepared bed, surrounded by a scattering of runes designed to contain the immense energy that Aria carried. At the far corner, a small, secluded area served as a modest washroom, a wall erected for privacy. To the side of the room, a massive stone structure held a gleaming red gem, pulsing softly with an otherworldly glow.

The group gently placed Aria on the bed, covering her with a simple blanket. Their movements were deliberate and filled with a sense of urgency, but also reverence for the task at hand. Without another word, they exited the chamber, leaving her in silence.

Back in the main hall of the temple, the crimson-robed figure remained behind, his brow furrowed in concern as he began to reinforce the temple's protective wards. The air was thick with an ominous tension, as though the very earth beneath them anticipated an impending catastrophe.

"If we face another demon assault like the last…" The figure sighed, his voice heavy with the weight of their grim reality. "I'm not sure we'll survive it. But we've done all we can for this cursed world. It's up to them—those still left standing—to decide whether they will endure."

With a determined gesture, he applied a larger, radiant barrier imbued with holy magic around the smaller, more delicate wards. The glow illuminated his features as he muttered a quiet prayer, his heart heavy with the uncertainty of the coming days.

Several days passed, the temple's halls remaining still and quiet, save for the occasional faint hum of magic. Aria, finally awakening, opened her eyes to find herself in an unfamiliar place. The low light of the chamber filtered in, casting long shadows on the stone walls. Her eyes darted around, locking on the sixteen figures gathered around her.

"Where… am I?" Her voice was soft, fragile, as though she wasn't sure if the words were her own. She met the gaze of each person in turn, their expressions a mixture of hope, concern, and fear.

"You're in Stern," came a steady voice from the crowd. The crimson-robed figure—whom Aria now recognized—stepped forward, his gaze unwavering as he looked down at her. "The year is 3027. Seven years ago, a demon gate opened here. It's the same gate that opened during your time. You've been gone for a long time, Aria."

She blinked, confusion clouding her eyes. "I… I don't know what you mean. I don't remember anything." Her gaze shifted around the room, feeling the weight of their stares. Slowly, her eyes flickered, a faint green hue creeping into her irises, a sign of the latent power within her stirring.

"You can call me Red," the man continued. "Your name is Aria Noctis, yes?"

She nodded, a vague memory of her name resurfacing, like a distant echo.

"Good," Red continued, his voice soft but urgent. "This world is in dire need of your strength. Your help will be greatly appreciated." His tone shifted as he stepped closer, placing a hand gently upon her head. "For now, I'll use holy magic to help expedite your recovery."

As his magic poured into her, Aria felt a flood of memories surge within her mind. Images of the demon invasion, the devastation it caused, and the fractured state of the world all collided in an overwhelming rush. She saw glimpses of the guilds, the systems in place to protect the remnants of civilization, and the lingering battle for survival. Her body tensed as she struggled to process it all at once.

Minutes passed, though it felt like hours. The glow of Red's holy magic dimmed as the runes etched into the walls began to pulse, activating in response to his efforts. With a final exhale, the light faded, and Red pulled his hand back. He staggered slightly, breathing heavily from the exertion.

"W-will you help us, Aria?" he asked, his voice strained but hopeful.

Aria remained silent for a long moment, her eyes still cloudy as she processed everything she had just learned. The weight of it all felt unbearable.

Finally, she spoke, her voice calm but distant. "For now… I just want to rest." She lifted a hand, waving weakly at the group surrounding her. "Please… leave me be."

Red hesitated, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and concern, but he nodded slowly. "Of course." He turned to the others, giving them a quiet order to leave.

One by one, the figures filed out of the room, leaving Aria alone in the quiet chamber. As the door closed behind them, she laid down on the bed and started to think of everything before exhaling slowly and fell asleep again.