He knew his own situation well. Although he was still in his prime and could afford to be carefree, in ten years, he would inevitably decline. By then, it would be too late to find a way out. So, when he heard such news, he set his sights on Jem Woz, seizing an opportunity to recommend himself and demonstrate his skills, successfully gaining his trust.
In his view, he was a truly talented and outstanding individual. As long as he could reinvent himself under the protection of the Crown Prince and leverage the situation to clear his name, securing a noble title would be a sure thing. After all, the royal family had no reason to reject his allegiance, and with their power, clearing someone's name within their own domain would be effortless.
His plan was sound and realistic, without any unnecessary complications.
But the problem was, it seemed like things had gone awry now!
The Summoning Ritual, which had cost him dearly, showed no signs of activity. This was a disaster!!
He had never encountered a situation where magic failed.
'Didn't the Magical Tome state that the Summoning Ritual would almost never fail if performed step by step?'
Just as he was reciting the second incantation and starting to think about how to deceive the Crown Prince behind him, the Magic Circle began to emit a faint red light. An inexplicable sense of dread started to permeate the hearts of all nearby creatures. It was the instinctive reaction of living beings when faced with a higher-level predator.
Their genes were warning them that something extremely dangerous was about to emerge!
The animals around, with senses more acute than humans, began to panic.
Beasts that were peacefully sleeping woke up in terror, fleeing their dens without hesitation. Birds screeched and flew away, leaving trails of excrement in their wake. Even the usually incessant croaking of toads and insects fell silent.
"What is that…"
After exerting great effort to calm his warhorse, Duke looked at the increasingly intense glow from the Magic Circle in the distance and felt an unprecedented sense of fear. The hairs on his body stood on end.
The warhorse he rode had been meticulously trained since birth. Even on the battlefield, facing swords and spears, it would never retreat. It would dare to counterattack even against a lion's pounce. But now, without even seeing the opponent, it was on the verge of losing control, almost causing him to stumble. This was something he had never imagined.
The sporadic sounds of falling and exclamations continued to come from behind.
Looking back, he saw that out of the two hundred cavalrymen he had brought, only three or five horses were still barely standing. The others either refused to stand up no matter how much their owners tried to calm them or were frantically trying to flee, dragging their handlers along.
Ignoring the chaos around him, Crown Prince Jem Woz, though initially thrown off by his horse's sudden movements and nearly falling to the ground, quickly regained his composure thanks to years of knight training. He steadied himself without suffering any harm.
Strictly speaking, although he had never truly wielded a knight's sword in battle—having only executed a few prisoners at most—his skills ranked among the top three of all the knights present.
A testament to his noble lineage.
For centuries, the royal family has only married the most powerful knights or the most beautiful and intelligent individuals. Through generations of optimization, they have virtually eliminated any instances of dullness.
Coupled with the best martial arts instructors and the finest cultivation resources, they could practically force their way into producing a strong individual.
Under such conditions, if Jem.Woz were not a prince, burdened with the necessity to waste a significant amount of time on matters such as literature, management, and etiquette, his strength would undoubtedly be far greater than it is now, reaching levels unimaginable to others.
Glancing at Duke, who looked troubled as he approached to report the damages from the disturbance, Jem listened without showing anger or displeasure. Instead, he nodded calmly and pointed towards the increasingly radiant red light of the Magic Circle in the distance, asking:
"What kind of Demonic Creature do you think that is?"
Uncertain of his superior's thoughts, Duke hesitated before replying, "I'm not sure, Your Highness. I have personally slain many Demonic Creatures, but none have ever exuded such an aura..."
"I do know a bit about this. The ancient texts in the royal collection describe a similar phenomenon. They call it Abyss Summoning, specifically used to summon Demons."
"Demons!" Upon hearing Prince Jem's words, Duke was instantly horrified, as if he had seen a ghost.
Although the concepts of Demonic Creatures and Demons are often conflated, from a more professional standpoint, they represent two entirely different entities. Any creature capable of using magic can be called a Demonic Creature, but Demons are entirely different...
According to the church's scriptures, those beings exist solely to destroy everything. Once they appear, they indiscriminately incite slaughter and destruction.
[Malice is their nature, brutality their instinct. There is no possibility of compromise, nor of coexistence. They are the enemies of all life, the harbingers of death and destruction. Killing is their favorite pastime, fear their most beloved sustenance. They will burn the world to ashes, obliterating everything in their path!]
Just thinking about the descriptions sent chills down Duke's spine. He couldn't imagine what kind of creature that would be, but he knew it wouldn't be anything friendly to humanity. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face...
Observing Duke's changing expressions, Jem seemed to understand something and shook his head. "Put those thoughts aside. The royal texts record that once the Magic Circle lights up, it signifies that the summoning has truly begun, and a Demon from another world has responded to the call.
In such a situation, even killing the summoner cannot interrupt the process. Moreover, with the summoner's death, there would be no one left to command the Demon, leading to complete chaos and greater trouble."
Hearing Prince Jem's explanation, Duke, who had secretly resolved to defy orders and kill Sartre before the Demon could be summoned, felt like a deflated balloon and could only reluctantly abandon his plan.
To be honest, if Jem.Woz had known that Sartre's so-called plan to summon a powerful Demonic Creature from another world to turn the tables involved a Demon, he would never have gotten involved. Demons are simply too unreliable, with a high risk of losing control.
However, he wasn't overly nervous either. He knew that the Demon's arrival would be temporary. Sartre's abilities were far from sufficient to summon a Demon permanently, let alone a particularly powerful one.
Throughout history, the instigators of Demon-related disasters had always been superpowered individuals—those capable of destroying entire kingdoms single-handedly. As far as Jem knew, no such figure had emerged in over three hundred years. Moreover, the sacrifices required to summon a powerful Demon were far beyond what a few dozen prisoners could provide. Therefore, Sartre's limited capabilities were nowhere near enough to trigger a major catastrophe.
With this knowledge, Jem believed that while the current situation was somewhat unexpected and not ideal, there was no need to panic. After all, a temporary Demon, as long as it remained under control, could still be a decent enforcer.
But he soon regretted this line of thinking. He had underestimated—or perhaps overestimated—Sartre...
As Sartre chanted the incantation for the second time, the Magic Circle began to react, and he became even more fervent, chanting with renewed vigor.
The cultists nearby, witnessing this "miracle," grew increasingly excited, chanting even more fervently than Sartre himself.
As if responding to their urgency, excitement, and anticipation, a burst of flame suddenly appeared within the Magic Circle. It burned on the ground without consuming anything, gradually spreading into a ring. When the ring fully formed, a towering flame arch, four meters high, materialized above it.
Sartre couldn't see what lay beyond the arch, but he could vaguely sense an immensely powerful presence approaching.
In the next moment, as flames in the square surged over ten meters high, a figure emerged outside the flame arch.
The moment this figure appeared, an overwhelming stench of blood filled the air, making the scent of the dozens of corpses in the square seem like air freshener in comparison.
Sartre, Duke, Jem, and everyone else present felt their hearts skip a beat, overwhelmed by an inescapable sense of immense danger.
In that instant, Sartre regretted his actions. He felt he should never have come to the Duchy of Malton.
When Olthagia descended, Sartre realized something brutally clear.
The creature before him was nothing like the summon described in the Magical Tomes, and the control he was supposed to have over it was completely absent.
This meant he had no ability to control the being now standing before him...
When Olthagia opened his eyes and lowered his gaze to look at him, Sartre felt an unprecedented fear from the presence before him. Those cold eyes, tinged with a hint of madness, made him feel like a small rabbit being watched by a lion. His heart began to beat wildly, completely out of control, and even his mind seemed to be dominated by fear, almost unable to function.
Although Olthagia was not his true self at the moment, merely a projection with no real power, as long as he didn't act, his aura and pressure were no different from his true form. This was something no ordinary human could withstand.
Ignoring the terrified insect before him, Olthagia first observed his surroundings.
Good, there were no mages wielding tools, nor any priests ready to throw holy water at him.
No traitors in sight!
A proper summoning!!!
But then he sensed something was off and looked around in confusion.
Apart from a few humans who clearly didn't look like good people, there were only some corpses lying around.
'Where are my offerings???'
'Surely it can't just be those corpses on the ground?'
After excluding his summoners, Olthagia stared at the few corpses, puzzled.
Although the offerings weren't the main purpose, they were still part of the harvest. How could they just disappear without a trace!
When he was summoned, he had sensed far more than this—at least thousands of humans.
A few dozen corpses of strong individuals might be acceptable, but with the quality of these corpses, how could they summon a [Low-Rank Demon] like him?
Not even a single soul?
With just these things, at most they could barely summon a [Lesser Demon] that had just entered the rank, and even then, one that wasn't doing particularly well among [Lesser Demons]!
But no matter how hard Olthagia looked, he couldn't find any offerings worthy of his status.
In his confusion, he thought of a possibility—a somewhat surprising possibility!
So he turned his gaze to the [Magic Circle] beneath his feet, deciphering the meaning of the runes one by one, and the result was exactly as he had expected.