He appeared before me—a ray of hope. Or rather, a being of chaos impersonating hope. But before his appearance, a story needs to be told. For that, the clock rewinds to yesterday.

It was a day like any other. In the courtyard of the Royal Palace, I stood face-to-face with him—my father, Judge Borneheimer. He stood idle, with his gaze fixed on me, and the tip of his sword pointed diagonally to the concrete. He held the grip of the longsword in such a gentle manner that a woman would become jealous just watching. His mannequin stance left no weak spots to exploit—it was a perfect defence.

On the other hand, I stood with a stance full of holes. My form was rough to look at, like a paraplegic attempting to climb onto a wheelchair. With the blade stretching past my head, and the grip, held with both hands, seated behind my ear, I pointed the tip of my sword to Father.

A small gust of wind signalled the start of a fierce clash of metal on metal. In an instant, I leapt forward to close the distance between Father and me; however, I soon regretted that decision as I was laid out with my sword swinging in the sky and landing with a ‘Klang’ a distance from me. With Father’s sword pointed inches away from my face, I raised my hands in surrender, “I–I give up.”

“Niklaus,” he said in his commanding voice, “your form was weak. Your blade was weak. Nothing about today’s performance was worthy of praise. If I were your enemy, you’d be dead in a mere second. Have you anything to say to that?”

As I helped myself up, I stared at the ground, afraid of his gaze, and said, “No, I… I have nothing to say.”

“Is that so?” he asked, lowering his voice further. “It will be a while before I abdicate my throne to you, so do put in enough work not to embrace our royal lineage.”

“Yes, Father.”

Father was always hard on me. All this time, I thought it was because he wanted me to become the best version of me that I could become. However, I was sorely mistaken.

When we heard someone say, “Brother,” Father stopped his lecture. This person is my little sister, Louisa Borneheimer. She is like a doll, not only because of her small stature but also because of her dress choice. Covering her beautiful golden hair, a wine-purple-coloured sun hat that matches her angel-white dress. “Here,” she said, handing me the cloth she brought, “use this to wipe off the sweat.”

“Thanks, Louisa,” I said, grabbing the cloth. I used my other hand to pat her on the head. Her porcelain cheeks glowed a bright rose hue as she blushed from the pat. As always, my little sister is an unparalleled beauty, I thought as I continued to pat her head. I glanced over to Father who had his head in the clouds. His empty gaze and pursed lips concerned me. “Father, is something the matter?”

“Hmm?” he responded, dazed. His gaze finally noticed me, and he said, “Oh no. Nothing is wrong.”

I could always tell when Father was lying. He often attempts to cover up the amount of pressure he’s under, but not very well. As King of the Borneheimer Kingdom, Father has many responsibilities—training me is a bonus I receive as his son. He said that he could not trust any second-rate swords master with my training and started my training regime. However, ever since then, I have seen less of Father outside of training. I wonder how Louisa feels about this. She’s seeing him less and less.

I did not pester Father on the topic any further, and he left soon after. Time passed and night arrived. I lay on my bed, and the summer night breeze seeped through the open window, gently spreading the drapes apart like an earthquake does to land and creep up to my bedside. That breeze hit my sweating body like a refreshing wave. “Ah…” I said, relieved, “This must be what heaven feels like.” I turned to the open window, looking at the full moon. “Father… just what is it that plagues your mind?”

Just as the words left my mouth, a knock hit my door, followed by the words, “Niklaus, it’s your father. Stand up and follow me.”

“Yes, Father,” I said, hoisting myself from the comfort of my bed. Father’s orders are absolute. No matter what I may be doing, if Father orders it, then I must follow. That is the way things work in the Borneheimer Kingdom.

I opened the door, and Father stood there, patiently waiting. “What took you so long? Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

He led me to the Palace courtyard without saying another word. He stopped, just before reaching the fountain in the centre of the courtyard. “Niklaus, you know about the three categories of magic, yes? Inherited Magic—magic you inherit from your family line. Acquired Magic—magic acquired in your lifetime. Gifted Magic—the magic you are born with but did not inherit from your family. Niklaus, what is the Borneheimer family’s Inherited Magic?”

“It’s Summoning Magic.”

“Correct. Our family has birthed a long line of Summoners and Monster Tamers. It’s our speciality.” He pointed his calloused palm in my direction and chanted, “Heed my call: Devourer of souls. King of the East.” He grabbed a dagger from his waist and sliced the skin on his raised hand. Blood dripped from his hand and fell to the ground. Then, as the blood dropped on the ground, a magic sigil appeared below him. The crimson circle released bolts of lightning around Father, and a vicious wind swooped around the courtyard like a tornado. Father continued his chant, “Quake the ground below,” he said, and the earth below our feet trembled, “and break free from your seal. Amaymon!!”

The trembling ground steadied. The howling wind calmed. And the roaring thunder reached tranquillity. Then, when all seemed quiet, the ground suddenly split apart. From the split in the ground, a hand reached out. My legs trembled in terror.

This presence…? Just what is it that Father summoned? I thought to myself as the creature crawled from the split in the ground, slowly revealing itself to be a humanoid creature. His hair was a dazzling silver-grey, like the hair of an old man, and his stature mirrors Father’s. The only contrasting characteristics that separated him from Father were the black horns that grew from his temples and those crimson eyes that peered into my soul. These are characteristics of…

“… Demons,” I muttered.

The demon glanced at me, and said, “So, you must be Judge’s son.” He got close and scanned me from top to bottom, pursed his lips and raised his index finger and thumb to his chin in a checkmark. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed,” he said, with a frown agreeing to his remark.

“He will surprise you, Amaymon,” said Father.

“Surprise me?” He looked at my trembling legs. “Yeah,” he snickered, “I’m so surprised.”

Father looked at me, a tinge of disappointment filled his eyes. “Come, this is not our only stop.”

Father and Amaymon walked ahead. My legs were still trembling. I tried moving them, but they refused my command. He is terrifying, was the thought running through my mind. The aura surrounding that demon was nothing to scoff at. I’ve never felt such a dangerous presence before. Father looked back, stared at me for a few seconds, and turned his back on me. Without saying a word, I could understand what he was thinking. “If this is your limit, then you will never have the throne, huh?”

Father’s disappointed look was the last thing I wanted to see. However, that same look I was avoiding was the force that gave me courage. I willed my legs to cooperate. Despite trembling like I was walking on stilts, I continued moving them forward, following after Father and Amaymon. Father took us into a basement below the castle. Obsidian cobbled the walls of the basement. “I didn’t know this basement existed.”

“This basement is a secret to everyone but the ruling king and his successor. Niklaus, you being here means that I believe you can rule after I abdicate the throne.”

Those were the first words of praise Father directly offered to me. I felt warm inside. A warmth I’ve never felt before. But I couldn’t savour that warmth. Father and Amaymon continued towards a door, leaving me behind. I ran after them and when I caught up, I felt chills run down my spine. Father opened the door and walked inside. Amaymon follows, and I mimic him. Behind the door was a spacious area—something reminiscent of the Demon King’s lair in storybooks I often read to Louisa. There were rows of pillars supporting the entire structure from collapsing in on itself. In the centre of that room, a cabal of magicians were reciting in a language I never heard before.

“Is it prepared?”

One magician in the cabal, the oldest-looking one with a mighty grey beard stretching down to his chest, turned to Father, and said, “Yes, my lord. We have prepared a wonderful magic circle.”

“Good.” Father turned to me and said, “Now, Niklaus, I want you to follow my instructions down to the last letter, do you understand?”

I didn’t, but still nodded my head. My gut was screaming. Of course, I did not listen to it at that moment. I only wanted Father’s approval and did not care for any other emotion I was feeling. But the ‘me’ seeking Father’s approval at that moment would find only disappointment.

“Wonderful,” he said, with a rare smile gracing his face. He took the dagger he used to slice his hand earlier, and continued, “I want you to take this dagger and cut your hand like I did. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good. Now, once you do that, the magic circle will light up, then…”

Father gave me a detailed explanation of the process I needed to follow. Though I didn’t catch everything, I retained enough information to know that I would be performing my first summoning spell. After Father finished explaining the procedure, he sent me to stand before the magic circle. I walked slowly, looking back every five seconds. When I got to the circle, I did as Father instructed. Cut my hand. Dropped the blood into the magic circle. And poured mana into it. The grey sigil became violet-red after I added mana to it. Then it shifted to a beautiful golden colour, like the hair of our royals. A wave of mana burst from the magic circle. It differed from when Father did his summoning. That aura was gentle, with a hint of menace to it. I turned to face Father. My concerned look could have been picked out as the oddball in the room filled with expressions of awe and excitement from Father and the magicians.

“Look before you, boy!! Here it comes!!” screamed Father.

I turned back to the magic circle. From it appeared a young, cyan-haired boy. He looked like he was my age. There were no external features that revealed his race. It was as though I summoned a human, which would be impossible. A summoning spell can only bring beings from another realm. Then, what exactly is this boy?

I stood in awe of this mysterious creature and completely drowned out the surrounding sound. But Father’s voice finally got through to me. “…Niklaus!! You bastard!! Listen!!”

“Ah,” I said, snapping out of my moment of reverence.

“Do the chant I taught you!! That is a dragon you reeled in. And judging from its magical presence and ability to maintain its humanoid form, it’s a powerful one.”

“Powerful indeed,” said Amaymon, licking his lips, “And, oh so innocent.”

One mage in the cabal screamed. Father shot him a glared. “It’s disappearing!! The magic circle…!!”

Another mage attempted to reinforce the summoning circle; however, his sigil bulged and imploded, burning him and a few others. “Idiots!!” screamed the older magician. “Do not attempt to reinforce the circle. The pulses of mana that the dragon is emitting are of a higher frequency than anything you all can produce. You will only kill yourselves.” The mages backed away in fear of the boy’s intimidating mana. The only ones unfazed were Father, Amaymon, and me.

“Now, Niklaus!! Do it now!! If you don’t, the dragon will go berserk!!”

I turned to the boy again. Berserk? Him? He looks harmless. How could he ever become something barbaric?

I raised my hand. “Yes!! Do it!! Niklaus!!” The boy in question looked around, confused. His eyes met mine. Those sky-blue pearls peered into my soul. My hand shook in fear of subduing him.

“I… I can’t… I… can’t do this… Father.”

“What!? What are you saying, boy?! It’s right in front of your eyes!! Just make it submit to you!!”

‘Make it submit,’ he said, but I can’t force an innocent being to do my bidding. It goes against everything I stand for. But I can’t disobey Father. What am I going to do?

“Don’t do this, Brother!!”

“This voice?” I turned to look at the entrance of the basement, shocked at hearing her voice here. “Louisa!? Get away from here!!”

“Louisa?” said Father, turning to the entrance as well. He glared at her, then snapped his fingers. “Get her, Amaymon. She cannot leave here alive.”

“What!!”

“Aye sir,” said Amaymon.

“LOUISA!! RUN!!”

“Brother!!”

The cavity underground started to cave. A pile of rocks fell, masking the entrance. Amaymon clicked his tongue, saying, “You still want me to chase after her?”

“Yes. If she calls anyone… Kill them along with her.”

“Yes, sir.”

Amaymon disappeared.

“Father!! Are you insane!? Louisa is your daughter!!”

“So, what? I only require a son. Anything else is an unnecessary product of lust.”

“What did you say!?”

“Don’t be another failure, Niklaus. Listen to what I say. If not, then I will subdue this creature myself.”

I turned to the boy again. His confused look was the only relatable feeling I shared. Just what is going on? Why is Father acting like this? What should I do? All those thoughts occupied my mind. I closed my eyes and grabbed my head, “I… don’t know what to do!!” I screamed. I opened my eyes and looked down at the boy. What should I do? What should I do? If I don’t do anything, then Father will enslave you. I need to…

In my moment of concern, I could feel the clouds in my head disperse. I gave the boy a bright smile and said, “I don’t know if you understand me, but I will solve all of this. I will bring you back to your realm. You do not need to look concerned.”

“NIKLAUS!!” screamed Father, running to me. “When I get my hands on you, I will kill you!!”

This is it. This is the end. If I cannot find a way to help this boy, then we are both doomed. Just then, I felt a tug on my clothes. I looked down at the boy, and an idea sparked in my mind. “That’s it!! If you help me, then we can escape together.”

“Prepare yourself, boy!!” screamed Father, inching ever closer.

“Oh, no!!”

He’s too close to fire off a spell. What am I…?

In my moment of doubt, the boy stood up. He stepped in front of me, looking completely different from what he did seconds ago. His eyes became crimson, his hair white, and his aura a deep, matt black. Father, who had been running, paused and leapt backwards. Amaymon appeared next to him—whispering something to him. They chanted a spell. But so did the boy, “Spatial Magic,” he said, “Menshidi nalsioft.”

He spoke in a language unknown to me. It differed from the cabals’ chant. My vision filled with darkness blacker than a moonless night. And I blanked out.