Path to Power: Rise of Leo Vance

Chapter 3

The walk back to the apartment felt like a thousand miles. The cold rain soaked through Leo’s torn school uniform. Every step sent a sharp, burning pain up his leg and into his broken ribs. 

Inside the teenager’s mind, the ancient soul of Lord Zayin worked hard just to keep the body moving. “This vessel is incredibly weak,” Zayin thought as he forced his foot up the concrete steps of his building. “The heart beats too fast. The lungs are too small. But the willpower of this boy... it is surprisingly strong.” 

Leo reached the fourth floor of the rundown apartment building. The hallway smelled of old cabbage and wet carpet. A single flickering light bulb hung from the ceiling. 

At the end of the hall was Room 402. His home. 

Leo’s heart beat faster. The boy's memories flooded his mind again. He remembered Maya’s warm smile. He remembered how hard she worked to keep this tiny roof over their heads. If the Obsidian Cartel had hurt her, he would burn this entire city to the ground. 

Leo did not knock. He grabbed the doorknob, twisted it hard, and pushed his shoulder against the cheap wood. 

The door burst open, slamming against the inside wall with a loud BANG! 

Leo rushed inside, ready to fight. But he froze. 

The tiny, messy living room was perfectly quiet. Sitting on the worn-out, faded brown couch were two massive men. They did not look like the dirty street thugs from the alley. These men wore very expensive, dark gray tailored suits. Their shoes were polished black leather. They looked completely out of place in the poor, dingy apartment. 

The man on the left had a neatly trimmed beard. The man on the right wore dark sunglasses, even though it was night. Both of them were calmly holding Maya’s mismatched coffee mugs, sipping cheap herbal tea. 

"Ah, the man of the house has arrived," the bearded man said smoothly. He placed his mug on the wobbly coffee table. 

Leo’s eyes darted across the room. In the tiny kitchen space, backed against the counter, stood Maya. 

She was nineteen years old, wearing her blue diner uniform. She looked exhausted, her brown hair messy from a long day of work. But right now, her face was pale with absolute terror. Her hands were shaking violently as she held a small kitchen knife, pointing it toward the two men in suits. 

"Leo!" Maya cried out when she saw him. Her eyes went wide, seeing his wet, bloody clothes and his bruised face. "Oh my god, Leo! What did they do to you?!" 

She tried to run to him, but the man with the sunglasses simply raised a finger. 

A sudden, unnatural cold swept through the room. An invisible wall of heavy air pushed Maya back against the kitchen counter. The knife fell from her trembling hands, clattering onto the cheap linoleum floor. 

Magic,” Zayin realized, watching from behind Leo's eyes. “They are using a basic kinetic barrier.”

"Stay exactly where you are, little bird," the bearded man said to Maya. He didn't even look at her. He kept his eyes on Leo. "Your brother looks like he had a rough night with Briggs. But that doesn't matter. We are not here to break bones. We are 'Collectors'."

The man reached inside his expensive suit jacket. He pulled out a thick piece of rolled parchment and placed it on the coffee table. 

As soon as the paper touched the wood, it began to glow. A sickening, dark red light pulsed from the paper like a beating heart. Strange, twisted symbols moved across the page, as if they were alive. The smell of rotting meat and burning sulfur filled the tiny apartment. 

Maya covered her mouth, her eyes full of tears. She was terrified of the glowing paper. In this world, magic was a secret kept hidden from the common people, but everyone in the slums knew rumors about the Cartel’s dark powers. 

"This is a Blood Contract," the bearded Collector explained in a cold, professional voice. "Your dead father owed the Obsidian Cartel fifty thousand dollars. The deadline is midnight tonight. If you do not have the money in cash, the magic on this paper will activate."

"We don't have that kind of money!" Maya cried, her voice cracking. "We barely have enough for groceries! Please, just give us more time!"

"Time is expensive," the man in sunglasses said smoothly. "If you cannot pay the money, the contract will take something of equal value. It will take your soul, Maya Vance. You will be bound to the Cartel forever. You will follow our every command, or you will suffer pain beyond your worst nightmares. Sign it in blood, or we will force your hand."

Maya sobbed, shaking her head. She looked at Leo, her eyes full of despair. She was trapped.

Leo took a slow, deep breath. The fear in the boy's memories wanted to take over, but the Supreme Archon pushed it down. Calmly, steadily, Leo stepped forward. 

He walked past Maya, putting his small, beaten body between his sister and the two massive men. 

"Leo, no," Maya whispered behind him. "Get back."

Leo ignored her. He looked down at the glowing red contract on the table, and then he looked up at the two Collectors. 

"Fifty thousand dollars," Leo said. His voice was quiet, but it did not shake. "For a soul? Your masters are cheap."

The bearded Collector blinked, surprised by the boy's tone. Then, he laughed loudly. It was a cruel, mocking sound. 

"Look at this tough guy," the bearded man chuckled, looking at his partner. "Briggs kicked him so hard his brain is bleeding. The kid can barely stand up, and he wants to act like a hero."

The man in sunglasses did not laugh. He stood up slowly from the couch. He towered over Leo, easily a foot taller and twice as wide. 

"You should have stayed in the alley and died quietly, boy," the man in sunglasses sneered. "Now, I am going to teach you how to respect your betters."

The man raised his hands, his fingers twisting into a strange claw shape. He began to whisper a fast, dark incantation. 

Instantly, the single light bulb in the hallway shattered. The lamps in the living room flickered and died. The apartment was plunged into deep shadows, lit only by the dark red glow of the contract. 

Then, the shadows began to move. 

Darkness stretched out from the Collector's feet like thick, oily snakes. The shadows crawled up the walls, growing into terrifying, monstrous faces. They opened their silent mouths, screaming without sound. The room dropped to a freezing temperature. Ghostly whispers filled the air, repeating words of failure, death, and endless pain. 

It was a Fear Hex. It was designed to attack a mortal’s mind, forcing them to see their worst nightmares until they went completely insane or died of a heart attack.