The Seven Demon's Tamer

A wide grin extended on Ryder's face as he walked forward.

He was invited a few days earlier—now it was his turn to begin the ritual.

The Ritual of Familiar. It was his turn to contract a familiar beast from the "Astral Shadow" plain.

As he stepped into the building, a sudden burst of wind swept across his face—the aura radiating from the conjuring room to its enclosure was simply overwhelming.

It wasn't comforting in any way; in fact, it felt like walking into a thunderstorm. The invisible energy prickled his skin, making his hair stand.

His lungs felt as if they were compressed with each breath, as if the very air had grown too dense to be inhaled.

Even despite the intensity of the aura, he still felt like his body was being drawn toward the direction of the conjuring room.

"Holy mother of..." Ryder murmured under his breath, trying to maintain his composure. The last thing he wanted was to look weak in front of anyone, especially given his expectations.

After eighteen years of dreaming about this moment, he'd sooner die than embarrass himself now.

This was planet Terra, the planet of summoners. For as long as history could remember, the occupants of this planet had always been known as marked humans, every one of them.

Although they aren't born as summoners, they become one after a certain period of maturation, when a mark appears on their left shoulder.

This period is not exactly fixed, but it occurs mostly at the beginning of adulthood for the humans on this planet, and in the worst-case scenario, it will take longer, but eventually, they receive the mark to become a summoner.

There hasn't been a case where a person who has aged up to fifty years did not receive an invitation to contract a familiar.

Ryder had been one of the lucky ones. His mark had appeared just after his eighteenth birthday, while he was in the shower.

The burning sensation had sent him tumbling out of the bathroom, naked and screaming—the pain was simply excruciating.

The story had circulated through the neighborhood faster than wildfire, earning Ryder the nickname "Streaking Summoner." Eventually, the nickname faded, and the annoying taunt was replaced by curiosity.

"What colour of mark did Ryder obtain?"

Ryder never exposed his mark colour to anyone for some strange reason, and even after the persuasion of so many people, he kept the mark undisclosed.

Eventually, everyone gave up and assumed he was probably a brown mark, or, best-case scenario, a red mark. If he had received a mark of great power, he would have been flaunting it and bragging, right?... Maybe.

Just like Ryder and every other person, they received an invitation from the Astral Shadow plain in various colours, indicating the strength of the inviter.

The invitation comes as a mark on their left shoulder. A colored mark appears on the shoulder of the invited human, and then they are meant to visit a place called the "Conjuring Room."

No matter what, they have no choice but to contract the beast that invited them.

The more time spent, the more uncomfortable the mark becomes for them until it eventually evolves into pain.

And Ryder could feel it now—the faint ache that had begun as just a minor irritation three days ago when his mark first appeared.

It now pulsed like a second heartbeat, giving nothing but discomfort down his entire left arm.

He'd tried everything to reduce the pain—ice packs, heat therapy, even homemade herbs he invented by himself. Nothing had worked. If anything, the pain had intensified with each passing hour, as if his unattended familiar was growing impatient with his delay for each passing second.

I was never told the mark was such a nightmare, Ryder said to himself.

Ryder remembered the day his father had sat him down to explain the marks. He'd been six years old, and a questionnaire for sure.

"Dad, why do you have that weird tattoo?" he had asked, pointing at the orange mark on his father's left shoulder.

His father had smiled gently, that patient smile that only parents seemed to possess. "It's not a tattoo, Ryder. It's a mark. One day, you'll have one too."

Ryder's eyes glinted with awe as he gasped excitedly. "Can I pick what color it is? I want blue!"

His father had laughed. "Blue isn't one of the options, son. And no, you don't get to choose. The mark chooses you."

"That's not fair," Ryder had pouted, crossing his hands against his chest.

"Life rarely is," his father had replied, ruffling his hair. "But without the mark, we wouldn't have Kero."

He'd pointed to the massive feline creature sitting in the corner of the room, its six eyes staring at Ryder lazily. His father's familiar, an orange mark beast with control over gravity, had been a constant presence in Ryder's childhood.

He'd grown up watching Kero perform impossible feats—lifting the heaviest objects with a flick of its tail, creating zero-gravity bubbles for Ryder to float in, and even more.

In the conjuring room, the ritual begins, and the soul of the marked human is transferred to the Astral Shadow plain for the contract.

"Keep moving," a voice urged from behind him, startling Ryder from his thoughts. He turned to see another candidate—a tall, slim girl with short black hair—glaring impatiently for him to continue.

The look in her eyes was a mixture of annoyance and nervousness. Right. He wasn't the only one going through this today.

When transferred into the Astral Shadow plain, a test is given to the initiate. A test that can come in any nature is given to the human, and when it is cleared, he receives a beast that is equivalent to the trouble of the test.

All this Ryder was aware of.

Well, "aware" might be stretching it. Ryder always attended the mandatory preparation classes, but he never really focused during the lessons, rather daydreaming about what his familiar might be.

He'd absorbed perhaps a quarter of the actual information—just enough to pass the final examination with a barely acceptable score.

His teacher, Dr. Hamm, a short old man with a walrus mustache and a brown-mark turtle familiar that trailed eternally behind him, had warned Ryder over and over again about his nonchalant attitude towards necessary lectures.

"The contraction process with a familiar from the Astral Shadow plain is not a game, Ryder," he'd said after catching him napping during a crucial lesson on survival techniques at some point in the past. "It's life or death, and all the confidence in the world won't save you if you have no clue how to counter the challenges of the Astral Shadow plain."

Why am I suddenly receiving all these flashbacks of my naughty self, Ryder scoffed.

The closer he got to the room, the more suffocating the feeling became. Ryder hadn't even gone through the conjuring room door yet, but was still trailing at the front of a line of soon-to-be summoners in the long hallway of the building.

All this energy was radiating from the rune of the conjuring room, the rune that is used for transporting souls into the Astral Shadow plain.

The rune of the Shadow; this is the common name for it.

Standing beside the purple glowing symbols on the platform in the conjuring room were two figures, dressed in black cloaks.

They stood absolutely still, like statues carved from stone. Their faces were hidden deep within their hoods, revealing nothing but the glint of their left eye.

Ryder had heard stories about these priests—the Keepers of the Gate, as they were formally known, or "Gloomy Guses" as the students called them in recent times.

"Are you Ryder Levi?" the calm, cold tone of one of the figures beside the door asked as Ryder finally got close enough.

"Yes, I am," replied Ryder, not knowing how they suddenly knew his name. There weren't any documents to fill before visiting the conjuring room, so he should have been nothing but a stranger.

They opened the door simultaneously and gestured for Ryder to get inside. Ryder obeyed, breaking off from the line he was in and into the room.

The short-haired girl who had been standing beside him all the while—Mara—sighed. She just wanted the whole thing to be over with real quick.

The room was completely empty, apart from some altars and pillars around. The main focus of the room was the platform in the middle where Ryder and the Gloomy Guses approached.

Gesturing at the platform simultaneously, both of the cloaked figures said, "Climb on the platform."

They instructed, and again, Ryder obeyed, not feeling the slightest bit of anxiety. Or at least, that's what he told himself as he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and stepped onto the raised circular platform.

The stone was cool beneath his feet, but seemed to warm a short while after he climbed onto it, nearly as if it were responding to his presence.

"Before we begin the ritual, we must brief you on all you need to know," one of the cloaked figures, in a black cloak with a red trim, started.

"This is the rune of Shadow; its history dates back to the Stone Age. When humans were still figuring out that round objects roll and pointy sticks hurt, this was already here, waiting for us to discover its potential."

"Our ancestors came into existence to see this rune in this spot during ancient times. Before there were cities or nations, before there was writing or agriculture, the rune was here. It has existed long before many empires and civilizations, witnessing the rise and fall of countless generations." The figure's voice took on a rhythmic quality, like a group of children reciting an epic poem.

Ryder felt a chill run down his spine at these words. He'd known the rune was old, of course, but hearing it described this way made it feel alien.

"At first, they didn't know what it was and were curious about it, but even after many years, they couldn't figure out any useful information. The earliest records speak of priests and old wise women who would sit before the rune for days, seeking wisdom or visions. Some claimed to hear voices, others to see fantastic beasts that would appear and disappear like smoke."

"When they grew up to a certain level of maturity, they suddenly received a mark; this mark is in a variety of colors, and hence, it earned its name—the devil's mark. In those early days, fear and superstition ruled the humans due to their illiteracy.

Those who received the mark were often banished from their empires and communities, feared and assumed to be touched by evil or cursed by angry gods.

Some were even killed, their potential never realized."

Ryder thought of his own mark on his shoulder. Would he have been one of those unfortunate ones in those early days? Would he have been cast out, feared, perhaps even killed for the mark he now wore with pride in this current age?

"Our ancestors never knew what it was actually and couldn't understand its purpose. Whenever the mark appeared in one of them, it caused great discomfort—like an itch you can't scratch, a hunger you can't satisfy, a thirst that water cannot quench."

It causes discomfort just like it does to you, Ryder; they kept directing our illiterate ancestors toward this rune, but no one knew why back then.

Being unable to live freely, a meeting was called, and a group of all the smartest humans the world had to offer were summoned to unveil the hidden secret of this rune. They argued and debated, theorized and experimented, united and worked together only to figure out a way to relieve themselves from the discomfort of the mark on their left arms.

Ryder imagined a group of cave people sitting around a fire and scratching their heads in confusion while they stared at drawings of the rune. The mental image was so absurd that he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. This was, after all, supposed to be a moment of seriousness.

The strong presence of wind they felt as they approached the rune made it clear to them that there was more to this rune than just a simple drawing of a pattern.

The study of this rune took centuries, as multiple generations of humans did their part; they died while passing the knowledge of their discoveries to the next generation to continue onward.

After multiple clueless attempts, they managed to rework the pattern of the rune into a readable scripture.

The scripture is the language of magic—the only language that the rune obeys.

Finally, after so many years, they managed to make the first summoner—a person who journeyed to the Astral Shadow plain and successfully returned back with a familiar.

At first, fear gripped the humans who glanced at the first summoned beast and the summoner. They assumed he had made a contract with the devil and avoided him like a plague, but as time went on and multiple people performed the summoning ritual, they realized that they had the wrong impression of it.

"Can't really blame them," Ryder muttered. "I mean, strange marks, glowing runes, otherworldly creatures... it's not exactly a good way of a warm welcome."

He could imagine the scene: a village gathering where the first summoner proudly displayed their familiar, only to be met with screams of terror and accusations of witchcraft.

"Soon, all the humans became interested in the rune, and all wanted to perform the ritual. It eventually became a cherished tradition."

As you stand here, you are now going to pass through the eased version of what our ancestors and all other summoners who came before you went through.

Now, with that said, we will be briefing you on the necessary intel about your summoning journey so you should know the expected intensity of your trial.

Ryder straightened his posture, trying to focus. This part, at least, might contain information he hadn't dozed through in class.

Starting with the mark, it comes in a variety of different colors. There are five different colors of marks—the brown, the orange, the red, the black, and lastly, the white.

The brown is the weakest. It shows that the summoner is probably going to summon a weak beast; the orange will summon a stronger beast; the red will summon the mightiest beasts.

As for the black, it is likely that the summoner will summon a demon or devil and not a beast, while for the white, the summoner could summon a divine being.

"Now Ryder, take off your shirt," the other cloaked figure, with a similar black cloak with blue trim, instructed.

"Right," Ryder smiled confidently as he undressed his garment—a white attire with purple trim by its tip.

The symbol itself was intricate, resembling a mixture of both an ancient rune and a mathematical equation of the modern age. It pulsed with a faint energy that seemed to absorb the purple light from the platform, creating a mystic aura like a glyph.

On his left shoulder, a clear black mark was visible on his light skin.

The two Gloomy Guses standing by the platform were taken aback at the color of his mark.

"A black mark! This is very rare!" Ryder's grin extended as he heard the comments from the two figures beside the platform.

"This is the first black mark that has appeared in the last one hundred years."

Pride filled Ryder as he swelled his chest, temporarily replacing his nervousness with confidence.

A black mark. Not brown like most of his classmates would receive. Not orange like his father. Not even red, but Black. The rarest of the rare. The mark of legendary summoners whose names were recorded in history books and whose deeds were still discussed lots of years after their death.

Turning around with a prideful smirk, Ryder spoke, "Go on."

"When the ritual begins, your soul will be teleported to the Astral Shadow plain. In there, you will appear in a habitat that is filled with beasts that have strengths equal to your mark.

This was standard information, covered in the first week of Dr. Hamm's class. Each color of mark corresponded to a different region of the Astral Shadow plain, with environments and inhabitants that match the mark's colour.

Brown marks typically found themselves in peaceful landscapes or gentle forests populated by mostly easygoing creatures that hardly show any hostility.

Orange marks might encounter more challenging landscapes like mountains or deserts, with beasts that possess greater abilities and affinities but are still mostly animalistic in nature.

In your habitat, there will be a variety of demons and devils of different power levels and different affinities.

As soon as you step in, some of the creatures might show hostility toward you; some will be easygoing and peaceful. Depending on your luck, you'll encounter these beasts.

Luck. Ryder clicked his teeth. It is one thing I do not have.

You will receive the direction of the beast that invited you to the plain after you have spent some time alive. The trail may come in various different ways, so watch out.

"'After you have spent some time alive,'" Ryder repeated slowly. "That... doesn't exactly sound like a comforting phrase."

The Gloomy Guses ignored his comment, continuing their briefing as if they were reciting from a memorized script—which, Ryder was beginning to suspect, they probably were.

You are to follow the trail; as you do so, you will face some traps and challenges. All those traps and obstacles are the tests given to you by the beast, so keep your guard up at all times. No familiar chooses an unworthy summoner.

Being a black-marked summoner is very lucky and unlucky at the same time. If you succeed, you will be termed as a lucky one, and if you don't... you die!

"Die?" he echoed, his voice suddenly sounding younger and less sure. "Like, die die? As in, not coming back?"

There it was. Plain and simple. The bitter truth—failure meant death. Not social taunts and embarrassment, not a life of regret, but actual, eternal slumber of death.

"The beasts do not care about who you are or what race you are from. They will be testing you with obstacles that will cause even them trouble in order to ensure that the soon-to-be summoner is worthy of them."

Ordinary humans are only capable of handling a test from a brown mark, an orange mark, and rarely a red mark without dying.

"And I'm... what? Extraordinary?" Ryder asked, trying to display some of his earlier courage but failing miserably. His voice cracked on the final word, exposing his fright.

"That is yet to be seen," the purple-lined figure responded quietly. "The mark has chosen you, but whether you are worthy of it is another matter entirely."

The beasts from the Astral plain are naturally strong. This, at least, was common knowledge. Even the familiars that seem unimpressive possess strength, speed, and physical capabilities far beyond anything found naturally on Terra.

"The weakest beast from the weakest mark can battle the wildest beast from our planet."

Talking of the orange mark beasts, most possess special attributes like breathing flame, excreting poisonous gas, and other deadly abilities. The test from them is the kind that should expect some extraordinary involvement.

The beasts from the red mark are even worse, especially due to the fact that their attributes are always broader and much more refined than those of the orange mark.

Ryder thought of his mother's familiar, with its foxlike cunning and lionlike strength. It had once saved their entire family from a house fire, roaring so loudly that it shattered windows for blocks around and created a wind strong enough to temporarily redirect the flames away from their bedrooms, giving them time to escape. If that was what an orange-mark familiar was capable of...

Or his father's familiar that saved them from a fall while climbing by the mountainside of the village with its gravity affinity.

During their test in the Astral Shadow plain, one should expect the worst-case scenario, as challenges like dipping oneself in hot volcanic lava in order to reach the beast and begin the contraction process will arise. All these are impossibilities for ordinary humans.

Being marked by a being for the black mark section of the Astral plain is very equivalent to being called to your early grave.

The smirk slowly washed off Ryder's face as he listened.

"There is a 0.5 percent chance that you will survive, Ryder. You should be worried about yourself.

We have no idea what you will be expecting in the Astral Shadow plain or what beast has called on you, but you shouldn't expect guaranteed survival.

Are you ready for the ritual, Ryder?"

Ready? How could anyone be ready for this? Ryder wanted to laugh like a mad man at the question, but fear had frozen his vocal cords.

He stared at the Gloomy Guses, at their partially visible faces covered by their hood, wondering if they took some sort pleasure in delivering these death sentences to new initiates.

"If I die in the Astral Shadow plain, then what?" Ryder questioned, causing the two cloaked figures to exchange a nervous glance.

"Unfortunately... your body will disintegrate into nothing in this world if you die in the soul realm. Rest assured, though, you should be confident in your ability." "Let's proceed, shall we?"

Disintegrate into nothing! Not even a body for his parents to mourn over. Not even ashes, Just... gone. As if he had never existed at all.

"No! I do not wish to proceed." Ryder decided, as he pulled his shirt on with a crushed spirit and dream.

Walking towards the end of the platform, he attempted to exit, but then a sudden force flung him back to the center of the platform. "Oh, we didn't tell you about this earlier," one of the figures said.

"From the moment you step onto the platform as an invited human, your soul automatically binds with the Astral Shadow plain. You cannot leave until you attend to your invitation."

Ryder, I am sorry to break the news to you, but unfortunately, you have no choice but to contract your beast. Ryder's eyes widened. "I said, I am not interested!" Ryder barked. "I ain't wanna do this crap no more."

At first, he locked eyes with the cloaked figure that spoke to him, and right in front of his eyes, a long scroll containing the incantation to activate the rune materialized out of thin air.

Not giving him any answers, both figures echoed the incantation in a slow and steady synchronized rhythm.

"Ahhrrrggh! Stop it, stop all this! I don't want to do this!" Ryder cried out. Ryder rushed towards the cloaked figures, but the invisible barrier of the platform blocked him from proceeding further or leaving the platform.

The incantation got louder and louder, the rune glowed brighter and brighter, and after a while, a flash of purple light consumed Ryder's view.

His soul was teleported away.