Misplaced God-Summoning

Clang—

The tolling of the clock threatened to crack a man's skull.

It was midnight.

Echaint opened his eyes in a half-waking, half-dreaming state, the adamantine ceiling of the prison cell coming into view.

His third day of capture.

A searing, burning pain radiated through his entire body.

Echaint gritted his teeth and slowly sat up, carefully maneuvering the glowing chains to minimize contact with his skin.

He had to be careful; he had already tasted the bitterness of these holy-water-infused cross-chains too many times. The chains were forged from true silver, with a translucent bloodstone embedded at regular intervals—an excellent tool for repelling evil.

Hiss—

Echaint's exposed forearm brushed against a bloodstone, instantly raising a small blister.

Chaos above... he suppressed the pain and gently adjusted the position of his shackles.

Bloodstones could suppress physical strength, while holy water and the true silver of order could block his innate chaotic power. The shackles of his imprisonment were crafted with such expensive raw materials, undergoing hammering, fine grinding, engraving, inlaying, consecration, and oiling—a process designed to capture and control creatures from the Chaos Hell.

For instance, to control a demon.

For instance, him.

Honestly, Echaint had no idea why he was here.

Three days ago, he had fallen into a planar rift while walking his hellhound. Upon waking, he found himself transported to the Prime Material Plane occupied by humans, stripped of his freedom, his power, and his dog.

A hooded human had told Echaint he was to be a sacrifice offered to the angels, then tossed him into this exorbitantly expensive prison.

A sacrifice for angels?

Echaint had pondered this claim, but it didn't hold water.

While it was true that angelic and demonic energies were diametrically opposed, the two had been in a long period of peace for seven thousand years, each managing their own affairs in the Source of Order and the Chaos Hell, respectively.

For angels to specifically demand a demonic sacrifice from humans would be the equivalent of tearing up the armistice in the most reckless manner possible. Those rigid, dogmatic, and boring creatures—what reason could they possibly have for such a thing?

If it were targeted at him personally, that was even more impossible.

Echaint was a demon, and also a scholar. He was likely the only demon of his kind in the world.

Studying the power domains and energy guidance methods of the nine planes, writing his findings into manuscripts, and walking his dog—that was all he ever did. A guy like that couldn't possibly have any enemies.

By the way, in his eyes, a demon was merely a type of existence that resided in the Chaos Hell plane by utilizing the power of the disorder domain.

The greatest conflict he had ever had with anyone was a small, academic disagreement he'd had with the angel Keir across the planes after writing Six Applications of Power Domain Theory in Will-Based Spells.

Even that conflict had led to him becoming friends with Keir, and they often secretly arranged to meet for academic discussions.

Thinking of this, his gaze traveled through the cage and toward the narrow iron window on the wall.

Today was supposed to be the day for their academic discussion. Keir should have noticed his disappearance by now.

The moment he fell into the planar rift, he had sensed the traces of law-based energy often used in human incantations. Following the clues, Keir should have been able to find this place quite easily.

He looked at the magic circle on the adamantine floor. The restrictions here were all set to target his chaotic power; if an angel descended, they could undoubtedly break them with ease and rescue him.

He looked out the window again.

Outside the window was nothing but oppressive darkness. Nothing he had hoped for had appeared.

Twelve o'clock had already passed.

Six hours later, he would be taken away and tied to a cold altar. With the humans' blades rising and falling, his soul, which should have been dedicated to scholarship, would return to chaos.

It seemed the angel was not coming.

He withdrew his gaze, inwardly condemning the fellow for being either disloyal or not smart enough.

He had no choice but to risk his final method of escape.

Fortunately, the knowledge he loved had provided him with this last resort.

That was—

Summoning a god.

Echaint's gaze fell upon the intricately structured, expensive anti-demon chains on his hands.

Anti-demon, but not anti-human.

The holy water, the bloodstones, the precious metals, and the restrictions on demonic chaotic power were also excellent materials for casting human law-based spells. Thanks to years of accumulation, he happened to remember a thing or two about law-based magic.

In a book he had read, it mentioned a method for praying to a human main god to make one's voice heard.

Right now, he happened to really need to make his voice heard.

Human law-based magic, as the name suggested, placed great importance on procedure. Summoning a human god required blood to represent devotion and clarify one's identity.

Echaint recalled the process, hardened his heart, and bit his left finger.

He was under a Malicious Polymorph Curse, so both his appearance and physical strength were indistinguishable from a human's. The skin split easily between his teeth, and blood-scented liquid welled out.

Echaint dipped his finger in the blood and, sitting half-upright, smeared the mark of the god he intended to summon onto the adamantine floor.

A bull-head mark.

The book mentioned that this represented Yifomiet, the "Hand of Destruction" among the Twelve Human Main Gods.

He had considered this choice carefully.

Legend had it that Yifomiet was originally one of the wandering demons of the Chaos Hell, but four hundred and fifty years ago, for reasons unknown, he descended to the Prime Material Plane where humans resided and became the god in charge of destruction and chaos.

If the rumors were true, Yifomiet, who also possessed a demonic body, should be much easier to communicate with than other gods. Echaint had never met this kin, but Chaos above, he shouldn't have any reason to refuse such an urgent request.

Echaint pressed his hands onto the bull-head mark, arranged the true silver chains into an inverted triangle representing destruction and disorder, kept a bloodstone at each of the three corners, and whispered the incantation he remembered in the human language.

He suppressed his inner emotions and waited quietly for things to unfold.

After a while, the law-based energy within the cell began to fluctuate.

Black and white flocculent matter began to condense from the air, light and shadow flickered, outlining the translucent figure of a graceful woman.

It worked... Echaint breathed a sigh of relief, watching the figure slowly manifest, a trace of doubt rising in his heart.

In the book, Yifomiet's image was that of a half-bull, half-human with broad shoulders and a tall stature. The goddess before him was petite and graceful; although she also had bull horns, she was vastly different from the image in the book.

"Why do you summon me?" The goddess tilted her head arrogantly, revealing her smooth, beautifully lined neck. She turned her face slightly, first sizing him up, then frowning as she stared at him. "A demonic body... you are not a mortal."

As her voice fell, the goddess's translucent figure flickered, the air was sliced open, and a warm breeze rushed toward him.

Echaint turned his head to avoid the sudden impact, and when he turned back, he saw the bright woman with bull horns had materialized. A pale purple dress trailed on the ground, and her entire body was shrouded in a faint divine light.

This was... the god's true form.

Descending before him.

Although she was a god, she was merely a human god, so Echaint was not overly surprised, only feeling a sense of relief in his heart.

Very good, it seemed she took this seriously, so there was a high probability she wouldn't refuse his request.

"'Hand of Destruction' Yifomiet. I am your kin, the demon Echaint Sinkardesto. As you can see, I have encountered a small problem."

He gently raised his hand to gesture. "Chaos above, if you are willing to help me..."

I could give you a book I wrote, Believer Management and Faith Energy Diversion, or The Charm of Demons. After all, I heard your popularity in the human world isn't high, your believers are dwindling day by day, and it seems you are on the verge of being squeezed out of the Twelve Main Gods by the newly ascended wild gods...

Echaint ultimately decided it was better not to say these things. "I would be very grateful."

The goddess's expression turned strange. "I am not Yifomiet. He received a summons, and I am responding to the call in his stead today."

"A summons? To where?"

"All demons have been recalled to the Chaos Hell." The goddess's gaze swept over him. "I heard it is for the Apocalypse War."