The room smelled like burnt parchment.
Fang sat cross-legged at the center of his workshop.
Candles flickered in unnatural rhythm, casting long shadows that twitched like nervous witnesses. Above his open palm, the human mana stone hovered, pulsing with a slow, deliberate heartbeat.
"Third attempt," Gaia said aloud, pen scratching across the page. Mana stabilization remains imperfect. Subject: One elven soul. Density: volatile. Fang seems... unconcerned."
Fang's eyes were glazed, but not from exhaustion—he was somewhere else. His other hand hovered inches above the stone, weaving signs in the air that shimmered purple waves.
The temperature in the cave dropped, and the death mana overwhelmed Gaia's senses.
"Let me help you narrate the process. During our time in Davra, I asked Fujin if he could purchase some books on necromancy, as I couldn't find any.
He gave me access to his personal library, noting that he has looted several demon holds and has gotten his hands on several dark magic books."
Fang changed one of the pages and found a new glyph that looked like ח.
A new glyph flickered to life, shaped like the letter ח, but warped at the ends, as if corrupted by purpose.
"During my studies, I found a book called the Numidium. The book was full of theories, and while I am not the smartest, I saw the glyphs, and their description is pretty streamlined.
Using several glyphs from the teachings of the numudium, the reanimation becomes a scientific process instead of a magical one.
I provide the intent, mana fuels the effect, and the mana stone acts as the vessel."
Gaia listened intently and wrote down his explanation.
"Does this numidium book contain more techniques?"
Her eyes were focused on the only heritage she had seen left by her kind.
The thought that such books were still circulating on this continent was intriguing, and she wondered if such books on earth magic existed as well.
"Well, several techniques here are simpler than one might think, but the majority of the theories in the book are... well, theoretical. It will take thorough experimentation to get to the bottom of their uses.
One theory that interests me is the ability to influence the Flora around us.
The main use I want to see is if I can kill weeds and harmful plants from the root
If so, maybe we could expand our garden even further and grow a bigger variety of plants."
The Numidium was banned in three empires, and only a few books containing the demonic spells remained.
A wisp of spirit peeled out from the gem—just a trace, like smoke rising from a cracked grave.
Gaia shivered. "The soul is resisting."
Fang muttered under his breath, not to her but to the magic itself. "Come on... give me the moment. Just the moment where you choose."
The wisp surged.
Gaia flinched, almost dropping her pen. "Resonance spike. Mana surge exceeds rabbit-class resurrection. If this backfires, I'm writing 'it was definitely his fault' in bold."
Fang's eyes narrowed. The purple fire coiled tighter.
"Gaia," he said, voice low. "What would you do if you had someone else's life... in your hands?"
She didn't answer right away.
Then, softly: "I'd write it down. So someone remembers the choice."
The stone cracked.
A scream, silent and raw, rushed out with the smoke. Not sound, but feeling. Regret. Pain. Rage.
The shadows in the cave recoiled. The glyphs around Fang's hand twisted like they were trying to flee.
Gaia instinctively reached for him, then froze, hand inches from his shoulder. "Fang—"
The gem exploded in light.
Everything went still. The only change happened when the light dimmed, and a smoke screen remained. The smoke was thick, and it darkened in color from blue to purple to deep shades of black.
Then, a figure of smoke formed.
It was elven in silhouette, tall and with pointy ears sticking out of its smoky, long hair.
But its eyes were wrong. Not angry. Not grateful. Just... watching.
Fang didn't flinch. "This is new."
"Is it stable?" Gaia asked.
"No," Fang said. "But it's aware."
The figure tilted its head.
Gaia's pulse pounded in her ears. "It shouldn't be aware."
"I know."
The figure opened its mouth. No voice came—only a gust of purple magic that slammed Fang back against the stone wall. He hit hard, groaning, eyes burning violet.
Gaia rose to her feet, brown mana trails crawling along her arm. "Fang, do I kill it?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
The figure began to speak—not in words, but in glyphs. They burned into the stone floor, one after another, in the same warped script Fang had used.
Fang stared at the symbols, blood trickling from his nose.
"What is it saying?" Gaia asked.
He coughed. "It's offering a pact."
"A pact?"
"It doesn't want resurrection. It wants... continuity. A role. A reason not to fade."
Gaia blinked. "You can do that?"
"I don't know. But I think the Numidium expected this. It said 'Servant made ally.' Now I see why."
The smoke hung thick in the air, curling like a living thing around the figure. Its eyes, still empty of anything that resembled life, followed Fang as if weighing him, assessing whether he was a worthy vessel for its strange pact. The glyphs that had burned into the stone floor were fading now, their intense heat still leaving a faint shimmer in the rock.
Gaia's hand twitched, the urge to act fighting against her hesitation. The figure's presence was suffocating, oppressive, and yet there was something oddly... familiar about the feeling. Like it didn't belong here, but it was insistent, like a memory that wouldn't leave your mind.
"What does it want?" Gaia asked, voice tight.
The realization hit her like a hammer to the chest. A role? To what end? What kind of role could this thing want? And why would Fang even consider offering it one?
"You're considering it," she said, voice cracking just a bit as the weight of the question hit her. "You're thinking of taking it into your service?"
Fang didn't answer right away. Instead, he closed his eyes, his mind spinning in a dangerous dance of thought. His pulse still rang in his ears, but his focus was absolute, laser-sharp. It wasn't fear or hesitation that stalled him. It was the gravity of the decision.
"Not taking it into service," he said after a long pause. "I'm considering giving it... choice."
The figure moved then, as if hearing Fang's words in a way it had not before. It stepped forward, its smoky limbs flowing with an elegance that betrayed its intangible nature. The air grew colder, and the purple haze around it deepened.
"I don't even know if it has a mind in the way we do," Fang continued. "But this... this feels different." He stood slowly, almost instinctively reaching for a glyph he could create to draw the pact into tangible form.
Gaia's voice was sharp, cutting through the growing tension. "Fang, you can't just give it something. It's asking for a role in this world. But you don't even know what it wants. You don't know what this pact means. What happens when it's in your hands—our hands?"
"Let him answer it himself. What do you want in return for your servitude?"
It spoke again, its voice a mere murmur of energy vibrating in the space around them:
"Mana..."
Fang stared at it, sensing the depth of its desire, the quiet urgency behind the words. It wasn't an accusation or a warning. It wasn't angry. It was... simply hungry.
Gaia stood still, watching, her pen hovering over her notes. It wasn't surprise that crossed her face, but a kind of reluctant understanding.
She could sense the need, as she feels it daily. The figure was a creature bound to this world now, but bound by a hunger that could not be ignored.
"I think," Fang said slowly, "I should feed it."
The figure did not respond directly, but its eyes locked onto Fang with a quiet intensity. It wasn't requesting anything else—just mana. A steady, uninterrupted flow.
Fang could feel the pull, like an invisible current tugging at him. It wasn't a threat, but an invitation.
It was persistent, unavoidable.
"Well," he said with a dry chuckle, "I suppose we'll have to see if I can keep up with that."
Gaia looked over at him, her expression mild, but the edge of amusement in her tone wasn't lost on her. "Just don't overdo it, Fang. You're not exactly swimming in endless reserves."
Fang gave her a knowing glance. "You forget I've been practicing."
The figure remained still, his hollow eyes still fixated on Fang.
Fang closed his eyes, extending his hand toward the figure. Mana began to pulse from his fingertips, flooding the air, swirling around them.
The figure shifted, its form absorbing the mana with ease, its shape growing more substantial with each passing moment.
"More..." it whispered, almost like a gentle command.
Gaia watched with curiosity as the figure continued to draw from Fang's reserves. She had never seen anything like this—an entity so straightforward in its needs, with no need for complicated deals or bargaining. It just wanted.
Fang sighed, a bit exasperated, but there was a certain peace to the simplicity of the demand. "It's not picky, is it?" he murmured to himself, but his hands kept moving, feeding the figure's insatiable hunger.
More and more mana poured from him, flowing as the figure absorbed it like a parched desert drinking in rain.
"Do you think this is enough?" Gaia asked, watching the figure's form continue to solidify.
"I'll know when it stops asking," Fang said, his voice low and tired, but his smirk lingered. Despite the toll, there was something almost satisfied in his eyes—like he'd just solved a puzzle no one else could even see.
The air in the workshop shifted.
What was once smoke began to take on mass. Limbs thickened, shadows layered over shadows until they held shape, like poured ink finding the outline of a man. The room grew warmer, the candles no longer flickering with uncertainty but burning steady, as if recognizing a new presence in the space.
The shadow figure stood still, now nearly solid, draped in a black cloak of mana that shimmered with dark purple glyphs.
A pulse ran through the floor. It wasn't violent, but the kind of deep, resonant thrum that makes stone feel like it's breathing.
Gaia felt it in her teeth. In her bones.
"The pact held," she murmured.
"For now," Fang said, and stood upright, wiping blood from his upper lip. His mana was thinned out, but the clarity in his eyes had returned. His body was worn. His mind, sharp.
The servant took a single step forward.
That was enough. The candles flared, their flames turning purple for a blink before returning to normal. Dust lifted from the stone floor as if gravity had forgotten its rules.
"Do you have a name?" Gaia asked the creature, tone calm, even diplomatic. "Or do we give you one?"
The shadow didn't speak.
But a glyph lit up in the air between them.
Fang squinted. "That's not one of mine."
He traced it with his finger. The glyph trembled, then warped into something readable.
"Nhalar."
"A dead man's name," Gaia whispered.
Fang let out a breath. "Then we address it with respect."
Nhalar moved again—another step forward—and then knelt.
Not in worship. Not in obedience. In readiness.
Fang blinked. "It's... waiting."
"For instruction?" Gaia asked.
"No," Fang said. "For purpose."
The way he said it sent a chill through her spine. Because he didn't mean orders. He meant something deeper, and she too felt it not long ago.
'Ah, the longing for purpose... Seems like I made the right decision by going with him.'
Fang reached down to his satchel and pulled out a mana stone filled with a purple light.
He held it up in his palm.
"This isn't a leash," he said aloud, more for Gaia than for Nhalar. "It's a contract."
He placed the stone on the ground. The figure watched. It did not touch it.
Instead, a tendril of smoke rose from its core—slow, deliberate—and etched a second glyph beside the stone. The meaning was clear.
Yes.
The pact had already begun.
Gaia finally let herself breathe. Then wrote in her journal:Nhalar—First of the Named. Pact formed willingly. No signs of rebellion. Purpose: to be determined.
"Fang," she said, without looking up, "what's your plan for it?"
He hesitated. Then answered simply:
"I think it just volunteered to guard the gates."