The moment Astraeus's summoning circle became a vortex of absolute darkness, the carefully controlled environment of the Chamber of Ascension shattered. The collective magical energy of hundreds of students, a vibrant symphony of focused intent, was instantly drowned out by a singular, terrifying note of pure dread. It was a pressure that was not merely magical but existential, a crushing weight on the soul of every living being in the room. Students closest to Astraeus cried out in alarm, their own summoning circles flickering and dying as the encroaching void leeched the ambient mana from the air. The intricate patterns of light they had so carefully woven unraveled like cheap thread. The lesser spirits and elementals that had just begun to manifest, wisps of sentient flame and shimmering water sprites, shrieked and dissolved back into the ether, fleeing from a presence they recognized on a primordial level as an apex predator. The room's temperature plummeted, and frost, black as obsidian, began to crawl across the marble floor, spreading from Astraeus's circle like a disease.
On the high dais, the academy's leadership was thrown into chaos. "What is happening?!" Master Valeriana shouted, her hand instinctively going to the crystal focus on her belt. "What is that pressure? It's not magical!" Headmaster Thorne's ancient face, usually a mask of stern composure, was pale, his eyes wide with a dawning horror he hadn't felt in centuries. He could feel it. It was the scent of the Abyss, but purer, older, and infinitely more malevolent than any common demon. It was the smell of a fundamental cosmic wrongness. Instructor Evangeline was already barking orders, her voice cutting through the rising panic of the students. "Containment teams, now! Raise the chamber's primary shields! All students, disengage your rituals and retreat from the floor!"
But it was too late. The shields, massive constructs of pure arcane energy designed to withstand a siege from a dragon, flared to life around the chamber's dome, only to flicker and groan under the sheer oppressive weight of the presence. Cracks like black lightning began to spiderweb across their golden surface. The power source for the entire chamber was being drained, consumed by the insatiable vortex centered on the boy with no magic. The instructors could only watch in horrified disbelief as their most powerful defenses buckled before a threat that hadn't even fully manifested. This wasn't a summoning gone wrong. This was an invasion. And it was all originating from the one student who should have been incapable of summoning anything at all.
While the rest of the world dissolved into chaos, Astraeus was trapped in a silent, personal apocalypse. The moment the Divine Beacon protocol activated, his consciousness was ripped from his physical body and thrown into the howling, timeless void between realities. He was a lone spark in an infinite, hungry darkness. The system's [Soul-Shield] was the only thing keeping his mind from being instantly shredded by the sheer pressure of the non-space around him. He could feel it, the approach of the entity he had summoned. It was not a movement through space, but a warping of reality itself, a colossal will imposing itself upon the void, drawing closer to his fragile spark of a soul. The memory of his death, the feeling of his divine core being torn from his chest, returned with suffocating intensity. It was him. The Demon King.
[Universe-Tier Threat is locking onto your soul-signature.] the system's voice was the only point of stability in the swirling madness. [Proximity: Closing. Hostile Intent: Confirmed. Soul-Shield integrity at 91% and falling rapidly.]
Astraeus fought against the paralyzing terror that was a remnant of the mortal boy's psyche. He forced the war-god's mind to the forefront. He could not fight this thing here. He was formless, powerless, a mote of dust before a hurricane. His only weapon was the contract, the ancient laws of summoning that even a being like this was supposedly bound by. The ritual demanded a price, an offering in exchange for service. Mages offered mana. He had offered his very soul as bait. Now, he had to complete the transaction before the entity simply devoured him.
[The summoning contract must be established before the entity fully manifests in the physical realm,] the system instructed, its tone urgent. [Once manifested, its will may be sufficient to shatter the ritual's foundational laws. You have one chance to assert dominance. You must speak its name and state your claim.]
"It has no name," Astraeus projected back, his thoughts frantic.
[Incorrect. All things that exist have a true name, a conceptual identifier in the universe's source code. The entity you knew as the 'Demon King' is no exception. The God System has accessed the records of your divine memory fragments to identify it. Prepare yourself, host. Speaking a true name is an act of power. It will focus its full attention upon you.]
The pressure intensified tenfold. The Soul-Shield buckled violently. [Integrity at 45%!] The Demon King was close. Astraeus braced his disembodied consciousness for the confrontation, knowing that the next few seconds would determine whether he became a master or a memory.
Back in the Chamber of Ascension, the vortex at Astraeus's feet began to stabilize, no longer a chaotic tear but a perfect, circular gateway of impenetrable black. From its depths, a single, obsidian claw, larger than a man's torso, emerged and gripped the edge of the marble circle. The stone, which had been enchanted to be unbreakable, cracked and crumbled into dust under the pressure. A second claw followed. The sheer sense of ancient malice and raw, unadulterated power that radiated from them was so potent that dozens of students fainted from the psychic backlash alone. The chamber's emergency shields finally shattered, dissolving into a shower of useless golden sparks. The instructors on the dais prepared for battle, their faces grim. They knew they were not fighting for victory, but for time. Time for the students to escape.
"Evacuate!" Headmaster Thorne roared, his voice imbued with a command spell that compelled the terrified students to move. "Evangeline, get them out! Valeriana, with me! We hold the line!"
But as the colossal entity began to pull itself from the portal, something unexpected happened. The students, who had been stampeding towards the exits, suddenly froze. Their bodies went rigid, their eyes glazed over, and one by one, they turned back towards the center of the room. A low, collective hum began to emanate from their throats. On the floor, their abandoned summoning circles, which had gone dark, flared to life once more. But they were not glowing with the vibrant colors of the students' magic. Every single one, hundreds of them, now glowed with the same, sickening, abyssal purple. The entity wasn't just using Astraeus's circle as a door. It was hijacking the entire ritual network of the chamber, turning every student into an unwilling battery to fuel its arrival. This was a power far older and more insidious than simple brute force. It was a power that could corrupt and subvert magic itself.
Astraeus, still trapped in the void, felt this shift. He felt the Demon King's attention divide, a fraction of its immense consciousness spreading out to enslave the lesser mages. This was his chance. The brief, almost infinitesimal moment of distraction he needed.
[Soul-Shield integrity at 15%. Now, host! Speak the name! Stake your claim!]
Drawing on the last vestiges of his divine will, channeling it through the system's interface, Astraeus screamed into the void, his voice a thought, a concept, a command.
"KHA'ZUL! I am your summoner! By the ancient laws of the ritual, by the price of my soul offered and accepted, you are MINE!"
The effect was instantaneous and absolute. In the void, the colossal, encroaching presence recoiled as if struck. Its full, undivided attention snapped back to Astraeus with the force of a physical blow. The Soul-Shield vaporized instantly, its purpose served. For a terrifying second, Astraeus's consciousness was laid bare before the Demon King's ancient, malevolent intellect. He felt a wave of pure, undiluted rage, but beneath it, something else: a flicker of shock, and a spark of something that felt unnervingly like… recognition.
In the physical world, the change was just as dramatic. The entity, Kha'Zul, which had been slowly and majestically pulling its massive form from the portal, froze. The purple light in the other students' circles vanished, and they collapsed to the floor, unconscious but alive, the connection severed. The oppressive, soul-crushing pressure that had filled the room vanished, imploding back towards its source. The half-emerged demon shuddered, and its form began to glitch and distort, flickering between its monstrous, reality-bending shape and something smaller, more contained. The laws of the summoning contract, invoked by the speaking of its true name, were asserting themselves. The power that had defied the academy's strongest defenses, that had enslaved hundreds of mages, was now being forced, against its will, to conform to the rules of the ritual. It was being bound to the most powerless boy in the room.
Astraeus's consciousness snapped back into his body with the force of a thunderclap. He fell to his knees, gasping, the world swimming back into focus. He looked up, his heart hammering in his chest. The vortex was closing, and standing in the center of his ruined summoning circle was a figure. It was no longer the continent-sized horror from the void, but a humanoid form, tall and unnaturally still, wreathed in flickering shadows. As the last of the abyssal energy was drawn into its body, the shadows receded, revealing the being he had summoned.
It was him. The same face, the same eyes burning with cold, ancient malice that had stared down at him as he died. The Demon King—Kha'Zul—stood before him, bound and seething. And as their eyes met across the ruined chamber, a voice, not of a monster but of a fallen king, echoed directly in Astraeus's mind, dripping with a venom that had festered for ages.
"You."
The word was not a question. It was an accusation. And a promise. The power older than magic had answered his call. But it was a power that remembered him, and it was not pleased to be enslaved by the god it had already killed once.