The Ars Goetia Society

Silence. So much silence.

And darkness.

The only thing he could sense was a fading pain in his chest. What was it? Fear? No. Sadness? Maybe. A reminiscence of his own death?

Before he could answer himself, a bright light forced his eyes shut.

Could a dead man squint?

He didn’t want to go to the light; it was the light that pulled him. Maybe that was what always happened. “Don’t go to the light!” they say. But it turned out it wasn’t that easy. He didn’t want to go to the light—much less into it—but the light forced him forward.

He looked around as the light grew larger, brighter. There was nowhere else to go.

Then, he heard a voice. A woman’s voice. Loud. Tense.

The darkness vanished.

In the blinding brightness that swallowed him, a dripping red mantle split his sight by half. Warm red on one side, cold white on the other.

He kept moving forward, his speed increasing with every passing moment. The woman’s voice grew louder and clearer. Some kind of chant or mantra hurled almost like a scream.

And then, he was pulled. Hard. Painfully.

The woman’s voice disappeared, replaced by the sound of his own breathing.

Why?

Why the hell was he breathing?

Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

He could feel it—air filling his lungs, his chest rising and falling.

And that wasn’t all. He could feel every part of his body: hands, arms, legs, feet, torso, head. The whole package.

But why?

“Welcome,” a voice said.

He opened his eyes.

A young woman stood before him. She was tall, cloaked in an oversized shroud of darkness. Her straight, blue hair spilled past her waist. A triumphant smile on her face.

“Thanks… I guess?” he muttered.

He realized he was on his hands and knees on a circular stone pedestal ringed with candles that bathed the place in flickering light. Heat rushed to his face; he felt embarrassed and awkward in that position and quickly shifted into a sitting one.

His eyes returned to the blue-haired girl who was in front of him. Her blue eyes comforted him in a familiar way. He sensed no threat despite the ritualistic situation he was in.

Despite the blood all over him.

Blood.

Blood!

“Where am I?” His voice cracked as he scrambled backward, palms and heels scraping against the stone until he nearly toppled over the edge. “Who are you? Why am I soaked in blood? Is it mine?” His breathing went amok. The no-threat feeling was gone and now replaced with panic. He was hyperventilating.

“I’m not going to harm you. Take it easy,” the girl said. Her hands, covered by the long sleeves of the cloak, were mimicking her words. “Calm down. My name is Lathan.”

“Why am I not dead? Or am I?” he asked.

The room came into focus. Wooden planks. Something like a cabin. No furniture, just the stone pedestal, the lighted candles, and a single door. Beneath him, etched into the pedestal, a strange symbol that reminded him of the magic ones he used to watch on those fantasy anime he liked so much.

He ran a hand through his hair as blood still dripped from it. Then over his bare chest.

Goddammit!

Was he naked too?

Almost. He was wearing ripped denim shorts, a pair of crossed belts, suspenders, and boots. Suspenders and belts weren’t the right combination, but that was the least of his problems.

Like the pedestal, his body was marked with magic sigils too—arms, legs, and chest. Also, his actual body didn’t match the one he remembered. It was a better one, though. Stronger. More ripped, but he had the sensation that smaller also.

“Certainly not dead,” Lathan said. “But I understand your confusion. It can’t be easy, being summoned into another world. If it helps, I’m just as surprised as you. I didn’t know what—or in this case, who—would appear.”

But I died, he thought. That meant he hadn’t just been summoned as he’d been reincarnated. Or both. Reincarnated in another world. No way, am I actually living the dream? Awesome!

“So… What am I doing here?”

“You’re going to help us save Eden. Or you’re the one who’ll save it. I’m not sure,” Lathan admitted, scratching her head. “What’s your name? Do you have a name?”

“Yes. I’m Durante.”

As Durante climbed down from the pedestal, his mind raced in awe. Reincarnation, magic sigils, pretty girls, save the world. He could hardly believe it. It was insane. Unreal.

He looked at himself again, then punched his left palm with his right fist. Jumped. Shook his head and slapped himself three times.

Yep, everything looked and felt real.

“Come with me, Durante. Let’s meet the others,” Lathan said, opening the door.

He followed her out. A cold breeze struck his face as he crossed the threshold. They seemed to be in a forest, a starry night stretching over the treetops. A few steps ahead, a bonfire burned with two silhouettes around it.

“Did it work?” an anxious, masculine voice asked.

“It certainly worked,” Lathan replied, stepping aside so the other two could see Durante. She extended her hand to present him.

“Uh… hi,” He rubbed the back of his head with a nervous giggle. “I’m Durante. Nice to meet you.”

The first person looked like a knight. Silver armor, a massive shield, and a giant mace. Dark brown hair. A surprised expression frozen on his face.

“He is so tiny! He’s barely taller than you, Solphie,” he said, glancing at the person next to him.

A girl.

A beautiful girl, if anyone asked Durante. Mauve short hair. She wore thigh-high socks, shorts, and a choker top, all in shades of brown. Her big earrings shook as she slammed the tip of her staff on the ground at the same time as her foot.

“I’m not small!” Solphie squealed. “You’re such a big jerk that everything looks small to you. And that’s not a proper way to welcome the person who’s going to help us save Eden, Berig.”

“I agree,” Lathan said with a nod.

“You’re right!” Berig smiled wide and thrust out his hand toward Durante. “I’m Berig. Nice to meet you.”

Durante shook Berig’s hand and nodded.

“And I’m Solphie.” She shook his hand too. “Dura… Durant, was it?”

“Durante.”

“I like you,” Solphie said, scanning him from head to toe with a playful smile. The firelight shadowed her grin just enough to make it intimidating, menacing, even. “But your name’s too long. I’m calling you Duran.”

“I certainly like it,” Lathan agreed.

“It’s fine by me,” Duran said with a shrug.

And it really was. He liked the name.

New world. New body. New sigils in his skin. New name. Why not? It felt like the right path to follow.

“Wait,” Berig said, holding up both hands. “Wouldn’t Dante be better?”

Solphie raised her brows. “Ooh! You ar—”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Lathan cut her off, shaking her hands in the air with her head down. “We’re certainly not calling him that. Duran is perfectly fine.”

“Okay, you’re the boss. Duran it is,” Berig said, sitting with his legs and arms crossed. “Welcome to the team.”

“So… the boss, huh?” Duran turned to Lathan. “Mind explaining a little more about what I’m doing here, Boss?”

They were part of a secret society formed to gather seven stones when the time came. And that time was now.

Ars Goetia.

Lathan was its founder and leader. Their mission: protect Eden—the world where Duran reincarnated—from the imminent return of the King-Emperor Baal. Forming a party with Berig and Solphie, they had to look for the stones and destroy them.

According to the ritual Lathan performed, the key element to defeating Baal would manifest at the center of the magic circle.

Duran.

And there they were.

“There’s Nano too, but I think he went into the forest,” Lathan finished.

“Yeah, he got bored,” Berig added.

“Nano? What’s a Nano?” Duran asked, tilting his head.

“Speaking of questions… Why is there blood all over you?” Solphie said. “I mean, it matches your white hair, but I prefer you non-sticky.”

She dragged a finger along his shoulder and pulled strings of the half-dried, gooey blood with her thumb.

Shouts from the woods startled Duran.

“Demons! The demons found us!”

Three men burst out of the tree line, shouting breathlessly that a group of demons was almost there.

“And I took all the precautions,” Lathan said, shaking her head. “Prepare yourselves!”