Chapter 1

Run! Run fast! Escape from here! At this moment, Albert had only one thought in his mind. He ran down the stairs, through the long corridor, and rushed through the entrance hall, turning to slam the front door shut, hoping it would delay the pursuers for a moment. However, in the next second, the door exploded into a pile of splintered wood.

A cloud of black smoke billowed out from the door, swirling around Albert. He swung his sword in vain, the blade passing through the smoke, cutting only air. It seemed as if the entity was toying with him, not in a hurry to strike.

Albert steadied himself and noticed a faint human face in the black smoke. He lunged forward with his sword...

The face recoiled, dodging the strike. The black smoke condensed below the face, forming a body, and the figure of a black-robed man emerged.

Albert tried to strike again, but the man raised his hand—

Petrification! A flash of white light, and Albert's body stiffened, standing like a statue.

Levitation! Another flash of white light, and Albert felt his body floating. The man grabbed his hair, pulling him along as if he were a balloon, heading towards the ancient castle.

When Albert was dragged back to the banquet hall, the massacre was already over.

He saw his family, servants, guards of the estate, and some unfamiliar villagers lying on the ground, arranged in a pentagram by several black-robed men. They were motionless, with no obvious wounds, but they were undoubtedly dead. Their pale faces, lifeless eyes, and the stench of death in the air all confirmed this.

Before Albert could feel sorrow, he was thrown to the ground.

"Isaac, there's one more here," the black-robed man who had dragged him said.

The man who had been sitting in the master's seat, reading a thick ancient book, shook his head. "No need, the sacrifices are sufficient."

"More is always better," the black-robed man said.

Isaac snorted, half explaining, half lecturing, "Interdimensional summoning is not a barbaric ritual of piling up numbers, but a precise magical ceremony. 'Seventy-seven lives, seventy-seven souls, a feast of slaughter, a sea of blood'—these are the basic conditions for summoning the Grand Duke of Hell. Any alteration would only bring unnecessary risks."

The black-robed man shrugged, grabbed Albert's sword, and thrust it into his back.

Albert did not die. He felt intense pain spreading from his chest to the rest of his body. The sword had missed its mark; these black-robed men might be powerful wizards, but they were clearly not skilled swordsmen.

But the wound was still fatal, as blood gushed from his body, soaking the carpet beneath him. Anger, despair, fear, and confusion filled his chest, but Albert remained silent, pretending to be dead, hoping for even the slightest chance of survival.

Isaac did not notice that anyone was still alive. His attention was entirely on the mysterious ancient book in his hands.

To obtain this book, he had lost most of his subordinates, and even he himself had been severely injured. His long-established base had been destroyed, and he had to flee with the remnants of his group. Finally, he found a moment of respite in this remote estate, but it was all worth it. Subordinates could be replaced; they were merely cannon fodder.

Only power was the eternal truth, and knowledge was the carrier of power. The content of the book, even a small part of it, had already greatly benefited him, leaving him in awe of the ancient mysteries and wisdom.

At this moment, he was certain that this book would bring him to the pinnacle of power, even to the status of a god.

His abdomen suddenly ached, and Isaac clutched his stomach, where the wound had not yet healed.

'Damn Purifiers, you will pay for what you have done. Just wait until I gain enough power from this book...'

He glanced at his subordinates, who were busy, knowing that he had little time to waste. Despite their respectful demeanor, he knew it was just a facade. The two previous failures had severely undermined his authority, and the treasure in his hands made them even more covetous. Black wizards had no loyalty, and any sign of weakness...

He pushed his worries aside, forcing an unnatural excitement onto his face. "Alright, brothers, gather around, let's begin!"

The black-robed men gathered, their eyes filled with both fear and greed as they looked at the old book in his hands.

On the ancient cover, a purple eye seemed to move like a living thing, gazing at everything around it. Unfathomable runes circled the eye, representing forbidden knowledge beyond their understanding.

"Are we going to start the summoning, boss?" one of the black-robed men asked, both eager and uneasy.

"Exactly, I have deciphered the book. Follow my instructions, and each of you will be rewarded."

Isaac opened the book, revealing a vivid illustration of a monstrous being.

"We are going to summon the Grand Duke of Hell, according to the source principles recorded in the book. The Grand Duke, when summoned, will grant the summoner three wishes in exchange for freedom..."

A black wizard looked horrified. "You want to summon the Grand Duke? Are you mad? Have you forgotten what happened to Kweil and the others? And Red-haired Sally, Evil Eye Roger? Demons are not easy to control...!"

His words were met with nods of agreement.

Another black wizard muttered, "Summoning the Grand Duke is no better than summoning a genie. Both are a death sentence."

"Enough!" Isaac growled, and the others fell silent.

He knew they were only afraid, not convinced. The summoning ritual required at least five people, and he had to persuade them.

"We have no time to waste, brothers. The Purifiers are hunting us. If we don't want to end up like the others, burned alive by the Purifiers, we must take this risk! Summoning the Grand Duke is our only chance. As for the genie— it's just a legend. I've never heard of anyone successfully summoning a genie."

"Don't worry, brothers. The book details the precautions for summoning the Grand Duke. As long as it follows the rules, I have enough confidence to send it back to hell."

"My plan is simple. We will make two wishes first, and use the third wish to send it back to hell. It won't dare to harm us before fulfilling our wishes, or it will be trapped in the rules, never to be free. Once it fulfills the third wish, we won't have to worry anymore."

This sounded like a good idea. After a moment of thought, the others could find no flaws and all showed signs of excitement.

A black wizard's eyes gleamed. "What wishes should we make? We have five people, but only three—no, two wishes."

"Simple. When I make my wishes, I will target all five of us. Considering the Grand Duke is not a deity, the wishes should not be too extravagant. Let's ask for powerful magic and eternal life. With such power, we can deal with the Purifiers."

"And this is just the beginning. Once we master the power of this book, we will be invincible!" (At that time, you will no longer be of any value,) Isaac thought with a cold smile.

Powerful magic and eternal life... The black wizards exchanged glances, all showing greedy expressions. For black wizards who sought power, these were the most tangible rewards.

Once they accepted Isaac's proposal, they immediately began to act. They started to bleed the bodies on the ground, making small cuts on their necks. Some who were not yet dead struggled, but their efforts were futile against the power of magic.

A guard suddenly jumped up, punching the wizard who was trying to bleed him. His will to survive was so strong that he ignored the fact that one of his legs was broken. He limped and ran towards the door, but a black lightning bolt struck him, instantly tearing his body apart. His upper body was reduced to a mess of blood and bones, scattered everywhere, while his lower body continued to run a few steps before collapsing.

"What a pity," a black wizard said regretfully. "What do we do now that we're short one?"

"Drag the dead one over."

Albert felt someone grab his ankle. He was dragged to the edge of the pentagram, filling the gap.

Perhaps because he had already been stabbed in the chest and was still bleeding, the black wizards did not make any further cuts on him, leaving him there.

At this moment, his anger had faded, leaving only fear.

The blood in the center of the pentagram formed a crimson lake, the calm surface reflecting the candlelight.

Isaac, following the ancient book, began to draw summoning runes around the pentagram with the blood, his expression as focused as a master painter completing a masterpiece.

The scene before him was like a painting, not a landscape to decorate a room, but a terrifying work of the occult, capable of inducing nightmares.

Finally, when the last person's throat was cut and the last rune was drawn, the five black-robed men gathered at the five points of the pentagram.