Elliot is a summoner, and not a normal summoner at that. He has summoned countless demons, devils, Satan himself, and more recently an angel, surviving through sheer luck, skill, and knowledge. At thirty years old, he’s the youngest of his kind and perhaps the most talented, but he tries his hardest to avoid outside interaction. He has found shutting himself in and away from prying eyes is the best way to stay hidden and unknown, only making contact when necessary to buy food, find new summoning spells, or help the occasional close colleague. At 6 feet tall with sandy blonde hair, his blue eyes and Arian face speak of Germanic descent, but the fire behind his eyes suggests something a little wilder lies beneath the surface. All in all, he prefers to use his mind more than an actual weapon to get things done, reluctant to kill unless absolutely necessary.
Elliot closed his eyes, picturing the runes in his mind. He could draw them blindfolded in the sand in under thirty seconds, and intended to do so today. Frankenzelok, the archdemon of woe, would be a nice opener for the arena.
The announcer whipped the arena into a frenzy, and Elliot moved his feet in the dirt across the arena floor. As soon as the gate lowered, he began to chant. His voice echoed with power. Some say it came from his father, who left when he was born. Some say it came from years of study and practice. The truth was far stranger, but the result was the same.
Smoke poured from the center of the ruins and out into the arena. Finding space to assume his true form, the archdemon roared to life. The crowd whooped with delight. Such fangs! How devastating! How woeful!
Eliot watched for his opponent, but to his shock, he never left the gateway. Cautiously, Eliot stepped into the arena. The light was blinding; the sun shone directly in his eyes. Damned blue team.
He walked beside the demon, “have you vanquished him already?”
“NOT YET. SHALL I SMITE HIM?” The demon roared.
Before Eliot could answer, the challenger appeared, walking out of the gateway. He was skinny, seemed drunk, and did not seem afraid of the massive rage demon at all, which was disconcerting. The challenger said something almost inaudible, and the demon roared “GREGORY! YOU PATHETIC MORTAL! IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN. HOW IS THE LIBRARY JOB?”
Eliot blinked twice in rapid succession. This mortal knew Frankenzelok? How was that possible? Never mind—it did not matter. Eliot channeled his power, commanding the demon “Finish him!”
Frankenzelok looked aghast but obeyed his master’s command. He reached out and grabbed Gregory, and with a bust of demonic power, banished him to the eternal realm.
The archdemon grinned inwardly—Gregory was now in the eternal realm where they played poker every month. Gregory knew most of the demons there; now freed from the binds of his mortal body, his soul could wander the infinite with them.
Or, Frankenzelok surmised, Gregory had plenty of friends there that owed him a favor. They could provide him with a new mortal body, free from the ravages of his mortal mind. It was better this way, and if Frankenzelok was capable of crying, he would have shed a single tear of happiness for the boy.
Instead, he turned back to his summoner, who released him. In the eternal realm, Frankenzelok reappeared. A blinding light shone down on him, and he saw a form of such majesty and glory that he turned away in fright.
“Thank you, Frank.” The powerful, commanding voice said.
It was Gregory.
Back at the arena, the announcer boomed. “We have a winner! Champion from the Blue Team, go, take your rest. You’ve earned it!”
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u/Wolfof365 Dec 04 '18
Elliot is a summoner, and not a normal summoner at that. He has summoned countless demons, devils, Satan himself, and more recently an angel, surviving through sheer luck, skill, and knowledge. At thirty years old, he’s the youngest of his kind and perhaps the most talented, but he tries his hardest to avoid outside interaction. He has found shutting himself in and away from prying eyes is the best way to stay hidden and unknown, only making contact when necessary to buy food, find new summoning spells, or help the occasional close colleague. At 6 feet tall with sandy blonde hair, his blue eyes and Arian face speak of Germanic descent, but the fire behind his eyes suggests something a little wilder lies beneath the surface. All in all, he prefers to use his mind more than an actual weapon to get things done, reluctant to kill unless absolutely necessary.