Dealing with a Devil

Velmuth believed in reincarnation. That wasn't because he was religious but because he had already reincarnated once. 

In his previous life, he had been a monk of considerable achievements. As a cultivator of the soul, upon his death, his soul managed to hold on.

According to his perception, he vaguely remembered that his soul had been burned clean by some cosmic force and then, after some undefined time, returned to the world of the living.

Perhaps due to the tenacity of his soul, he kept his awareness, albeit barely, along with some of his strongest memories from his previous life.

In this life, he was reborn in a new world. This world had no cultivators or magic, only technology. But only for those who were content with not looking for it.

It wasn't that Velmuth was fascinated with looking for the occult. It was just that with his background as a monk, he couldn't be interested in pointless everyday pleasures. 

All that remained was looking for the secrets of the cosmos.

It would be fine if he were blind to the truth, but since he knew that perhaps magic existed somewhere in this mundane world, how could he live a peaceful life in ignorant bliss?

If there was a secret text, he had read it. He had gone through records of witches' confessions, through dusty holy books, and he had investigated folklore tales and secret societies.

His efforts were rarely rewarded, but his very few victories were more than enough to keep him going.

Today was a big day.

Today, he would summon the devil. Or, to be more precise 'a devil'.

An intricate blood pentagram covered the biggest part of the warehouse. Clearly, a lot of blood had been used to paint this.

Upon closer inspection, one would notice intricate runes carved on the floor along the pentagram lines. Those weren't actually part of this summoning but remnants of previous, more futile efforts. 

In the center of the pentagram, there was a white marble altar. It had cost a damn lot, but the previous one had cracked, so replacing it couldn't be avoided. 

On top of the altar lay a man. He was gagged and chained, trembling and with horror in his eyes.

It was cold, but the man was not trembling from the weather. He was trembling because of the madman who was approaching him slowly, waving his dagger around in a mysterious ritual, as he was chanting otherworldly words from a bloodstained parchment. 

Velmuth was this man, and he couldn't care less about his victim's feelings. He had picked up a murderer and not some innocent civilian. That wasn't because he was kind-hearted but because the ritual required a weak and vulnerable soul.

This man had regrets for his murder, which caused him to have exactly what Velmuth needed. A weak and vulnerable soul, barely holding itself together.

As Velmuth reached the end of the scroll, it was also the time for the man's life to reach its end. Velmuth sliced his neck, leaving the hot blood splashing everywhere and then dripping down. 

As time passed, a pool of blood started forming on the floor. Velmuth waited patiently, his hand holding his victim's head in place.

He wasn't just waiting for him to die. Through the power of the ritual and the runes carved on his own flesh, he was holding the man's soul in place. 

This was the summoning ritual for a devil, and the soul of a villain was needed as bait.

He now had only to wait until he caught something. Velmuth was not impatient at all, however. 

Sooner or later, his bait would work.

...

True enough, after an hour or so, the man's body twitched. It then struggled against Velmuth's hand. It could easily push his hand, but the chains held him there. 

Still, Velmuth released him. He even cut off the corpse's gag. 

"So, you are here. I hope you liked my offering," he said with a polite bow. 

"Please enjoy your meal. And later, perhaps you would listen to my request," he said with a well-trained but wholly fake, warm smile.

It was not a coincidence that he had not undone the chains.

The devil possessing the man gave a greedy look towards Velmuth.

But still, it couldn't resist the allure of the soul in front of it. It began devouring it.

Velmuth saw the man's fingers curling in pleasure, and he knew. He moved towards the side of the room. There, he picked a specially prepared iron spike, large enough to go through an adult man's chest.

And that's where this spike was planned to go.

Humans would usually attribute mystical qualities to silver, but the secret didn't lie in the material but rather in the rituals he had used when crafting this very spike. 

He approached the devil swiftly. It wasn't his first time meeting one, so he knew this was the time they were at their weakest.

With a swift move, the man and the creature inside him were impaled.

The devil gave a look of shock and horror towards Velmuth, but it didn't do much else.

Not because it didn't want but because it couldn't. 

"Finally. After so many failed efforts." Velmuth sighed. 

It had taken him decades to collect everything he needed. In truth, many times, he had believed he would fail. 

Finally, his patience had started to pay off. For the first time, he had pinned down an otherworldly spirit. 

"Humans have souls. But you are a being made of soul." he mused. In truth, he wasn't waiting for a reply. He was just in a good mood after a long, long time, and gloating only made it better.

"You know, I was watching this guy one day. He cut open a sheep belly and then hid inside it," he explained. 

"He hid inside, supposedly to hide from the cold of the night. And it really got me thinking." he continued, as he started undoing the chain bindings "What if I hid my soul inside of a stronger soul. Wouldn't then I have a shield, that could help me pass through the ordeal of death, unharmed? Hahaha." he laughed. 

And then he laughed again.

And he kept laughing, under the utterly horrified look of the devil who was now helplessly getting dragged toward this madman's hellish laboratory...