Chapter 53 Rites.

Far from the Potters' home, Vincent pondered while gazing out the window. He had defeated the enemy that had invaded his previous home. He had successfully taken his revenge. He had defeated Voldemort; that was undeniable. Yet, he felt no joy; he continued to stare out the window.

Everything seemed so normal, with the stars illuminating the green forests of the mansion and celestial bodies highlighted under a mostly clear sky. It was a beautiful night, a stark contrast to human tragedies. James Potter, a brief acquaintance who, under other circumstances, might have been called a friend, and Voldemort, the Dark Lord who had tormented Magical Britain for almost a decade, were dead—the tragic hero and the cruel villain. There was no happy ending for this tale without morals.

A smile appeared on my lips, but I was not happy. My eyes sparkled, and I felt the need to express words, roaring my anger in screams that echoed into the night.

"DAMN THIS WORLD, THIS CRUEL UNIVERSE, SO INDIFFERENT TO MEN! I REFUSE TO HAVE SUCH A FINITE, FUTILE, AND FORGETTABLE EXISTENCE. I VOW TO BE MORE, MORE THAN MYSELF!"

I saw my screams absorbed into small echoes by the clearing and the surrounding forest, and the silence returned as if my roar had been ignored or despised. But it didn't matter; my roar was not for the world but for myself. I was responsible for what happened because I was indifferent to James's suffering. If I could...

"It doesn't matter anymore."

I sat for a moment longer before passing through the wooden window on the third floor. A fall from that height would hurt an ordinary child, but not me. I felt my body transmute; my center of gravity became turbulent with mass gain and height. My senses sharpened as I controlled my body, tilting it backward and maneuvering in clean 360° spins. I fell firmly, arching to dissipate the weight of the fall, gently placing a hand on the ground.

As I stood, I observed my pointed nails and the shape of my fingers, structured to pierce or cut. My ears picked up surrounding sounds; some people were awake, murmuring about the scream. I ignored them and shot off swiftly toward the forest, moving with agility to avoid trunks, trees, bushes, and animals. I continued for hundreds of kilometers until I reached my destination, a bunker.

I ran to break the place's security seal with a quick movement of my nails, cutting the runic seal engraved on the wood from top to bottom. This gradually dissipated the illusions guarding the place. I heard the dry crack and watched an opening form in the ground, revealing a staircase immersed in the cold darkness. I did not hesitate, for I knew the place; after all, I had built it myself.

Descending the stairs, I heard the rhythmic sound of my footsteps on the wood. When I reached the basement, I was greeted by two strips of wall, woven in fine silk, with golden thread engravings representing the symbol of my house, my mark: a butterfly resting under a perfect triangle. My eyes, capable of seeing small details even in total darkness, allowed me to glimpse something that filled me with pride.

The place was a large, perfectly calculated cube that completely isolated the interior from the exterior; not even a drop of demonic taint could escape this place, making it undetectable. The basement floor was smooth and made of white marble. The walls were adorned with a layer of diamond crystal mirrors, each inch engraved with demonic runes, drawn following mathematical and geometric patterns. In the center of the room was an immaculate circle with five altars, perfectly aligned in a pentagon. Around the circle, a triangular pool fits into the edges, surrounding it with crystal-clear waters. The ceiling had a dome perpendicular to the inner circle, giving access to the sky, with highlighted star maps. This was the ritual room.

I briefly thought about the colossal work of a year of dedication and hard effort. First, the cost: I had to turn the land into my true territory at the price of 100,000 demonic essences. The materials were acquired by my illusory clones, stolen from all over the planet. This marble even contained a tiny piece of the Colosseum, but that was for ritualistic purposes, like all the other materials involved. The diamonds were stolen from the jewels of the world's most greedy people. I made sure each diamond was a fruit of exploitation, with much bloodshed embedded in its history. The wood for the stairs was taken from an oak tree where a young man hanged himself in protest. The silk was sewn by women with a special characteristic: laziness, forced by me to produce according to my preference.

I continued walking down the ramp to the inner circle, the sound of steps on the ramp muffled by the rough, blurred linen carpet. Passing by the artificial lake, I noticed a pungent smell of mercury. I walked and stopped right at the edge of the inner circle. I took off all my clothes and accessories except my pendant. I stepped into the mercury lake, which reacted to me, engulfing my body with a large wave, though with enough delicacy that the liquid touch was felt only as a caress. The liquid took away all types of contamination that could stain my body; I was cleaner and ready for the next steps.

"Manifest, Grimoire of Sins," I ordered with a harsh voice. The pendant on my neck detached from the collar, transmuting into a large book with a crimson velvet cover adorned with unreadable symbols. I could feel a voice in my mind, a familiar voice, though not my own.

[Inscribe yourself, are you ready for what comes next?]

I answered firmly, "Yes, it is I. Let's proceed with the ritual."

The voice continued, [Take seven steps towards the highest altar and place me aligned with the inner circle.]

I followed the order, counting my steps: one, two, three... six, and seven. The altar had geometric sets: a square, a circle, and a triangle. I placed the grimoire there and announced aloud, "It is done."

The grimoire glowed crimson, and from within emerged a huge heart, almost a meter in diameter, pulsing as if alive. I heard the instructions again:

[This is a dragon's heart. It represents savagery, pride, lust, gluttony, greed, and natural fury in the world. Place it on the eastern altar, aligned with the constellation Canopus.]

I briefly observed the Stellarium and knew where I should place it. I used my demonic essence to levitate the dragon's heart and walked seven steps northeast, reaching the altar. This altar was composed of five surrounding and interconnected triangles, forming a triangle in the center. I placed the heart there, but it did not touch the altar. It floated independently while the triangles holographically surrounded it. I received the next instruction.

A new heart emerged from the grimoire, much smaller, though still huge compared to human hearts.

[This is a unicorn's heart. It represents chastity, temperance, diligence, patience, charity, benevolence, humility, and kindness. Place it on the western altar, aligned with the constellation Veradrix.]

I used my demonic power to float the unicorn's heart without touching it, feeling a silver light shining in resonance with the contractions of that heart. This time, the altar was composed of five squares, aligned to create a square text. I placed the unicorn's heart in the center. It was gently surrounded by the squares, which carefully circled it.

Again, a different page of the grimoire opened, and from there emerged a human heart, the heart I had just acquired, the heart of the wizard named James Potter. I hesitated with the implications of this. I took a deep breath and listened to the grimoire's instructions.

[This is the heart of a man who represents the best humanity has to offer. Dead and wrong, yet still loyal to himself. Place it on the southern pillar, aligned with the constellation Sirius.]

I closed my eyes for a second and saw the figure of James, irreverent, while we drank butterbeer. I took action. With just seven steps, I reached the southern altar. Five connected circles stood out, designed to form an independent circle in the center. I placed the heart carefully in the center of the circle; it floated while the circles repeatedly circled it.

Finally, from the grimoire emerged a soul crystal containing the main fragment of Tom Riddle's soul, or Lord Voldemort.

[A corrupted human soul, representing the worst humanity has to offer: bestiality, intolerance, hatred, and pride. Place it on the northern pillar, under the constellation Orion.]

I repeated the process and reached the pillar. Unlike the others, there were no drawn symbols; there was nothing there, which seemed wrong. I knew why: these runes were made with spiritual writing, completely invisible in the material world. I placed the soul crystal in the center, and it floated, displaying an ethereal voice.

Then I heard, "It is done. Now perform your ceremony."

I positioned myself in the center and looked up. My eyes and senses were lost in the vastness of space, in the ethereal beauty of the deep cosmos. Inspired, I recited my vows to chaos:

"Ego Volak ex domo Mez'roth, superbe matri primordiali vota et sacrificia offero. Electus ut pars tui sim, ut tua infinita existentia floreat. O Caos primordiale, donum tuum mihi tribue secundum oblationes quas tibi affero."

50,000 Essences!

When I finished, each of the offerings was engulfed by a black flame. It was neither hot nor cold, nor did it immediately consume the offerings; it seemed to evaluate their quality. In seven seconds, each was consumed. The offerings were accepted. Now, only the retribution remained.

The same flames covered me, but I did not feel in danger; on the contrary, I felt a comfort worthy of a mother's embrace. The flames modified my being and my soul. I felt an increase in stature; now, in my demonic form, I was as tall as a twelve-year-old child. My body was slender, with compressed but potent musculature. My claws gained a black hue, sharper than ever. My mouth was highlighted by properly fitted fangs in the dental arch. My pointed ears aligned with my horns, which grew majestically on my head, symbolizing the status I had just acquired. I was the High Demon. Additionally, in the center of my soul, I felt a different energy. Familiar, but I didn't risk guessing.

"Is it really?...," I thought aloud about its meaning. "My guess is..."