Chapter 7 [The Society of Dark Arts]

"The time is nigh!" An old man's voice echoed inside a dimly lit room. His followers wore dark cloaks all cheered as he raised a fragment of an ancient weapon with one hand. Nobody except the old man knew its origin and what made it an armament despite only being a piece of one. It shined in the moonlight that got through a big stained glass window that served as the chamber's only aperture. It made a high pitched noise as if it was getting activated by the light and slowly started to levitate away from the man's hand. The voices of amazement and fascination sounded out from the audience.

"We, The Society of Dark Arts shall make use of this artifact in order to destroy any enemy that gets in our way!" The old man announced. His voice was commanding and powerful. All the loose dust nearby flew into the air as a strong gust blew and broke the stained glass window that the old man stood in front of. Broken pieces of glass flew into the chamber as the wind entered, the fragments missed the old man but the opposite could be said about some of his audience. Some had minor cuts on their body whilst some died a slow and painful death as glass stabbed them in the throat. Blood splattered and formed pools as bodies begun to slump to the floor which activated hand-drawn runes on its stone-built surface. The cuneal writing glowed red as the fluid flowed on them, the vestige changed from a golden hue to a darker, sinister, and demonic color as the ritual corrupted it.

Just a little bit more and our enemies won't even see what is coming to them. The old man smirked. His cocky demeanor of his got on the nerves of his peers quite quickly and even soon created enemies that he had killed off once he found an opportunity. Many have referred to him as dangerous, devious, and psychotic. At times he was even called the son of the Devil for his many unholy deeds against anybody that stood in his way.

A month ago, this old man was not this powerful yet. This was caused by one faithful encounter that he had back then. One that had changed him into a more psychotic version of himself. He could not believe what he was told by a mysterious shadow-like figure that appeared in his chambers late one night. He knew immediately what this being was the moment he laid his eyes on it. But he was hesitant to mutter a word as it slowly floating toward him, it held an object wrapped in a worn black shroud. Its shape was not something he expected, it was a fragment of a holy weapon that was old enough to be around when Christ walked the earth.

"What you see before you is not my physical body, it is merely an illusion." The figure spoke, it's voice sounded ungodly to the old man. "However, I came not to start a fight with you. I appeared before you to present to you a proposal-a deal if you will."

"Speak. What kind of deal does the dark forces of Hell want?" The old man straightened himself. He tried to keep his voice stern as he spoke, shock still affected him from the sudden appearance of the entity before him. "Do you wish for me to exchange my soul for that object?"

"Incorrect, we wish for you to convert this fragment of the Spear of Destiny into a weapon of the dark. Not a difficult task for a man such as yourself, is it not?" The entity merely laughed. "In exchange, we will provide you with powers of your own that you can use however you wished." Shark-like teeth gleamed in the moonlight as the entity grinned, its eyes glowed scarlet.

"If I may ask, what will you do with this once it is done?" The old man inquired. His curiosity clearly got the better of him as he started to reach for the spear fragment. The object was not big, it was only the size of two AA batteries.

"Patience... All will be revealed soon..." The entity hissed. It was not pleased by the old man's brusqueness, it backed itself away as it noticed the hand moving ever so slowly toward its direction. It knew of human greed but not of whatever this old man was thinking, it started behaving cautiously as the man blankly stared after his attempt to grab the object had failed. There was only darkness in his eyes-the kind that would give any normal human the feeling of pure fear as he realized what had happened.

"Is that so. What will your kind do if I refuse?" The old man beamed psychotically at the figure. He knew he had a slim chance of winning if this entity laid a hand on him-but a chance nonetheless. He slowly reached for an object inside of his pocket, it was something that he thought would work on a creature that came from the depths of Hell itself.

The figure was quiet as it merely stared back at him. It looked like it was caught off guard by the man's arrogant nature, seemigly unable to comprehend why the man didn't look concerned in the slightest despite knowing of its kind.

The figure did not respond nor care about the musings of the old man. Instead, it just stood in place unmoving. It knew there was no point in engaging in such pointless prattling.

The old man sighed in response. Disappointed in the lack of response, he had lost interest in his tauning almost instantly. He was aware that it was a waste of time if he continued poking at the a beast if nothing would happen.

"Well then, I shall be taking my leave. Do not forget… There will be consequences if you defect from our arrangement…" The figure disappeared in to the night. The old geezer was left in his chamber all alone once again, the sound of crickets soon sounded loud as there was no other sound within a five mile radius.