"First, the primary summoning circle goes here."
Holding his grimoire open in one hand, Evenson studied a page before pointing to an open patch of ground.
He paced twenty steps to the left.
"A suppression circle here."
Another twenty.
"And another here."
He continued around the perimeter, stopping every twenty paces until he had marked five separate locations.
"Outside those, I need eight concealment circles."
He closed the book with a snap.
"This ritual could generate a lot of magical activity, and I’d rather not have every curious nuisance within fifty miles showing up to investigate."
He paused for a moment.
"Oh, and add a perception-distortion spell. If some random civilian wanders in here by accident, I’d prefer they suddenly decide they have somewhere else to be."
Satisfied with his instructions, Evenson turned around.
...
No one had moved.
His demons were standing exactly where they’d been before, exchanging blank looks.
Evenson’s eye twitched.
"What are you all waiting for?"
Sara blinked.
"Wait... you were assigning those jobs to us?"
"Who else?" Evenson groaned. "Did you think I was talking to myself?"
Sara tilted her head.
"I was beginning to think you might be."
She pointed at the open grimoire.
"Who besides you actually knows how to draw any of those circles?"
Evenson opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
...She had a point.
Warlock magic originated from demons. In theory, at least some demons should understand the same rituals.
Unfortunately, his particular collection of underlings had somehow managed to specialize in everything except ritual magic.
Not one of them could draw a proper summoning circle.
"You could’ve mentioned that earlier."
Evenson sighed dramatically.
"I just embarrassed myself for no reason."
He shoved the grimoire toward Sara.
"Fine. Follow the diagrams and start drawing. The sooner we’re finished, the sooner we can all go home and sleep."
Sara didn’t even take the book.
"You trust us to copy something this important?"
Evenson froze.
"...Good point."
He immediately snatched the grimoire back.
This wasn’t a ritual where "close enough" counted as success.
One misplaced rune could produce consequences ranging from catastrophic to unforgettable.
Looks like he’d have to do everything himself.
Again.
Sometimes he wondered if he was the only warlock in existence who personally handled every last detail.
The test drive had never been the real reason for leaving the city.
Tonight’s true objective was much more important.
Summoning.
During his last trip to Felscar Rift, Evenson had purchased two high-grade summoning foci from Agatha.
Considering what they’d cost, letting them gather dust wasn’t an option.
In fact, the sooner he used them, the better.
Knowing Azeroth’s heroes, there was always the possibility that the demons linked to those foci would be killed in some raid before he got around to summoning them.
That would turn a very expensive purchase into worthless junk.
More importantly...
Earth wasn’t going to become safer.
If anything, the opposite was true.
The threats waiting in the future would only grow stronger.
If Evenson wanted to survive everything that was coming, he needed more power.
A warlock had three primary paths.
The first was patient cultivation.
Train.
Study.
Accumulate power over years.
Safe.
Reliable.
Painfully slow.
The second was accepting power directly from a greater demon.
That route was wonderfully efficient.
One moment you were ordinary.
The next, you possessed overwhelming strength.
The downside?
Warlocks who chose that shortcut almost never enjoyed happy endings.
Evenson had absolutely no interest in becoming someone else’s puppet.
The third option...
Enslave powerful demons and force them into service.
Every successful binding dramatically increased a warlock’s combat strength. Better yet, sufficiently cooperative demons often possessed knowledge worth extracting, including magical techniques their master had yet to discover.
It was the fastest path that still left Evenson in control.
Naturally, it also carried obvious risks.
If the summoned demon escaped its bindings...
At best, the ritual failed.
At worst...
He remembered Wilfred Fizzlebang and the infamous disaster at the Argent Tournament.
That cautionary tale existed for a reason.
Even so, Evenson chose the third path.
Time wasn’t on his side anymore.
The world had already begun moving toward the future he remembered.
He couldn’t afford decades of careful cultivation.
Besides, most summoning disasters happened because people skipped preparation.
Wilfred hadn’t merely been unlucky.
He’d been catastrophically overconfident.
Evenson intended to be neither.
Normally, a single suppression circle was sufficient.
Evenson had drawn five.
Normally, concealing the magical disturbance was optional.
He had layered multiple concealment arrays over the entire ritual site.
He’d even added spells to distort the perceptions of ordinary humans, ensuring anyone who wandered nearby would instinctively decide to leave.
Every failure he knew from history...
He had prepared for it.
As far as he could tell, nothing had been overlooked.
Several exhausting hours later, Evenson finally straightened up, rubbing the stiffness from his back.
"Done."
He wiped the sweat from his forehead before casually tossing aside a bucket of paint and a broad brush.
Yes.
Paint.
Not blood.
Contrary to popular fantasy clichés, blood was an awful medium for large ritual circles.
It clotted too quickly.
By the time one section was finished, another had already begun drying into useless flakes.
Paint was cheaper, cleaner, and infinitely more practical.
There was no reason to make life difficult.
"Now..."
He looked toward the line of demons standing several meters away, watching the entire process like an audience at a theater.
A deep sense of resignation settled over him.
I summoned you people to fight.
Not to spectate.
Hopefully, tonight’s recruits would prove more useful.
He carefully placed the two summoning foci at the center of the primary ritual circle.
Every junction throughout the arrays already contained soul crystals, ready to provide power.
The sheer number he’d used had nearly emptied his reserves.
His finances had just taken another painful hit.
With a slow breath, Evenson began the incantation.
The soul crystals ignited.
Streams of energy flooded through the circles.
Every rune burst into brilliant violet light as magical power raced through the intricate network like glowing veins beneath the earth.
The entire formation came alive.
Time passed.
Everything appeared to be proceeding perfectly.
Then Evenson frowned.
"...That’s odd."
The flow of magic felt sluggish.
Almost...
Delayed.
Sara stepped closer.
"What’s wrong?"
"It should’ve finished by now."
"You think the demons ignored the summons?"
Evenson slowly shook his head.
"No."
"I can feel them."
"They answered."
His eyes narrowed.
"But something..."
The realization struck him instantly.
Someone else’s power was colliding with his own.
His expression hardened.
"Someone is interfering with my summoning."
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