Chapter 36
Summoning the Mysterious Entity (2)
Arthur smiled calmly,
a smile that carried within it barely visible, restrained fury,
then he steadied his body… and his mind.
'Alright… this is not the time for blame.
There's no room for hesitation now—either now… or never.
I'll leave these side thoughts for later.'
Arthur moved with blinding speed,
extended his left hand,
and struck Howard's neck without hesitation.
Howard collapsed to the ground,
unconscious.
It was not cruelty,
but necessity.
Howard—in this moment—
was nothing but an obstacle.
Those standing before Arthur now
were not ordinary humans,
but members of the Cthulhu Cult—
people with terrifying experience in killing and destruction,
madmen…
whose madness in battle might rival his own.
Someone like Howard, no matter how brave,
would only slow him down
and block his path.
His time had not yet come.
In Arthur's mind,
Howard had only two roles:
The first… protect the stone.
That role was over.
The second remained.
Arthur smiled quietly,
removed his black coat,
and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.
He gripped his black sword tightly.
He pressed his hand against his neck
and casually cracked it.
Then he began to walk forward.
He advanced toward the members of the Cthulhu Cult.
One man…
holding a black sword…
standing before five hundred madmen.
It was time.
Arthur relaxed his body,
allowed his mind to empty,
then released his aura.
The aura of killing.
The aura of death.
Arthur—
King of Death,
the worst of the kings of hell,
the most evil killer in the world,
the mad demon,
the Demon of the Sky…
Arthur Narin.
He was a man with a bloody past.
He killed for the first time
at the age of eleven.
A year before that…
he had lost his parents.
His mother left him,
and his father died of grief—or so some believed.
He lived alone,
rejected by relatives and friends.
And because of a chain of events,
he took his first life—
as a child.
Arthur pinned down a boy several years older than him with one hand and a heavy hammer,
and struck his head once…
then again…
until it was completely shattered.
He fled afterward.
And from that day,
Arthur walked the path of death and ruin.
He trained.
He hardened.
He strengthened his body, his mind, and his spirit.
He became a bloody killer.
He was known by many titles,
but the name that clung to him…
was one:
Demon of the Sky – Arthur Narin.
That dark aura—
the aura of killing,
the aura of death—
grew with the first soul he took.
And now…
after years of training and blood,
his aura had become
stronger…
and more miserable.
Arthur stood before five hundred members of the Cthulhu Cult
and unleashed that immense aura upon them.
He no longer wished to restrain himself.
He understood one thing clearly:
if he did not fight with his full strength from the very beginning—
then he would either be killed by them…
or by Cthulhu himself if he were summoned.
He stood there,
smiling,
his black sword in his right hand,
and released his power.
Everyone who entered the range of his aura
felt death
lurking for them.
All of them stopped what they were doing.
They turned around.
Hundreds of eyes
locked onto Arthur—
the dark man…
smiling like a demon.
One of them screamed,
in foolish terror:
"Cthulhu!!"
In that moment,
Arthur released an even purer…
more demonic aura.
An unbelievable aura of death.
Hearts trembled.
Some believed
that Cthulhu had truly been summoned—
and had manifested within Arthur's body.
But the majority…
knew the truth.
This…
was their enemy.
Reports had arrived.
Reports about Arthur,
and about his long meeting with Howard.
That information had reached
the Elder—
the founder of the Cthulhu Cult.
He raised his ornate wooden staff
and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Kill your Ruler's enemy, you fools!!"
The staff trembled.
Moments later,
most of the members' eyes turned a pale violet,
and drool spilled from their mouths.
They were completely controlled.
They stomped the ground with their feet
and charged toward Arthur
with absolute madness.
Arthur stood alone
before nearly three hundred members.
Two hundred remained with the Elder.
Arthur lifted his head
and looked at the old man.
He was preparing to complete his incantation.
In that moment,
Arthur understood his objective.
I must kill them all…
and that frail old man with them.
He smiled calmly
and raised his sword toward the sky.
He reinforced his power.
He compressed the energy with complete focus,
from his body…
to his arm…
to his sword.
And for a moment—
his hand turned black,
as though coated in something strange.
He did not notice.
His focus was entirely on his enemies.
He smiled at them,
then struck the ground with his foot—
and launched forward.
One man
against an army of madmen
thirsting to kill him brutally.
He swung his sword,
and the battle began…
before the statue of Cthulhu.
And while the massacre began in front of the statue,
each sacrifice had a man holding a knife.
The Elder held the stone in his right hand
and the staff in his left.
He began reciting incomprehensible words.
One of the nine elders noticed
that the battle was not going in their favor.
He moved,
along with five other elders
and one hundred members,
toward Arthur.
Only one hundred members,
one hundred sacrifices,
the Elder,
and four elders guarding him
remained before the statue.
At that moment,
the Elder's staff began to tremble violently.
The stone
turned a deep violet.
The Elder raised the staff
and brought it close to the stone.
A blinding light shone.
Both
carried Cthulhu's energy.
Moments later,
the light dimmed.
The staff merged with the stone
in terrifying harmony.
An aura erupted—
stronger…
more ferocious than before.
The Elder smiled.
"Only the summoning remains now."
He raised the staff in his right hand
and gestured with his left.
He began chanting the words.
Then…
dark light exploded once more.
He lowered his left hand—
the signal to begin.
One hundred knives moved at once.
Without delay—
one hundred sacrifices were slaughtered.
The energy of unjust souls
rose into the air.
In that moment,
the wall separating the natural and the supernatural
was terrifyingly weak.
On the verge of collapse.
The wall of life and death.
The wall of truth and the unseen.
The Elder raised his hand again,
then lowered it quickly,
his body barely enduring that power.
With the signal—
every man raised his knife
and stabbed his own heart.
The Elder smiled.
The stone began absorbing everything.
One hundred innocent souls.
One hundred corrupted souls.
The inscribed stone.
The incantation of return.
The staff of death and life.
Thus…
Cthulhu is summoned.
Only
a few words remained.
But—
at the moment when none remained before the statue
except the Elder…
and as the dark aura coiled around him—
something black pierced
that aura with unbelievable speed…
and pierced his heart
from behind.
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