“Finally, it’s done.”

Last night might not have gone according to plan but there’s no time to dwell on it. I have two elementals to contract in less than two weeks. There’re also the other mundane preparations to be made when traveling any significant distance and the preparations for waging war.

I thoroughly expect fallout from our “rescue” but until someone is trying to break down the door, I’m not going to bother with it. If I’m lucky, the investigation will drag on and I’ll be gone before they can muster the courage to move against me.

In the meantime, the circle to summon the shuba is complete. The drawing of the Dark Lord has been carved and filled with ink mixed with shards of bone. Placed around the edge of the circle are daggers and knives, some chipped, some broken, some polished to a shine.

The shuba feed off negative energy. The most abundant source of which are the bad thoughts of sapient creatures but, according to the record of the summoner specializing in their realm, they are also attracted to certain places and objects. Places or things involved in tragedies, the more violent the better.

The axe of an executioner. The whip of a particularly nasty sadist. The throne of a tyrant.

None of those things are easy to get my hands on but there are plenty of weapons stained with the blood of men and monsters circulating about. I don’t have a means of gauging how much negative energy is in or attached to them but having them around should be enough to make the circle that much more enticing.

Hmph. The writer of the record may have claimed that all that is needed is an image of the Dark Lord but I have my pride as a Tome. I once explained to Kierra that contracting an elemental is the same as proposing to a woman and the circle is a summoner’s ring. Just because the shuba are too simple to have good taste doesn’t mean I have the bad taste to propose with trash.

With the circle complete, it’s time to retrieve my audience. Not necessary for the summoning but, as it isn’t harmful, I have no problem indulging Kierra’s interest and it’s a good chance to introduce Alana to the art.

Getting to my feet, I take a moment to stretch. Crawling on my hands and knees for hours isn’t enough to make this body hurt but the motions still feel good.

My ears take me to the backyard. On the grass before the trees that mark the boundary of Kierra’s garden are Alana and Kierra, one sprawled on the ground while the other stands over her with an amused smile.

Needless to say, Alana is the one on her back, sweating profusely despite the chill and in a general state of disarray. Ah, brings back memories. After we married, that elf had me on my back all the time, in more ways than one.

Seeing her this way warms my heart. It means Alana is taking her quest for strength seriously, seriously enough to throw aside her reservations about cheating her way to the top. It also means Kierra accepts her. She’s pulling her along so she doesn’t get left behind.

“Am I interrupting?” I ask on approach.

Kierra isn’t surprised, likely having heard me while I was still in the house, but Alana’s eyes flick to me in surprise. Her lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile but she suppresses it. Does she not want to look too eager to see me? Really, this girl is too cute.

“Mm, no. She is…taking a break.”

“Don’t say it like that when we’ve been fighting for an hour,” my surly saint grumbles. “Don’t even know why I’m brawling with you. I use a sword.”

“You should know how hard you can swing your fist before how hard you can swing a blade. And it is always prudent to know how to brawl. A sword can be taken from you. You will always have your fists.”

“Those can be taken from you too.”

“If they are, you will not be wielding a sword either, hm?”

I interrupt them with a laugh. I offer Alana a hand and pull her to her feet, plucking a few strands of grass from her hair. “The circle is finished.” I grin at their interest. “You both wanted to watch. Let’s discuss a few details and then we can start the show.”

Kierra hums as she walks past us. I loop my arm through Alana’s and pull her towards the house. I ignore her attempts to pull away as I seat us on the couch.

“I’ll dirty the furniture,” she mutters.

“We have competent servants.” Speaking of, Geneva enters the room with a tea tray. I wave her off when she tries to serve me. Nervous flutters in my gut put me off drinking anything. It’s time to share another secret. I know it’s nothing bad, and there’s no reason for Alana to take it badly, but there’s no telling how someone will react to having their world turned upside down. My secret is certainly that momentous.

I clear my throat to draw their attention once they’ve made themselves comfortable. “So, I’ve explained how summoning works.”

“Yeah.” Perhaps sensing something in my words, Alana puts down her cup and turns toward me. “You call on a creature using the circle, you discuss terms, and if both sides like what they hear, they take a portion of your mana to stay here and serve you.”

What an optimistic view of contracts. Complete subservience, what I have with Geneva and Bell, is incredibly rare. Usually, the elemental is contracted to do a job and cannot be commanded outside of such. “Essentially. If you remember, I told you that summoners can only contract elementals they share an affinity with. Don’t ask me why, I’m no master who’s dedicated their life to studying mana and the bond formed between a summoner and their elemental.”

“Uh-huh.”

I clear my throat, fighting back a wave of nerves. “Anyway, I sat you down to share another secret with you. Or elaborate on one. It’s necessary because the summoning is going to raise questions I know you are too smart not to ask.”

“Thanks,” she says dryly. “Get on with it, Lou. Whatever it is, I doubt it’s going to top you not being human.”

That does calm me some. “I told you that something happened to me when I was kidnapped. Everyone knows I was taken by a crazy caster. What I don’t spread around is that said crazy caster wanted me for a summoning.”

“What? He wanted you to summon something for him?”

As if. “No. He wanted to use my blood for his circle.” She sucks in a sharp breath, body tensing as she readies to strike at a danger long past. Saints, I love her.

I place a hand on her thigh and squeeze, holding her gaze until she relaxes. “It was barbaric and amateurish but he was successful…to some extent.” I chuckle. “Bastard summoned something really powerful.”

“When you say powerful…”

“I mean a creature that has, at the very least, a celestial affinity and a coefficient of five thousand.”

She pauses, mouth gaping. Perfectly understandable. The celestial affinity is impressive enough on its own but five thousand units of mana? Five hundred is the power of masters, the best of humanity. A being with a coefficient ten times that at minimum? Terrifyingly impressive.

“This being took an interest in me while I was dying. You know elementals can exist in this realm for a few moments before being yanked back to their homes. He, using that because of personal preference as it doesn’t resemble a person in any way, saved me by, at my best guess, giving me part of himself. Which included six more affinities, for a total of seven.”

Alana continues to stare at me. I wait patiently for her to come to grips with the multiple revelations I’ve dumped in her lap. On the opposite couch, Kierra sips her tea quietly, doing a believable impersonation of air.

“Horseshit,” she finally says.

I nod, not surprised. I’d react the same way if someone told me they had seven affinities. Probably laugh in their face. Says a lot about her trust in me that her eyes are unsure, weighing her knowledge that I wouldn’t lie about something like this against the sheer impossibility of my claim.

“Don’t look away,” I tell her as I hold out a hand. I haven’t practiced much besides fire, water, and wind but I have practiced basic spells in every affinity I have. Not for this moment exactly, but for moments like it, when I need to prove my claim. Also because it feels amazing being able to use seven affinities.

“Fire, as you know.” A small spark of fire flashes over my palm.

“Now, water.” A small bead of liquid, smaller than a button, appears in the same place as the fire, hovering long enough for Alana’s wide eyes to take it in before I drop my spell and it splashes against my palm. I call for Bell as I wipe my damp hand on my pants.

There is a loud scrabbling of claws on wood as Bell speeds toward me, sliding to a halt beside the couch. “Coo!”

“I don’t feel like getting up and going to the backyard just to grab a bit of stone. Conjure me up some.”

“Coo.” [As you wish, Master Lou.] All four eyes glow as loose dirt swirls around her. The earth comes together, pressing tightly until it forms a bland, brown stone that falls at her feet.

“This is an order. Don’t use any magic on that rock until I’m done with my demonstration.”

“Coo!”

“Then, earth affinity.” I raise the rock off the ground, hold it in place long enough to check Alana is seeing it and has convinced herself that no, it is not an elaborate trick, before setting it down.

“Wind affinity.” Her hand smacks her forehead as a light breeze lifts her bangs.

“Saints blessed asses, Lou.” Her lips quiver as she searches for words. “All four basic affinities. That’s…that’s…”

“Not that impressive. There’s already a jester running around with that same level of talent. I’m one of a kind.” I hold out my palm to Bell. Cut me.

The imp is quick to oblige, slicing into my hand deeply with a claw. Blood flows liberally. Good, it’s deep. Otherwise, there’d be no point to this.

“Hey!”

I gently smack away Alana’s reaching hand. “It’s fine. This is the simplest way to show you. Physical.” What I use is a spell that uses mana to speed up a body’s natural recovery. With my already impressive regeneration, the cut is closed in moments. I hold my hand out to Bell, repressing a giggle as the imp’s slightly rough tongue licks up the blood.

Once it’s clean, I show it to Alana, sans cut. “She didn’t heal it.”

“I know,” Alana snaps. “What’d be the point?”

“Mm. Mental.” She flinches from the incredibly weak and formless thought I project to her.

“Last but far from least.” A globe of golden light appears in my hand. “Light.”

That makes her jump to her feet. A hand reaches out but pauses before touching the spell, as she likely remembers there’s nothing to grab. “This…is it real.”

“It’s real. All of it.”

She stares at it, seemingly mesmerized. She’s still staring as she slowly reclaims her seat. Then she buries her face in her hands and lets out a muffled scream.

“Um…”

She lets out a series of inarticulate grunts. I nod and fix myself a cup of tea, leaving her to process. It’s a lot to take in.

In all recorded history, there’s never been anyone with seven affinities. Not even in the most outlandish songs or stories. The most a legendary hero featured in such might have are two greater affinities and a basic affinity or all the basic affinities. Thinking about it, that’s likely why Mr. Talented is so annoying. Probably think he’s meant to be one of those fictitious heroes, the idiot.

The point is that even the greatest storyteller’s imagination couldn’t conjure up someone with my talent. Not even the greatest of legends. Seven affinities are so removed from the human range of talent, it's as inhuman as my oozey self.

The potential I possess is immeasurable. If I had to compare myself to any creature, only the magical talent of dragons and their pure affinities would suffice.