Hastum
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5. Call upon the abyss
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 21:32:51 +0000 UTCI had to give it to the creature. The mental work was excellent. Every ghost has the natural ability to cause fear, but this show was really good—so good, in fact, that I almost missed the slight poke in my mental landscape. The presence in my mind slowly made its way deeper, towards the part of the psyche where surface fears and phobias resided.
Breaking into someone's mind was difficult if you did not have a natural ability, like ghosts or seers. But even for those creatures, it was hazardous because to do so directly, you must establish a two-way connection.
And if you run into someone proficient in mind arts, it might not end up well for you. If I were a normal person, I would probably just wonder why I am thinking about some scary memory from the past right now, as the creature got a good look at my fears.
But I was not a normal person, and this was precisely what I was waiting for.
The presence in my mind was moving forward cautiously until it suddenly stopped. It finally noticed that something was horribly wrong, probably warned by a primal sense of fear that arose in it.
But it was too late.
Using my own mental strength, I grabbed the tentacle-like construct in my mind, locking it in place, and made my way to the thing on the other end, no stealth, just a brute force attack. Once there, I started to rummage through the creature's psyche like an elephant in a glass shop, looking for its plan or, preferably, location.
I could feel the mind on the other end. It was much more complex than any spirit I had encountered before, but I had no time to ponder. The part of it in my head started to retreat in a panic.
With access to some of my memories, it bombarded me with visions of my own childhood, hoping one of them would elicit enough of a response to break my concentration.
The memories flashed before my eyes. I could see my own past intertwined with the ghost's surface thoughts.
A vision of a head in a complicated glass container looking at me with a warm smile flashed inside my mind.
It was preparing a trap.
People chanting in strange language as thirteen-year-old me sat in front of a massive sculpture with dimensions, angles and colors not of this world.
A distraction, then an attack, it was planning a killing blow.
An old massive book with strange symbols, the most blasphemous text of mankind, passed to me.
Something more, a ruse within a ruse, something was wrong, something… As I tried to make my way deeper, the connection was lost, and the presence retreated as I quickly used a shield spell to block a hasty attack.
I revealed part of its plan, but there was something else, something I did not get to see. I had to be extra careful. All I could do was increase my focus and hope to kill it before any new variable came into play.
Time to spring the trap.
I raised a talisman not to waste my own mana as another black needle crashed into a see-through shield created by it and sprinted towards the place where the thing probably had its origin. The doorway at the end of the corridor where the man was shot was my destination. I pulled out a glass bottle with my special holy water concoction. Whatever was living here should feel the antithesis of its own energy radiating from the bottle.
As I was almost by the place where the man died, the trap sprang.
The doors to my left leading into the bathroom swung open, and a massive spike made out of shadows flew straight at me. No shield at the first or second circle could block that attack entirely, as it was prepared and overcharged with mana in advance, almost reaching the level of a third-circle spell. The feeling of triumph could be felt radiating from the creature.
Gotcha.
Panther's Agility
I used a second circle spell stored in the staff and barely twisted myself out of the way of the spike. My left hand, holding the compass-like talisman, made contact with the projectile, some of the mana making its way into the contraption as the strength of the strike threatened to rip it from my hand. A trick only possible thanks to the exact angle and moment of the attack being revealed to me.
I heard a shriek of anger coming from down the hall as I took the compass-shaped amulet and activated it.
I got the fucker now. Once the compass was locked in the direction of the spirit, all I needed to do was rip it to pieces. If it retreats into its nest, the needle will point at the entrance. I got it cornered now. I checked for any attack and looked at the contraption.
My moment of triumph was a mistake. As the amulet activated, I was ready to fire off a spell in any direction it pointed, but it just started to spin around like a carnival ride.
I tried to use a shield talisman, but I was a heartbeat too late. The attack connected. It was a dark, razor-sharp blade made of shadows that flew at me, but this time, it just materialized almost right in front of me out of nowhere. The only thing saving my life was the fact that I was on edge, knowing there was a variable I was not aware of, and the lingering effect of the Panther's Agility.
To my surprise, the strike ripped through my armor spell, and only the slight movement I managed to make changed it from one that would have cut my throat to one that just left a long wound on the side of my neck.
I quickly used the staff to cast Wailing Armor, using up my last second circle spell stored as two more attacks, nearly connected. Those two were normal strength, but I could not tell when the creature would manage another one powerful enough to rip a second circle armor.
What followed seemed like rain pattering on concrete. The projectiles now rained from everywhere, originating right next to me, not from shadows or the strange being now standing at the end of the hall, smiling.
No, they simply appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the air.
It seemed they couldn't appear right on my skin. There was some buffer, but not much. Attacks just materialized around half a meter from me. I didn’t understand how. It made no sense, but I had no time to think about it now. I was repeatedly recasting a first circle shield to block the assault coming from all angles, using the time bought to cast another one before the old spell gave out.
But I could not keep going like that. The creature had more resources in its home territory, and once my mana was out, it would rip me to shreds.
I needed to break the balance.
I tried to move towards the stairs but stopped, seeing the thick tendrils of darkness protecting the windows. It would not let me out this easily. I was too deep in the house.
If I were capable of panicking, I probably would be right now, but my mind was still focused, allowing me to think clearly.
I needed a solution in the next thirty seconds. It was time to gamble.
Allowing some of the attacks to be taken by the Wailing Armor, I cast Dome of Protection, a second circle spell much stronger than armour or shield, but not mobile, putting as much mana into the spell as I could without it going out of my control.
I quickly followed the dome with Muffle, cutting off all sound from my surroundings. I sat down like a monk meditating in the rain, the water drops replaced by deadly needles ready to turn me into a skewer.
With the stronger cast of the dome, I had maybe 15 seconds. With my thoughts speeding up in the state of meditation, I may have bought a minute of uninterrupted thinking time before my demise.
How was the creature attacking?
Was it spatial magic? But that was hard to cast and took massive amounts of power that I would feel.
Some artifact?
A trap created by my broker? No, that was stupid, the organization wouldn’t fuck up their thousands of years old image for one assassination.
No, I needed something simple. Most of the time, the most obvious answer was the right one.
I felt the dome creak. And it hit me–a simple answer. My eyes shot open from the emotional rollercoaster. There was an explanation that I didn't consider, as it was impossible.
But it was simple and fit, and if it was simple and fit, then it should be correct.
But it can’t be. Some part of me protested.
A torrent of thoughts was now squirming inside of me
How?
Why?
Impossible.
But am I sure?
Should I gamble on the impossible being true?
The simple answer was not spatial magic but planar magic. There existed creatures with a natural ability to interact with other planes. They had the natural ability to cast some related magic silently and with little effort.
If this were the case, then the creature fit as well. It was not a ghost, spirit, apparition, or any other being that I knew, but one that I read about in old books.
It was a spawn, a shadow spawn, to be precise, a ghost-type undead that creates a separate, plain-like nest where the universe's mana vein meets the mortal plain. Its specialty was the ability to cast from anywhere near its home, as the plains in that place would overlap.
It all fit. That's how it materialised in the client’s mother’s house, and mine. The creature's range of movement was relative to its plain-like lair's size, allowing for a wider range of movement, although its power was greatly diminished the further it was from the vein.
It would be a great explanation if not for one small problem. Mana veins no longer existed. They were shattered by the war two thousand years ago.
I felt the dome strain. I needed a way to turn it around, fast. All I confirmed now, assuming that I was right, was that I’m screwed.
But wait, a terrible idea entered my head.
If this place connects to a vein, then it also connects to other planes and the rest of the universe. If that were the case, then could I, or more importantly, should I contact something from another plane?
It could be suicide but…
I firmed my resolve as I let the dome crack, not casting a new one. I closed my eyes once again as arrows of death hurled towards me. This time, instead of meditation, I went deeper into my own self.
Time outside stopped to have meaning as I fell through my own psyche and then deeper beyond the mind. The feeling was similar to the sensation of falling one gets as they jerk awake in their beds, but it was constant. I felt myself in a free fall until the feeling stopped, and I arrived.
A place near the primal fears, a part of the unconscious mind connected to the soul, responsible for the greatest fear of all.
The fear of the unknown.
If entered by any person, their mind would collapse, seeing the manifestation of primal terror itself. But it was just an empty space for me. Well, almost empty. I knew that time had no meaning here. This space was ruled by its own laws. Everything was gambled on this one card.
The moment I exited this place, I would be killed.
I looked around. It was missing any landscape, like a massive field of gray, cracked ground in permanent half darkness. Whenever I arrived, it was always the same. The point where I stood was lit up like I was standing under a street light in the night. And no matter what, I would arrive standing with my back facing IT when falling here.
I took a peek over my shoulder.
A swirling abyss. A wall of darkness so deep that even looking at it made it seem like the light never existed, like it was but a fever dream of humanity. The manifestation of madness, the Liquid Chaos, the Nothingness that Devourers.
I knew I should break eye contact, because if you stared too long, something would stare back.
I ripped my eyes from the darkness and looked to my right. There was a rope there. I could not tell you where it originated, even if I tried. It looked like an old linen rope, one end stretched far into the gray landscape, disappearing on the horizon, and the other end disappearing in the darkness behind me. The rope was a symbol of a contract made years ago.
But I knew exactly what was there on that end. What I was feeling now was the closest I could get to fear. Like I knew I should be terrified, everything in me screamed to cower in fear. My mind should be pulverized by the smallest part of the entity behind me, but at the same time, I could not feel the emotion that should kill me right now.
My shaking hand approached the line, knowing I couldn’t stay in this space forever. I was still running through scenarios for other solutions, but nothing came to mind. I firmed my resolve.
Placing my finger on the rope, I tugged ever so gently and… it was attached. Any other time I tried that anywhere other than in front of the statue back in my family’s storage or the god's idol, it would just fall to the ground at the slightest touch. But now it firmly stayed attached to something in the darkness.
One more deep breath. “Let's get it over with,” I whispered to myself.
I cleared my mind of any doubt. I was empty.
'Nullus affectus in insaniam spiral. Nulla cupido in obsessionem crescat. Nullus metus in phobiam vertatur’.
I recited the old mantra. No emotion to spiral into madness. No desire to grow into an obsession. No fear to twist into phobia.
And with one quick move, I pulled on the line and invoked the eldritch god's name.
“Azathoth”
