I sigh as I stare at the empty council chamber.

I am now almost all alone, in terms of true supporters. Doubtless there are now half a dozen plots to remove me from my position. Discontent is rising rapidly, as it has been over two weeks since the permanent portal was opened, but we have yet to follow up the initial attack.

I am deliberately holding them back. Not to instil a false sense of security or such. This is the reason I feed to the others, but I don't underestimate the humans that much.

But there is no need in the short term. The leak of spiritual energy across is enough for me. Slowly, surely, the capital is looking slightly less barren.

Alas, if only I knew of this method sooner, the blood of so many demons would not be on my hands.

Of course, one does not simply halt a war in full swing, especially one where we are seemingly winning. And I cannot look back now.

So, an exhausting three hours have been spent explaining battle arrangements to the council.

My brother did indeed do a good job, all the way up to his death. Encountering an aberration like the Sword Saint can't be helped. I have learnt by now that there is not much I can do to truly scratch the strongest humans. They are walking disasters given form. I wonder if they realise just how terrible their very existence is to the world. How much pain they give it.

At least there was a single great boon. The male heir was killed, and on top of that, has become a vessel for my spirit.

That is integral to the next part of the plan, in fact. It has been the glue that holds this entire process together. I have heard that only female humans of this bloodline can act as summoners, but I often questioned how and why that would be the case.

Blood having significance in magic? That is popular myth. It is not so... it matters only in a handful of circumstances, like helping to bind a spirit quickly. I suppose it can be manipulated by powerful water spirits in the same way as powerful fire spirits being able to manipulate flammable objects to a degree.

So, is it in the gender? Not so. Besides reproductive capabilities adding a slight bias to the types of spirits attracted, there is again no change.

No. It appears to be an aberration in the soul itself. Perhaps even in the code that makes it a royal human.

I do not fully understand it. Were I simple scholar, I would love to spend my years researching it.

But as a wartime leader I must purely think in terms of what can be gained.

And that is...

"Are you finished moping?"

I turn to see the shadowy figure. It is always in flux. Both human and demon and beast.

"Is it ready?" I answer with a question of my own.

"You are infuriating, my sage. But yes. It is done."

"Then we shall start immediately."

"Are you certain? Your power is barely coalescent. This could kill you."

I blink. After two weeks...?

"Yes. The recovery rate has become almost non-existent."

There was a cost then. For a ley-line creation of my own. I sigh.

"I can't hesitate. This is the only avenue remaining now."

"Are you sure? Did you not just express your contentment with draining the other side?'

"It would be remiss of me to truly consider that a permanent solution."

"Yes. And that is why you are the Cultivator."

I am reminded of my solemn duty once more. This spirit is always testing me for that. To fall into hubris is to lose my role. It is why that, no matter my fury, I must always try to stay calm.

I ascend to the highest apex of the castle, and from there, across the crag bridge, into the Eye of The Snake, the natural surface formation of Malacke Metal that demons once worshipped in more primitive times, and where the Sage of Metal once resided.

Where a vast spherical chamber lies, sheared perfectly into the green mineral.

It is now replete with swirling violet energies. Green and Purple. Forty members of the Agon Priesthood stand, chanting furiously. They look exhausted.

In the middle, a female human is skewered. An ex-soldier, I think. Hard to find, in fact. But its blood has apparently sufficed after all, running along the grooves of this magic circle, glowing with a feint luminosity. It thrashes, a gag halting its silent scream, and forcibly fed void potions halting its untimely demise.

I move over to it, raising all of my arms, attuning myself to this formation once more.

This will finally work.

I add my own low hum to the chant. My spirit stares for a moment, and then empowers the process.

I start to feel sweat on my brow and delirium starts to take me. I lose connection with the world and step briefly into the tepid darkness of the void. Unlike some, however, I am used to this feeling. I endure it. I communicate my desire, let it pour from me, let all of my power sustain me.

It is only barely enough.

But it is enough.

I step back into the physical world and there is a deafening explosion of power. The human female subject vaporises into a fine red mist, and a torrent of thunder smashes me off my feet.

I stand and shake my head from a daze. It seems the priesthood have also been vaporised.

The components were shoddy, so the cost was higher than expected.

But.

I feel the amazing surge of magic.

In the middle, a glowing figure descends.

It worked.