"Magic is, for all that the word might evoke images of chanted words and elaborate rituals," Red skimmed off the page, "a simple practice at heart. It is no different than what modern physicists know about. Whether it is phrased as the second law of thermodynamics, or the principle of equivalent exchange, the fact remains the same: Work Requires Energy. For magic, this energy is derived directly from the soul. It's partly for this reason that some instances of this text will refer to magic as the Spiritual Arts, and to science as the Material Arts."
"That brief overview now covered, the rest of this book will focus on covering a single magical discipline with each and every page, and detailing how to conduct it. Take note, young scholar, few of these abilities are easy to learn, or to maintain with the mana of a neophyte. Rarer still is it for one mage to master every art," Red's gaze wandered from the introduction, onto the table contents.
In black-grey text on white paper, he observed a listing of spells and magical techniques, each line accompanied by a page number. Pyrokinesis on page twenty-five, hydrokinesis on page twenty-six, terrakinesis and aerokinesis on the following two. What caught his attention most than most of them was flight, eagerly brushing past the pages to forty.
There, he saw more text. At the center of the right page, there was a picture of a robed woman flying alongside a cloud.
"No doubt, young mage," he read off the top, "you are reading this because the idea of such freedom as to be among the clouds in the sky holds appeal to you. I am afraid that I must disappoint you, then. The act of having the human body defy gravity is perhaps the one of the most exhausting ways to spend your accumulated mana. Humans weigh a great deal more than birds do, after all," Red could see the reasoning there, and turned a few pages further to number fifty-five, the first page of the 'summoning of familiars' section.
To his curiousity, "Be warned" was written at the top of the page in large bolded font, without no other text there. The text below, regularly formatted, clarified the reason behind that.
"If you are reading this tome, you are no doubt an apprentice, or else a graduate who was too much a dumbass to pay attention," a smirk formed on his face at reading that passage.
It proceeded to warn him about the dangers of summoning, that summoning a beast from a distant place on this plane could potentially backfire if he had not enough soul energy and consume his bodily energy too until nothing remained of him.
Only more risky would be to summon a creature from another plane, like Heaven or Hell. "To part the membranes that divide the realms," read Red, would expend great quantities, hundreds of units just for opening the portal at all, and thousands for every hour that he maintained it.
Further, it read that unless he knew the exact 'meta-reality coordinates', which Red was unsure what meant, the summoning ritual would choose a dimension at random to call from, and make his efforts wasted if that realm didn't have what he was trying to call down.
Possibly worse would be, Red read, if that world did. "Many are the fools who over the centuries have deliberately called down the Bull of Heaven, believing themselves able to tame that beast, and be reduced to broken bones and blood-drenched meat under its hooves."
After that, he'd read the story of a man from centuries ago, who had been called Ghetsis. Again and again, he'd made bargains with demonkind.
From Belial, he had gained immortality in exchange for the people of his own village. The man and Pazuzu had made trades, one demon soldier for ten humans who would become Pazuzu's meals and concubines. It had been that contract which had given Ghetsis mastership over Bune and Marchosias among others, for the rest of his natural-born life. For more than seventy years, he had supposedly reigned over Unova, been a cruel and terrible king.
"Even today, one can supposedly hear him pissing and moaning in Belial's dungeons, down in Hell," Red scoffed at the page. "Whoever wrote this has a way with words."
"I hope you're enjoying yourself in my library, Red," a playful voice called. He spun, and saw the Woman of the Woods in the doorway.
With a dispassionate gaze, Courtney jabbed her blade towards the demon's side, then withdrawing. A small spurt of green blood shot from the wound, onto the stomach of Courtney's armor, there hissing and bubbling against the steel.
The red-fleshed fiend shot her a disdainful glare. "Mortal, you know not who you face! I am Azazel, prince of demons, ruiner of innocence, slayer of thousands," the demon bellowed.
"You're also the third Azazel I've killed this month," countered the nineteen-year-old, raising her hand and chanting a bit, then fireballs shot forth and hit true.
Azazel, though... he didn't really seem like he minded being on fire, so on the upside, he wasn't pyrophobic.
The demon grinned, laughing a bit. "I was reared in Hell's fire, woman. The pitiful flames of the mortal dominion could never faze one such as I," he punctuated the statement by leaning back and slamming his hand into her mid-section, the movements faster than she could follow.
Her vision had gone blurry, her stomach smarted like actual Hell, and she was pretty sure she had lost ground connection. The immediate rolling, and hollow pains that accompanied that, clinched it for her. "Time for a change of plans..."
The demon's laughter rang in her eyes, as it stamped over to her, lifting her up by the neck. Courtney winced, eliciting a grin from Azazel.
"Mortal, you will suffer exquisitely for all eternity," said the demon, a minute growl tinging his voice. "You will experience your spine and bones being gouged from you a thousand times. By Alichino's claws shall your flesh be mauled into mere tatters. I shall toss you down into a lake of boiling blood, forever denied sleep as you suffer, until the pain maddens you!"
Courtney's response was pointed, and up through his jaw. His grip went slack, and with a kick from her, he was knocked over.
For a moment, Courtney watched him anxiously, breathing slowing to her regular pace. "Given his healing, I better leave it in until I can get more into his brain."