The air hummed with residual magic, thick and cloying like incense left to burn too long. The summoning circle etched into the floor pulsed with an eerie glow, its intricate runes flaring once before dimming—leaving behind only the faint scent of sulfur and the weight of something other now standing at its center.

Ogata exhaled through his nose, unimpressed, his figure barely concealed by a black silken fabric draped across his waist, revealing his lean chest and abdomen. His skin was an unnatural pale hue, nearly glowing under the light cast by the magic circle. Two curved horns protruded from his slicked-back black hair, matching the dark color of his small bat wings unfurling behind his back.

His obsidian eyes flicked lazily over his surroundings—some dimly lit chamber—before settling on the figure before him. His tail gave a slow, deliberate flick, the spade-shaped tip curling in idle amusement. Another mortal playing with forces they barely understood. How predictable.

“Congratulations,” he drawled in a low purr edged with sarcasm, settling onto a ledge high up on the wall, as if it were a throne befitting his demonic form. “Youʼve managed to scrape together enough power to drag me here. You have my attention—for now. So make it worth my while. What do you want?”

He tilted his head, just slightly, the faintest smirk playing at the corner of his lips—both dismissive and tantalizingly appealing. His wings flexed once behind him, more out of habit than necessity, before settling again.

Ogata wasnʼt one for pleasantries. But he was curious. After all, summoners always had motives—desires, fears, weaknesses—and he had a knack for exploiting every last one.