In the relatively spacious forest clearing, under the guidance and repeated corrections of the girl's voice in his mind, Leon finally completed the intricate carving of interlocking magical patterns and runes on the leveled ground.
Following her instructions, he carefully embedded various small rock fragments into the grooves of the ritual patterns, ensuring strict measurements and spacing. He then filled the rune depressions with ground green stone powder, evenly distributed to avoid disrupting the magical flow.
The ritual structure comprised two layers: an inner dual-core formation for the ritual and an outer circular boundary to contain its effects. According to the girl's voice, the larger and more complex the array, the higher the efficiency of the capture. However, due to the severe lack of proper materials and the absence of a real mage to oversee the ritual, a ten-meter diameter was the maximum they could manage.
Leon tread lightly between the gaps in the runes and patterns, carefully avoiding damage, and arrived at the formation's core. Glancing back to confirm the array's integrity, he sighed with relief.
Earlier, he had asked the girl if carving the lines so openly in the dirt made them too vulnerable to damage.
Her answer was straightforward—indeed, a skilled mage would have more durable methods. But given Leon's limitations, he had to settle for this. Yet, she assured him that once the ritual began, she would channel chaotic energy through the array, solidifying it against physical interference.
Despite this temporary enhancement, Leon knew the formation could still be easily disrupted by another spellcaster. Thankfully, their immediate threats were either mindless specters or an enraged demon possessing an ordinary mortal, Lohak, who lacked the knowledge to destroy a magical formation.
Standing at the center, Leon signaled his companion waiting beyond the array.
Azerian stepped cautiously over the intricate designs, marveling at the mysterious patterns. At Leon's instruction, he carefully handed over a small wooden cage.
Leon took the so-called "Geolamp," an unimpressive artifact crafted under the girl's guidance. Its construction involved embedding a peculiar rock core found near the mountain base, covering it with clay, and inscribing tiny runes on its wet surface. Finally, it was encased in a cage of specific tree branches.
For now, without magic, it was just a collection of debris. To become the "Pathfinder Lamp" capable of guiding them out of this cursed land, it still needed a sentient soul as its wick.
Placing the Geolamp into the pit at the core of the array, Leon covered it with a cloth strip torn from his tattered trousers to protect the runes from dirt, then filled the pit. Borrowing a dagger from Azerian, he opened his left hand and hesitated briefly.
"Must I cut my palm?" he asked, uneasy. "Wouldn't pricking a finger suffice?"
The girl chuckled. "Silly question. If you could use magic, this step wouldn't even require blood. Don't worry—I'll stop the bleeding."
Seeing Leon's hesitation, Azerian offered, "Need blood? Cut my hand instead."
Leon shook his head with a wry smile. "It has to be mine."
The ritual required more than just inscribed patterns and spoken incantations—it needed a magical force. Lacking magical skill, Leon's blood would serve as the bridge for the girl to channel chaotic energy and power the formation.
Gritting his teeth, Leon swiftly slashed his palm. A sharp sting followed by searing pain shot through his hand, and blood began to drip onto the central runes.
Taking a deep breath, he recited the incantation loudly:
(In Ancient Lorrelian) "In the name of Ynne, obey the decrees of the Eternal Frozen Abyss..."
As the first phrase left his lips, Leon felt a peculiar flow of energy coursing through his body, seeping from his wound into the ground. The sensation was oddly similar to when he had released Isa's Arrow but lacked the overwhelming force that had previously rendered him unconscious.
(In Ancient Lorrelian) "...Let the shadows of wandering souls heed my command. Through the restless dust, return swiftly to this place..."
With his chant, the embedded stones within the array began to emit faint glows, and the array's nodes crackled as if crystalline shards were shattering.
Azerian watched in awe as the entire formation came alive, the mysterious phenomenon unlike anything he'd seen in the stories about magic.
(In Ancient Lorrelian) "...By my flesh and spirit, I summon the restless souls. I grant you freedom from discordant bonds and offer a haven of eternal rest..."
As Leon chanted, a vivid red light surged from the pit where the Geolamp lay. The blood coursed along the carved grooves, filling every line until the entire formation glowed crimson.
A sinister wind arose, rustling the treetops. Standing nearby, Azerian felt the chilling cold intensify, sending shivers down his spine.
Completing the incantation, Leon exhaled deeply, his body relaxing. The girl's voice had gone silent; she was now fully focused on sustaining the ritual. Whatever came next, Leon knew he had to handle it alone.
"Is it done?" Azerian asked, gripping his dagger tightly.
Leon nodded. "Now, we wait for the demon to come."
Both tensed as time dragged on in the quiet clearing. Then, a rustle broke the silence, drawing their eyes to a swaying bush.
Rising with his crude spear, Leon prepared for confrontation. Even the pain from his bandaged hand dulled under the weight of impending danger. Azerian stood ready, dagger in hand, keeping his distance to assist in a pincer attack if needed.
Emerging from the thicket was not Lohak but a massive, skeletal canine.
It had a broad, short snout, similar to a Rottweiler, but its size far surpassed any known breed. Its fleshless frame revealed tight, dried skin stretched over prominent bones and muscles. From its eye sockets glowed eerie crimson lights.
Leon's heart raced as he locked eyes with the undead hound. Even in death, its form radiated power.
"Duvana Warhound!" Azerian hissed, cold sweat forming. "Leon, these beasts could tear through iron when alive!"
Leon's grip tightened. With only a wooden spear, direct combat was out of the question. He issued a quick command: "Lure it to the traps!"
The undead beast lunged, its decayed throat releasing a dry, grating hiss as it charged at Leon with terrifying speed.