The Seven Demon's Tamer

As Ryder walked through the moonlit streets, his newly purchased cloak flowed gently in the evening breeze; he observed the multitude of posters plastered haphazardly on walls and poles.

He pulled his hood lower, ensuring his face remained hidden. The best decision he could think of was hiding his face at all times since only a few people know his identity. His name is quite famous now, and as long as his face remains hidden, then it should be fine.

A particular poster caught his eye, the paper still fresh, unlike most of the other weather-beaten announcements surrounding it.

[Underlings Tournament

Every Tuesday and Friday

Organized at midnight

Location: undisclosed

Whoever defeats the champion goes home with the prize.

#10,000 Terra gold coin.]

"They'll be organizing it today," Ryder thought inwardly, mentally calculating the hours until midnight. "It's Tuesday."

He patted the pocket of his trousers subconsciously, a gesture that only confirmed what he already knew. The fabric was flat against his thigh, filled with emptiness. He didn't have a single dime.

He hadn't had any more coins since the Ludlow incident, which started because he was so broke in the first place; if he had been able to pay for his meal, all the destruction he did wouldn't have resulted.

He could only sigh at his disappointment—a man capable of bringing down buildings and taking on members of a powerful guild—while checking his empty pockets with hopeful desperation.

'#10,000 Terra gold coin is quite a lot. I can live a life of five-star luxury for the next three months with that.'

"Is that what you plan to do with your money?" Luxy's voice cut through his daydream, the familiar's presence in his mind as intrusive as always. The voice carried a tone of disappointment at Ryder's intent.

"No, no, that's not it." Ryder retorted as he awkwardly scratched his neck. I'm just citing an example of how much the money is worth.

In truth, luxury was the last thing on his mind. He currently does not have shelter, but that wasn't too bad; any abandoned building he could find would do, and if he managed to find the Underlings Tournament ground, he would rent a small room for temporary accommodation.

The cloak he wore had been purchased with the last of his money—not for style, but for necessity. There is too much proof Ryder does not give a damn about luxury for the time being.

Ryder sighed deeply, his breath momentarily visible like a white fog in the cool night air before dissipating. "How can I live a life of luxury when my father is held captive by... probably agents of the Dracogon?" he murmured, barely audible even to himself, but Luxy could hear him just fine.

The thought of his father—likely imprisoned in some dank cell, or worse—sent a familiar pang through his chest. It had been three days since the kidnapping, three days, and he still had made a good attempt at searching, but it isn't completely his fault, though. How could he search for his dad when he has zero clue of where he could ever be.

There were other alternatives for searching for missing people, such as reporting to the FSG base, but he wouldn't dare now, not when he was on their blacklist.

"I'll rent an apartment, then search for my dad once I am able to find the location of the tournament and win it."

'That's good,' Luxy replied, and Ryder could almost imagine the familiar nodding in approval. 'At least you have a sense of purpose.'

The words were delivered as nothing more than an insult, a thinly veiled insult wrapped in disguise as encouragement.

Ryder didn't bother to retort; Luxy's comments were practically a constant soundtrack to his life now, and he had to get used to it.

"But all these aside, I can't believe that I haven't thought much of my father for the past few days." Ryder couldn't help but continue. "He told me..."

Like a snap, Ryder's eyes went blank and suddenly returned to normal.

"Huh!" He stared at his hand slowly, back and forth. "What was I thinking earlier?"

He tried to recall, but could not quite remember.

"The tournament," Luxy replied.

"Oh, that's right. The tournament." Ryder realized, staring up at the poster.

Ryder ran his fingers over the fresh paper, secretly hoping that touching it might magically reveal hidden information, and all of a sudden... it didn't.

The organizers aren't idiots. He stared back at the poster and spoke. The only problem is... the location is undisclosed.

If I am to guess, I'll say this is an illegal event hosted by thugs, and they want to keep it hidden from any security forces to avoid intrusion.

The logic was sound. The FSG didn't look kindly on unofficial summoner battles, especially ones involving gambling. The fines they would request alone would bankrupt most organizers, not to mention the prison sentences that would most likely follow.

"Finding this place would require connections I do not have."

With a sigh, Ryder turned away from the poster. And just like that, he watched the opportunity slip through his fingers. He'd have to find another way to make money, preferably one that won't resolve into him causing another commotion.

Walking away from the pole where the poster was hung, Ryder suddenly noticed a group of muscular men, staring at him from a dark, slim alleyway close by.

He maintained his gaze on them for a while while walking, before redirecting his gaze away. He wouldn't need any trouble, not again today.

"Hey." One of them called out, walking out of the alleyway with his two companions trailing behind him towards Ryder. "I'd like to ask you something."

The man who had spoken stood in the middle of the trio, his massive frame towering above his companions. Despite his size, his face had a surprisingly approachable expression, like the friendliest giant.

"I'm Brok," the man introduced himself, rolling his shoulders in a casual shrug that made his muscles ripple beneath his tight white shirt. "And I can tell you're interested in the Underlings Tournament happening today."

Ryder turned towards Brok with a carefully measured smile. "Yes, I am. How may I help you?"

"No, no, that's wrong. The right thing to ask is, how may you help me," Brok said as he burst into warm, nonchalant laughter. The other two by his side forced laughter as well to blend in, while Ryder stared unwaveringly.

"I'm an agent of the Underlings," Brok pointed at the poster by the side, but Ryder didn't turn to look. He kept his eyes focused on Brok.

He continued, "Are you a summoner?"

"Yes," Ryder answered simply, offering no other words to the question. The less these men knew about him, the better.

"Would you mind showing your face?" Brok requested. "All I see is your lower face."

Ryder's heart rate quickened slightly, which made Luxy growl in anger, gritting his teeth. He noticed something about Ryder every time he came face to face with a situation that could resolve into violence and fight—fear. Ryder was afraid to fight, especially against fierce-looking people despite the fact that he is stronger than them.

More than anything, Ryder showed too many emotions, which always angered Luxy even if he refused to show them. Too much emotion is for the weak—this is what Luxy believes, and that is why he always eradicates emotions from Ryder whenever Ryder refuses to get over it quickly enough.

Whenever Ryder was about to act sober, he, due to his parents, absorbed the emotion and it made him forget all about it.

He did the same when Ryder was about to fight the lava mantis earlier—he absorbed Ryder's fear. Ryder noticed it back then, but he didn't pay too much attention to it, after all, he did not know much about Luxy's capabilities other than his incredible strength and speed and all that.

Brok wasn't exaggerating when he said he could barely see Ryder's face. The hood of his cloak was specifically designed to cast deep shadows over his face, revealing only his mouth and jaw even when he stood in the right light.

It was an essential precaution; his face would be recognized by the FSG if anyone who had seen him earlier at the base recognized him. Recognition would mean capture, or worse.

Ryder hesitated for a while before replying. "It isn't necessary; I prefer my face to remain anonymous."

"Oh, really?" Brok spoke in a disappointed tone. "If that is it, then at least, you should tell me your name."

"You can call me Black Devil," he responded, the name coming to him suddenly.

"Black Devil," Brok repeated, chuckling appreciatively. "Nice name indeed."

"Return to this alleyway at midnight," Brok instructed, pointing at the dark passage from which he'd emerged. "I'll be waiting for you there to guide you to the tournament."

I'll be waiting for you there, to guide you to the tournament.

With that, Brok, along with the other two, departed from Ryder.

Miles away, in a luxurious hotel suite that costs more per night than most people earn in a month, Dwang Sung, the leader of the Red-Eastern guild, smiled.

It wasn't a normal occurrence. The leader of the Red-Eastern guild was known for his menacing demeanor, his cold calculation, his malevolent character. His smile was only reserved for victories, for the downfall of enemies and not for his comrades.

These days, Dwang Sung has been smiling too frequently, leaving everyone wondering and exchanging confused glances once in a while—what the hell was he thinking!

What was going on inside his mind? Was a question everyone asked themselves rhetorically. He had been acting like this since the news of the black-marked summoner came to him.

The Red-Eastern guild faced a great deal of disrespect from the mysterious Ryder; the mood they expected to see in Dwang Sung was continuous anger, not this. What could it be?

For sixteen Red-Eastern guild members to be trashed in just one day, and one of their familiars exterminated, this would reduce the reputation for dominance that the Red-Eastern guild had been bearing for a while now due to their rapid growth.

Deep down, only Dwang Sung knew what was amusing him.

Everyone jumped to the conclusion that Dwang Sung would take revenge and murder Ryder for what he did, but little did they know that Master Sung had other plans.

'If only I can convince him to join the Red-Eastern,' Dwang Sung thought, his eyes wide with excitement. He had been staring at the same spot on the wall for so long that he'd forgotten how to blink, his vision blurring slightly at the edges.

'Instead of killing him, which could cost the lives of various of my clan members and weaken my army, I will bring him into my clan, which will automatically increase the overall strength of my guild to be above all others.'

The idea had come to him in the aftermath of the disaster, as he'd watched the news reports of the destruction in Ludlow caused by Ryder.

The raw power displayed was unlike anything he could have imagined. And the fact that all the destruction happened in such a short time by just one person increased his excitement.

'If I bring him—the strongest summoner in the world and in the modern age—into this guild, this guild will automatically become the most powerful in the whole world.'

The logic was perfect. The Red-Eastern guild was already formidable, their red-marked summoners feared throughout all the countries they had visited. But with Ryder—possibly the strongest summoner in the modern age—their power would be unmatched.

Dwang Sung rose from his seat with fluid motion. He adjusted his necktie on his suit, checked his reflection in the reflective glass door at the exit of the hotel one last time, and walked down the stairs towards his car. His butler was outside, standing behind the opened door of his Rolls-Royce.

His Rolls-Royce waited, its glossy black surface reflecting its surroundings like a dark mirror.

"Your car is ready, sir," the butler announced, his voice carefully devoid of any emotional reflection.

The butler held the door open, bowing as Dwang Sung slid into the red plush interior; the butler then shut the door and drove off.

With his eyes staring out of the window, he thought, "Soon, very soon, I'll meet Ryder."

That, he knew for sure.

Midnight approached with agonizing slowness.

Ryder had spent the same hours inspecting the area around the alleyway, identifying potential escape routes, noting if there were cameras present, and observing the patterns of patrols on the street while staying hidden, of course. It turns out fear never dies, even when one possesses power beyond ordinary comprehension.

After that, he decided to stay a long distance away from the area. He wouldn't want to appear weak and nervous in the presence of Brok.

Now, as the church bells in the distance struck twelve, Ryder hastened through the empty streets toward the alleyway, trying to be as early as he could. His footsteps echoed in the silence, the continuous tapping of his feet against the paving stones of the road the only loud sound in the slumbering city.

The streets were completely empty and quiet. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of Ryder's feet tapping against the ground.

"You've finally adapted to your new speed," Luxy observed with a hint of approval. "I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to be able to control your speed perfectly."

Ryder smirked as he finally got to the dark alleyway. "Long enough."

As at this time of the night, the alleyway was pitch black—the kind of darkness that seemed to swallow anything that stepped into it.

To ordinary eyes, it would have been impenetrable. But Ryder's vision had changed since his contract with Luxy; the darkness posed no obstacle to him now. He could see every detail—the crumbling red bricks, the scattered refuse, the rats scurrying along the walls—he could see all these with clarity.

"Black Devil," Brok's voice called out from deeper within the alley, the sound slightly muffled. "I was starting to think you would change your mind, like some other newbies have done."

Ryder stepped forward, as he adjusted his gaze towards Brok, leaning against a wall at the end of the alleyway.

Unlike their earlier meeting, Brok was alone this time, his companions nowhere to be seen, Ryder observed quickly.

"Ta-da!" Ryder responded flatly, spreading his arms in a gesture that seemed at odds with his monotone delivery. He made the gesture to appear nonchalant but didn't perfectly deliver it. "Here I am."

He lowered his arms, and he added, "Ten thousand Terra gold coin is too tempting; I cannot ignore it. I need the money."

Brok chuckled, the sound oddly warm in the cold night air. "We all need the money, don't we?" he said, pushing himself off the wall, then gesturing for Ryder to follow. "Follow me and keep quiet. I won't like to attract any attention."

Ryder nodded and fell into step behind Brok, maintaining a careful distance. His senses were on high alert, carefully observing for any sign of ambush or betrayal while walking behind Brok.

The caution was noticed by Brok, who glanced back with a knowing expression.

"The tournament location changes every time to avoid intrusion of unwanted guests or other problems," Brok assured. "You should not burden your mind."

"I'm not doing that," Ryder replied defensively, though his posture suggested otherwise, which was quite laughable.

Brok's lips curved in a half-smile. "Okay, if you say so," he said, diverting towards another path in the alleyway.

"You know I can tell you're nervous, Ryder," Luxy's voice cut in, dripping with annoyance. "Why do you show fear toward things that are completely harmless to you? I thought you were tougher than this..."

The familiar's tone was filled with clear disappointment. Ryder had to resist the urge to defend himself aloud, which would only make him look like a crazy person to Brok.

"I still don't know why," Ryder responded mentally, keeping his face carefully neutral. "I was never a fighter, though. Maybe that's why I'm quite cautious."

That was quite true, at best. Before his contract with Luxy, Ryder had indeed been far from a fighter. He had been an undergraduate who was done with high school, spent more time focused on his studies, with no interest in the violent world of summoner battles.

But that was before. Now, he was something else entirely—some powerful, something dangerous. He was even having second thoughts about completing his education.

Bad things always find a way into his life. It's only been four days since he contracted his familiar and the whole world is already aware of his presence.

"You are cautious of just one muscular man who probably cannot destroy a building single-handedly!" Luxy barked. "You nearly destroyed a whole town, damn it!"

"Oh, right." Ryder sighed. "I guess I have a long way to go in order to train myself to blend in with the mindset of summoners."

"Yeah, you sure do."

The alleyway proved to be far more complex than Ryder had expected. What had seemed like a simple passage from the street revealed itself to be a complex maze of twisting corridors, various turns, and hidden passages. Without Brok as a guide, Ryder would have been long lost.

"This place is like a rat's nest," Ryder muttered, ducking under a low-hanging pipe with his hand on his nose. "How do you remember all these turns?"

Brok chuckled without turning back. "I have been doing this for years, friend. I could walk it blindfolded if I had to."

Despite the fact that the location changes every time, the maze pattern remains the same. The maze isn't some ordinarily built path; it was created by the affinity of one of the administrator's familiar.

After about 15 minutes of walking, they arrived at a large expanse of land, with an extremely large abandoned warehouse not far from it.

In the distance, a massive warehouse loomed under the moonlight.

Even from a distance, the sounds coming from the warehouse were clear—cheers, murmurs, and various noises could be heard. One can easily say it is as busy as a market, late at night.

Most of the glass windows of the buildings were broken, the walls were old with graffiti all over. This was a perfect place for illegal events.

The door of it was locked, so Ryder couldn't get a good glimpse of what the inside looked like. But the window did expose a bit.

Brok approached the door, along with Ryder trailing right behind him.

On reaching the entrance, Brok knocked at the door with three quick knocks, followed by two slow ones.

The door opened slightly with a creak, and a pair of red eyes stared out from inside the building.

"What is the password?" a thick, muscular voice requested.

"Underlings Shadow Embrace," Brok replied.

The door swung fully open, revealing the person attending to them. It was a muscular man, towering above them like a giant.

The figure was shirtless, allowing the scars across his body to be clearly visible.

"New blood?" he asked Brok.

"Potential competitor," Brok confirmed. "He goes by the name Black Devil."

The doorman glanced at Ryder from head to toe and then motioned.

"Entrance fee?" he asked, stretching his hand towards Brok.

Brok simply pulled up his sleeve to showcase his tattoo mark on his wrist—a mark of membership.

The doorman then turned towards Ryder.

Ryder tilted his head, confused. The poster didn't mention any sort of fee. "I have no money."

"Everything comes with a price," the doorman spoke. "20 gold coins, or go home."

Brok unexpectedly pulled out a pouch from his pocket. "I'll cover for him."

Dipping his hands into the pouch, he counted the amount and gave it to the doorman.

The doorman counted the coins before stepping aside fully for them to go in. "Make sure you shed some blood, newbie."

As they entered the warehouse, Ryder was momentarily stunned by the sight before him.

The interior of the warehouse had been transformed into what would be best described as a makeshift fighting arena. It made sense to Ryder since Brok once said the location of the battle changes weekly.

The air was thick with the smell of blood, cigarettes, and sweat oozing from everywhere. Candles, along with some lanterns hanging from the ceiling, were the main source of light, which cast a dim glow in the arena along with elongated shadows.

The noise from the inside was worse, compared to what Ryder could hear from the outside.

"Why did you pay for me?" Ryder wanted to ignore that, but the question kept looming on his mind, and he knew he wouldn't stop thinking until he got a satisfactory answer.

"Let's take this as an investment," Brok said. "I'll get 20 percent of whatever you come out with from this battle as payment."

"How sure are you I would win?" Ryder questioned.

"I'm not so sure, but I'm the kind of guy that loves to take risks," Brok admitted.

"If you do not win the fight..." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'll find another way for you to pay me back."

Ryder turned towards the fighting platform, which was the brightest area in the warehouse, having its own spotlight.

"I'll make it quick," Ryder muttered. "You just bagged yourself #2000 Terra gold coin."

Lucky Brok.