Chapter 9: Arc 1: Chapter 9: Disaster of the Green Bell

"Question..."

Under the dim light and loud music, a slightly drunk Merlin picks up a glass of wine and asks the drunkard sitting across him:

"What belongs to you, but other people use it more than you?"

"Eh...let me think, I know this one! Everyone knows I'm the smartest around here!"

The drunkard was on the brink of sleeping; he does not know why he was sitting here playing the guessing game with a young man wearing sunglasses.

But as one gets drunk, his self-control drops so much that his chaotic mind loses its ability to think.

Although he was going to answer, his head fell onto the table, and snoring could be heard moments later.

Supposedly, you aren't allowed to sell wine to youngsters under 21 years of age, but in the thriving night, who cares?

Come on, this is 1989, a time before cellphones were widely used, computers and the Internet were toys of the minority. Technology has yet to bloom, especially in the deeper parts of America, which is ruled by traditions.

Merlin slowly drinks his cup and places a crumpled bill under the cup. Then he looks at the time and gets up, heading towards the entrance.

His train has almost arrived...

He walks by the drunkard and fixes his position, so he doesn't fall onto the floor while whispering into his ear:

"The answer is Your Name. Something common that everyone has."

Merlin slips a few dollar bills from the man's pockets, moves his shoulder, and then exits the bar through the crowd.

He stands outside the bar, the wind slightly cooling his head. 

Merlin looks at the money in his hand and shakes his head. He gives most of it to a beggar nearby. Merlin places his hand in his pocket with the beggar's gratitude, and with his luggage on the other, he heads for the train station.

In the wind, Merlin's sad voice could be heard:

"Sadly, I've already lost it."

This is Chicago, Merlin's 2nd stop in his wandering journey.

From Madison, Merlin had arrived in a real big city, Chicago. When he was 4, he could faintly remember screenwriters brought what had happened in Chicago onto the Broadway stages, so even Wisconsin knew the story.

Those stories happen right beneath his feet, but Merlin is uninterested in watching the plays.

He's not here to have fun.

A few blocks away from the station, Merlin sees the many Neon light shop signs, and as he wanders down the street, he comes across a small shop.

The door was decorated by red and blue lights, forming an odd image; Merlin could smell the scent of incense even from outside the door.

Ordinary people don't use incense, let alone use it as a mosquito repellent.

This was a psychic shop, and it originates from western culture. On his train trip to Chicago, Merlin had heard that this particular shop was very effective.

As someone who had lived 18 years like an average person, he needs all the clues related to the magic he could find; what else could he do rather than find unreliable psychic stores and Indiana Shamans in the Indiana Reserves? Ditch all conscience and become a cult member? No, thank you.

But this wasn't the first psychic store Merlin has visited in the past few weeks.

Merlin stands in front of the store with doubt and distrust. Frankly, he did not believe whoever was inside could help his current predicament.

But why not give it a try after coming all this way?

Merlin reaches out and opens the door, and the neon lights on the side of the door flicker, and like firecrackers, explode a few meters from Merlin.

The sudden shortage did not surprise Merlin.

He had gotten used to these things.

In his time of travels, he had discovered a pattern.

When he stays in one spot for over 2 hours, his misfortune begins to spread, and within 6 hours, it becomes a lethal disaster.

But as long as Merlin never stops moving, his misfortune would not erupt, like the time limit had been extended, as if an invisible force was urging him to keep moving forward.

"Oh, another lost soul has come seeking my aid."

As Merlin steps into the incense-filled store, a deep, coarse voice emerges in the artificial dim lights. It sounded like something, but Merlin did not sense anything supernatural from this shop.

He inspects the room with his eyes, under the cover of his sunglasses, and shakes his head in disappointment; there was no trace of magic, not even a few spirits.

Merlin had heard mumbling in the past few days, and he had nightmares every night. The good news was that his vision had fully recovered.

His vision had become clear, albeit a bit too clear.

Merlin had discovered that not only had he acquired night vision, he was also able to see some things that ordinary people cannot see. The spirits, or to be exact, phantoms and other supernatural beings.

Especially when he takes off his sunglasses, he can see them even more clearly as long as he focuses on them.

Merlin calls this ability 'second sight', but using this ability comes at a risk.

When you can see supernatural beings, they can also see you.

For a complete magic amateur like himself, attracting those supernatural beings is akin to asking for death. After discovering the abnormalities of his eyes, this was why he rarely took off his sunglasses.

Being surrounded by misfortune is hard enough; Merlin doesn't want to attract other dangers before dealing with this one.

"Come, sit, child."

The psychic in the room was dressed like a wizard in legends; this 50-year-old man also gave himself a purple robe decorated with stars and a pointy, tilted hat, the kind that wizards use.

The agitating smell of incense, those intentionally arranged white candles, and the unknown magic circle on the ground seem to be telling all who enter that this psychic is 'the real deal.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard he may try, it cannot hide that he is an average human.

At least, in Merlin's eyes, this old man's spirit was getting weaker and had a somewhat disgusting soul.

Merlin sits in front of the muttering psychic; the old man picks up a set of tarot cards and looks at Merlin with a meaningful smile, saying:

"Child, what do you seek?"

"I..."

Merlin didn't know what to say, he knew the truth about this 'psychic' in front of him, and he was but a liar like all the other 'psychics' he had visited before him.

He realizes, maybe this is the wrong path.

So after a moment of silence, Merlin shakes his head and stands up; he apologizes to him:

"I'm sorry for wasting your time. It's just that I don't think you can help me with my problems."

Afterward, Merlin attempts to leave, behind him, the old man sees that he is going to lose a customer, says:

"You've fallen into the darkness!"

"Hmm?"

Merlin stops, the old man chuckles faintly; as a fraud like him, being able to read faces was an important skill to have, and seeing Merlin hesitate meant that he guessed right, the old man continues:

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"You've experienced something unbelievable, child, and it must've been horrible. I assume it has something to do with the legendary creatures, so come forth...so, speak your worries, maybe I could be of help?"

Merlin turns around with ridicule on his face.

Such a statement was exactly as all the previous psychics had said.

So he reaches out and takes off his sunglasses, revealing his eyes to the old man. The fiery red lights in his black pupils scare the old man, and he freezes.

His sudden movement causes his hat to drop onto the floor, revealing his true face.

He was...bald.

"This..."

Merlin points at his eyes,

"Can you fix this?"

The old man was speechless, and Merlin shrugged at the fear on his face:

"Unfortunately, I'll take that as a no."

Finishing his words, he shakes his head and puts back on his sunglasses. He had wasted enough time in Chicago; it was time to move on.

But as Merlin arrived at the door, the old man shouted:

"Wait, child, your problem is something new, so I'll have to perform something dangerous...which means you need to raise the price!"

"?"

Merlin turns to face the old man, who is holding a box in his hands.

He feels like the young man had despised him; it disgraced the self-proclaimed 'great psychic'. More importantly, if he goes out and gossips about what had happened, his recovering business could be impacted.

Reputation was essential to a fraud.

"This!"

The bald psychic holds the box as if it contains treasure and speaks in awe:

"Indiana's tribesmen once worshiped this; legend says that within it was a powerful spirit, even I fear its powers ever since I received it...my boy, I wouldn't use this if your situation was not so dire."

The old man's eyes shine cunningly:

"With each use, some of my life force is taken. Pay $1000 for today's consultation! Or leave."

Merlin did not leave because, in his eyes, the box in his hands was glowing a sinister glow, it was obscure and dangerous, but it was Merlin's first time seeing something with a magic aura.

It would seem that the psychic has some stuff up his sleeve.

Merlin takes out all the cash in his pockets and throws them on the table; there were about a few hundred dollars.

He looks at the old man and calmly says:

"This is all I have left, nothing I can do if it's too little for you."

The old man looks at the money and frowns, but considering how bad business was today, he accepts them and points to the chair in front of him:

"Fine, I'll help you this one time since you are still a child, sit there, and do not fret no matter what you see."

Merlin complies.

He watches as the old man opens the box; this misfortune has tortured him so much he cannot wait to get rid of it.

The old man mumbles some 'incantations' that nobody understands and makes a weird-looking hand gesture. After lighting some candles, he takes something out of the box.

It was...a bell.

It was green and old; green rust was on it, and it looked like an artifact from an ancient civilization. But as the old man took the bell out of the box, Merlin's expression changed drastically.

He recognizes that presence; it was a similar presence to that of Trigon, although different and weaker, but the scent of sulfur that fills the nose and mouth, and the faint feeling of burning fire was unmistakable; it was the presence...

Of a Demon!

"DON'T TOUCH IT!"

Merlin screams and attempts to stop the old man from digging his own grave.

But his attempts were futile, as the old man misunderstood his intentions, and dodges Merlin's hand and retreats to the side:

"Unholy demon! I command you to exit this man's body!"

As the old man shakes his hand, so too does the green bell.

"Ding Ding Ding, Ding Ding Ding"

Clear ringing resounds from the bell, and like a burning hot needle, stings into Merlin's soul. The young man howls while covering his ears, falling onto the floor; Trigon's dark powers from within his soul are awakened by another demon's presence and begin to boil.

The young man could hear nothing but the cackles of the demon, his vision turning bloody red.

Fear, hate, anger, all kinds of negative emotions emerge from deep down of Merlin's soul, and as if they'd found an exit point, begins to form on Merlin's body. On his finger, black smoke emerges, his flesh slowly falling apart like quicksand.

It was like, Merlin was being evaporated.

In the black smoke were fear-inducing crimson red sparks, like the remnants of a great fire.

"STOP! STOP!"

Merlin screams and howls for the old man to stop, but the amateur fraud misunderstands it as his 'exorcism' taking effect and shakes the bell even harder.

"BEGONE! DEMON!"

"Ding Ding Ding, Ding Ding Ding"

The bell rings faster, and the awakened dark power spreads further. Lastly, as Merlin lifts his head, his pupils have gone entirely white; the dark presence within it scares the old man.

But...it is too late.

Suddenly, Merlin's body spreads out, and like a storm of black ash, in every way possible, shreds the entire room, as well as the old fraud, into pieces.

"KABOOM!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

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