Harry followed Wong into the grand central hall of Kamar-Taj, a vast and ancient chamber lined with carved stone columns and the faint scent of incense in the air. At the center sat a simple tea table, where a bald woman in flowing yellow robes poured tea with a serene smile.
The Ancient One.
When she saw them enter, her calm gaze rested on Harry for a moment. She offered a warm smile and gently slid two cups of freshly steeped tea toward them.
Despite her immense power, the Ancient One exuded a quiet gentleness. Harry, who had grown up constantly wary of authority figures, found himself surprisingly at ease around her. Her presence was more like a still pond than a crashing wave.
"Master," Harry asked as he took the teacup with both hands, "what's the lesson for today?"
The Ancient One set her own cup down. A soft curl of steam rose between them, veiling her face in a misty shroud that made her seem even more otherworldly.
"You've studied magic for seven years now, Harry. It's time you faced something more... challenging."
She looked at him, calm and clear.
"Half an hour from now, a demon will break through near the outskirts of Kathmandu. I want you to face it. Alone."
Wong stiffened beside him, brows drawing together in concern.
"Master, he's only recently stabilized his chaotic magic. This might be too much."
The Ancient One shook her head, her voice steady and without doubt.
"Harry's talent surpasses even ours. He doesn't need coddling, he needs pressure. He'll rise to meet it."
Before Wong could raise another objection, she turned to Harry with a gentle smile.
"What do you think?"
Harry didn't hesitate. If anything, he looked as if he'd been waiting for this exact opportunity.
"Absolutely. I can handle it," he said, thumping his chest with a grin.
Wong sighed in surrender, but even he couldn't hide the glint of pride in his eyes. The boy had grown fast, too fast, maybe. He still remembered the time Harry tried to fight a mountain troll with nothing but a stick and pure nerve.
. . .
Kathmandu, Nepal. Outskirts. Near the artificial lake.
A crimson rift split the sky like torn fabric. From its burning center stepped a towering humanoid figure, crimson-skinned and covered in jagged horns. The air around it seemed to crackle with the scent of brimstone and something worse, decay.
The demon stretched, its wicked grin widening as it surveyed its new hunting grounds.
"Ahhh… Earth! It's even better than I imagined!" it cackled. "Demon meat is dull, but humans? Where are the women? The souls? What a buffet! The worms of hell could never compare!"
Its name was Ecadna, a demon lordling who had clawed its way into this world through a forbidden summoning. Until today, it considered itself cursed with bad luck. But stepping onto Earth's soil changed that.
Here, it would feast. It would grow. It would become strong enough to return to Hell as a conqueror.
Nearby, a group of terrified students, tourists, maybe, stared at the creature in frozen panic.
Ecadna's grin twisted cruelly.
"Tremble, humans. Offer your souls!"
It lunged toward them, claws raised, already salivating at the thought of fresh blood. But just as it closed the distance to its first victim, the air around it cracked like glass.
The world didn't change, but everything in it did.
The ambient power, the souls it sensed, the blood it smelled, gone.
Confused, Ecadna growled and looked around. Two robed figures stood calmly across the clearing. They weren't even paying attention to him.
Wong was repeating instructions, as if Harry were preparing for a school recital instead of a demon fight.
"Your magic's still unstable. Keep calm. Keep it flowing. Don't let it flare. Use the rune sequences we adjusted with the Ancient One. No slip-ups. You got that?"
Harry nodded seriously. He had no trace of impatience, only determination.
He understood what it meant to be cared for. Maybe that was what made him so stubbornly brave.
"I've got it. With those new runes, I can already handle most spells. This demon? Piece of cake."
Without waiting for another word, Harry dashed forward into battle.
Wong exhaled through his nose, arms crossed.
"Brilliant kid... but still reckless. Definitely not your typical Sorcerer."
. . .
Ecadna's fury erupted the moment he realized the humans were still ignoring him.
And then, one of them, that boy was charging right at him.
"Fine! You want to be first? So be it! Sorcerer souls are always the richest, thank you for delivering dinner right to my claws!"
But Harry didn't reply. He remembered Wong's warning: Never talk to demons. They lie, they trick, they twist your words and your mind.
Instead, Harry focused. Magic surged through him.
Chunks of stone ripped from the earth beneath his feet, swirling into the air before sharpening into a dozen spiraling spears. He sent them hurtling at the demon with deadly precision.
Each one slammed into Ecadna's body. Though his crimson scales held, the force rattled him. The spears didn't pierce deep, but they tore and scratched, drawing thick, oozing ichor from beneath the plates.
Ecadna roared, now taking his opponent seriously.
This was no child.
This was a threat.
He stopped playing around. Roaring with fury, Ecadna barreled toward Harry, relying on brute force and sheer durability. His claws burned with hellfire as he lashed out, managing to rip through Harry's robes and singe the skin beneath.
Had Harry not dodged at the last moment, the blow would've crushed him.
But Harry didn't retreat.
If anything, he looked... thrilled.
The berserker spirit within him flared awake, a part of his chaotic magic he'd only recently begun to harness. With wild joy in his eyes, Harry drew a glowing golden circle in the air. A blinding sword of pure light materialized from its center.
The Sacred Sword of Vishanti.
Modified by the Ancient One herself, it now drew on Harry's unique brand of chaotic magic, unpredictable but powerful.
Sword in hand, Harry met the next blow head-on.
Ecadna's flaming claw came crashing down.
Harry swung.
There was a flash of gold and a roar of pain. The claw, molten and razor-sharp, fell to the ground with a thud, severed at the wrist.
Harry smirked.
"Thanks for the warm-up."