The Demon Tamer

  The Demon Tamer

  Volume I

  Christian Brancati

  Title: The Demon Tamer: Volume I

  Author: Christian Brancati

  Editor: Teresa D’Aprea

  Cover: Christian Brancati

  Drawings conceived by Christian Brancati and realized by Teresa D’Aprea

  Copyright © 2018 Christian Brancati

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition 2019

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are the result of the imagination of the author or used in a fictitious way. Any resemblance to facts, places, real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  I dedicate this book to my father

  which, like me, he never gives up in the fight against the Devil.

  Summary

  Prologue

  01 The Survivor

  02 The Betrayal

  03 The Colosseum

  04 The Colosseum - The Naumachia

  05 The Colosseum - The Final

  06 The Colosseum - The Black Grimoire

  07 The Mediterranean Sea Pitfalls

  08 The Mediterranean Sea Pitfalls - The Necromancer

  09 The Egypt

  10 The Egypt - The Room of Time and Memory

  11 The Egypt - Jerusalem

  12 The Egypt - The Pyramid of Naav

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Nobody ever understood what he really was. Maybe I do not even know it. What is narrated on his account seems unreal, but sometimes even the most real reality can become a simple fantasy. I will tell you of his history, kept for centuries. Only we “Tamers of Demons” are allowed to know the truth. It will be up to you to decide what the journey to take after the story will be. You will have to choose between Life and Death, between the Dark and the Light, and finally between the Dragon and the Devil.

  «I’m ready».

  «Well, my young warrior».

  Rome, year 5040 AD

  01

  The Survivor

  «They heard screams of pain in a blood bath».

  Nothing would have been more like before, in that valley with the white smell of brooms. A voice sighed in the ears of every man, woman or child. It was death, he was calling them to him. The invaders descended from the Kólgota, in the darkness of the cold night that enveloped those terrible mountains. No one would ever have foreseen this catastrophe. Many did not understand what was happening, others tried in vain to escape, others still relied on their divinity in a useless desperate gesture that did not put an end to their cries of pain.

  The Romans, that noble lineage, put “The Village of the Gods” on fire and fire. It was impossible to face the attack since the powers of the enemies went beyond imagination. It was a small village of farmers where almost no one had ever wielded a weapon, unlike those mighty soldiers who dyed their infernal blades of the blood of the fallen with each sword bow. For centuries peace had reigned in that place, for so long that the only protection of the village was only a wooden fence, ten meters high and with pointed poles.

  Each Roman warrior had a bronze breastplate resistant to any attack and a helmet that inspired terror. They were skilled in the art of the sword, they used the spatha, a weapon capable of tearing human flesh without the slightest effort. Others used the gladius, a smaller sword, as if it were an extension of their body. They used spears, bows, crossbows, each type of weapon with admirable mastery. But not all of them had this gift, others were launching attacks without grace against defenseless men, reducing them to shreds as if they were meat for slaughter. They used an unpredictable and unstoppable war strategy. They attacked the village by all means possessed. Cleverly and almost without the slightest effort, with the ram, the ballista and the catapults wrapped in black and dark energy, they destroyed the main entrance to the village. The huge wooden door that had protected its entrance to the village with its hinges for centuries, that day was destroyed along with much of the fence that surrounded that small village.

  «How did they get here? How did they manage to destroy the fence?» Will asked.

  «Only a “Demon” with great powers can do all this» Xandor replied.

  Destroyed what was blocking the way, the Romans continued the assault with the Testudo Formation, a squad of soldiers with quadrangular red shields on which were painted the golden wings of the divine eagle, arranged in such a way as to assume a form that remembered the shell of a turtle. Powerful men fought in unison, as if they were one. The red banner with the golden word “SPQR” waved as a sign of victory.

  «It was not a real battle, it was a genocide of innocents. It was a very rich people, the Roman one, but it was not the desire for wealth that drove them to attack the village, it was the desire for the ancient power hidden inside it».

  «Run! All is lost! Escape!» Zakhior said, the old baker, throwing stones, tools and everything he had against the invaders, using his little catapult made of diamonds. The old man was very clever and witty, he had devised everything to protect his home and his treasures from the invaders. Never would have imagined having to face the real warriors alone.

  He was not the only one fighting against the enemy. In the north of the village, some Romans were defeated thanks to the courage of a young man with a heart of gold.

  «I will stop them!» Dasmond said, rushing into the middle of the battle with his father’s forged sword, the legendary blacksmith Zylien. Some infantry soldiers tried to slaughter some women but Dasmond, with his intrepid courage, twirling with his sword in a dance of blows killed the first legionnaire by hitting him in the throat, causing the escape of a black blood full of hatred that splashed on his face. He cut off a soldier’s hand, hit another Roman in the legs, made him kneel and then pierced him with his blade. He saved the women and went on his way. The demonic energy within him came to life and became unstoppable. Anger increased its power, it was so fast that the enemies could not see it. Many in the village said he was able to see in the dark and demonstrated that during the event. That power buried inside him that night came to life. The black scar, vivid on his face, gave off lust for blood. From the right front stretched over the glabella and the root of the nose and then reach the left cheek. That was his curse and now, for the first time, he manifested his dark powers. A new power flowed in his veins, a demonic power dormant within him and awakened to kill. He hit the armor of a centurion, his blade crossed his armor and so he managed to save three elders. But Evil had not yet corrupted his heart.

  «The cavalry destroyed all the houses, setting a fire that did not spare the people hidden inside them. On the morning of that fateful day, the village enjoyed its homes painted in the colors of the rainbow, but that evening they all became as black as ash. There was bloodshed everywhere».

  The old chief of the village rose up shouting words full of hatred.

  «One day Romans, the wind of the east will come! One day your end will come!» But at that precise moment his neck was pierced by a pilum, an iron javelin, which pierced the flesh of the noble Xandor. They were the last words of a great man.

  Much greater was the architect of the murder. He sat on horseback, proud of himself, as if everything that was happening did not upset his mind, he pleased him. He had the victory in his hands now, a simple task had been entrusted to him by Rome: destroy the village and find “The Son of the Dragon”. With a shining gold armor, General Lucius Furius Rufus, called “The Devastator”, sat on a noble white steed. He got
out of the horse, wielded his sword and killed two boys in his early twenties, without delay.

  «Oppidum Deorum Delendum est!» He screamed at his throat.

  «The Village of the Gods must be destroyed!»

  This happened in the east of the village while in the south area, from where the invaders had entered, had all been burned. Pigs, sheep and all the other farm animals escaped, it was those few living beings who managed to escape.

  In the west, the old baker resisted to the attack of twenty men. His wits kept them at bay, since intelligence often wins over force.

  «Old man! Come out!» One of the most notorious warriors of the century, Tullius Valerius Arminius, exclaimed with great power.

  That area included the old man’s home, his animals and three houses already destroyed, swept away by the enemy. That old man was called Zakhior, deeply respected for his talent, despite being a simple baker. It provided everything due to the whole village, after all there were about three hundred people and the animals met all their needs.

  He had always taken care of the animals, in fact that was his first concern when the enemies arrived. He lived alone in that large dwelling with a pitched roof and a rectangular base. It was the largest in the village, about twice that two-story houses. His wife died years before due to a serious illness, during a period of pestilence that killed a large part of the population. The village doctor could not find the cause of those deaths. The good man had a son, great inventor of machines and small gadgets. He had learned everything from his father, mathematical calculations were his passion. Some of them were used to distribute food to animals, others to create wooden utensils for the kitchen. Others still surpassed those of his father, one in particular allowed the blacksmith Zylien to forge incredible swords. As if by magic, almost from nothing created something. He left for a long journey at the age of twenty and had not returned since. The old man, for his son’s sake and not to forget anything about him, studied the parchments that the young man had left behind. They were full of instructions and drawings of machines and traps, the same ones that were of great help that day.

  The house had a very high door, the whole structure was made using the hardest material in the world, the diamond. The precious stone was used even for the sloping roof and windows. It possessed a shimmering white color, as many as a hundred people helped Zakhior in the construction. The old man had designed it together with his son, who gave shape to instruments entirely made of diamond, such as the saw, the hammer and the nails. The boy, thanks to his talent, his father and the blacksmith Zylien, had managed to extract the same mineral from the Diamond Cave, at the foot of the Kòlgota mountain range, the highest mountain that gave its name to the mountain chain. The shining picks and hammers were so sharp that they could carve not only the diamond but also all that the caves offered, making the village rich in everything.

  It was a mighty house able to withstand the Roman catapults that threw hot stones against its walls. It was one of the few houses that still stood upright inside that secret village.

  The old man positioned near a window on the ground floor, a small wooden catapult that threw everything, up to a distance of twenty meters. The rectangular window possessed, in addition to the knockers in diamond, also a screen that from the top of the window was lowered thanks to a rope. He threw his catapult and quickly lowered the diamond screen. The small catapult had been designed by the old man himself to throw food to goats, chickens and the rest of the animals that were on his small farm. Zakhior used it to throw everything that was within reach, even the sacks of flour, carrots, cabbage and other things that did not harm the Romans but at least slowed them down.

  «Romans floured, ready to be cooked!» said the old man laughing.

  Despite being alone, the Romans could not advance thanks to another invention of the son. The house presented a rectangular plan with the ground floor and the first floor, all around it was surrounded by a system of three concentric circles of diamond-tipped spears that emerged from the ground thanks to the activation of three levers. Zakhior was able to activate all three, so he defeated seven Romans. One was hit in the abdomen, another in the head, another in the lower parts, the fourth in the back, the fifth under the chin, the sixth in the chest, the seventh in one eye. Tullius’s anger woke up. Zakhior froze when he heard his words of anger. In his heart he was sorry for everything, but it was the only way to survive. Living or dying, this was the choice to make. At another window he placed a small crossbow that threw three arrows at the same time. He fired with his machines, then lowered the shield made of diamonds.

  The Romans were busy crossing the three rows of spears, very dense and close together, almost aligned. The old man had connected that crossbow to another strange device that reloaded the machine of his darts. With these strategies Zakhior managed to defeat Romans, but at least another thirty remained. He lowered a white wooden lever, placed near the window, and from the ground rose a white stone wall, half the height of the house, which surrounded the entire structure almost like a protective shield, causing the Romans to be amazed. Then he barred the first window on the ground floor permanently. He did just in time, as the soldiers had succeeded in creating a path between the spears. He was quick to close the second window before three arrows hit him. He ran upstairs to bar the other windows and his cars were dismissed. After the attack he went to the defense, but still had a few tricks up his sleeve to play. His house would protect him against everything.

  «Use the ram and destroy that wall! I will finish him with my own hands!» Arminius ordered.

  Meanwhile, in the north-west, the brave Dasmond hid among the horses in the enclosure, waiting for the right moment to attack two Romans. They were ready to enter the house of Yulia, adjacent to a well, source of water and life for the village. A single thought echoed in his head: He had to protect him, he had to save him. The Demonic Power had amplified his skills with the sword, had become more agile, difficult to see in the dark. Instead he saw very well in the darkness of the night, everything was clear in his eyes.

  «Something has changed in me, but I cannot think about it now. I must save him! I must go to him, at any cost!» He repeated to himself. Then, like a flash in his mind, he understood the reason for his change. «The scar? The Power of the Dragon! The urge to kill is great», he gasped and opened his red eyes, «You must stay calm! Concentrate!» And in a moment, he came back to himself.

  The two Romans entered the house of Yulia and Dasmond, wrapped in his black cloak, followed them sneakingly and quickly entered the house without being discovered.

  The Romans barked. «Come out! Lots of fleas!» One of them shouted.

  Silence. No one answered. The two were about to leave when they heard a creak.

  «Who goes there?» said the most forceful.

  And immediately the two rushed in the direction from which the noise came. An empty room, except for a table, a bed and a small wooden wardrobe.

  «Open it!» the beast ordered, but the other, instead of opening it, stuck his blade into the wardrobe and pierced it with great hatred. He opened it and with amazement he noticed that it was empty.

  «Let’s go, there’s nobody here» said the lowest.

  And perhaps by the will of the Devil the two, while they had decided to return to the battlefield, they heard someone panting. They moved the table and discovered a trapdoor in the white stone floor, with a circular black handle to be used to lift a quadrangular stone slab. They opened it and inside it they found Yulia, hidden in that space with the shape of a parallelepiped dug into the ground two meters deep.

  «Oh, well what do we have here? A little treat!» said the giant roman.

  «Pity, have pity on me, I’m just a poor girl!» Yulia begged them.

  «Poor? I would not say, with all you have!» and his two eyes glowed red.

  Yulia was the most beautiful in the village, with a sensual body that was hard to miss, a thick black hair down to her back,
two deep green eyes and two full lips that bewitched every man. He wore a long green dress with short sleeves. Despite his young age, many aspired to conquer it, but no one had succeeded yet.

  «What do we do with this one?» asked the lowest.

  Instantly the most forceful grabbed the girl by the throat and lifted her from the trapdoor, with an evil grin and bad intentions.

  «We have a little fun with her and then we kill her, the rest you already know!» the other answered.

  Yulia screamed so loudly in fear that Dasmond, from the kitchen, could hear it and sneaked into the bedroom. He waited for the right moment to attack. The most forceful dismissed his friend who, getting angry, left the room. At that juncture of time, just that the man overcame the port door, Dasmond stuck his dagger into his left eye, causing instant death. In order not to arouse suspicion, he silently collapsed the man’s body on the ground and stole his sword, so as to possess in his hands two blades to fight the remaining roman.

  His enemy was a two-meter-tall man, mighty and dark with hair. He released his grip on the girl’s neck, putting her feet on the ground, then held her hands. At that moment Dasmond, with a lightning shot, hit the opponent’s right arm with the two swords. The man let go, but the blow could not hurt him deeply.

  «Brat, this tickle me!» the roman shouted.

  A colossus against a boy, just sixteen. He took his sword and struck Dasmond, who managed to block the blow by crossing the X-shaped swords. The duel had begun, it was a struggle for life. Dasmond with cunning and agility fought against the enemy and so his arrival allowed Yulia to escape and to take shelter. He hit the soldier’s legs, who knelt down, but soon after he got up again and with a powerful blow he wounded Dasmond on his left shoulder, giving him a great loss of blood. The boy gave out screams of pain and, by the atrocious pain, he could no longer use the sword he had stolen shortly before. He let it fall from his left hand and relied on his right hand, with which he was gripping his Draghiria. It was a sword with a blade of blue color, sharp, long and thin. It had a gray hilt, easy to grip and the words “Draghiria Queen of Dragons” were engraved on the groove. The hilt presented a guard with two small dragon’s head on the sides, a legendary creature. On the top there was a ruby-red apple with a hexagonal shape.