Devils in the Details (Asoiaf/Chainsaw Man) (Patreon)

Ritualistic sacrifices weren't that bad when you weren't on the receiving end of it, I decided, rubbing my hands together to feel some semblance of warmth as I looked down at the… Well, frankly, I had absolutely no idea what it was. I just knew that some hours ago, I got kidnapped, placed in one such circle, got my fucking heart carved out by a bunch of nutter cultists, only to find out that they weren't entirely nutjobs because they summoned what I'm guessing was the devil and…

Here I was.

Wherever here was, that is. I knew exactly two things so far -- it was cold and there was a lot of snow. Canada in the winter levels of snow. I also think I was somewhere in the mountains? After a bit of wandering I did manage to make it to the very edge of a thin forest clinging to the slopes of a large hill. Or mountain. I had no idea because I arrived at dusk and now the only thing that I could still see was the snow reflecting the low light of the moon and the stars.

And there were a lot of stars. It was pretty. It almost made me forget that I was probably in hell seeing as I had been sacrificed to the devil.

It made sense. I hated the outdoors. The heat? Ugh. The cold? Ick. Humidity? Mosquitoes? Florida had both and it was worse than hell for it. If humans were meant to be outside, then air conditioning wouldn't exist, now would it?

So, I was probably in hell and I was looking for an exit. Or, at the very least, a way to see where in the hell I was going. See what I did there?

"That looks about right," I muttered through chattering teeth, blowing hot air on my hands while I inspected the summoning circle drawn in the snow. I didn't exactly get a good look at it considering that I was bound and gagged in the center of it, but in my frantic looking around for a way to escape my horrific murder, I did notice a fair amount of details. Pentagram, some leaves in the points, some weird symbols here and there… "I'm so fucked," I muttered, casting a look at what I would be sacrificing to the devil to get out of hell.

As for why hell had rabbits? No idea. I wasn't complaining. They were easy enough to catch, though -- nature was best experienced from behind a TV screen, so I watched enough survival shows to know how to make a trap. Bit of bait, a funnel made of sticks, then a noose made of string. Easy peasy. The hard part was coming up.

"I'm so sorry about this little guy,” I told the rabbit that I had bound. I could see his little heart thumping against his ribcage. A heart that I would be carving out with a sharpened piece of stone that I found. Grabbing my sacrifice, I decided to revise my opinion on ritualistic sacrifices when the rabbit started screaming the moment I started cutting. “Oh, fuck. Fucking fuck. I’m so fucking sorry,” I told the rabbit, my guts twisting themselves into knots as I felt hot blood flowing over my fingers.

As disgusting as it was, my first thought was ‘warm.’ I groped around inside of the rabbit, finding its heart and ripping it out with a yank. I’m pretty sure it was the right organ, and the rabbit thankfully went silent a second later. Now, what did those psychos say? “Uhhh… Daemones et superi, contractus vocate meos,” I uttered, pretty sure that I was butchering the pronunciation and I was utterly clueless to what I just said.

Daemones kind of sounded like demon, or daemon. And contractus kind of sounded like contract?

I half expected nothing to happen, truth be told. I genuinely had absolutely no clue what I was doing. I’m pretty sure I messed up the pentagram, the sigils were ugly, and I’m guessing that it wasn’t random leaves at the points. It was a last-ditch effort simply because, if it didn’t work, then I fully expected that I would be dead by morning. If some wild hell-animal didn’t kill me, then the cold would. Either case, I would die. Again.

Defying my expectations, something happened. The blood from the rabbit began to stir, suddenly flowing into the trenches of the snow-drawn pentagram, glowing faintly for but a moment. Black smoke began to rise from the blood, drifting upwards into a single point above the dead rabbit, my breath hitching when I saw something reaching out of the black smoke to take the heart that I held in my trembling hands.

It wasn’t the demon that I was sacrificed to. Of all the things that I could have noticed, that was it as the creature- the demon revealed itself. A woman’s face with stitched-together lips and eyes, long black straight hair that fell over her face. Her body was covered in flowers, I saw -- pink petals and brightly colored, but her legs were arms. Dozens of arms stood tall, looming over me, all of them as pale as the snow around us.

Fear. It locked my legs in place and I couldn’t even think to run away as I looked up at the otherworldly creature. A monster. A demon. Now, more than ever, I was certain that I was in hell. Between two long black fingernails, the rabbit heart was plucked form my hands and vanished like smoke in the wind. When it was gone, its sewn-shut eyes met mine and-

Contract: Kayako the Ghost Devil

In exchange for the left eye of the contractor, he shall gain use of Kayako’s phantom limbs. The limb may be changed dependent on the contractor’s needs.

Additional parts of Kayako can be gained per sacrificing additional parts of the contractor or others at a reduced exchange rate.

I didn’t hear her speak. I didn’t feel her in my mind. There wasn’t some convenience window for me to read either, but I felt the offer. I felt it like it had been etched into my soul. A blood-covered hand went up to my left eye, my mind racing a mile a minute. My left eye? To go half-blind? Was that worth it? What did she mean by phantom limbs? What… what was I getting myself into? The rational part of my brain screamed at me that I should reject the deal. If only because I would lose an eye and I had no idea what I would gain.

The rational part of my brain was vastly overshadowed by pure survival instinct. The will to live. I had no idea if it would help, but I imagine I wouldn’t be glad to have both eyes as I died of hypothermia.

“Fine. I’ll make the deal,” I agreed and I couldn’t quite describe the sensation, I realized. The feeling of my left eye socket suddenly going empty and everything on the left side of my head going black. I smeared blood on my face trying to feel it, only to find that there was nothing behind my eyelid. A cold shiver raced down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. My eye was gone, but what I could feel was the pact that was made. I could feel it sure enough as if I were holding it in my hand, only it was on something that I had never seen or felt before.

My soul, I think. Surprised that I still had that, to be honest. I figured it would be with the devil.

Pulling upon that mark on my soul, all of a sudden, I could see again. Only I was looking at myself, as if I was looking through the eye of someone else. I looked worse for wear -- my skin was practically blue, there was ice forming in my hair, and my simple clothing was half covered in icy blood. The wound on my chest was clear to see where my heart got carved out, but when I pressed my hand to it, I felt it thumping powerfully under my palm. The only other alarming change was what was done to my real eye.

It seemed to glow in the low light -- a reddish amber in the dark.

Kayako’s eye. Or, rather, my eye that Kayako now possessed. I couldn’t see it with the one that was still in my head. Even when I was looking myself directly in the eye -- the phantom eye was nowhere to be seen. More than that, I could control it. It shifted around, giving me a panorama view of myself, then my surroundings. It was then that I noticed something.

I could see something in the distance with the phantom eye. Something that wasn’t present with my normal vision. It was some distance away, little more than a spec, but it was there like the flickering light of a candle.

I just made a deal with a devil, I realized, swallowing the lump in my throat. And I got sacrificed to another. I was alone in the middle of bumfuck now where and I had absolutely no idea what I should do now.

“Fuck it,” I decided, starting to trudge through the snow, the summoning circle forgotten behind me. “It can’t be any worse than dying here,” I figured as the warmth started to leave my hands from the rabbit, replaced by a bitter chill as the blood started to turn to ice. I tried to keep my hands warm as I pressed onward, trying to get used to seeing through a free-floating eye. It was easiest when I pretended that it was still in my head, but with how easy it spun around, I got a look inside of my eyesocket and that was less than helpful.

My body was wracked with shivers before I started to near the light that I saw, only to see that it wasn’t light at all.

It was a person. A person that was huddled up at the base of a tree in the fetal position. With every snapping of a twig I ended up stepping on, I saw them grow brighter. The details were hard to make out in the same way that a candleflame wasn’t static but flickering and shifting. So, I couldn’t tell what they looked like, but I could tell one thing -- what I was seeing? It was their fear. After all, how terrifying must it be to be alone in the middle of nowhere only to discover that you weren’t alone?

There really wasn’t a way to be subtle about it.

“H-h-hey- ye-ah, you! C-could ya-” I began through chattering teeth, only to find the figure leaping to their feet. With my real eye, I saw that the figure was a she. And she was a girl that couldn’t be any older than fifteen at the oldest. She was dressed in weird furs, but how odd they looked was a far distant concern. More than anything else, they looked warm.

“Get back! Get back! You won’t have ‘em!” She cried out, thrusting out a… spear at me. The tip was made out of stone with threshing keeping it slotted in place. The other hand, however, cradled a baby to her chest based on the sound of it because it suddenly began to cry.

“I-I’m n-n-n-not-” I started, trying to explain myself and beg for help, only to hear the sound of crunching snow. That wasn’t coming from me. My entire body was trembled with violent shivers, making it hard to breathe. Looking over, I saw it wasn’t just someone. It was five someones. And they…

There were a lot of things that should stand out about them. Their wild untamed hair and beards. The fact that the lead one had a belt made out of human skulls. The fact that their teeth were sharpened into points or that their faces were stylistically scared. I’d say that they looked like monsters, but considering how I already came face to face with one, they seemed laughable in comparison. No. Instead, of all the things I noticed, it was the fact that they looked warm.

“Look at that! Our pleasure led us to a meal,” the lead one remarked in a rough voice barely fit for human speech. There was a savage smile in his voice as the four others flanked around. I couldn’t see them with my phantom eye. They weren’t afraid. The girl was, though. Terrified seemed like a better descriptor, though.

A weapon. Did I have a weapon? What did the contract say? The body part can be changed dependent on the contractor’s needs?

In response, the vision of the eye faded into nothing as I was left with a lone eye. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it. The phantom eye had become an arm.

“He’s a bit thin on meat, but- gurk,” the leader continued, abruptly being cut off as a phantom hand closed around his throat. With a heave, I started to pick him up off of his feet and there were sounds of panic from the others. I could feel it like it was a part of me as much as my flesh and blood arm was, and I could control it with about as much ease. The only difference was that it was a lot longer.

“C-clothes,” I stuttered out, driven by pure survival instinct. “G-g-g-give me your clothes,” I demanded. I didn’t even have it in me to be scared as I stumbled forward, closing the distance between us. I didn’t care about the looks I was getting either. I just wanted to feel warm.

The man made a wild throw of his spear in my direction, lashing out at the phantom hand that had him by the throat. He couldn’t grab it, even as he started tearing at his throat while gagging for air. Or help. I didn’t care either way. I grabbed at his shoes as he tried to kick at me, yanking them off before pulling at his pants, and breaking the twine that held the skulls together. When he managed to kick me in the face, my control slipped.

I felt a splash of blood on the back of my neck as I accidentally tore his throat out. I was driven by pure need at that point. The fact that I killed a man was a far-off and distant concern in comparison to the fear that his blood would soak through the furs that he wore. I tore them off of him in a hurry, wrapping myself in them and a sigh escaped me. It was warm. I was warm.

It was only then that I bothered to take notice of the others who were gaping at me in pure horror. My ragged breathing came was marked with clouds of fog as I looked back at the four men. The phantom arm became an eye, and I saw that all of them were marked with fear. Some more so than others. They all didn’t dare to take their eyes off of me, letting me shrug on the shoes and the pants. They didn’t quite fit, but that didn’t matter. They were so warm.

“F-fire,” I decided, swallowing thickly. Now that my brain wasn’t in lizard survival mode, I was starting to comprehend my situation. Namely that these guys were not my friends and I very much doubt that they would be pleased with me for killing one of theirs. I turned my attention to the one that shone with the less fear, who still flinched back when my gaze met his. “Make me a fire.”

He licked his lips and he started to puff out his chest. “I’ll roast-” he began, raising his spear threateningly. The eye became an arm and I grabbed him by the throat, this time slamming him into the ground with enough force to send up snow flurries. I had no idea how strong the phantom arm was, but at the very least it was strong enough to lift a man in the air and tear his throat out.

“Make me a fire,” I repeated the command, taking a seat on the corpse simply because I didn’t want to be cold anymore. When I let go of his throat, I saw that the man I grabbed shone with the most fear of all. He and another rushed to obey the order while the other two watched me nervously.

“What are you?” One of them spoke up, falling to his knees in… reverence? A little alarming, but I did just force choke a guy.

I really wished I had something awesome to say in response to that, but all I had was, “Cold.” To that, he jumped up to help the other two gather firewood for a fire directly in front of me. The baby’s wailing was the only noise that broke the silence until a few strikes of flint showered sparks on the sticks to create a flame. A sigh that was borderline a sob escaped me when I started to warm my hands over it, feeling the blood returning to my hands already.

I looked at the girl to see that she was watching me with caution and a healthy dose of fear while she gently shushed the baby, trying to get it to calm down. The other four stood around, uncertain on what they should be doing -- torn between fleeing or staying. Swallowing thickly as I rubbed my hands together, I spoke. “Where am I?” I asked no one in particular. The men still alive didn’t seem to like their chances. Even if they probably could kill me if they all rushed me.

They all traded looks, none of them daring to answer for a long minute. None of them wanted to be the one that spoke up. “You’re in the Frostfangs. Just off the Frozen Shore,” the girl spoke up, the least afraid since I hadn’t killed any of her people. “This lot are from the River Clans,” she spat the name out with no small amount of disgust and hate. Fair enough considering that one of them used skulls as a belt.

That sounded vaguely familiar, I thought. I couldn’t quite place where, but it sounded fantasy enough. Shit, did I get isekai’d? Couldn’t I have gotten hit by a truck like everyone else?

“And you?” I questioned, looking at her and the baby. She stuck her chin out defiantly, a challenge in her eyes.

“I’m of the Frozen Shore -- the walrus tribe,” she informed, and I supposed that was why her clothing looked different to what I wore. What I wore were furs stitched together in a thick coat, while hers seemed to be some kind of rubbery leather. Walrus leather, I’m guessing. What she said meant nothing to me.

I started to pick at my hands, realizing that the icy blood had damaged the skin and I was feeling pain now. "And the little one?" I asked, making her glance at me. Or, rather, the corpse that I say on.

"He is of the ice river clans," one of the men spoke up. The one that looked at me with reverence before.

That got a scowl from the woman, "He is of the Frozen Shore. I was taken, but I never submitted. I just waited for winter to end before making my way back to my people. The babe's father is dead, any how." I felt like I was missing a shit ton of context but I had enough to paint a picture.

My head lifted up to gaze upon the stars, my situation starting to sink in now that I had a moment. "So, I killed a rapist? I guess that's morally acceptable," I muttered under my breath. Silver linings, I guess.

"She's lying! She submitted. She was Magores woman," one of the men argued and I realized that they were looking at me to settle the dispute. With my phantom eye, I saw her expression twist, a flash of fear running through her. She wasn't particularly ugly, but she sure wasn't pretty either -- brown hair, brown eyes, a weak chin, and a nose that has suffered more than a few bad breaks. I’m guessing for refusing to submit.

"You name?" I asked, looking at the man that spoke. Suddenly, he seemed really nervous.

"Don't tell 'em! He's… he's not right! He'll steal it," another spoke up. Of the four remaining, he was the most afraid, I saw. He was blistering, trying to appear like he wasn't shitting a brick. "We can kill 'em. We can-" I grabbed him by the throat with a phantom hand and now that I wasn't in survival mode, it was harder to deliberately do. However, I had to do it because he was right. They probably could kill me if they ganged up on me.

"I'll steal your name? What exactly do you think I am?" I asked the man, bringing him to his knees as his eye bulged. Letting go, I saw him heave for breath. His hand massaged his throat and he looked up at me with wide eyes filled with terror. It was a leading question because I really needed to know. I was a stranger in a strange land and all signs pointed to it sucking all of the dick. I bet these people didn’t even know what air conditioning was. Or a microwave. They’ve never even seen a hot pocket, much less tasted one. Poor bastards.

The one that I grabbed looked like he didn’t want to answer the question, “I-I don’t know what you are, but you ain’t human. You can’t be. You’re no warg, I know at least that much,” he answered with evident fear.

Not exactly the answer I had been hoping for, but that left me room to get creative.

“You’re right,” I told him, and they all flinched back. Time for a healthy dose of bullshit to make sure I could land on my feet. “But you don’t need to fear giving me your names. I don’t need them,” I said, my tone ambivalent, like I could in the first place. The reassurance wasn't exactly reassuring, but all the same I got their names -- Vararand, Dormodr, Sveval, Lokik. "Thank you. Now, run."

There was a small pause as the words took a moment to register with them. It was only when the first one pivoted that the rest turned on their heels to spring away from the small camp fire. I watched them flee into the night, the phantom eye the only reason I was able to keep track of them because they were blazing like a bonfire with terror. The woman regarded me with hesitation when I turned my attention to her, uncertain if the order applied to her as well. “You got a name?” I asked her, gesturing to the fire.

She hesitated before approaching, “Ya’ going to steal it?” She asked, her tone guarded, clutching the baby to her.

From what I gathered, after that deal, I was something special. Something that they weren’t used to seeing. The term warg had been tossed out, and that gave me a very rough idea of where I was, but I wasn’t entirely certain. In any case, I had power. Real tangible power that others feared. Given how I just about died of hyperthermia, I would be damned before I let go of my advantage.

“Not unless you give me a reason to,” I answered, bullshit pouring from my mouth like water. I’d lean into it until it blew up in my face. Keep things vague and if that didn’t work, I’d just force-choke a motherfucker. Simple.

She held my gaze for a moment, but accepted the invitation, “Igya.” I could tell that was a lie easily enough, but I chose not to comment on it. Though, I did smile to tell her that I didn’t believe her.

“Well, Igya of the Frozen Shore… how about you show me where home is?” I requested, making her blanch but I didn’t care.

This was hell. If I couldn’t escape it?

Then I was going to make damn sure that I was king of it.

...

Finally got around to watching House of the Dragon -- it felt like it suffered because of how much it jumped around for the timeline, but overall, it was a solid return to Westeros. Gave me some inspiration for this idea, but I'm not entirely sold on it, to be honest. For me, GoT fiction is at its best when it's knee deep in the politics of the seven kingdoms and with a wildling start, you're pretty far removed from the politics and when you do enter them, you enter as a wrecking ball. Which can be fun to explore, since there are too many lord inserts and it'll be a nice change of pace. However, it is pretty much perfect for the power I've been playing with.

The demon contracts are inspired by Chainsaw Man, though they might not be a one-for-one. The MC, throughout the story, will be making deals with devils to gain powers that he needs. Sometimes the cost would be an eyeball, or they could be something like a quest like performing a hundred good deeds, or overcoming a challenge. The difficulty or cost is determined by how powerful the devil is. Additionally, the cost for the contracts can be offloaded onto others, so rather than the MC sacrificing a limb, he can have ten people lose one. Or if a high cost contract requires the MC to sacrifice half of his life, he could instead have a thousand people sacrifice half of theirs.

Which is where the wilding start comes to play. There won't be any tech-uplifting or moral enlightenment. Just pure barbarians at the gates. The MC himself is going to be larping as a sorcerer god-king until he becomes one in earnest. I'm not sure I would call the MC evil -- just pragmatic and going native for the sake of survival.

So, if you have any thoughts, let me know.