Yarin's POV:
This cat-and-mouse game had finally angered everyone. If the mountain doesn't come to me, I'll go to the mountain. A crazy idea began to form in my mind.
"What if anyone can perform a ritual for Azazel? Why can't we?"
When I said this, the expressions on people's faces made it clear they thought I was crazy. Cynthia asked in disbelief, "Are you running a fever? What nonsense are you talking about?"
"No, I'm serious," I insisted. "Rituals create a connection to power; with that connection, we can trace back to Azazel's location. Since he's currently in a coma and the divine essence is in Linda's hands, it's as if Linda temporarily holds Azazel's power-equivalent to us finding Linda."
After I finished speaking, there was a long silence.
I began to doubt myself and muttered, "Well, it's quite dangerous, and who knows what might happen during a demon summoning ritual... Maybe we shouldn't complicate things..." "No, I think Yarin makes a lot of sense," Aunt Dorothy suddenly said. "Creating a power connection is indeed a simple and efficient way to trace someone. A month ago, performing a ritual for Azazel would have been extremely dangerous. But now, Azazel has fallen into a deep slumber or rather, he's essentially in a vegetative state. His subjective consciousness is gone, and he won't initiate any harmful actions anymore.
"The only potential danger is Linda. But unless she can give birth to a new divine officer under the catalysis of the divine essence, she won't be able to wield Azazel's power. She can only act as a temporary custodian.
"The two biggest danger factors are not a problem. What could potentially be dangerous is the dark energy that might overflow during the ritual. It's unconscious power spilling out, uncontrollable, but it's also easy to deal with."
Dorothy looked at Mom, and they exchanged smiles. Mom continued, "Of course, it's my duty to protect my people from danger."
So, when the werewolf grandmasters brainstormed a ritual circle that maximized safety, they began stepping onto it individually to attempt the ritual.
However, without exception, everyone failed, receiving no response.
"How could this be?" Aunt Dorothy was utterly puzzled. "We've checked the circle many times, and we have offerings. Demons have always favored goats, although they're not
human, and we can faintly feel the magical connection. But why do we keep failing at the last moment?"
I didn't know why Azazel acted this way; he was a complete lunatic, and I had never understood him.
But I knew Linda, and I believed I had found the reason from her.
"Perhaps it's a defense mechanism," I suggested. "Azazel is fragile right now. If we can think of using a ritual to locate him, wouldn't Linda think of it, too? She's a professional cultist and has performed many dark rituals, so she probably won't trust offerings from strangers now." The solution was simple: disguise ourselves as cultists. If Linda needed to maintain Azazel's vitality, she must continuously offer sacrifices to convert into his power. Therefore, there must still be cultists working for her.
Disguising ourselves as cultists wasn't difficult; the werewolf grandmasters had collected a lot of dark energy for experiments.
However, the difficulty arose in selecting the candidate for the experiment. Mom couldn't do it because she would absorb any evil energy that got close to her. Ordinary people were also out of the question; direct contact with dark energy would surely be disastrous. If we enveloped them in a protective barrier, the dark energy would still be absorbed.
After much consideration, it turned out there was one suitable candidate: me. "Why not let me do it? I've had extensive exposure to dark energy before and didn't die. Azazel modified my body so I would be compatible with his power. Don't look at me like that, Mom; I know you'll protect me. If anything goes wrong, the evil energy will become a snack for you."
I felt the power of trust and was even more convinced I wouldn't fail.
Standing in the ritual circle, I suddenly felt a bone-chilling coldness and a scorching sensation as if leaning against a furnace. These two opposing feelings tormented my body. I even sneezed, hoping I wouldn't catch a cold after all this.
If this was what it felt like for cultists during rituals, I had to say I would never understand their enthusiasm for bringing pain upon themselves.
Guided by the werewolf grandmasters, I completed the ritual step by step. Suddenly, the freshly slaughtered goat opened its eyes. Its square pupils rapidly constricted until they became an indistinct pinprick. Then, the eyeball burst, and its vitreous fluid splashed all over, with a drop landing on my face.
But I didn't wipe it away. Everyone was now staring at the slowly glowing ritual circle. With Aunt Dorothy's smile, I knew our plan had succeeded.