I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!

"An intriguing question." Ashok mused and continued "It's clear you've been analyzing the ritual closely, but you see, there's a very specific reason I said I would trick the demon.

I will summon the demon, yes - but on a condition, I will summon the demon with the stipulation that the exchange between the sacrifice and the wish must occur simultaneously, like a barter." said Ashok.

[Even if some demon accepts that condition. The outcome will still end with you losing your memory.]

Ashok stood at the center of his dimly lit room, his silhouette casting long shadows across the walls. His voice was low but steady as he spoke, his words deliberate and calculated, "I am going to summon the demon by sacrificing 'My Memory'. But what if, there is a change in the memory that I called him for? What if I begin the process of memory assimilation right before the demon appears?

[Your memory will be different from what you should be sacrificing. By attempting to assimilate the memory before the demon's arrival, you risk creating a contradiction within the very essence of the ritual.] The system guessed the meaning behind Ashok's words.

"Yup! I'll have a jumbled memory—two different lives, two different identities, tangled together in one mind. The demon will have no idea how to separate them. You see, I'm certain a summoned demon won't have the power to separate two completely different memories residing in the same mind. It's beyond their reach, with a body that is summoned without a medium.

And as per the rules of the ritual—demons cannot take more than what they are called for. They cannot deviate from the terms set upon their summoning. The demon can't take both memories, since that deviates from the terms set upon their summoning and it will also be forced to grant my wish."

The System was momentarily silent, seemingly taken aback by the audacity of Ashok's plan.

[Now I see why the Great Deity has chosen you. You do possess intelligence and knowledge about this world. This method of yours can certainly trick even the highest-ranking demons. But are you not scared of earning the ire of a demon.]

'I've already earned the ire of a God, which led to my transmigration. What worse could happen to me?'

A dark chuckle escaped his lips, his confidence unshaken. "Hehe! You have to take great risks to earn even greater rewards. I have the Great God by my side—nothing scares me. But before I begin, there are two things I need from you. First, I want you to take away any trace of divine energy related to that God within my body. Second, I ask for an Oath—in the name of the God of Fate."

[What Oath, Host?]

"The Oath that you will not interfere at any point during the ritual and let me handle everything myself. You see, demons are highly sensitive to divine power and presence. They are instinctively repelled by anything remotely connected to Divinity. If I were to have even the faintest trace of divine energy on me, the demon would refuse the deal outright." explained Ashok.

[I understand, Host. Your divine energy has been taken back, and I also give the Oath in the name of the God of Fate, that there will be no interference from my side during the ritual.]

'With this, my road toward freedom is open. Just a little pain and I will be free.'

"Ha! This will hurt," muttered Ashok as he sliced the tip of his right index finger with the glass shard. The sharp pain shot through his hand, but he gritted his teeth and focused on the task at hand.

Blood started dripping from the cut immediately. Ignoring the pain and the blood, Ashok drew another cut right over the bleeding wound, making it more severe and increasing the flow of blood.

'If only I had Blood magic instead of Fire, this would have been easier.' The thought flashed through Ashok's mind as he watched the blood drip steadily from his hand. The stinging pain was almost unbearable, but it was a small price to pay for what was to come.

Shaking off the thought, Ashok bent down, his body tensing as he focused. He pressed his bleeding finger to the cold floor, using the blood to trace an ancient symbol—one that was a key part of the summoning.

'Starting with the top comes the name of the plane. Following the direction of the clock comes the first user, and then the next servant. Following that, the one who broke the limits…

Every symbol Ashok drew was more than just a mark of blood—it was a carefully crafted work of ancient calligraphy, each stroke laden with a deeper, hidden meaning. Every time the flow of blood dimmed, Ashok would add a new cut, deepening the wound on the other fingers. The pain of self-inflicted harm and the blood loss began to cloud his mind. But Ashok ignored everything, his eyes solely focused on drawing the symbols.

As Ashok drew the final stroke of the twelfth symbol, a subtle yet undeniable shift occurred. The symbols began to glow faintly, their intricate lines and curves shimmering in the dim light.

'To think, I would ever use these symbols that I just used to read for fun. However, I have to accept now, The creator of this ritual was a genius. One of the Great Sages, and a master of Black Magic. To craft such a ritual requires an unparalleled understanding of the Demonic Tongue—an understanding that borders on perfection. Even I, who know all the Primal Languages of this world, could never have created something like this. The depth of this design… it's extraordinary. But that does not mean I can't improve it.'

Even though the ritual could have been initiated at any moment, with the twelve original symbols glowing faintly and the air thick with power, he started drawing even more symbols. This time, he began to fill the gaps—those silent, empty spaces between the twelve primary symbols. Slowly, meticulously, he drew twelve more symbols, each one unique, and entirely different from the first design.

'Ancient Human Tongue between Ancient Demon Tongue for Strengthening and adding a Condition.'

The circle he had created now resembled a massive 24-hour clock, but instead of numbers, each hour was marked by one of the symbols he had drawn, an arrangement of arcane shapes interwoven with meaning.

'Let's add a bit more, just for precaution.'

His fingers shook as they hovered over the center of the clock-like structure, and then, with deliberate intent, he began to draw two large symbols.

'Ancient Dragonic Tongue and Ancient Spirit Tongue'

He began to connect the symbols using lines, each one drawn with precision, each appearing to be nothing more than casual doodles to an untrained eye. But Ashok knew better—every line, every curve, was a critical link connecting the different symbols of the ritual.

'Ancient Titan Tongue for connection'

'And Finally Done'.