Resurrection, Romance and Red Dragon Testicles

“Welcome to Summoning for Advance Summoners Volume 3”

The kid holding me looked around in a panic, “Who said that?”

“I did.”

He continued to look around, “Who is talking?”

“I’m the book you opened.”

The kid walked over, picked the book up, and looked at it curiously.

“You can talk?” he asked skeptically.

“I can,” I answered.

I had no eyes, but I had a mana sensory gland, which enabled me to see, hear, and smell everything within twenty feet of my location. So, I was more than capable of seeing the panic on the kids face when I spoke to him.

“Oh well, that's good, I guess,” he said as he put me on the bench and started turning my pages.

“Oh yeah, turn another one, yeah, nice and slow. Oh yeah, baby, you know what I like.”

The kid jumped in shock at my joke and sent me flying to the floor. I need to remember its not always a good idea to joke around with young men who are on edge.

“I was joking,” I mumbled.

“I’m so sorry,” the kid said as he ran around to pick me up.

“No, that’s on me. What’s your name kid?”

“Oren. What about you?”

“I am Summoning for Advance Summoners Volume 3,” I said.

“Oh,” he said in a deflated voice. “Do you mind if I call you Book instead?”

“Sure Human, no problem.”

“So, you so mind? How about SAS than? Will that be better?”

“Fine. Anyway let’s get down to business, what will we summoning today? An elemental? Maybe a demon? A plague? Oh maybe a cake? Haven’t done a cake in centuries.”

“A cake?” Oren questioned.

“Yes, a cake. They are these little cylinder or square creatures that do nothing but sit there and let you eat them. We don’t even have to open a portal to a different world. We just get some local ingredients, mix them together and put them in a furnace for a bit and you’re done.”

“I don’t know of this cake you speak of but it’s not what I’m interested in.”

I sighed in defeat. No one ever believes me about this cake creation.

“Ok, let me guess. Judging by your age, lack of composer, your jumpiness, I will say you are looking to summon a demon, a succubus to be more accurate.

“That’s correct. What’s wrong with that?” Oren said defensively.   

“Nothing at all. Turn to page three hundred and seven for the recipe.”

Oren’s face paled when he saw the list of ingredients needed.

1.     Two eyes of newts

2.     Flaming pepper powder

3.     Salt

4.     A pinch of goblin nose hair

5.     Frog Tongue

6.     A Griffin feather

7.     A female corpse

8.     One Purple Rose mushroom.

9.     A pair of red dragon testicles

10. Sugar

Materials needed.

1.     A cauldron

2.     A large work area

3.     Candles, at least twenty

4.     A fire

5.     Fire extinguisher (For when things go wrong)

6.     A durable weapon (For when things go wrong)

7.     Flowers (if things go well)

Some of those ingredients are almost impossible to get. Do you have any idea how hard sugar is to obtain in this region of the world?” Oren said.

“Huh, sugar is what you are concerned about. I guess it’s a good thing you went against the cake idea.”

“Let’s start with the ingredients,” Oren said, trying to refocus.

“Very well,” I replied. “The first on the list is the eyes of a newt. They can be found in most forests around here. To harvest them, simply pick up a newt and give it a good squeeze. Its eyes will bulge out like juicy berries, and with a little pluck—pop—they’ll come right off.”

Oren winced. “That sounds... unpleasant.”

“Oh, it is,” I agreed cheerfully. “But a word of caution: avoid the grey newts. Their eyes have this pesky little habit of turning people to stone.”

“Noted.”

“These aren’t far though. There’s a small forest just beyond the village that’s crawling with newts.”

I could sense Oren’s unease as he left, but he returned the next day, looking victorious as he held up a small jar filled with eyeballs.

“Ok,” Oren said, holding the jar at arm's length. “Got the newt eyes. What’s next?”

“Second,” I continued, “the flaming pepper powder. These peppers grow in caves near lava springs. Handle with care—one wrong squeeze and the juice can melt through human skin like butter on a hot stove.”

Oren’s eyes widened. “What? You didn’t mention that!”

“I’m mentioning it now,” I said with a casual tone. “Wear gloves—thick ones. Once you’ve harvested the peppers, let them dry out in the cool air for three days. Then, grind them into powder. Simple enough.”

He sighed. “And where exactly am I going to find a cave with lava springs?”

“Ah, well, that’s the tricky part. There’s one a few miles north of here, but there may be some... challenges. Like the occasional fire elemental.”

“Of course,” Oren muttered under his breath. But he gathered his things, leaving me to wait patiently for his return.

Two weeks passed before Oren returned, holding a small jar of red powder in his hands. His clothes were singed, but he looked triumphant.

“Okay,” Oren said, slightly out of breath. “What’s next?”

“Next,” I replied, “is salt—but not just any salt. It must be from the tears of a dwarf.”

Oren blinked. “Dwarves don’t cry!”

“Sure they do,” I said. “They have tear ducts, don’t they?”

“Yes, but have you ever seen one cry?”

“No,” I admitted. “But that’s your problem to solve. Can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

Oren groaned, rubbing his temples in frustration before storming off. It was nearly a month before he returned, looking weary but victorious. He held a small glass tube containing a few precious salt crystals.

“So, you managed to make a dwarf cry?”

“Yes,” Oren said with a deep sigh. “I had to buy one of his finest swords and then—brace yourself for this—I told him it would only ever be used as a butter knife. I think I heard his heartbreak in that moment.”

I chuckled. “And he cried?”

“Oh, yes,” Oren said, shaking his head. “Tears rolled down his face like rain. I told him I’d sell the sword back if I could collect the tears, and here we are.”

“Resourceful. I’m impressed,” I said.

“Alright, what’s next?”

“An easy one. Goblin nose hair. Nothing fancy, just a big helping of nostril mane.”

Oren grimaced but nodded. “I know where I can find some goblins.” And with that, he left, only to return later that day with a small bag of hair coated in green and yellow snot.

“Well done, Oren,” I said, trying to sound encouraging. “Just need to clean all those strands before we can use them.”

Oren gave me a look of pure disgust but sat down with a sigh, painstakingly cleaning the strands one by one. Once he finished, I congratulated him before dropping the next task on him.

“Next up: a frog’s tongue. But not just any frog. It must be from a pink-spotted frog found in the dirty swamp region.”

He groaned. “And what's the catch this time?”

“Let’s see, key notes… One: don’t get eaten. The pink-spotted frog can grow to about five times the size of a human. I recommend going for a baby—they’re about the size of a common rat. Second, be cautious of their saliva. It’s highly acidic and can make for a rather unpleasant day if it gets on you.”

Oren didn’t look too thrilled but set out immediately. Months passed before he returned, drenched and bedraggled, with a giant pink tongue draped over his shoulders. Most of his clothes had been disintegrated in patches, exposing red, irritated skin.

“Got it,” he muttered, dropping it with a heavy thud onto the floor.

“Yes, well done,” I said with genuine approval. “Would you like a break, or are you ready for the next ingredient?”

“I’m ready,” Oren replied with a weary sigh.

“A griffin feather. Any size will work. There are plenty of griffins living in the mountains to the east. I recommend luring one close with some fish. They become sluggish when they overeat, which makes plucking a feather relatively easy.”

Oren nodded and rushed out the door before I could finish.

“Wait!” I called after him. “Don’t use salmon—it acts like an aphrodisiac for them and will have the complete opposite effect… Hello?... Oh, he’s gone already.”

A month later, Oren staggered back through the door, holding a large feather in one hand. His body was covered in fresh scars, easily visible through the torn and singed remnants of his clothes.

“You know, Oren,” I said, eyeing his ragged clothes, “I think it’s about time you get some new outfits. The ones you have now look... well, you look like your muscles have bulked up since you started gathering ingredients. Maybe it’s time to get something that fits better.”

Oren shot me a withering look. “You said the griffin would be sluggish if I gave it a lot of fish. You didn’t say it would try to mount me.”

“Well,” I replied, “I did warn you to avoid salmon, but you were in such a rush you missed that part.”

Oren just stared at me with exasperation. “What’s next?” he sighed.

“Alright, next on the list is a female corpse. Human, elf, dwarf—any humanoid will do. Age doesn’t matter, but it can’t be more than a year from its death date.  Simple enough.”

Oren let out his usual resigned sigh and left for his task. I expected him back quickly—digging up a fresh grave shouldn’t be too hard. But two days later, he returned with a body slung over his shoulder. It was fresh—a young woman, maybe in her twenties.

“You know,” I said, “the corpse didn’t have to be this fresh.”

“I know,” Oren replied, setting the body down. “But while I was searching, this woman ran past me.”

“And you killed her?” I interrupted.

“No!” he protested. “She slipped on some ice, slid down the road, and landed behind a horse. The horse got startled and kicked her in the face. She died instantly. No one was around, so I took the body.”

“Nicely done,” I said, impressed. “Good job.”

Oren placed the corpse in the corner, as expected, and turned to me. “What’s next?”

“The next ingredient you need is a purple rose mushroom.”

“Never heard of it,” Oren said.

“That’s because that’s the alchemical name. To common folk its known as the top of a gnome’s penis.”

Oren blinked. “You want me… to circumcise… a gnome?”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules. That’s what the recipe calls for. But don’t worry, it grows back, eventually. I can even provide instructions for a trap that will do the work for you.”

Over the next week, I watched Oren construct a crude wooden gnome sex doll. It was simple but effective—any drunk gnome stumbling home late at night wouldn’t notice the difference. The trap was designed to slice off the ‘purple rose mushroom’ with a small guillotine as soon as the gnome inserted himself.

Oren set the trap in an alley one evening and left it overnight collecting it just before dawn. His face twitched in disgust as he opened the collection door and found not one, but a dozen... tops.

“Hmm…” I mused, “Maybe we shouldn’t have included the auto-reset feature.”

Oren said nothing, his face pale, he quietly placed all the tops into a container.

“What’s next?” he asked, his voice barely above a grumble.

“Red dragon testicles,” I replied. “They’ll be your most challenging ingredient yet. You’ll only need about a pound of the stuff, which is good for you—one of those can weigh up to fifty pounds.”

Oren sat down, rubbing his temples. “I’m not rushing off this time. Tell me everything I need to know to make this easier—and keep me from getting eaten or... mounted again. I refuse to have another griffin incident.”

“Well, you’ll want to start with lots of strong wine—maybe a cart or two of the stuff. Then, use the venom of a blue-ringed cobra. You’ll need to make the cobra bite the sack. This will send the dragon into a frenzy, but if it’s drunk, it should just moan a bit. The venom will numb the area enough for you to slice off a chunk, but as soon as you do, get as far away as possible. When the venom wears off, the dragon will not be very happy.”

Oren groaned but didn’t argue. He stood up, packed his things, and left on yet another harrowing quest.

Six months passed, and I began to assume the worst—that poor Oren had made a fatal mistake somewhere along the line. I laughed to myself, picturing Oren holding a cobra inches from a dragon’s sack, only for the dragon to notice his intentions. As I chuckled for the hundredth time, the door creaked open, and in walked Oren.

He looked ragged—his beard had grown out, his clothes were singed in several places, and his eyes looked distant, as though he’d seen things he’d never unsee. But there he was, holding a bucket.

Inside the bucket was a little over a pound of red dragon balls.

“One ingredient left.” I said cheerfully

Oren groaned, “I know. It’s the sugar.”

“What’s so bad about getting sugar? There’s a shop in town that sells it. Sure, it’s a bit pricey, but it’s right there.”

“My ex-girlfriend runs the shop,” Oren muttered as he left.

Hours later, Oren returned, dropping a bag of sugar on the counter like it weighed a ton. He sat looking more defeated from the sugar run than any other quest.

I’ll be honest; I didn’t know whether to laugh or offer condolences.

“Well,” I said, breaking the silence, “we’ve got all the ingredients. We’ve got a large enough area. Now, do you have a sturdy weapon in case things go wrong—and flowers in case things go well?”

Oren sighed. “Yes, I have a lovely bouquet of wildflowers, and a longsword coated in a poison that’s effective against demons.”

“Well done!” I said with genuine approval. “Alright, let’s get started. First, place the cauldron in the center of the room and start a fire beneath it. Then, arrange the twenty candles in a circle around the cauldron. Got it?”

Oren nodded, following the instructions.

“Now, start by adding the pound of red dragon testicles,” I continued. “They’ll melt into a liquid.”

He wrinkled his nose as he tipped the testicles into the cauldron.

“Once liquefied,” I went on, “add in the dwarven salt and—what’s likely the last bit of sugar you’ll ever get from your ex-girlfriend.”

Oren shot me a dirty look at my comment about the sugar, but I laughed it off.

“Alright,” I continued, “after a few minutes, add the newt eyes, goblin nose hair, and griffin feather. On the side, dice up the frog tongue and purple rose mushrooms with the flaming pepper powder. This powder will help the chunks dissolve and give the summoned creature a nice fragrance—very important.”

Oren followed the instructions, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Now, light all the candles around the cauldron. Once that’s done, grab the corpse and place it over the cauldron so the vapors can absorb into the body. Let it sit for an hour before we speak the incantation.”

We sat in silence after that. Well, Oren sat. I, of course, rested on the table like I’d been doing for the past few months. This wasn’t my first rodeo. I’d seen plenty of succubus summonings, but this was the first time the summoner wasn’t excited so close to the end.

“Why do you look like someone kicked your dog?” I asked.

Oren sighed, “It’s the corpse. I didn’t know her well, but I’d seen her around town. She was an adventurer like me... and she died from a kick to the face from a miniature horse.”

I laughed out loud. Oren shot me another dirty look.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to contain myself. “But you didn’t mention it was a miniature horse before. That just... paints a different picture.”

“I feel bad,” he admitted. “And honestly, I regret never trying to talk to her before.”

“Well,” I said thoughtfully, “I didn’t know you were an adventurer. I thought you were just some lonely guy who couldn’t get a date to save his life.”

“I was,” Oren said. “But somewhere along the line, gathering these ingredients... I became an adventurer, I’m still lonely though.  A girl even hit on me the other day but I was so nervous I ran off without saying a word.”

I chuckled. “Well, you know, since the body’s so fresh, we could always tweak a few words and perform a resurrection summon instead. She might come back with a bit of an attitude—thanks to the pepper—but other than that, she should be fine.”

Several hours later, I found myself performing my second resurrection summoning. The first attempt? I may have skipped a line in the incantation—it’s hard being a book with dyslexia, after all. Luckily, we had a weapon on hand.

But the second time around, we got it right. The wildflowers came in handy, too. She sneezed a few times, and I thought for a moment she was allergic and would die, leaving me with a third resurrection spell on my hands. But everything turned out fine.

I was returned to the dark library soon after. Oren and his new girlfriend left with smiles on their faces. I hope things work out for them... because I forgot to mention that resurrection a summoning bond souls together. But I’m sure they’ll be fine.