"So there's our prodigy," muttered Headmaster Medea Solaryn, her voice low but edged with a peculiar blend of pride and trepidation. Her violet eyes, sharp and unyielding, were fixed on Kael Veylin, standing beside his newly summoned companion.
A Prime Luminara Divine Beast: Royal Dragon.
It was still young—its single divine core barely pulsing with nascent power—but even in its immaturity, it radiated a strength that demanded reverence. The creature's shimmering white scales, kissed with molten gold, seemed almost too pure for this world, a beacon of unfulfilled potential.
More than its current strength, however, was the promise it carried. A Divine Beast, rare enough to be whispered about in hushed tones. A Prime Luminara, standing just shy of the Eterna apex. It was a summon that would etch Kael's name into the annals of history.
Medea's lips tightened as her fingers brushed the spine of her own Gold grimoire, the book warm beneath her touch. She hadn't felt envy in years—decades, really—but as she stared at Kael, she felt an old, familiar ache stir in her chest. It had been twenty years since she stood in this very hall, summoning her own Prime Luminara, a Miasma Beast that had reshaped the trajectory of her life.
And now Kael had summoned something just as extraordinary.
But then her gaze shifted, landing on the girl stepping into the circle next. Kael's twin. Elara.
Medea frowned. If Kael radiated confidence, Elara exuded hesitation, her steps tentative, her shoulders hunched ever so slightly as if bracing for impact. There was nothing outwardly remarkable about her—no hint of the force that might lie beneath. And yet…
"That's his sister?" Medea murmured under her breath. She leaned forward, her violet eyes narrowing as she tried to glean something—anything—from Elara's posture, her demeanor, her aura.
Elara stopped at the center of the mana circle. She closed her eyes, and the hall seemed to quiet. A ripple of mana stirred in the air, faint at first, then growing, swirling around her like a hesitant storm gathering strength.
Medea's eyes snapped open, and the faintest gasp escaped her lips. Her hand tightened reflexively on her grimoire.
Something was happening.
The energies in the room shifted, no, bowed, as if acknowledging an unspoken command. Medea wasn't the only one who noticed. The murmurs in the hall fell silent, replaced by a heavy stillness. The air felt thicker, charged, as though it might ignite at any moment.
Medea's breath caught. As a human, her senses were sharper than most—her ten cores attuned to the flow of mana in ways few could comprehend. Even so, this… this was something else entirely.
This was not mana simply responding to a summoner. This was mana being claimed.
Medea's fingers brushed her Gold grimoire, and a chill ran down her spine. The book, a constant source of comfort and pride, now felt strangely dim, as though it had lost some of its luster in the face of what was unfolding before her.
Her voice, usually steady and commanding, was little more than a whisper. "This… can't be."
At the heart of the circle, the mana surged. The glow intensified, its light swallowing the space around Elara until she was barely visible. And then it appeared.
The grimoire.
First, there was a shimmer—a glimmer of something extraordinary. Then, with a sound like the chime of distant bells, it solidified, its cover reflecting the light like the surface of a polished diamond.
Not Bronze. Not Silver. Not even Gold.
Diamond.
The hall erupted into chaos. Gasps, whispers, the scrape of chairs as students leaned forward in disbelief. Medea barely heard them. Her entire focus was on the girl standing at the center of the maelstrom, her hands trembling as they reached for the book.
A Diamond grimoire.
The rarity was almost mythical. Diamond-grade summoners didn't belong to Kingdoms like Thane. They belonged to Empires, to stories of old, to worlds where power wasn't just a tool but a force that reshaped existence itself.
Elara's fingers brushed the grimoire, and a pulse of energy rippled outward. Medea staggered back, clutching her own grimoire as if it might protect her. The hall itself seemed to groan, the ancient stones shuddering under the weight of the energy radiating from the girl.
Medea's voice was barely steady as she forced herself to speak. "A Diamond-grade summoner..." She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "In the Kingdom of Thane."
It wasn't over.
Medea's violet eyes narrowed, her focus snapping back to the mana circle. The energy within it still churned and crackled, as though reality itself hadn't yet settled. The grimoire was extraordinary—there was no doubting that—but the grimoire was only half of the awakening.
The other half was what truly mattered.
She waited, anticipation tightening her chest. Her fingers brushed the cover of her Gold grimoire, her mind racing with possibilities. A Diamond-grade summoner's first summon was unheard of in the Kingdom of Thane—no, even the Empires would consider it rare. And with a grimoire of this caliber, there could only be one outcome.
An Eterna being. A creature of myth, a step beyond even the majesty of Luminara. Medea had never encountered one before, and truth be told, she doubted she ever would again. She leaned forward, her breath caught between excitement and trepidation. For all her composure, Medea Solaryn was excited.
The circle flared once more, and the light within it coalesced. Gasps rippled through the hall as the figure began to take shape. The energy subsided, leaving behind…
A little girl.
Medea blinked, her mind stumbling over itself as it tried to reconcile expectation with reality. The figure in the circle was petite, her frame delicate. She had long black hair that shimmered faintly as though it drank the light around her. Her face was doll-like, too perfect, too serene, with eyes dark and fathomless, like deep pools that held secrets better left undisturbed. She wore a flowing black dress, its fabric shifting as though alive, rippling with every unseen movement of energy.
She looked harmless.
Medea's brow furrowed, confusion snapping like a twig beneath the weight of her scrutiny. Harmless? No. The mana in the room had grown heavier, suffocating, the way the air grows still before a storm. This was no child.
"Headmaster?" an instructor called out hesitantly, his voice wavering. Medea glanced at him, irritated at the interruption, but her attention shifted immediately to the sight before her.
Her grimoire was glowing.
Unbidden, the book had opened, its pages flipping in a flurry as though responding to an unseen threat. A flash of light, and there it was: her own summon, the Prime Luminara Miasma Beast: Amethyst Basilisk. The great serpent coiled protectively at her feet, its scaled body glimmering in hues of deep purple, its many eyes narrowing as it hissed low and dangerous.
The basilisk wasn't simply reacting. It was warning her.
Medea stiffened, her breathing uneven. She could feel it now, more clearly than before, her connection to the basilisk amplifying every sensation.
Fear.
The realization hit her like a dagger to the chest. Medea Solaryn had not felt fear in decades. Her ten cores hummed with power, her Prime Luminara summons had seen her through countless battles, and there was little in this world that could shake her.
But this? This girl? No, this being?
It was wrong. The air around her twisted with an unnatural gravity, as though the world itself was bending under her presence. Her senses screamed, every fiber of her being telling her to run, to flee, to do anything but stand here and face what had been summoned.
The girl stood motionless, her dark eyes scanning the room with an eerie calm. Her expression didn't waver, her posture relaxed. It was the very absence of threat that made her so terrifying.
This wasn't an enraged beast baring its fangs. This was the quiet before the executioner's blade fell, the moment when you realize the monster doesn't need to roar because it already knows it has won.
Medea swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. Her voice cracked, the sound foreign to her ears. "This… this can't be."
The girl's gaze shifted to Medea, and in that instant, she felt the weight of the cosmos pressing down on her. It was as though she were being seen—not by a child, but by something older, something vast and incomprehensible. Her basilisk hissed again, the sound sharper, desperate, and Medea tightened her grip on her grimoire to keep her hands from trembling.
It wasn't power. Power she understood. Power could be fought, resisted, even tamed.
This was something else entirely. This was absolute.
Medea's thoughts spiraled. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead, her heart pounding in her chest. The very air seemed to tremble with the girl's presence. The murmurs in the hall had stopped, replaced by an oppressive silence, as though every student and instructor had collectively decided that breathing too loudly might draw attention.
"What…" Medea whispered, the words catching in her throat. "What are you?"
The girl tilted her head, her expression serene, her voice soft and melodic but chilling in its simplicity.
"I am Aria."