Medea stood before us, her voice carrying the calm authority that had become so familiar during her lessons. "Alright, students," she began, her eyes scanning the room. "Today, we begin discussing Synchronisation."
The room, already subdued, fell utterly silent as we all sat up a little straighter. This was the moment we'd been anticipating—Synchronisation, the hallmark ability of summoners, the bridge between us and our summons.
"As you may know," Medea continued, pacing slowly, "Synchronisation is one of the most important abilities available to summoners. It allows you to borrow a portion of your summon's strength—between 5% and, with mastery, up to 10%. Of course, this varies depending on how compatible your summon's power is with your human body." She paused, turning to fix us with her penetrating gaze. "After all, you wouldn't expect your roar to rival that of a lion or dragon, would you?"
A few students chuckled nervously, but I sat still, fingers tightening around my quill as I made quick notes. Her words struck a chord. If Synchronisation was limited by compatibility, then with Aria—a summon whose form was so human-like—would I be able to borrow more? Or would the sheer depth of her power prove overwhelming?
Medea seemed to anticipate our thoughts. "Of course," she continued, "your first Synchronisation will allow you to access only 5% of your summon's energy. Now, let me clarify—this 5% is not a measure of combat power but rather a portion of their raw energy and the essence of their Traits. For example, if your summon is a divine beast, you may tap into 5% of their divine energy as well as 5% of their Trait-related abilities."
She gestured to a student who had raised their hand. "Headmaster," the girl asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity, "how exactly is this useful? I mean, 5% doesn't sound like much."
Medea smiled faintly, nodding at the question as if she'd been waiting for it. "A fair question," she said, turning to face the class fully. "The usefulness lies in a simple truth: we humans are fragile."
There was a weight to her words, a grim honesty that sank heavily into the room. "Even with all the training, all the mana manipulation we can achieve, our bodies remain frail. Alpha Terra beings like us are the weakest, biologically speaking. That fragility is why your summons exist—to protect you, to fight for you, to bear the brunt of what you cannot."
Her eyes swept across the room, resting briefly on each of us. When they reached me, I felt the weight of her words settle deeper.
"However," she continued, her tone growing sharper, "no summon is perfect. They can fail. They can be caught off guard. And when that happens, what becomes of you? Without Synchronisation, that moment of failure can mean your death."
I saw a few students shift uncomfortably in their seats, their gazes lowering.
"But," Medea said, her voice softening slightly, "with Synchronisation, you gain the ability to bridge that gap, however small it may be. It is not a replacement for the protection your summons provide—it's a failsafe. A lifeline."
Another hand shot up. "Headmaster," Kael asked, his tone even, "what about the risks? Surely there's a downside to tapping into a being more powerful than yourself?"
"Excellent question," Medea replied, a glint of approval in her eyes. "Yes, there are risks. Synchronisation, while immensely useful, comes with its challenges. The first is energy overload. Your body must adapt to the influx of your summon's power. Even at 5%, the energy of a being like a Royal Dragon or an Infernal Boar can strain the human frame."
Kael nodded thoughtfully, and I could tell the rest of the class was equally absorbed.
"The second risk," Medea continued, "is compatibility. Borrowing the energy of a divine beast will manifest differently from borrowing the energy of a miasma beast, and so on. The Traits you tap into may not align with your body or fighting style. That's why understanding your summon is crucial. A strong bond isn't just about emotions—it's about comprehension. You must know their strengths and weaknesses as well as your own."
She paused, allowing her words to sink in before delivering the final blow. "And the third risk—arrogance. Synchronisation is not a license to become reckless. It is a tool, not a crutch. Remember, your summons are your partners, not your shields. Do not mistake their power for your own."
"Now," Medea said, her tone shifting to something lighter, "I won't throw you into Synchronisation exercises just yet. First, we'll focus on developing your bonds with your summons. A strong bond is the foundation of effective Synchronisation. Without trust—true, mutual trust—you'll never reach the heights of what this ability can offer."
Her gaze landed on me, and I felt a jolt of recognition. Of course, Aria and I had a long way to go. She followed my commands without question, yes, but trust wasn't something that could be commanded. It had to be earned. And I wasn't entirely sure I'd earned it yet.
"As for today," Medea continued, breaking my thoughts, "we'll begin with an assessment. Each of you will have a chance to interact with your summons in a controlled environment. Consider it a test—not of strength, but of understanding."
The Academy's sprawling gardens stretched out before us, vibrant and teeming with life. Students scattered across the grounds, their summons bounding beside them, engaged in all sorts of games and activities. Laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves in the breeze, a rare moment of levity amidst the intensity of our training.
Standing at the edge of the garden, I called forth my Diamond grimoire. Its familiar weight materialized in my hands, the pages fluttering open with a brilliance that always took my breath away. From its depths, Aria emerged, stepping onto the grass with her usual poise, her black eyes scanning the surroundings with detached curiosity.
"Elara," Medea's voice cut through the din. I turned to see the Headmaster approaching me, her presence as commanding as ever. "Your situation is unique," she said, her tone thoughtful but firm. "Unlike most, Aria already possesses sapience. She isn't just a beast following instincts; she's an individual. To form a bond with her, you'll need to connect on a human level, not just as a summoner to a summon."
I nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle on my shoulders. "I understand, Headmaster."
"Good," Medea said, offering a rare, encouraging smile before she moved on to oversee the other students.
I looked back at Aria, who stood quietly by my side, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Her small hand rested lightly in mine, her grip neither firm nor loose, as if she were simply humoring me by holding it.
"So, Aria," I began, mustering a cheerful tone that felt slightly forced even to my own ears. "Want to pick some flowers?"
She tilted her head, a movement so deliberate and precise that it felt less like curiosity and more like an act of calculation. After a moment, she nodded.
I sighed inwardly, relieved she hadn't outright refused. Together, we walked into the heart of the garden, her small hand still resting in mine. The vibrant array of flowers surrounded us, their colors blending into a kaleidoscope of beauty. It was the kind of place that should have felt alive, yet the silence between us was palpable.
I crouched by a bed of violets, plucking one carefully. "These are pretty," I said, holding it out to her.
She regarded the flower with those doll-like eyes, her expression unreadable. "Yes," she said simply, taking the violet from my hand. She held it delicately, turning it between her fingers, but there was no spark of joy, no flicker of connection.
"Do you like flowers?" I tried again, hoping to spark some kind of conversation.
"They are… soft," she replied after a pause, her voice as flat as ever.
'Connect to her like a human,' I thought, Medea's words echoing in my mind. But how? How did one connect with someone who seemed so far removed from the world around them?
I tried to draw on what little social knowledge I had, but the truth was, I wasn't exactly an expert in this sort of thing. My upbringing had been one of rigorous training and high expectations, leaving little room for the kind of easy camaraderie I saw other students sharing with their summons.
"Aria," I said, straightening up and turning to face her fully. "What do you… like? Is there anything that makes you happy?"
She blinked slowly, her gaze drifting to the violet in her hand. "I like… quiet," she said at last. "And… Elara."
Her words should have warmed my heart, but the way she said them—so devoid of warmth, like reciting lines from a script—only left me feeling more distant. She liked me, but did she know me? Did I even truly know her?
"That's nice," I replied awkwardly, scratching the back of my head. "I like… quiet too, sometimes."
She didn't respond, her attention already shifting back to the flowers.
I knelt beside her, trying to think of something, anything that might bridge the gap between us. "Aria," I said hesitantly, "do you ever feel… lonely?"
She turned her gaze to me, her black eyes as still and deep as a midnight lake. "Lonely?" she repeated, as though testing the word on her tongue.
"Yes," I said, my voice softening. "Like… you want someone to understand you, but they don't. Like you're… apart from everything."
She stared at me for a long moment before speaking. "Lonely is… normal," she said finally. "I don't need others to understand."
Her words hit me like a cold wind. There was no bitterness in them, no resentment. Just a quiet acceptance that somehow felt even more tragic.
"But you don't have to be alone," I said, my voice faltering. "You have me now. We're… supposed to be partners, right?"
She blinked at me, her expression unchanging. "Yes. Partners."
I wanted to scream. Her answers were so detached, so empty, and yet I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something beneath the surface—something she wasn't letting me see.
"Do you want to try weaving a flower crown?" I asked suddenly, desperation creeping into my voice.
She tilted her head again, clearly puzzled. "What is… flower crown?"
I smiled, though it felt a little forced. "It's something pretty we can make with flowers. I can show you."
Aria nodded, and together we began gathering flowers—daisies, violets, and little sprigs of wild lavender. I showed her how to weave the stems together, my hands working methodically as I tried to focus on the task rather than the gnawing frustration in my chest.
She watched me closely, her small hands mimicking my movements with a precision that was almost unnerving. When she finished her crown, she held it up to me, her expression unreadable as ever.
"It's beautiful," I said, taking it gently. "Here, let me put it on you."
I placed the flower crown on her head, the bright colors a stark contrast to her dark hair and impassive face. For a moment, I thought I saw something—just the faintest flicker of something in her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice as neutral as ever.
We spent the rest of the time in silence, weaving more crowns and picking flowers. I tried to keep the conversation going, but her answers remained short, her tone unchanged.
As we walked back to the group, hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel a pang of defeat. I wanted to connect with her, truly connect, but the distance between us felt insurmountable.