The public summoning circle was chaos. Located in a large, covered arena near the commercial docks, the air buzzed with the desperate hopes of low-level summoners and the sharp, indifferent critiques of established contract brokers. The stench of burnt incense, cheap wine and raw spiritual energy hung thick in the air.
Jace paid the minimal fee with some of his remaining credits, receiving a flimsy token that granted him three minutes in a secondary, overflow circle. He walked past the main stages where young, well-dressed summoners were routinely contracting Rare Tier beasts to the applause of their wealthy families. He headed straight for the overflow area, a series of smaller, less refined circles where the desperate came to try their luck. The crowd here was sparser, the silence more condemning.
He stepped onto the designated stone platform. The surface was cold and worn. He could feel the judgement of the few onlookers. They recognised him instantly. The two-time failure, Jace. A familiar, corrosive sense of humiliation tried to bloom in his chest, but the Prince's rigid discipline crushed it before it could take root.
He ignored the murmurs and focused his mind. He didn't use the standard, approved summoning mantra taught by the local Faction. That required a pure, robust Spirit stat to anchor the call. Instead, he reached into the archive of his mind, recalling his nation's ritual designed to project the resonance of the bloodline, not its current power. It was less a call and more of a ripple in the fabric of reality, leveraging the lingering Sovereignty in his veins.
The ritual was quick and painful. Jace's Spirit stat of 45 screamed in protest as he forced it to project an anchor far beyond its capacity. His vision tunnelled.
System: Warning
Spirit Integrity: Critical Strain (45/45)
Forced Feedback Imminent
He grit his teeth, ignoring the spike of pain behind his eyes, and finished the final mental glyph. The summoning circle didn't glow. It didn't hum. It simply tore. A jagged, golden rift ripped open above the circle, not the smooth, controlled portal of a standard contract, but a violent aperture that shrieked as it forced its way into the current dimension.
The crowd, even the indifferent brokers, went silent. This was abnormal. This was dangerous.
From the rift descended a beast of breathtaking, terrifying majesty. A Royal Lion. Its mane was a torrent of crackling solar energy, its hide was bronze and seemed impervious, and its claws ended in arcs of lightning. It was colossal, radiating an aura of raw, world-bending power that made Jace's weak body want to crumple to the stone. The creature landed with a thud, its golden eyes instantly locking onto Jace. It wasn't a Rare beast. It wasn't even Epic. It was Mythic Tier, possessing a consciousness as sharp and ancient as any royal adviser.
System: Beast Glimpse
Beast Name: Royal Lion (Mythic Tier)
Power 2800, Spirit 2200, Constitution 2600, Speed 2400
The Royal Lion was fully sentient. It saw the royal resonance of the call, and then it saw the common weakness of the summoner. The great beast lowered its massive head, its gaze condescending and utterly pitiless. It didn't roar. It spoke directly into Jace's mind with a voice like booming thunder.
'You,' the Lion's thoughts resonated, dripping with disdain. 'You are the source of this resonance. A terrible accident. The trace of a true, great bloodline, but I can sense no more than the faintest trace.'
Jace struggled to maintain his footing against the sheer pressure of the Lion's Spirit aura. Its stats were over forty times his own. 'I offer a contract,' Jace forced out, his voice thin, yet carrying the deep command of the Prince's will. 'My power will rise. I offer you destiny.'
The Royal Lion let out a sound that was less a laugh and more a dry, contemptuous dismissal. 'Destiny with a Spirit stat of forty-five? You cannot anchor me, boy. Your tether will break before the sun sets. I am a Mythic beast. I choose a master who can sustain my power, not one who would suppress it and then die from the inevitable backlash.'
It lifted a paw, deliberately crushing the summoner's token beneath its weight, shattering the stone into dust. 'I refuse the bond. Go. Waste your pitiful life elsewhere, and do not call upon true power again until you have earned the right to look upon it.'
With that final, humiliating rejection, the golden rift snapped shut. The Royal Lion vanished, leaving behind only the residual pressure of its Mythic aura, the shattered token, and a stunned, silent crowd. Jace stood alone on the platform, his breath coming in heaves. The silence of the crowd was worse than any jeer. Every eye was on him. The failure who didn't just fail to contract a beast, but who failed so spectacularly that a Mythic Tier entity descended only to verbally condemn him.
The brokers started whispering. 'He pulled a Mythic, did you see that?' 'A fluke. But the Lion's assessment was accurate. He's too weak.' 'Three-time failure. He'll be conscripted tomorrow.'
Jace's vision cleared. His body was shaking from the Spirit strain, but the fog in his mind had been violently cleared by the rejection. The humiliation was total, but beneath it, the Prince's anger was now a hard, cold core of pure intent.
A calculated refusal. An intelligent assessment of the risk. I respect the honesty, Mythic beast, the Prince's voice murmured in his head. But you've made a great error today. You judged the shell, not the ghost within. You will regret this scorn.
Jace stepped off the circle, ignoring the sympathetic and scornful glances. The shame was a shield now. He'd risked the most, and he'd lost. The gamble had failed. Now, only the methodical climb remained. He no longer had the luxury of relying on luck or chance.
He walked out of the arena, his shoulders straight, the crushing weight of the debt and the absolute zero of his reputation settling back over him. He had one last resort, one thing the brokers, the summoners, and even the Mythic Lion knew nothing about. He had the archive in his mind. He had the knowledge of a Sovereign.