"SILENCE!"
Two feminine hands slammed against a fat tome on a desk.
Instantly, the noise caused by the twenty newly awakened teenagers died in their throats.
They snapped their heads toward the front of the lecture hall and scurried to their seats, lips nailed together.
"Do you think this is a social club?" the woman at the dais barked. She had sharp golden eyes that looked pretty infuriated at that moment.
"I understand that you're excited to be here in Awakener Supreme…" She swept her gaze across the room.
"But playtime is over. You are now the defense of the world. Act like it."
Ms. Maecil Gudgarten was not a physically imposing woman, standing barely five-foot-three, but she had a presence about her.
She had dark hair in an overly expressive bun and wore the standard faculty uniform; a tight white shirt and black pencil skirt that highlighted her feminine features.
Her robe was laying on the flat of her chair like it offended her, and around her neck hung a pendant of a spirit binder that rattled whenever she moved.
She was a 6 Star Gold Spirit Caller, a high-tier Awakener who, by all rights, should be fully focused in exploring Calamity Dungeons.
Instead, she was stuck babysitting freshmen.
"Welcome to Summoner Class 101," she said, softening her voice to the formal tone expected from a teacher. "I am Maecil Gudgarten. Some of you might have heard of me."
Max, sitting in the back row near the window, leaned his chin on his palm.
He knew her.
Maecil Gudgarten.
In Awakener Supreme, she was the classic "Overly Spirited Teacher."
She appeared in exactly three arcs, usually dragging the Summoner Class Group into competitions with excessive optimism, only to get absolutely crushed because her students were fodder compared to Elementals and Specialists.
She was undervalued, overworked, and destined to remain a background character.
"Even though you are new," Maecil continued, pacing the stage, "the Inter-Class Group Competition will begin in two months. The Elementalists think they own this school. The Specialists think they're unmovable. And the Enchanters? They don't even look at us."
She slammed her hand on the tome again. Some students jerked.
"As Summoners, we are the bottom of the food chain. But I intend to change that. It is time to prove your worth in this Academy and in the world!"
She spun around, squeezing a marker in her hand.
"Firstly, let us begin with the basics. What is the fundamental definition of Summoning?"
A girl in the front row, with blonde bright hair and an excited grin, raised her hand.
"Yes?"
"Summoning is the act of calling upon things to fight for you," she ventured. "Like, using magic to get a pet?"
Maecil sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Casual. Crude. But technically not incorrect."
She began to write on the board in sweeping, aggressive strokes.
"Summoning is the Imposition of Will upon the External," Maecil recited, her voice turning scholarly. "It is the transfiguration of Grace into a bridge. We do not simply 'call pets.' We tear open the fabric of space to pull entities from a void, or we use our Grace to dominate the wills of entities that already exist."
On the board, she drew a diagram: a stick figure connecting to a box, and a stick figure connecting to an angry face that she referred to as a beast.
"There are two methods of Summoning," she lectured. "Invocation and Binding."
She turned back to the class.
"Invocation uses a Summon Space. For those who don't know, a Summon Space is a pocket dimension where your entities reside until called."
"Binding, however, chains an entity to your soul in the physical realm."
She studied their expressions, making sure they were listening before continuing. "With Binding, there's usually no void where your summons can be kept. This happens for varying reasons."
"Sometimes it's because the summons are found in our world, not drawn from another. Or because they're physical constructs or beings that can not be kept in Summon Spaces."
"In this case, you use an Artifact to store them inside, one strong enough to keep their overbearing power caged."
"Until this morning, there have been ten recognized Classes under the Summoner Group."
She listed them off, tapping the board for emphasis.
"Golemancer: They infuse Grace into inanimate matter like clay, sand, iron, making them their summons."
"Puppeteer: They control constructs using Grace threads."
"Machinist: They summon magi-tech artillery and mechs."
"Demon Binder: They subjugate demons, making them their summons."
"Shadowmancer: They turn the shadows of others into their armies."
"Necromancer: They control a legion of the undead."
"Spirit Caller: My class as you know. Spirit Callers summon spirits and angels."
"Beast Tamer: They dominate the monsters of our world, turning them into loyal soldiers."
"Druid: Druids channel the spirits of nature and summon forest beasts to possess them and temporarily grant them their power."
"Arsenal: They summon any kind of weaponry, attaining instant comprehension of the weapon when summoned."
Maecil took a moment, pacing on the dias as she studied the students' faces.
"For a while now, those ten have been the known Summoner Classes," Maecil said, her expression becoming complicated. "Until today."
The room went silent. Nineteen heads turned to look at the back row.
Max sat there, wishing the ground would open and swallow him.
Why were they staring so brazingly?
At least, he was no longer in his mud-caked rags. He was wearing the exact same clothes they were all wearing.
An hour ago, after the Awakening, they had all been processed and issued the standard gray and gold A.S.I. uniform.
Even though his hair was a bit spiky, he looked cleaner, healthier, but the "slum rat" label was a stain that wasn't going to go away that easily.
"The Architect Class," Maecil said, a look on her face like she was still trying to figure it out. "To create a summon from nothing."
She stared at Max. He could see the curiosity in her eyes, but it was overshadowed by a heavy disappointment.
"However," she continued, "not all Summoners are born equal. In the Academy, potential is measured by Grace Retention. So, Classes themselves are ranked because of this."
She went to the board. "The ranks are based on how bright Grace glows within you: Dull, Glimmer, Luminous, Radiant, Brilliant, and Solar."
She picked up a datapad and projected a holographic chart.
"Min Tu," she pointed to a girl with gloomy bangs, "happens to be the one with the highest rank this year. Awakening the Necromancer Class, she is ranked Brilliant. A prodigy."
Min Tu didn't seem to care as much, she puffed air out of her lips, blowing her bangs off her eyes.
"Lancet Leogardt," Maecil said.
Max looked up.
"Even with a new Class you only have a Dull Rank."
A ripple of snickering broke out across the room.
"Dull?" someone whispered. "That's basically unawakened."
"I heard he barely lit up the circle."
"How can you awaken a new Class just for it to be dogshit?"
Maecil sighed, looking at Max with pity. "I understand it is disappointing, Lancet, but it is the unfortunate rule of our world."
She paced again. "The power of a Class is determined by how much Grace the user can hold to fuel their summons. Summoners naturally have low retention because we outsource our power. But the Architect class..."
She shook her head. "Your retention is near zero. It seems your Class requires almost no Grace connection at all, which, paradoxically, makes it the weakest potential in the history of the Institute."
Maecil wasn't just disappointed for Lancet, she was disappointed herself.
She had hoped that this new Class would be a secret weapon to help Summoner-D survive the coming competitions.
Instead, it was the weakest in the class. A liability rather than a strength.
Sigh, how underwhelming.
"Moving on," she said, dismissing Lancet with a wave of her hand. "Let us discuss the Will. As Summoners, one thing we have at the back of our minds is that our summons are often stronger than us."
"If you show fear, a Demon will eat you. If you hesitate, a Golem will crush you. You must be a conqueror. A dominator. Let me explain how."
As Maecil launched into a lecture on mental fortitude, the class scribbled notes furiously.
Max, however, leaned on his desk, his eyes glazing over.
'Dull Rank,' he thought, still a bit overwhelmed by everything. 'Of course they think that. But right now, they're judging a fish by its ability to climb a tree.'
Naturally, all Classes depended on Grace as a currency to create whatever output they intended.
But the golden HUD in front of him said something a little different.
⸢ SYSTEM NOTICE ⸥
⸢ Explanation: Your Grace Retention is classified as 'Dull' because you do not rely on Grace to fuel your creations, therefore you do not need to retain a lot of it ⸥
⸢ Creating your Summons does not need any Grace, your currency is Creativity Points (CP) ⸥
⸢ Analysis: User possesses high levels of narrative understanding and imagination ⸥
Max watched the numbers scroll at the bottom of his vision.
⸢ Your creativity has been testified for! ⸥
⸢ Starting Creativity Points: 2,500 CP ⸥
'Woah.' Max's eyes widened.
⸢ You are incredibly creative so your starter points is massive! Begin your Summon Creation journey soon! ⸥
Max looked up at Ms Maecil. Whatever she was teaching wasn't going to be news to him.
Since the interface was suggesting that he started creating…
"Don't mind if I do."