More children followed. None came close to Riu's score.
Then: "Dan of the Woodhelm family."
The whispers began immediately.
"The spore boy..."
"This should be quick..."
"Poor kid, at least he'll know for certain..."
Dan's legs felt like lead as he climbed the platform steps. His spore cloud drifted beside him, gray and lifeless compared to the magnificent beasts that had come before.
He stepped into the center circle.
The Essence Cores flared—but weakly, like candles compared to the bonfires they'd produced for Riu.
Light washed over him, and Dan felt... nothing.
No surge of power. No transformation. His spore cloud simply floated there, unchanged.
Then something strange happened.
The spore began to pulse.
Faintly. So faintly that most of the crowd didn't notice. But Dan felt it—a heartbeat, weak but steady, resonating with his own.
Small luminescent mushrooms sprouted from the spore cloud, glowing with soft gray-green light. They weren't impressive. They didn't grant him claws or scales or lightning.
They just... grew. Tiny. Fragile. Almost pathetic.
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Look! Mushrooms!"
"He's rotting!"
"Don't get too close—it might be contagious!"
The number appeared above Dan's head:
1.3
"Low Resonance, grade 1.3," the Ceremony Master announced, her voice carefully neutral. "Evolution potential: Iron-rank, level 1. Specialized path: Poison Resistance and... Life Force Extension."
More laughter. "Life Force Extension" sounded grand, but everyone knew what it meant: his spore might help him live slightly longer. Might. If he fed it properly. Which would cost resources he'd never afford.
The base power increase remained at 10% physical strength—barely enough to notice.
Dan descended the platform, his face burning. The luminescent mushrooms in his hair flickered weakly, as if even they were embarrassed.
He reached the bottom and immediately dismissed his spore, willing it back into his body. The mushrooms vanished.
To hell with tradition. To hell with showing respect for his bond.
What bond? He'd gotten the weakest creature in recorded history and a Resonance Grade that guaranteed he'd never rise above menial labor.
***
The ceremony continued, but Dan stopped paying attention. He stood at the edge of the crowd, hands in his pockets, staring at nothing.
Until a voice spoke beside him.
"You're not crying."
Dan turned. Riu stood there, her massive wyvern perched on a nearby pillar to avoid crushing anyone. Up close, she was even more striking—those burning gold eyes seemed to see straight through him.
"What's the point?" Dan said quietly.
"Most would cry. Or rage. Or blame the world." Riu tilted her head. "You're just... standing here."
"My father taught me something," Dan said. "A beast doesn't make the man. The man makes the beast."
"Your father sounds wise."
"He lost his leg defending the northern border. Hasn't complained once in ten years." Dan looked at his hands. "I can't shame him by falling apart over bad luck."
Riu studied him for a long moment. "Your spore isn't completely dormant."
Dan blinked. "What?"
"I watched the resonance carefully. Most failure summons barely pulse at all during the trial. Yours..." She paused. "It responded. Weakly, yes. But it responded. That means there's something there."
"A 1.3 Resonance Grade," Dan said bitterly. "What does it matter?"
"Grades aren't absolute." Riu's wyvern rumbled, lightning crackling along its scales. "They measure current potential, not future achievement. The cores read what exists *now*, not what could exist with proper cultivation."
"You sound like you're trying to make me feel better."
"I don't waste time on pity." Riu's tone was sharp. "I'm stating facts. Your spore is weak. But it's alive. That's more than most failure summons can claim."
Before Dan could respond, a commotion erupted near the platform.
A boy—maybe twelve years old, with sharp features and expensive robes—was screaming at the Ceremony Master.
"There's been a mistake! Run it again!"
"The Resonance Trial doesn't make mistakes, young master—"
"I got a 2.9! TWO POINT NINE!" The boy's face was purple with rage. "My family paid a fortune for that egg! It was supposed to be Bronze-rank minimum!"
"The egg's potential and your personal Resonance are different matters—"
"RUN IT AGAIN!"
The boy's beast—a small crystal hawk—shrieked in distress as its summoner's fury overwhelmed their bond.
Guards moved forward to escort the boy away, but he resisted, screaming obscenities about fraud and family honor.
Dan watched, a bitter taste in his mouth. Even a 2.9 was twice his score, and this boy acted like it was the end of the world.
"Entitled fool," Riu muttered. "Resonance measures the summoner's soul compatibility with their beast. No amount of money changes that."
"Easy to say when you scored 8.7," Dan said.
Riu's golden eyes narrowed. "You think I didn't work for this? My family has trained me since I could walk. Combat drills. Meditation. Beast lore. Every. Single. Day." She stepped closer. "My grandfather failed his awakening and brought shame on our entire bloodline. I've spent ten years making sure I wouldn't repeat his mistake."
Dan met her gaze. "I didn't mean—"
"I know what you meant." Riu's expression softened slightly. "But understand this: a high Resonance Grade means expectations. Pressure. Every mistake magnified. Every failure scrutinized."
She glanced at her wyvern. "Everyone sees the 8.7. They don't see the price."
Before Dan could respond, the Ceremony Master's voice rang out.
"The Maturation Ceremony is complete! All bonded summoners will report to the Academy of the Skybound in seven days. Attendance is mandatory until your eighteenth year. Failure to attend will result in bond severance and criminal penalties."
The crowd began to disperse.
Riu gave Dan one last look. "Seven days. Use them wisely. The Academy doesn't care about your Resonance Grade when it comes to survival training."
Then she was gone, her wyvern taking flight and carrying her toward the upper city districts where the Stormborn clan resided.
***
Dan walked home through Haewon's winding streets, his mind churning.
1.3 Resonance. The lowest score of the entire ceremony.
But Riu's words echoed: *It responded. That means there's something there.*
He reached his family's cottage as the sun set, painting the sky in shades of amber and crimson. His father sat on the front step, whittling a piece of wood with his good hand.
"How did it go?" Torin asked quietly.
Dan sat beside him. "1.3."
His father's hands stilled, but his expression didn't change. "And the spore?"
"Still the weakest creature ever recorded."
Torin set down his whittling knife. "Your mother and I used everything we had to get you that egg. I won't lie and say I'm not disappointed we couldn't afford better."
"It's not your—"
"Let me finish." Torin's voice was firm. "We gave you what we could. The rest is up to you. A 1.3 today doesn't mean 1.3 forever. Resonance can grow. Beasts can evolve. But only if you work for it."
He placed a weathered hand on Dan's shoulder. "I've seen soldiers with Gold-rank beasts die in battle because they relied on power alone. And I've seen soldiers with Bronze-rank companions survive impossible odds because they *worked* as one with their beast."
Dan looked at his father. "The Academy won't care about that. They'll see my score and write me off."
"Then prove them wrong." Torin's eyes gleamed. "You're my son. We don't give up. We don't quit. We survive. And then we thrive."
Dan felt something shift in his chest—a spark, small but fierce.
He stood and walked inside. In his room, he called forth his spore cloud.
It materialized reluctantly, gray and dim.
"I don't know if you understand me," Dan said quietly. "But we're stuck together. So we might as well try to make something of it."
The spore pulsed—once, faintly.
Dan smiled despite himself. "Seven days until the Academy. Let's see what we can do."
Outside his window, the last light of day faded into night.
Somewhere in the upper city, Riu stood on a balcony, her wyvern coiled beside her, lightning crackling softly across its scales.
She gazed toward the lower districts where a faint gray glow flickered in a distant window.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Her wyvern rumbled in agreement.
---
To be continued...