"Good morning, everyone."
A man with curly brown hair brushing his shoulders and a pair of round spectacles resting neatly on his pointed nose greeted the class, a book tucked in one hand as he strode confidently into the classroom.
"Morning, Mr. Edwin."
Godfrey caught the unified greeting of his soon-to-be classmates as he stepped inside, following closely behind a girl his age. Her golden-white hair was tied into a sleek ponytail, glimmering faintly beneath the fluorescent lights.
"We have two transfer students joining us today," Edwin announced in a light, almost playful tone.
"Your sophomore year will certainly be more interesting, as both of them are already… rather popular."
Godfrey's fingers tightened around the strap of his backpack, his ocean-blue eyes shifting to the girl standing just half a meter away.
Porcelain skin. Wide golden-orange eyes. And lips that glistened faintly – glossed, without a doubt, and certainly not with anything ordinary.
"Why don't you both introduce yourselves?" Edwin's warm voice echoed from the front of the class.
"I'm Isolde Pendragon."
'Pendragon!'
Godfrey's pupils shrank. He wasn't alone; across the entire room, everyone's expressions shifted instantly.
Whispers swept through the classroom like wind through dry grass, but what lingered most was the unmistakable awe shining in the sophomores' eyes.
Who didn't know the Pendragons? A lineage of summoners, legendary for consistently producing dragon summoners.
Godfrey cleared his throat, catching a sidelong glance from Isolde, who raised one willowy eyebrow, faint amusement flickering across her face.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Godfrey Daniels, and I hope we can all—"
"You're the hero's trash!"
The outburst was immediate and came from Dale, a boy with a close-cropped haircut, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as though he had just unearthed buried treasure.
"Daniels, from Amazon, right?" another boy asked lazily. Snow-white hair framed his almost angelic face that rested on his palm, and one brow slightly raised.
Godfrey forced a thin smile. "Yes."
"It's the trash," Snow muttered with a shrug, his gaze drifting back toward the window.
A ripple of laughter spread through the class. Some girls muffled giggles behind their palms; others chuckled openly.
"Godfrey is a human being, just like you. You don't call people trash." Edwin's rebuke was firm.
But Godfrey knew better. Words carried little weight here.
This was Manhattan Summoners High, one of the finest institutions in the world. The students here were heirs of wealth, prestige, and ancient legacies. They weren't merely being educated; they were being groomed to lead the next generation.
'Am I not the same?' he thought bitterly.
He didn't grow poor. His father had been a war hero, famed for stopping a horde of a hundred thousand orcs all by himself and holding the line until his final breath.
And with such brilliance, the world expected his son to shine just as brightly.
But Godfrey hadn't awakened.
Awakening early, without the aid of the ceremony, was considered proof of extraordinary potential. His father's towering legacy only made Godfrey's failure all the more humiliating. To the world, he was a blemish to the hero's name.
"Go on, sit down. Class is about to begin," Edwin said, his voice gentle.
Godfrey's gaze trailed after Isolde, the Pendragon ice princess herself, who had awakened at the impossible age of one.
The news about her awakening had shaken the world and been a global sensation back then, and he had grown up hearing about it in secondhand awe.
He pushed aside the heaviness pressing on his chest and slid into a seat near the back rows.
Isolde, unsurprisingly, chose the row next to the window, with Snow sitting directly in front of her.
"Godfrey," Edwin called suddenly, "You'll be joining the freshmen for their awakening ceremony tomorrow morning, right?"
The muffled snickers of his classmates were unmistakable.
Their lips trembled with suppressed laughter; eyes gleamed with mockery.
Godfrey gave a quiet nod in response.
By now, he had grown used to all that.
Once, he had also dreamed of grandeur, of summoning a magnificent beast, of becoming one of the academy's admired boys, the kind surrounded by loyal friends and pretty girls whose gazes would follow him like moths to a flame.
Thinking about it now, that dream almost felt laughable.
"Now then," Edwin began, his voice rising just enough to pull Godfrey from his thoughts.
"We all know of the first Summoner, Adam." He continued, flipping open the resting notebook on the lectern. "And his summon?"
The class fell silent instantly.
"The Prisoner of the Golden Headband, better known as the Monkey King. A King-tier summon famed for his intelligence and unmatched battle prowess. A being capable of duplicating and mimicking the traits of any opponent."
Edwin paused, letting the weight of those words sink in before he resumed.
"And yet, he vanished… into a white dungeon gate."
"And that brings us to today's topic: what are dungeon gates, what are their traits, and why have they persisted for over a century?"
Several hands shot up across the room, eager to show off their knowledge.
Godfrey tuned it all out. His gaze drifted to the world beyond the window, to the white clouds floating lazily across the sky, sunlight spilling over the distant rooftops.
That was enough for him.
__________
When the bell rang for a break, Godfrey rose, only to find Dale striding toward him, flanked by two others, Orwen and Cecil.
The scowl on Dale's face melted into a practiced smile as he turned toward Isolde instead.
"I'm Dale," he said smoothly, extending his hand.
Isolde brushed past him without so much as a glance.
A brief silence followed her exit, broken by Dale's sharp, brittle laugh.
Then he turned to Godfrey.
"Don't you feel like trash?" he sneered.
"Your father threw his life away fighting those orcs because your mother was about to give birth to you. That day, we lost a diamond and got garbage instead."
'Keep believing that,' Godfrey thought as he walked past the fellow, his hands tucked in his pockets.
He wouldn't take the bait. Not against Dale, one of the academy's strongest sophomores, and certainly not after the guy was so plainly ignored by Isolde.
He had barely made it down the hallway when an arm hooked around his neck.
Godfrey turned his head slightly. Green hair. Sharp eyes. And a lean build. If Dale was a bull, this one was a wolf.
"Heh. Look at him, scared already," another boy jeered, plainer both in face and presence, stepping up beside him.
Godfrey's irritation soured into caution when he spotted the figure trailing them.
Snow.
Clearly, these two were his lackeys.
Isolde was untouchable.
Godfrey, on the other hand, was fair game.
"Heard your father's summon was the Gold Eater Colossus," the green-haired boy, Siegfried, said with a sly wink.
"Bet it must have left your family a mountain of gold. How about you buy us something after school?"
"Leave him."
Snow's voice cut through the corridor like a blade of ice.
The two lackeys faltered, puzzled, until Snow stretched one leg forward, drawing their attention to the loosened lace of his shoe.
"The son of a war hero tying his classmate's shoes," Siegfried snickered, shoving Godfrey toward him.
"Fitting, isn't it? A reminder of where you belong."
"You've got hands, don't you?" Godfrey replied in a flat tone.
"Or do you just want to make sure the whole school knows you can't tie your own shoes?"
Snow's eyes narrowed, and a faint, eerie shimmer flickered within his eyes.
In the next heartbeat, Godfrey found himself teetering over the cafeteria balcony rail, third floor, wind tugging at his clothes, the ground yawning below.
Someone's grip on his jacket was the only thing keeping him from plummeting headlong down from this height!
"He–he jumped?!"
"What in the world?! Did you see that?"
"Creep just climbed the rail on his own!"
A cacophony of shocked voices entered into Godfrey's ears, making him realize Snow must have used his beast's ability on him!
....
A/N: I hope you enjoy the opening of this novel. Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Thank you.