A heavy, expectant silence blanketed the Grand Hall, thick enough to stifle the breathing of the thousands gathered within. The air shimmered with the residual static of a thousand different mana signatures until, finally, a rhythmic click of boots echoed against the polished floor. Grand Summoner Elara ascended the high marble dais, her presence as sharp and cold as glacier. As she reached the center, the chaotic sea of students surged into motion; the leaders of the various prestigious club- The Air Manipulaion Club, The Pheonix Wing, Illusionist Guild- cut through the crowd with practiced discipline. They marched to their designated sectors, their silk banners snapping in that drafty hall, gold and silver embroidery catching the dim light.
Elara surveyed the room, her eyes harboring the weight of century's worth of battles. "You are not here to merely play with spirits," she began, her voice amplified not by magic, but by the sheer command of her will. "You are Summoners. Every sunrise you witness is a gift bought by the sweat of those who came before you. The Void does not sleep; its villians linger in the cracks of our reality, waiting for a single moment of weakness. You are the wall. You are the future shield of human society. If you do not work hard every single day, you are not just failing yourselves- you are betraying every life you were born to protect." A physical chill rippled through the room, a collective shiver that turned spines to ice. But as the fear took root, a fierce resolve followed. The club leaders stood taller, their shoulders squaring, their faces hardening into masks of iron determination under the heat of her gaze.
In the back, tucked into a modest corner, Elias turned to his small circle of followers. His eyes were bright, reflecting the flickering torchlight of the hall. "Did you hear her?" he whispered, his voice low but vibrating with intensity. "The path isn't just for those with dragons or spirits of fire. We will work harder than any of them. Even common spirits- spirits like ours- can protect this society in their own way. We will fight villians they think we aren't strong enough to face." His members nodded in unison, their hands tightening around their modest spirit hilts.
Adrian felt the words settle in his chest like a burning coal. He looked down at his shoulder, where Obsidian, his crow spirit, sat perched. The bird's feathers were like shards of midnight, and its obsidian eyes held a sharp, intelligent glint as it looked back at him, tilting its head. There was no pity in that gaze, only a shared promise. 'We won't be overlooked,' Adrian thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. The childhood dream that had lived in the back of his mind for a decade- the dream of standing atop that same dais- flared into a roar. He wasn't just a boy with common bird; he was a summoner in the making. "We'll show them, Obsidian," he murmured, his fingers brushing the bird's cool feathers. "We're going to be legends."
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The echoes of Grand Summoner Elara's final, chilling warning seemed to hang in the stagnant air of the hall long after her lips had stopoed moving. A heavy, suffocating silence fell once again, pressing down on the shoulders of the thousands gathered, until Elara broke the spell with a slow, regal gesture toward the horizon of the hall. "Go," she commanded, her voice a low vibration that resonated in their chests. "The Void does not wait for the weary. Rest your bodies and steady your spirits, for tomorrow, the tasks set before you will demand everything you are and more." With a final wave, she indicated the row of shimmering, iridescent portals that flickered into existence at the edge of the marble dais- swirling gateways of light that whispered of home and safety.
Adrian felt the weight of the day pressing into his marrow as he turned toward Elias. The club leader stool tall, his banner folded neatly over his arm, his expression one of grim focus. "We rest tonight, Adrian," Elias said, his voice firm yet carrying a trace of elder-brotherly warmth. "But tomorrow, we prove that the 'common' spirits are the backbone of this world. Don't let the noise of the elites get in your head." Adrian managed a tired nod, bidding a final goodbye to the other club members who were already drifting toward their respective gates. He turned toward the sea of students his small frame quickly swallowed by the throng of robes and murmurs as he approached his own portal. With a sharp, practiced flick of his wrist, he summoned Obsidian. The crow spirit didn't fly to him; instead, with eerie hollow screech that sounded like wind tearing through a graveyard, the bird dissolved into a plume of black smoke. The dark essence was sucked greedily into the ornate hilt at Adrian's side, the metal vibrating briefly as if the spirit were settling into a restless slumber.
Stepping through the portal felt like submerged in cold water, and a heartbeat later, the familiar, sterile scent of his dormitory room rushed to meet him. The quiet comfort of the small space offered a momentary sanctuary from the judging eyes of the academy. Exhaustion washed over him in a physical wave, making his limbs feel like lead. He unbuckled his belt, placing the spirit hilt- now cold and silent- on the wooden side table before plopping onto the bed with his boots still on. As the darkness of the room swirled behind his eyelids, the mocking laughter of the high-tier students and the dismissive glances of the faculty played on a loop in his mind. "Neither of us are weak," he whispered into the silence of the room, his voice cracking with a mixture of defiance and fatigue. "Obsidian and I...we will show them all." His eyes finally drifted shut, plunging him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
But as the clock struck midnight, the silence in the room began to warp. On the side table, the spirit hilt didn't just vibrate; it began to thrash, emitting a low, rhythmic thrumming sound that set the glass of water nearby to rippling. Without a single word of command from its master, a formless, oily shadow began to seep from the hilt, spilling onto the floor like spilled ink before rising into a towering, nebulous shape. Two piercing obsidian eyes ignited within the gloom, staring down at Adrian's sleeping form with a terrifying, ancient intelligence.
"How did I come to be bound to such a fragile, sniveling spark?" the shadow hissed, its voice not a sound, but a direct, scraping intrusion into the air. "If the vessel remains shallow, the spirit within will wither. I will not remain a 'common' pet for your mediocre dreams." The shadow leaned closer, its formless edges blurring into the darkness of the room. "You have the darkness within you, little master...you just lack the strength to draw the veil."
The entity began to chant, a guttural, rhythmic incantation in a language that predated human speech. The air in the room grew heavy and frigid, frost creeping across the windows in the shape of jagged feathers. Suddenly, Adrian's body jolted, though his eyes remained tightly shut in a forced trance. He began to float, his back arching as he was lifted inches above the mattress by an unseen, crushing force. A violent, dark-purple aura erupted from his skin, swirling around him like a miniature hurricane. On his back, hidden by his shirt, the skin began to glow a deep, blood-red. A tattoo- a jagged, sinister full moon- began to etch itself into his flesh, weeping shadows as it formed.
As the ritual reached its peak, the shadow loomed over him, a formless, red smile splitting its "face" in a terrifying display of malice and satisfaction. "There," it whispered as the dark energy finally snapped back into Adrian's chest. "Now the seed is planted." Adrian landed softly back on the bed, his breathing hitching once before falling back into a deep, heavy rhythm. With the same eerie, metallic screech, the shadow recoiled, pouring itself back into the hilt on the side table. The room returned to an absolute, terrifying stillness, as if the walls themselves had been sworn to secrecy.
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