His Crest Card says RANK F. SUMMONER.

The son of Edmund Kane, SS-rank legend, the man who single-handedly dragged a dead profession back into relevance, and that is what the ceremony stone produced. An F-rank Summoner. A dead man's profession. His father's name attached to a rank that means nothing.

He already knew how to survive humiliation. House Harwick had been teaching him since he was eleven, the year their advocates, their bribes, and their fabricated debt records put his father in a detention cell and his family name in the ground.

Five years in Greyfen's lower city. Then Caldmore Academy on a scholarship. Then three years of being the quiet one. The one who covered for his team on every run and never asked for anything back.

On the third floor of the Caldmore dungeon, his team leader looked at him bleeding on the stone floor and made a decision.

They left.

He should have died. The wraith had already done the work. The cold was already in his chest.

Instead, silence. Then something vast and patient exhaling for the first time.

[INFINITE GACHA SYSTEM: ONLINE]
[VOID REGISTRY: ACTIVE]
[FIRST PULL: AVAILABLE]

She constituted from nothing: light gathering, form settling. Eyes closed. Then open.

She was also just the first.

He is going to collect every one of those debts from those he is owed. In full. In public. With interest.

And the extraordinary women arriving from destroyed worlds, one by one, pull by pull, each one SSS-rank, are going to make sure he lives long enough to do it.

[R18: Violence · Strong language · Explicit content · Power fantasy · Harem · Revenge]

The chamber was warm, illuminated by low-burning braziers whose flickering flames emitted a soft, amber glow that seemed colder and more enigmatic than mere fire. The room was designed for comfort and elegance, plush silk cushions piled against the walls, heavy drapes of deep crimson velvet partially drawn to muffling the outside world, and the gentle murmur of distant servants moving quietly through the shadows. Aromatic incense coils curled lazily in brass dishes, their faint scent drifting through the air, creating an atmosphere of calm and secrecy. It was a sanctuary where one could forget the chaos beyond its walls, if only the mind possessed the will to do so.


Chapter 91 - Chapter 91: Lurking