Monsters and summoners are ranked as follows:
Iron
The Iron rank is split into first through ninth class; the higher the class, the stronger the monster within that rank. The same logic applies to higher ranks—Bronze, Silver, and Gold.
Monsters above Gold rank
• Champion – formidable creatures considered keystone members of their species.
• Supreme – as the name suggests, the pinnacle of mortal-realm power.
• Transcendent – gain an ethereal quality that makes them immune to ordinary physical weapons.
• Immortal – cannot be killed unless their point of origin is destroyed. For summoned beasts that origin is the summoner; if the creature's body is destroyed, the summoner need only supply enough mana for it to re-form.
Legendary ranks
Beyond all of this lie the Semi-God and Deity tiers—encountered only in legends.
Summoner ranks
• Apprentice
• Specialist
• Master
• Grand-Master
• Emperor
The chief difference is how many monsters they can maintain: an Apprentice may keep only one, while an Emperor can sustain up to five.
This limit ties directly to mana capacity. When a human first comes into contact with mana they gradually develop mana cores; each core can anchor one summoned creature. When a monster is conjured it occupies a core. If the monster dies, that core is lost forever, shrinking the summoner's maximum capacity.
For Apprentices this is critical—one monster only, so its death can permanently cripple their growth path.
Progression occurs through consuming crystals, obtained by slaying wild beasts or harvesting natural sources. The stronger the individual, the more crystals are required.
Marcelo learned all this from the small pamphlet the attentive clerk had given him. Right after the incident he'd been escorted to reception, where the evaluator told him to wait while his registration was processed.
In a refined office furnished with modern European-style woodwork, Jamil was conferring with another man—spectacles with narrow square lenses, long hair lending him an elegant, learned air, dressed in a black suit and bow tie: the sort of look that steals the hearts of maidens in romance novels.
"Truly… rather interesting," the man mused.
"'Rather'?" Jamil protested. "Please, Master Dragomir."
"Haha! A master who summons a brick certainly has exotic taste," Dragomir laughed.
"So what do we do—issue him a Master ID? Bit odd, a bigwig working for us."
"No idea what he's after, but at most he taught you a lesson for underestimating him. He's shown no ill intent; he revealed his ability and followed guild protocol," Dragomir said thoughtfully.
"Then we give him the ID and extend a few privileges. I think he'll appreciate that," Jamil agreed.
"I'd like to meet him. Ask him to come see me," Dragomir said.
"As you wish," Jamil replied, nodding. He left the office and headed down the hall to reception. There he found Marcelo—clothes ragged and dirt-stained. No one took special notice; guild jobs ran the gamut, and some members looked far worse.
A grizzled veteran's shirt was burned clear through at the front, pant leg missing, face smeared with black soot. The man had just turned in a mission report and shuffled off muttering, "Blasted salamanders—but at least the pay's good!"
Jamil greeted Marcelo and invited him to the guildmaster's office.
"The guildmaster? Did that wall incident catch his attention?" Marcelo tensed. What did he want—have Marcelo pay for repairs with labor? Miserable… Marcelo had barely survived; he owned nothing but the clothes on his back, was filthy and starving. All he wanted was a wash, a meal, and a bed.
Yet he couldn't shake the thought: was he some kind of superhuman? He'd lived through that monstrous attack and now had knocked out a high-level beast with a brick.
His mind was a jumble. He hadn't rested since waking amid Sunis's rubble. Worse, his memories held nothing from before—he knew only his name, no idea of his origins or purpose.
"Absurd," he thought.
Following Jamil, a thousand notions raced through his head.
He grew half-convinced he was living like the protagonist of a light novel.
What if he were a transmigrator from another world, complete with a broken cheat system granting absurd power?
Huh? Where did that come from? Light novel? System? His confusion ballooned until his brain felt ready to burst. He stopped thinking and focused on the man in the armchair revealed when Jamil opened an elegant office door.
"Thank you," Dragomir said. Jamil bowed out, leaving the two alone.
"Please, sit," Dragomir invited.
Timidly, Marcelo drew the wooden chair before him—beautiful and surprisingly comfortable—and sat.
"I'll be blunt, Marcelo: I don't care what your plans are as long as you contribute to the guild. You're welcome here. But don't think you can do whatever you like," Dragomir said, meeting his eyes with grave intensity.
Marcelo felt thoroughly intimidated. The guildmaster must be furious about the destroyed wall—he probably thinks I did it on purpose, Marcelo fretted.
"I'm sorry, Guildmaster. Please forgive me—I'm willing to work to pay for the wall repairs," Marcelo said, trying to sound dignified.
"Wall repairs?" Dragomir thought to himself. "He's very good at playing dumb, but I'm not falling for such a clumsy act. The man could have a bright future on stage. Maybe he really thinks everyone sees him as a mere apprentice with a useless summon, but everything we've witnessed says otherwise."
A mysterious master shows up with a terrifying beast disguised as a brick. I seriously want to see how far he'll run with that bit.
A master ranks among the elite anywhere in the world. Is he hiding for some reason? And in such a ridiculous way? Dragomir let the speculation go and continued aloud:
"I'll give you a key to a small, discreet house on the edge of the city—since you value discretion." He opened a drawer, produced an ordinary-looking key, then handed it to Marcelo. "Fetch your ID card at reception."
Marcelo was baffled… Is this normal? He broke a wall and got a house! If he kept breaking things, what else might he receive? The stray thought vanished—better leave before the guildmaster changed his mind. Luck was on his side, but for how long?
At the counter the young clerk stared at him. Up close Marcelo saw her more clearly: short black hair, small but gentle eyes, rosy cheeks, a sweet face—and a uniform that emphasized generous curves.
"I'm here for my card," Marcelo said.
Nervously she produced a small black card stamped with a red star. The reverse side listed details Marcelo recognized as his own—except only his name was correct.
Who on earth is "Master," and who wields a "Supreme Mystical Beast"? He asked if they'd mixed his data with someone else's, but the clerk insisted everything was in order. She introduced herself as Camila and offered to answer any questions.
Still confused, Marcelo just asked for directions to the house. With Camila's help he headed out.
No sooner had he gone than chatter erupted around reception:
"A Transcendent beast?!" one voice gasped.
"There's someone that strong here?" croaked another.
"Imagine the monster—bet it's a dragon, a chimera, maybe a phoenix!"
"Yeah, he knocked out Evaluator Jamil's top summon," someone added.
"I heard he's Jamil's wife's old flame, back to fight for her love—they even brawled!"
"If he's a master, Jamil may end up single."
"I saw him—gorgeous! I'd run away with him in a heartbeat."
"Poor Jamil, cuckolded!"
"Scars are the marks of a warrior; they'll hurt, but they'll stand as symbols of your victory."
"What kind of trophy is that—having your wife stolen by some guy?" another scoffed.
A third chimed in that he'd rather never win at all, and everyone nodded in sympathy for Jamil's plight.
Jamil, overhearing, couldn't fathom how things had spun this far. He didn't even have a wife.
Marcelo reached the address: a modest two-story house amid similar buildings. Inside, the place was fully furnished yet thick with dust—unused for ages. He explored every room; the kitchen cupboards even held some food. After checking dates he salvaged the edible bits, washed a few dishes, and threw together a meal.
He then found a bar of soap, hit the shower, and luxuriated in the steam. Drying off with an old cloth, he rummaged the closets—picked oversized beige pants and a shirt big enough for two. He didn't care; all he wanted was sleep.
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Knights' central office, several men conferred.
A stubbly man barked, "That was a natural disaster—but did someone lure it here?"
A heavyset man with a neat beard asked, "Lure an Immortal monster? What could do that? A huge mana fountain? Death of a demigod? Any way you slice it, it's insane!"
Stubble retorted, "Those are natural causes. What if a human provoked it?"
Uneasy silence settled.
Then the eldest man at the head of the table—formal uniform heavy with medals—spoke:
"Alert Auria's three Masters about the Sunis incident. Tell them to watch for anyone suspicious. We'll take further action once the investigation concludes. Until then, publicly chalk it up to misfortune."