Soon, the echoes of laughter swelled into a roar. Mockery flew from every corner of the hall as men jeered at Max for summoning only a single woman. They ridiculed his "trash system," pointing out how their own summons stood in skimpy, revealing outfits that flaunted every curve, while his was hidden behind heavy black armor. Their girls were ornaments of lust, designed to be stared at. His was a fortress.
Max didn't care. His gaze locked on Michael.
Her golden eyes burned like twin suns, so bright they almost blinded him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't look away. She stared down at him as if from a great height, her expression curling into pure disgust.
Then her gaze swept the room. The leering men, the pitifully exposed women, the stench of lust in the air—her lip curled, and her stomach seemed to twist.
"Hateful place…" she murmured, barely above a whisper.
But Max heard her. His eyes narrowed. There was something different about her; something dangerous. She didn't move like the others, didn't breathe like the others. She wasn't a mindless servant.
The angel beside Max trembled, her entire body locking in place. She was on the verge of crying out, "Great Servant of the Supreme!" and falling to her knees before Michael—when the ancient book in her hands suddenly pulsed with golden light.
Time itself seemed to halt. The world froze for everyone except Max and Michael… though they remained unaware, her piercing golden gaze locked with Max's. They studied one another in silence, the air between them growing heavier, until it felt as though they were the only two souls left in existence.
Then, in a voice that only the angel could hear, the book spoke:
"Do not panic. Maintain your composure and continue the ceremony. These are orders from above. Max's status is not to be revealed to the other students. You are to attend an emergency meeting immediately after the ceremony concludes."
The light faded, and time began to move again.
Cold sweat slid down the angel's trembling body, tracing over the curve of her breasts and passing her dark, sensitive nipples, making her shiver.
"P-please… take a seat…" she whispered, but the two before her didn't so much as glance her way.
"State your name," Michael said at last. Her sword slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground with a deep, resonant—THUD—that made the floor shiver. The angel's breath caught—she knew the legends. That blade was rumored to be as heavy as the Supreme Star itself.
"Max," he replied without the faintest quiver in his voice. For reasons he couldn't explain, the moment he had summoned her, a strange surge of confidence had taken root in his chest.
"Very well… Max." Her tone carried the weight of a verdict, a faint edge of irritation threading through it. "I am Michael. From this day, it appears I am your summon. But make no mistake—you are not worthy of me. I will not take orders from you. I will find a way back to my life, and until you prove yourself, I will never fight for you."
Her words rippled through the hall like a hammer blow, and the reaction was instant. The jeers and laughter roared louder than before. Men who sat surrounded by their half-naked, obedient beauties groped them openly, some already having their cocks sucked dry, the hall thick with the wet chorus of—slrp, glrk, mmpfh, shlk, pahh—each sound echoing off the walls as they smirked at the sight of Max's "failure." Even the lowest-ranked among them looked on with smug satisfaction.
That rejection burned in Max's gut, the irritation plain on his face. He turned without another word, striding back toward his seat.
"Follow me. We'll talk this over later."
His voice was steady, but inside, his heart roared with fury. He knew there was no forcing her now; Michael was far too strong-willed for that. It would take time. But one way or another, he would make her submit. And when that day came, she would be on her knees, tasting and savoring his sweet release.
He made himself a promise right there, in the middle of the jeering hall. Within this month, before the next summon, he would break through her pride. If he couldn't… he didn't deserve to call himself a man.
I hate prideful women the most. That gaze that looks down on me… those lips that refuse me… shit, I hate this! But it's fine… hahaha! When I finally make her submit, it'll taste even sweeter. I'm the only one here who will get to enjoy the pussy of a Mythical-grade beauty.
Those who laugh at me now are all trash.
A smirk tugged at his lips as a surge of pride swelled in his chest. The old Max, the one who took every slight and bowed his head, was gone. Or maybe… that man had never truly been him at all.
His seat expanded just enough to accommodate him and his single summon. On his right, the man who had been sulking earlier now wore a smug grin, his average-sized cock buried in a beauty with generous breasts, flowing pink hair, and striking silver eyes.
Her aura radiated power. Her voice was laced with raw pleasure, each breath spilling out as needy, rhythmic moans—ahhn… mmmnn… hahhh… uuhhnn…—rising higher with every bounce of her hips. If Max's memory served him right, she had been the last to appear from his neighbor's summons—the SSS rank one.
She shot Max a strange look—and then her gaze lingered. For a moment, her expression faltered, almost as if she were tempted by the man before her. There was something about him… an alluring pull in the air around him, unlike anything she'd felt before. It made the cock she was currently riding feel pathetic by comparison, each fake moan for her so-called master nothing more than a hollow act.
"Don't worry, lil' bro," the man chuckled, thrusting upward with a laugh. "If your summon won't listen to you, you can always send her my way. I'll warm her bed for you, haha!"
Neither Michael nor Max gave him the satisfaction of a reaction. They sat there like two proud lions who acknowledged no one else in the arena, their locked pride forming an invisible wall that shut the man out entirely.
"Off I go, Max. Wish me luck!" Jack stood, the last one remaining to take the stage.
"Good luck. I wish you the best," Max replied with a genuine smile. Jack's eyes were the only ones here that hadn't yet looked down on him—but who knew if that would still be true after his summons?
The room fell silent once more. Then the machine roared to life, and a rank emerged—SSSSS—just one step below Max's mysterious G. It was the strongest anyone had seen yet.
Jack returned with twenty women, each clad in revealing armor that left little to the imagination. Yet, despite the intoxicating display at his side, his gaze stayed steady as he looked straight at Max.
"Those who mess with my brother Max," Jack's voice rang through the hall, "will suffer my wrath. Make no mistake—I will not spare you if you dare look down on him."
A stunned silence filled the room. And in that moment, an unshakable bond was forged—one that, in time, would shake the foundations of the entire academy.
Soon, the entire hall fell silent as every newcomer was transported to their personal quarters, each space tailored to their rank.
Meanwhile, far beneath the academy, chaos stirred. In a chamber of cold grandeur, the angel who had welcomed the initiates now knelt, trembling, before a woman of unimaginable beauty. Her eyes burned a deep, flawless crimson: like diamonds carved from the heart of a dying star.
"Let the emergency gathering begin," the woman said, her voice carrying an undeniable command that left no room for hesitation. "Take your seats."