The creature Yvonne summoned instantly left everyone in awe. Even the supervising professor couldn't stop herself from gaping.
After all, it was the largest creature summoned that morning.
Its fur white as milk, rippled in the breeze. Two fangs, half-protruding from its jaw, looked menacing when the beast opened its mouth.
"A white tiger!" one of our classmates shouted, announcing it before the professor could.
The professor cleared her throat, glanced at the power gauge, and widened her eyes once more.
Even as she announced her findings, the middle-aged woman looked half in disbelief. "It's estimated power is… 70.000."
"Uwoooogh!"
"Professor, are you sure you're not mistaken?"
"Unbelievable—someone actually summoned a Sacred Beast with over fifty thousand power!"
"Who is she? Is she from some hidden noble house?"
"A new genius, maybe?"
The excessive admiration was actually understandable. The highest record ever achieved by a student at the Academy was a Sacred Beast with an estimated power of sixty-eight thousand. That same student had gone on to become the Supreme Commander of the Human Kingdom's military.
And now, someone hadn't just matched that level—but surpassed it! Someone from an utterly obscure background, no less.
The professor cleared her throat again, loud enough to draw the entire class's attention and restore silence.
"Ms. D'Arville… what name will you give it? If you're unsure, as a Sacred Beast specialist, I can suggest one. A name it will not only love, but one that can help it reach its full potential."
"No need," Yvonne replied—firm and certain. "I already have one in mind."
The professor nodded in understanding, though the faint twitch of her lips suggested mild irritation. After all, this was history in the making, and the fact that she might have left her mark on it but was turned down outright was enough to sour her mood.
Still, she proceeded with the usual procedure.
Yvonne crouched while the magic circle bathed her in a golden glow.
Unlike Doney, who had stroked his would-be familiar, the girl simply locked eyes with the tiger—as if they were communicating telepathically in a way only the two of them could understand.
"Snow," Yvonne said at last. "That's your name from now on."
The glow intensified, and when it faded, a black collar encircled the tiger's neck, the name she had given engraved upon its surface.
When she descended from the Summoning Hall with her familiar, people immediately stood aside to make way, their gazes a mix of admiration, awe, suspicion, and even fear.
And at one point—just like Nathan before—her eyes happened to lock with mine.
Instead of the suffocating hatred I had expected, Yvonne gave me a smile. The same sweet one she'd given me earlier.
The kind that, I was sure, melted the hearts of every other boy here.
The kind that melted mine.
Okay. Damn it. Repeat the mantra: Don't be fooled by her looks! That person—Yvonne, Leon—is supposed to be a guy.
Huff…
Alright. I can control myself better now. I return her smile.
Which, in turn, earns me a killing glare from my side. I don't even need to turn my head to know exactly who's trying to murder me with their eyes.
"Roll-call number thirty, Havel Gillardino Maggaelheis."
I swallow. Here it is—my turn. And immediately, I feel the weight of the class's attention on me. More, in fact, than even a prince like Nathan had received.
"That's him—the Prodigy from the North!"
"I heard he mastered seven combat arts by the age of ten and formed his first magic circle at twelve!"
"Wait, doesn't that kind of achievement qualify him for the military already? What's he doing at the Academy?"
"I heard those achievements and titles are just exaggerated stories. After he turned thirteen, he hasn't done anything remarkable."
"So he's just a fraud?"
I know gossip is a convenient way to introduce Havel's—okay, my—character, but could they at least be a little less obvious about it?
If the real Havel were standing here, at least five people in this room would meet tragic ends tonight.
"Mr. Maggaelheis, you can step a little higher," the professor said to me.
And I step forward hesitantly. Of course. Because aside from being a dazzling moment for the protagonist, this is also the perfect scene to humiliate Havel—the villain.
"Your hand," she requested.
I place my hand under hers. Like the others, a magic circle flares to life, a crimson light pulsing… and after a few seconds—
A small creature appears on the platform. Far smaller than any before, perhaps the smallest of them all. It looks up at me. Squeaks.
"A… mouse." The professor is careful with her words, clearly trying not to humiliate me—though I already feel humiliated enough. "Its estimated power…"
She glances at me, as if to confirm whether revealing this Sacred Beast's—if it could even be called that—stats was really a good idea.
Still, I put on a curious face.
"…10."
The people who had been watching closely, anticipating more from the professor, collectively frown. "That's it? Just ten? Not ten thousand? Not ten hundred?"
The professor says nothing—know any reply would only make it worse.
Then comes a snort. A muffled chuckle. Then laughter—spreading like an irritating plague.
"A prodigy… and his pet mouse," someone in the front row claps mockingly, tears of amusement in his eyes. "What an inspiring tale of heroism."
"Ten points of power? What's it going to do—dig holes? Steal cheese? Huff… better start stocking up on mousetraps tonight."
And the jeers keep coming.
"Sacred Beasts are indeed an important factor in gauging one's magical potential," the professor interjects. "But they are not the only factor. Potential does not equal achievement. Someone with little potential but who works tirelessly is more favored by fate than someone with great potential who squanders it."
Alright, she's trying to console me, but I remember writing this scene to make Havel look as pathetic as possible.
Since I'm not a masochist who enjoys these humiliations, I cut in, "Shall we start the Binding process?"
The professor frowns. "Mr. Maggaelheis, you have the option to—"
"Potential is still potential, right? It's a part of me." I shrug. "Maybe it'll turn out to have some use later."
The professor… freezes. I don't get it.
I mean, Havel did this in the novel, and the professor guiding him back then didn't even question his choice.
Or… did I phrase it wrong?
Damn it, I should've reread the novel before dying.
She resumes the standard procedure. A golden light shines down from above.
"You may name it now, Mr. Maggaelheis."
Before I open my mouth, I glance toward the crowd. Most are still smirking or sneering—but there's one person looking genuinely concerned.
Yvonne watches me with furrowed brows, and for some reason, it makes my chest flutter in a stupid way.
Shouldn't she already know about this event? Shouldn't she be happy to see me humiliated like this?
So what is this? Did Havel manage to charm her so thoroughly—through some hidden hypnosis—that her hatred has been twisted into irrational affection?
For some reason… it excites me. Not in a weird way—okay, maybe a little.
But I want to test something.
So, giving her the same reassuring smile—as if to comfort her—I say the name.
"I'll call it…"
"… Leon."
And all that concern—all that lovestruck expression on Yvonne's face—
…instantly shatters.