Astraeus returned to his dorm room leaving the wreckage of Kael and his cronies behind him in the darkened corridor. He felt no triumph, no satisfaction, only the cold, grim confirmation of a successful field test. The physical vessel was responding to the system's upgrades. His combat instincts, honed over millennia of divine warfare, were beginning to synchronize with the mortal body's limitations and the system's analytical prowess. He methodically removed his tunic, noting it was still clean, and began the nightly ritual of the Primordial Body Tempering. The pain was a familiar anchor, a reminder that his current strength was borrowed, not innate, and could be taken away if he faltered. As his body was forced through the agonizingly precise motions, his mind turned to the immediate future: the Trial of Summoning. The confrontation in the hallway was a prelude, a meaningless skirmish before the true battle. The trial was not just a test he had to survive; it was the gateway to the next stage of his existence.He had spent hours in the library archives, devouring ancient texts on summoning theory, dimensional mechanics, and magical contracts. The system had cross-referenced this information with its own vast, primordial database, creating a complex threat matrix. The conclusion was stark. The ritual, as designed for mages, was a near-certainty for his own demise. It required the summoner to offer their own mana as a lure and an anchor. A mage with strong mana would attract a correspondingly powerful but manageable entity. A mage with weak mana might attract a lesser spirit or nothing at all. But a null-vessel, a complete void of magical energy like himself, was an anomaly the ritual was not designed for.
[Analysis of Summoning Ritual Dynamics for Null-Host]: the system chimed in his mind, its text scrolling over his vision as he held a painful, trembling plank position.
[Standard mana-based lure will fail. The ritual will instead draw upon the host's life force and soul-signature as a substitute anchor. Your soul-signature, being a divine remnant, is exponentially more potent than any student's mana pool. This will not create a stable rift to the elemental or fey planes. It will function as a distress beacon of immense power, projected into the chaotic inter-planar void.]
Astraeus grunted, not just from the physical strain, but from the weight of the system's words. A distress beacon. He wouldn't be opening a door; he would be screaming for help into an infinite, dark ocean filled with leviathans.
[Probability of attracting a Universe-Tier Threat: 0.01%. Probability of attracting a Dimension-Tier predator: 34%. Probability of tearing a rift to an Unclassified Abyssal Realm: 61%. Survival chance under these conditions is statistically negligible.]
The following morning, the academy was buzzing with an electric tension. The Trial of Summoning was only hours away. The incident in the corridor had been discovered; the rumors were now a frantic, terrified storm. Marcus had been carried to the infirmary with a shattered knee that even the most skilled healers said would leave him with a permanent limp. Leo had a severe concussion. And Kael, though physically less injured, was reportedly a ghost of himself, refusing to speak to anyone, his eyes wide with a terror no one could understand. No one had seen what happened, but everyone knew who was responsible. Astraeus Ren, the boy with no magic, was now treated like a plague carrier. Students flattened themselves against walls when he approached. Instructors watched him with a mixture of fear and intense scrutiny.He was summoned to the office of the academy's headmaster, a stern, ancient mage named Alistair Thorne. The office was a vast, circular room, its walls lined with books that hummed with contained power. A large, enchanted window behind the headmaster's desk showed a real-time view of the cosmos. Headmaster Thorne was flanked by Instructor Evangeline and Master Valeriana, the dueling instructor."Mr. Ren," Thorne began, his voice like the grinding of ancient stones. "We have a problem. Three students, one of them the heir to a significant noble house, were found brutally assaulted last night. They are, at present, unable to participate in the trial. The ambient magic in the corridor was null, indicating no spells were used. You were the last person seen in that area. Explain yourself."Astraeus stood before them, a lone, small figure in the vast office, yet he felt no intimidation. He looked at the three powerful mages, his gaze steady. "I was returning from the library. They ambushed me. They intended to ensure I could not participate in the trial. I defended myself."Master Valeriana scoffed. "You, a boy with no magic, 'defended yourself' against three larger, magically-inclined students, one of whom is a gifted arcane combatant? You expect us to believe you incapacitated them all without landing a single spell?""I did not say I didn't use force. I said you would find no magic," Astraeus replied, his voice even.It was then that the system intervened, not with a physical action, but with a calculated release of information.
[System Intervention Protocol: [Calculated Disclosure]. Objective: Sow doubt and establish a narrative of unknown, non-magical power. This is crucial for post-trial survival within the academy structure.]
A faint, almost imperceptible hum filled the room. It was not magical, but it vibrated at a frequency that set the mages' teeth on edge. A single book on the highest shelf, a heavy tome titled Pre-Magical Civilizations and Their Lost Arts, wobbled and fell from its perch, landing on the floor with a loud thud. The three instructors stared at it, then back at Astraeus, whose expression had not changed. He hadn't moved, hadn't gestured, hadn't chanted. But they had all felt something. A pressure. A presence."As I said," Astraeus continued into the stunned silence. "There are things in this world older than magic. The trial is in a few hours. Am I permitted to attend, or am I being expelled for the crime of being attacked?"Headmaster Thorne stared at him, his ancient eyes narrowed in suspicion and a dawning, unsettling curiosity. "You will attend the trial, Mr. Ren. And we will be watching you. Very closely. Dismissed."
As Astraeus walked from the headmaster's office to the Chamber of Ascension where the trial would begin, the system laid out the final, desperate strategy. It was a plan born from the certainty of failure. Since he could not control what he summoned, his only hope was to survive the summon itself.
[Primary Objective Updated: Survive the Summoning. Secondary Objective: Form a Contract. Tertiary Objective (Contingent): Seize Control of the Trial-Kingdom.]
The last objective was a new addition, a piece of information Astraeus had gleaned from the library. The Trial of Summoning was not just about getting a companion. The first student to form a stable contract was granted the title of 'Trial-King' or 'Queen', giving them a degree of control over the pocket dimension's environment and a significant advantage for the remainder of the test. It was a prize meant for the academy's best and brightest.
[Strategic Analysis: The 'Trial-King' designation provides access to the dimension's control interface. This interface, while rudimentary, operates on fundamental commands, not magical ones. It is a system. The God System can interface with it. If you can seize this authority, you can manipulate the battlefield. This is your only viable path to survival if the summoned entity is hostile.]
The plan was audacious to the point of insanity. He had to survive being a beacon for inter-dimensional horrors, somehow form a contract with whatever answered, and do it faster than every other magically-gifted student in his year. He walked into the Chamber of Ascension, a massive, domed hall where the air itself thrummed with power. Hundreds of students were already gathered, standing before individual summoning circles etched into the marble floor. The air was thick with the smell of ozone, rare incense, and nervous sweat. He found his designated circle—#137, located in the back, near the service entrance, a final, petty insult. He stepped into the circle and closed his eyes, shutting out the nervous chatter and the disdainful looks. He focused on the system's final preparations.
[System Authority is being rerouted. All non-essential functions are being suspended. All available energy is being channeled into Protocol: [Soul-Shield]. This shield will attempt to protect your consciousness from being immediately annihilated by the summoned entity. It will not protect your physical body. The shield's integrity is estimated at 3.7 seconds against a Dimension-Tier entity.]
Three-point-seven seconds. That was the window he had to work with. Three-point-seven seconds to confront a being of unimaginable power and bind it to his will.
Headmaster Thorne stood on a high dais, his voice amplified by a subtle enchantment. "Cadets of Silverwood Academy! The hour is upon you! This trial will define you. It will test your power, your will, and your courage. Find your companion, forge your contract, and prove your worth! Let the Trial of Summoning… begin!"A deep, resonant hum filled the chamber as the hundreds of summoning circles on the floor began to glow with intense, colored light. Blue, red, green, and gold flared as the students began their incantations, pouring their mana and their will into the ancient ritual. The very air grew thick and heavy with magical power, a pressure that would have been suffocating to a normal person. To Astraeus, it was just noise. His circle remained dark. He did not chant. He did not offer mana. He stood perfectly still, a silent, dark void in a room full of brilliant, flaring lights.He followed the system's final, desperate instruction. Instead of pushing power out, he pulled. He reached deep within himself, past the frail mortal flesh, past the boy's lingering memories of failure, and touched the last, infinitesimally small ember of what he once was: the soul-signature of a slain god. And per the system's plan, he let it flare.
[Executing Protocol: [Divine Beacon]. Broadcasting soul-signature…]
For a fraction of a second, his circle did not glow; it went dark. A darkness so absolute it seemed to drink the light from the adjacent circles. It was a pinprick of pure void. Then, a soundless shockwave erupted from his position. No one else felt it, but in the spaces between dimensions, in the chaotic void where forgotten things slumbered, a dinner bell of impossible resonance had just been rung. A beacon of divine essence, lost and untethered, was screaming into the darkness.And from the deepest, most ancient part of that darkness, something that had been sleeping for eons stirred. Something that remembered the taste of divine essence. Something that remembered a war, a slain god, and a victory that had felt… incomplete.Astraeus's circle erupted, not with light, but with a violent, tearing vortex of pure, abyssal shadow. The marble floor cracked. The air turned to ice. A pressure, ancient and full of malice, descended upon the chamber, snuffing out the weaker students' spells like candles in a hurricane.The system's final message flashed in his mind, its calm, analytical tone a stark contrast to the unfolding apocalypse.
[Universe-Tier Threat Detected. It is him.]
[Protocol: [Soul-Shield]… activated.]
[Good luck, host.]