Today was D-Day. Deployment Day.
For the fifteen-year-olds gathered in the Grand Plaza, today was about finding a best friend, a majestic partner to soar the skies or crush boulders with.
The Headmaster stood on the raised dais. beside him stood his beast a Steel-Hide Bear, a Silver Rank creature that stood on two legs and looked like it bench-pressed tractors for a warm-up.
The Headmaster slammed a cane against the marble floor.
"The Awakening Ceremony commences now," the Headmaster barked, his voice projecting without a microphone. "The mana cores you receive today will filter the chaotic energy of the world. They will grant you a beast. Your beast defines your rank. Your rank defines your worth."
He scanned the crowd. "Iron for the infantry. Bronze for the officers. Silver for the commanders."
He left out the higher ranks. He didn't need to say them. The Gold Rank was a myth to commoners, reserved for the generals of the capital.
"Step forward," the Headmaster commanded.
A pedestal sat in the center of the plaza. On it lay the summoning catalysts stones of varying colors.
Braden, the son of the local mayor, stepped up first. He walked with the swagger of someone whose father had paid for premium mana supplements since birth. He headed straight for a Red Catalyst, pulsing with heat.
"Watch this," Braden sneered at Simon as he passed.
Braden placed his hand on the red stone. It exploded with a roar.
"A Flame-Mane Lion!" The Headmaster's stoic face cracked into a rare smile.
From the shattered ruby light, a cub emerged. It was the size of a large dog, its mane already flickering with real fire.
"A high-tier Iron beast at birth," the Headmaster announced, his voice filled with approval. "With potential to reach Silver Rank 3. A creature of war."
The crowd erupted. A beast that could shoot fire, tear through metal, and looked terrifying. Braden preened, the lion sitting proudly by his leg, looking at the other students as if they were chew toys.
"Next!"
Simon didn't walk toward the red stones, or the blue ones that promised majestic sea serpents, or the green ones for healing dryads. He walked toward the back. The Dark Catalysts.
The air grew colder as he approached. The stone was a jagged lump of obsidian, absorbing the sunlight, looking like a hole in reality.
"The Dark Attribute," someone whispered. "Is he crazy?"
"My dad says Dark beasts are bad luck. They eat their master's mana and go berserk."
Simon ignored the intel chatter. He knew the stats. He had run the simulations in his head a thousand times.
Most people avoided the Dark Catalyst because the outcomes were... unappealing.
There was a 90% chance of getting a Gloom Wisp. A floating ball of gas. Great for a nightlight, useless for combat. It capped at Iron Rank 1.
There was a 9.9% chance of a Rotting Ghoul. Stronger, yes, but they smelled like a sewer system failure and refused to follow complex orders. But Simon was banking on the anomaly.
The 0.1% chance. The Skeleton.
In the history of taming, the Skeleton was considered the ultimate failure, even worse than the Wisp. A Wisp could at least blind an enemy. A Skeleton? It had no elemental magic. A stiff breeze could dislocate its arm. It was a level 1 mob that farmers destroyed with shovels.
"Look at the edgelord," Braden laughed from the side, stroking his fire lion. "Bet he gets a gas ball."
Simon placed his hand on the black stone. It felt like touching dry ice.
'Come on,' Simon thought, visualizing rows of soldiers, pikes raised, marching in perfect unison. 'I don't need a hero. I don't need a divasaur that needs expensive steak. I need a soldier.'
Fissures appeared on the obsidian surface. Gray smoke, smelling faintly of old dust and undisturbed tombs, hissed out. And then, it stepped out. It was small. Barely four feet tall. Its bones were bleached white, clean of any flesh or rot. It held no weapon. It wore no armor. It stood there, its empty eye sockets staring at Simon.
A single Skeleton.
The silence in the plaza lasted for exactly three seconds.
Then, the laughter hit like an artillery barrage.
"A bag of bones!" Braden howled, doubling over. Even his lion seemed to huff a smoke ring of amusement. "Don't sneeze, Simon! You'll blow him apart!"
"It's the 0.1%!" a girl shrieked, giggling. "He actually pulled the trash drop!"
The Headmaster sighed, rubbing his temples. He looked at Simon with pure pity. "Simon... The Academy provides a compassionate release service. If you wish, we can de-summon it immediately so you don't have to waste mana sustaining... that."
"No," Simon said.
His voice was calm.. He was looking at a translucent blue screen that had just popped up in his vision.
[System Initialized.]
[Class: Necromancer Monarch acquired!]
[Unique Trait: The Legion lives.]
Simon looked down at the little skeleton. The creature looked back. It simply stood at a perfect position of attention, waiting. Simon saw a unit with zero upkeep cost, absolute loyalty, and immunity to fear.
"He's in shock," someone whispered. "Poor guy."
"Look, the wind is shaking its ribs!"
Simon knelt down, bringing his face level with the skeleton's skull.
"Report for duty," Simon whispered.
With a series of soft clack-clack-clack sounds, the skeleton saluted. Simon grinned.
He stood up, turning his back on the laughing crowd, on Braden's pompous lion, and on the pitying Headmaster.
"Let's go," Simon said to his recruit.
The skeleton fell into step behind him, matching his stride perfectly. But as Simon walked away, the System window expanded, showing the skill tree that no one else knew existed.
[Skill: Bone Mastery (Level 1)]
[Current Army Size: 1 / ∞]
Infinite.