Future Goals

'God, I made a fool of myself,' I thought, cringing inwardly as I pulled at the hem of my skirt. Not only had I screamed like a startled bird, but I'd also fallen to the ground, thoroughly ruining what little dignity I had left. My skirt, thankfully long enough to save me from complete embarrassment, still bore the evidence of my clumsiness in its creased fabric.

'At least it could've been worse,' I thought, clutching the material tightly as if that could somehow rewind time and erase my folly. The idea of an even more humiliating scenario sent a fresh wave of mortification through me, and I groaned into my hands.

Sixteen. The age where noble girls were often engaged or, at the very least, romantically entangled in the way Katherine and Gail had been. And yet, here I was, entirely inexperienced in matters of romance—not even a flicker of infatuation to my name.

Not that I'd had much time for such things. My life had been an endless struggle to keep pace with my family's towering expectations.

When your mother is the Chancellor of the Kingdom of Thane and your father is a marquis known as one of the strongest summoners in the kingdom—second only to the Headmaster, the King, and Duke Kilt—the bar for achievement wasn't just high; it was stratospheric. My older brother, Kael, seemed born to soar over that bar with ease, leaving me floundering in his shadow.

Where Kael thrived under the pressure, I wilted. No amount of effort could shake the feeling that I was always a step behind—be it in studies, etiquette, or the small but important magical talents that came so naturally to the rest of my family.

Now, as the first Diamond-grade summoner in the kingdom's history, I had somehow managed to surpass my family in summoning. Yet, despite my newfound title and power, I still lagged behind in every other conceivable way.

'Even if I were to date, it would never be someone like Gail,' I thought, an involuntary chuckle escaping me. A man with a history of cheating? Never. My mother's voice echoed in my mind, her advice a mix of wisdom and steel.

'If a man expects something from you, you should expect the same from him. If he wants you to be pure, then demand his purity in return.'

Gail, with his playboy reputation, was the antithesis of that philosophy. His charms might work on others, but for me, they were just another reminder of what I would never tolerate.

My musings were interrupted as my Diamond grimoire appeared, shimmering into existence with its pages fluttering open. A familiar presence emerged from the subspace within.

Aria.

She settled onto the bench beside me, her legs swinging idly as she stared off into the distance.

"Aria, what is it?" I asked, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Bored," she said, her voice as flat and direct as ever.

I blinked at her. Boredom? Was that even possible for a summon? For the brief time I'd known her, Aria had always seemed stoic and unflappable, her focus unyielding. Seeing her express something so… mundane felt strangely endearing.

She turned to look at me, her black diamond eyes as deep and endless as the void itself. There was something otherworldly about her gaze, something that made me feel small and insignificant, as though I were staring into the night sky and realizing for the first time how vast it truly was.

Her beauty was flawless—sharp, elegant, and utterly perfect. And yet, those eyes of hers… they weren't just beautiful. They were haunting. There were depths within them that I couldn't comprehend, and for a fleeting moment, I felt as though I might be swallowed whole by their gravity.

The bell rang, cutting through my thoughts like a blade. Lunch break was over.

"Sorry, Aria," I said, standing and brushing off my skirt. "I need to get to class. Go back to the grimoire."

She blinked once, slowly, before giving a small nod. Without a word, her form dissolved into motes of light, disappearing back into the subspace of my grimoire.

As I walked back to class, my mind wandered, replaying her expression, her voice, her presence. For someone born of another world, someone who seemed so detached from humanity, there was a depth to Aria that I couldn't quite grasp.

The next lesson delved into one of the most essential aspects of summoning: the cultivation of cores.

Professor Ansel strode to the front of the classroom, his robes sweeping behind him like the tail of a great bird. He was a meticulous man, known for his knack for taking complicated concepts and distilling them into something even the densest student could grasp—though his tone often suggested he doubted anyone present would ever rise above mediocrity.

"Pay attention," he barked, rapping a pointer against the edge of the blackboard for emphasis. "Today, we discuss the formation of mana cores. The foundation of every summoner's power and, therefore, the foundation of this very kingdom."

He turned and, with a flick of his wrist, conjured an intricate diagram on the blackboard. A glowing sphere shimmered in the center, surrounded by concentric rings that pulsed faintly, representing the cultivation of cores.

"Unlike the beasts we summon, humans cannot harvest energy cores from other creatures and integrate them into their bodies," Professor Ansel began, his voice sharp and crisp. "This is not simply a shortcoming but a fundamental difference in how our species interacts with the energies of the world."

The room was silent, save for the soft scratching of pens against parchment as we hurried to take notes. 

"Beasts," he continued, "consume cores as though feasting on a delicacy, their bodies breaking down the energy and refining it for their own use. It's quick, efficient, and, I daresay, enviable. We humans, on the other hand…"

He paused, turning to face us with a withering look, "...must rely on the slow, painstaking process of absorbing energy from the air around us."

The diagram shifted, illustrating streams of light—divine energy in gold, miasma in black, and mana in soft blue—swirling toward a human figure. The streams converged into the figure's chest, where they pooled like water dripping into a cistern.

"All three energies—divine, miasma, and mana—exist in the very air you breathe," Professor Ansel said, his pointer tracing the golden and black streams. "But processing that energy is no simple feat. Your body must refine it, strip away impurities, and store the resulting essence. Only when enough has been accumulated will a core form."

He paused, letting the weight of the process settle over the room. "It is an instinctive process," he added. "You need not think about it. Your body does the work for you—though, for some of you, I suspect it could use some help." His eyes flicked toward the back row, where a student was nodding off.

"Mana," he continued, "is the most versatile but also the weakest of the three energies. It is why most summoners bond with mana beasts rather than divine or miasma beasts. It is simply more abundant and easier to work with."

He turned to the class, his gaze sweeping over us like a hawk surveying its prey. "The academy has set goals for you, depending on your grade as a summoner. Silver-grade summoners are expected to form one new core per year. Upon graduation, they should have four summons."

A wave of murmurs passed through the Silver-grade students, some nodding confidently, others looking visibly daunted.

"For Gold-grade summoners," Professor Ansel went on, his tone sharpening, "the expectation is higher. You are to form two new cores during your time here, graduating with three summons. Anything less is a failure—not just for you but for the noble house you represent."

My brother, Kael, sat up straighter at this, his face set with determination. He would no doubt meet, if not exceed, that goal.

"And then…" Ansel's eyes landed on me, his expression unreadable but not without intrigue. "There is the anomaly among us. The sole Diamond-grade summoner this kingdom has ever produced."

I felt every eye in the room turn to me, a mix of awe, curiosity, and perhaps a little resentment. I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles whitening under the pressure.

"For Lady Elara," Professor Ansel continued, "there is no precedent. We have no data on how quickly a Diamond-grade summoner can form cores. We know only that the process will be… arduous."

The diagram shifted once more, zooming in on the glowing sphere. It was larger now, more intricate, and ringed with delicate, crystalline structures that pulsed faintly.

"For you, Lady Elara," he said, addressing me directly, "the academy has set a modest goal: the formation of your second core by the time of your graduation."

A ripple of whispers spread through the room. Some were impressed. Others, I could tell, were skeptical. Forming a single core in three years sounded laughable to most summoners—but this wasn't arrogance. It was caution. There was simply too much unknown about my abilities.

"And let me be clear," Professor Ansel added, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "The challenges you face are not to be underestimated. The higher the grade of a summoner, the more energy required to form each new core. It is a task that demands patience, discipline, and, above all, tenacity."

His words hung heavy in the air as he turned back to the blackboard, the diagram dissolving into a mist of light. "That will be all for today," he said, dismissing us with a wave of his hand. "Class is adjourned."