MFS:my familiar system

"Try not to fall over! We've got to make sure you don't die, Kyle!"

A boy shouted across the cafeteria, laughing hysterically afterward.

Kyle ignored the mockery as he continued walking, pretending not to hear. It wasn't the first time, and he doubted it would be the last. Harassment like this had become routine, but that didn't make it any less infuriating.

Still, he resisted the urge to fight back.

Instead, Kyle stopped and bent down to tie his shoelace. Even at a glance, it was obvious his shoes had seen better days. The soles were worn thin, the fabric torn, and his toes were nearly poking out. He needed a new pair, but that wasn't an option.

Then, he turned around, smirking.

Upon seeing Kyle's expression, the boy charged at him, fists clenched. A flash of light erupted beside him as he summoned his familiar—an armadillo-like creature with crystalline spikes protruding from its back. The beast let out a shriek and fired a blast of crystal energy.

Kyle had nowhere to run. The attack was too fast to dodge.

Bracing himself, he clenched his teeth. The impact sent him flying backward, crashing into the cafeteria wall.

"Are they fighting on the last day of school?" a student in the crowd murmured.

Curious onlookers gathered, whispering among themselves. One student hesitated before stepping forward to check on Kyle—but as soon as they saw his face, they instantly turned away, pretending he didn't exist.

Kyle pushed himself up, shaking off the pain. He picked up his bag and sighed, unsurprised to find that his shoes were completely ruined.

"Damn it. Not again."

It was the last day of school, and he had hoped to get through it without trouble. But that was too much to ask. Sighing, he packed up his belongings. At least after today, he wouldn't have to see any of them again.

When Kyle got home, he wasted no time.

His apartment was a tiny, single-room space, barely large enough for his bed and a cupboard. He always left the window open, listening to the steady hum of passing vehicles outside. It was white noise—comforting in a way.

The apartment had been provided by the army. He had no family left, and at just 17 years old, they had taken responsibility for his expenses—at least until he finished school.

Kyle packed his suitcase, stuffing in what little he owned. Then, he reached into a side pocket and pulled out a card.

It was dark and gothic, patterned in swirling shades of red and black. A shadowy figure flickered across its surface, shifting like a phantom caught between worlds. There was something eerie about it—something that made it impossible to forget.

And yet, despite owning it for years, Kyle had never truly understood its purpose.

"Let's try again today," he muttered.

He placed the card on his desk, then retrieved a small test tube filled with a glowing purple liquid.

Test 356: Amarvyn Liquid

Pouring the contents onto the card, he waited.

Nothing happened.

As always, the card remained unchanged, mocking him with its silence.

"Ugh! Why did my parents pass this down to me if it's completely useless?" he shouted in frustration.

356 attempts. 356 failures.

Kyle had wanted to form a contract with a familiar for years, but he couldn't afford a proper summoning card. He had even tried performing the ritual during the Solstice—when the barrier between the human world and the realm of familiars was at its weakest. But nothing had worked.

Annoyed, he left his apartment and went to his neighbors' place. They were kind enough to let him stay and watch TV since he didn't own one himself.

The screen displayed a news report.

"Tensions rise as the eight-year peace treaty between humanity and the High Orcs shows signs of breaking..."

Kyle exhaled sharply. He had heard this all before.

The word "war" had never truly disappeared.

Fifty years ago, the High Orcs had appeared out of nowhere. Towering at 15 feet, with muscular physiques and jagged fangs, they resembled savage Vikings—clad in primitive armor and brimming with raw strength.

They had made their demands simple:

Earth's resources.

Humanity as slaves.

The world refused.

And so, war began.

Weapons of modern warfare—bullets, missiles, bombs—were useless. Nothing could pierce the High Orcs' skin. Desperation set in. Every man, woman, and child was called to fight—including Kyle's parents.

For years, the battle raged. Kyle never even knew what his parents looked like.

Then, when humanity stood at the brink of extinction, everything changed.

A select group of people stepped forward, wielding strange creatures—familiars. These beings possessed abilities beyond human comprehension, turning the tide of war.

But even with this newfound power, the High Orcs refused to fall. A stalemate formed, and after decades of bloodshed, both sides reluctantly signed a peace treaty eight years ago.

Not that it mattered.

Human greed quickly tainted the gift of familiars.

Instead of sharing the knowledge, high-ranking officials hoarded it. Only the rich could afford familiar contracts, while the rest were left with nothing. Society became divided—those with familiars, and those without.

It was the difference between power and weakness. Wealth and poverty. Life and death.

Kyle had been given his parents' belongings when he was ten. Among them was the mysterious card—his one chance at power.

And yet, no matter what he tried, it refused to respond.

"Why is the world so unfair?" Kyle muttered bitterly as he left his neighbor's apartment.

Later that night, Kyle lay in bed, exhausted. Sleep came quickly.

But something was wrong.

The scent of smoke filled the air. Heat licked at his skin. His eyes shot open—the building was on fire.

For a moment, panic seized him. Then, instincts took over.

He bolted upright and ran, pounding on his neighbors' doors.

"Fire! Fire! Get out, now!"

One by one, families rushed outside. Relief flooded Kyle's chest—until someone screamed.

"My child! She's still inside!"

Kyle didn't hesitate.

He turned back and dashed into the burning building. Flames roared, consuming everything in their path. Smoke stung his eyes, but he pushed forward, searching desperately.

Then, he found her—a small girl, curled in a corner, coughing.

"Come on, we have to go!" he urged, scooping her up.

But the building was collapsing. The walls groaned, the floor cracked beneath him.

Kyle ran as fast as he could. The exit was in sight.

With the last of his strength, he threw the girl forward. Her parents caught her just in time.

Then—

CRASH.

The ceiling caved in.

And Kyle was swallowed by the flames.