The First Summoner (Eng Version)

The aircraft began to lose altitude, their thrusters kicking up gusts of wind that stirred dust and debris.

Marcelo watched everything with keen eyes, still absorbing the grandeur of the fleet and the monsters patrolling the skies above.

The warriors mounted on those beasts adjusted their positions, guiding their summons with masterful control as they surveyed the chaotic scene below.

One ship—larger than all the rest—hovered directly above the ruined field.

Its design blended advanced technology with imposing architecture: dark metal plates reflected the glow of external lights. Below, mechanical panels shifted, and Marcelo realized a massive compartment was opening.

Suddenly, a ladder unfolded in slow-motion theatricality, extending as if to emphasize its own importance.

Marcelo blinked.

"Does this really have to be so dramatic?"

Kurtis, standing beside him, crossed his arms.

"Everything they do has to look epic."

A soldier in gleaming armor descended the ladder in measured steps, each movement heavy with near-choreographed precision. Behind him, others followed with the same unwavering posture, their silhouettes outlined by the ship's intense lighting.

Marcelo felt a strange contrast between the devastation around him and the cinematic spectacle unfolding overhead.

Kurtis observed the scene for a moment, his eyes sweeping the wreckage with the practiced gaze of someone who'd witnessed it all before. Without a word, he inclined his head toward Marcelo—as if to say that this showy display was merely an interlude.

"Well, mason, my part here is done. I need to report to headquarters and find out what the hell comes next."

Preparing to leave, Kurtis realized he still didn't know Marcelo's name and stepped closer.

"What's your name, mason?"

"Marcelo."

"I hope we meet again somewhere better one day."

"I hope so, too," Marcelo replied.

Without another word, Kurtis turned away from the wounded and the somber remnants of the battlefield, striding toward the majestic ships. His firm steps contrasted with the fragility of the rubble, each movement carrying the weight of experience and determination forged in past battles.

After bidding Kurtis farewell, Marcelo answered the call of the rescue vessels arriving in force. As survivors boarded, he made his way to one of the ships.

Inside, he was immediately enveloped by an atmosphere of tense resolve shared by the other refugees.

Walking down corridors lit by soft overhead lamps and passing screens displaying voyage data, he allowed himself a brief moment to study the faces around him—each marked by hardship and uncertainty, each silently telling its own story of loss.

In the embarkation hall, uniformed officers guided passengers through safety procedures. Marcelo listened attentively, feeling a mix of anxiety and relief at finally leaving that dreadful place behind.

Amid the hush of anxious whispers, a young woman stood out with her dignified posture and detached gaze. She approached Marcelo.

She was breathtaking. Fiery red hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, contrasting with skin so pale it seemed translucent in the dim light. Her intense green eyes glimmered like polished emeralds.

Her finely sculpted features were touched by a gentle sweetness, and an enigmatic smile played on her lips. Every curve of her figure accentuated her natural, captivating femininity—an irresistible portrait of allure.

Marcelo was stunned but kept his composure. Hiding the flicker of surprise in his eyes, he began a conversation:

"So, what's your name?"

"My name is Elina," she replied directly.

"Do you know anything more about the city?"

Elina's smile widened with pride as she answered:

"I'm a student at the Aegis of the Minotaur Academy in Auria."

As they talked, Marcelo learned the devastated city was called Sunis—a place full of ruins and ideal hunting grounds for monsters.

He also discovered that slain monsters leave behind crystals. These crystals can be used to rank up, enhance existing abilities, or even unlock new ones.

Elina explained she'd been hunting a specific monster in Sunis that held a crystal she needed. But an incident with that creature had turned her quest into a tragic episode.

She continued speaking as the ship neared the sprawling metropolis:

"Auria is much more than you can imagine. It's a vast city filled with enormous ancient buildings and wide boulevards."

She paused, her eyes taking in those who noticed every detail, then added:

"There's one of the largest summoner training schools there, and the city is home to the Summoners' Guild—a gathering place for invokers."

"In the guild, summoners can undertake missions independently and earn payment and recognition in return."

Marcelo absorbed each detail with growing interest. After her explanation, they fell silent for the rest of the journey.

As the ship touched down, it gave way to a vibrant city. Marcelo, now with his feet firmly on Auria's soil, took in the cobblestone streets lined with ornate facades and modern signage.

The distant murmur of conversations, the bustle of people, and the subtle scent of street food in the air finally made Marcelo relax—something he hadn't managed since he awoke in that place.

He continued talking with Elina, exchanging words and gathering information about various landmarks.

After bidding Elina farewell, Marcelo headed for the guild; he needed to earn a living and find out how to rank up.

On the city streets, he observed an impressive diversity of people and their accompanying monsters—from small creatures like rodents and cats to imposing birds and wyverns soaring overhead. Commerce flourished in shops and stalls everywhere, offering goods he had never seen before.

Inside him, an intense sensation swirled, as if he'd been transported to another world.

Had he ever known a place like this? Snapping out of his thoughts, Marcelo pressed on toward his destination.

Along the way, he asked passersby for directions and was pointed to an old building that stood out among the rest. Rounding the corner, he discovered a structure plucked straight from a fantasy tale.

Its façade was aged stone, adorned with intricate carvings of mystical symbols and ancient script. Tall columns of stone flanked an imposing wrought-iron gate etched with reverence and tradition. Broad arches framed the entrance, their stained glass filtering light into a dazzling dance of shadow and color.

Marcelo passed through the guild's grand doors—true works of art crafted from solid wood with elaborate carvings and reinforced with wrought-iron accents.

He walked down a broad, well-lit corridor until he reached the heart of the building: a large reception desk positioned centrally in the entrance hall.

The desk was polished wood, decorated with hand-carved mystical symbols that glowed softly under the hanging lanterns.

As he approached, Marcelo noticed the reception area was alive with subdued activity. Small groups of summoners whispered among themselves, while others waited patiently for assistance. A calm-faced receptionist with keen eyes greeted him with a nod without hesitation.

"Welcome to the Summoners' Guild. How can I help you?" she asked in a firm yet welcoming voice.

"— My name is Marcelo, and I'm here to complete missions."

"— All right, Marcelo. May I see your Guild card?"

Marcelo, surprised, didn't know what a Guild card was, and the receptionist began explaining the registration process in detail.

"— I'm Carla, and I'll take you to the evaluation room. Please follow me," she said.

"— Another rookie. I hope he doesn't get greedy and bite off more than he can chew," Carla muttered under her breath, then led him to a room on the right of the desk—where he would take his registration tests.

Inside, Marcelo found a burly, bald man whose face bore lines etched by time.

After greeting him, Carla quickly filled the man in on Marcelo's case, then slipped back to her station.

"— I'm Jamil," the man announced in a firm but welcoming voice, "and I'll be administering your Guild registration tests."

Wasting no time, Jamil ushered Marcelo into a small arena and outlined the challenge:

"— These tests will assess your ability to concentrate mana and shape it into something controlled. First, we'll do a focus exercise. Then you'll demonstrate your skills through a series of practical trials."

"— To start, let's see your rank. Please summon as many monsters as you can," Jamil said.

Anticipating the outcome but fighting his fear, Marcelo called forth his monster: a brick.

"— A brick? No way… that's… quite unusual," Jamil said, stunned.

Embarrassed, Marcelo asked, "— So, how does the test work?"

"— Well… it would normally be a mock combat to gauge your skills. But, ah… I'm not sure how to do that with a brick," Jamil admitted.

Already convinced he'd fail the most basic evaluation, Marcelo slumped—until Jamil cut in.

"— The test has to happen regardless!" he declared. "Do you only have that one summon?"

Marcelo nodded.

Jamil's eyes lit up.

"— I've got an idea! Look at you: your rank is Iron since you can only summon a brick. But we can't just stand around. Here's the plan: you pick up the brick and hurl it at the monster I summon!"

With that, Jamil called forth a creature resembling a wolf, but with an intimidating ferocity. Its coat was a radiant white, highlighting the sinewy contours of its powerful frame.

The wolf stood over three meters tall, its eyes gleaming with a wild, predatory intelligence.

"— Don't worry," Jamil said confidently, "it's an Eighth-Class Gold-Rank monster; your brick won't even scratch it. Throw it—don't be afraid."

Marcelo wasn't worried about the wolf—he was worried about his sole summoned creature: the brick. Despite its odd nature, he didn't want to see it shattered.

He picked up the brick and, noting its modest weight, readied himself to cast it.

With a firm motion, Marcelo launched the brick at the white wolf—but what happened next stunned them both.

A barely perceptible glow flickered across the brick's surface just before it struck the wolf's snout. The instant it connected, the brick seemed imbued with absurd force: the wolf hurtled across the room toward the wall, punching a hole exactly its own size. Peering through the gap, horrified pedestrians watched as the great white wolf lay unconscious beyond.

Suddenly, cries rang out from within the Guild:

"— We're under attack!"

"— Who's that damned fool who assaulted the Guild?"

"— That idiot must not care about dying!"

Marcelo stood agape, silently praying they wouldn't bill him for repairs. It was the instructor's idea, he thought.

Jamil, on the other hand, was baffled. He'd seen Marcelo's throw—no extra force, nothing unusual—and yet he'd spotted the strange glow on the brick just before impact.

*What's more absurd? That my Gold-Rank wolf was knocked out by a brick from an Iron-Rank summoner, or that I never noticed how abnormal that construction material was before? Am I too weak? Or is Marcelo just too strong? he wondered.

What Jamil didn't know was that his logic, albeit sound, was flawed: a powerful monster usually belongs to a powerful summoner—except in this case. In Jamil's mind, the only explanation was that Marcelo ranked above Specialist.