They Betrayed Me So I Summoned The Leviathan

A bell rang. The students filed out.

Packing down the corridor and into a entry hall louder than theater.

There were hundreds of voices, all bouncing off stone and glass.

Student showed off spells to their friends, the air wa filled nearly to the brim with magic.

Katsu kept his hands in his pockets.

Talentless... At least, that was the truth everyone here believed. And he intended to keep it that way.

Suddenly he noticed the presence of a woman. She wore a golden cloak, no House ensign.

It seems everyone else noticed her presence as well. The chaos that ensued before she took the podium ended right there,

Her voice cut through the noise, not loud. But heard.

"First-years, look well."

She had everyone's attention now.

"Some of you crossed half the world to be here. Some refuges from countries unfortured, or taken here because of your families or power that your family holds. And regardless of origin from this day forward, you are all the Academy.

No exceptions, no excuses.

If you seek legacy, understand—it is earned. Your work here and the success you birth from this both won't be gilded by luck—No. You will need to work hard for what you get behind these walls, and the same applies for anywhere else you may mind yourself. This is not a playground, and you all are not children."

The students shifted. Silence grew dense.

"Before you all stand the Five Houses. They are not dormitories or clubs. They are the living history of Aelbyrn, and your future will be shaped by the one that chooses you.

House Velthra. Silver on black, the mirror that cuts.

House Soryuun. Frost upon glass, the silence unbroken.

House Kavaleth. Chains of gilded stone, the vault unbreached.

House Eltaraine. Scarlet veil, the flame denied.

House Dravantiir. Iron brand, the storm bound.

You will not choose your House. It will choose you. For some, it will feel like destiny. For others… a sentence.

Tomorrow, you will be tested.

Magic does not care for your birth, your pride, or your fear. It reveals what you hide. It uncovers what you'd rather leave buried.

Prove yourself worthy of the history you are about to inherit.

Or be forgotten by it."

The woman stepped from the podium, and walked away. No one applauded her.

But everyone understood what she had said.

Instructors, guiding the students now, herded the youth into a narrow dining hall.

Katsu moved like a ghost. Seen and unseen, there but not there.

He found a seat at the edge of the long table. He picked at a bowl of thick stew, the taste bland and oily.

He ignored the clatter of spoons, the laughter, the subtle games of status already beginning.

No one spoke to him.

He didn't speak to them.

Selections is tomorrow?

So he won't be able to speak to the girl that spoke to him.

Figures. Why after selections?

Actually... Why wasn't she in the room just now.

He didn't sense her mana.

Never use the magic I taught you. Trust only those whose names you've written yourself.

He repeated them in his head like a tape recorder. He finished his food.

Slipped out, barely noticed,

Back at the temporary dorms, he sat on his bed, arms around his knees.

Time stretched.

He stared at the ceiling.

Every time he blinked, he saw fire—the ruins of his father's house, the bodies in the snow, the black smoke curling through the sky. Kairos and Virenth. His saviours. Their names were on the paper. Shizune Nori never wasted words.

Eventually, the sun set and invited dusk to bled through the tall windows.

A teacher stepped into the room, no knock.

He was younger than the rest, eyes alert,hair combed.

"Nori," he read from a slate. "You're expected to be ready and well rested for the Selection at dawn. Sleep while you can."

Katsu nodded.

The man left.

A few minutes later, the curfew bell sounded. The halls quieted.

He slid beneath the blanket. The bed felt too flat, too cold, the ceiling too close. All around him, students shifted, muttered. One cried. Another cursed softly into their pillow.

Katsu stayed silent.

Sleep wouldn't come.

He pulled out the crumpled paper from his inner coat pocket. The names his father made him write again and again. They felt warmer than his hands. He held it tight until his knuckles ached.

Outside, snow drifted through torchlight like ashes.

Towers loomed in every direction. Cold. Distant. Watching.

Somewhere in that maze, a House waited.

Maybe tomorrow it would choose him.

Maybe not.

Maybe he'd have to carve a place out himself—without magic, without family, just a name and a ghost's promise.

He let his eyes shut. Breathed slow.

For the first time since the fire, he didn't feel afraid. Only tired. Only ready.

Whatever tomorrow brought, he would survive it.

Although that being said...

It's not like he had a choice.

…

"Micah Stone~"

The voice came with a trill, light and teasing. Feminine. Familiar in a way he couldn't place.

His eyes shot open.

But he wasn't Katsu anymore.

He was Micah.

And he wasn't anywhere real.

The space he floated in was much more like the space he existed in for at least a year before he was Isekai'd into this world.

But this one was colored soft rose quartz.

The air shimmered like glass just before it cracks.

There was no floor, no sky. Just light. Just pressure.

A shape pulsed ahead.

"Finally! You can pick up my fucking calls! You almost made me think this was useless! :D"

The voice was musical, but had a sliver of... Something.

Micah blinked, tried to understand what or where he was. As Katsu, he was just trying to sleep.

Is this a dream?

No.

Too real to be a dream.

He sat there for a while. No more than ten seconds.

"Who… who the hell are you?" He asked.

The voice melodramatically sighed.

"You really don't know? After everything? Ugh. Fine. Long ago, your ancestor, brilliant but arrogant, sealed me away. And now, here you are. His forty generation heir. My last ticket out. Because with how you're trending you're not having kids."

Micah's stomach turned.

"What? Sealed you? Is that why you're...A ball?"

"Mmmhm." The shape bobbed in the air, almost flirtatious.

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if you don't unseal me soon…"

The voice dropped, turned sharp as broken glass.

"You're going to die here."