The Royal Academy of Magic. A place where the rich send their gifted children after school.
GPA? Nothing less than perfection.
Magical aptitude? Only those whose powers have awakened may apply.
Ordinary people have no place here, and it's obvious why. Everyone here acts like a protagonist, polished and perfected to the point of nausea.
They see themselves as future heroes. Protectors of these magic lands. And honestly, most graduates do become celebrities.
And I hate all of it.
I don't want to be some damn hero.
The only things that interest me in this Academy are the short skirts of girls in my group and the private fight club with no rules.
But the real reason I'm here? I was ordered to protect my mistress.
Name's Atheron il Ataraxia. The failed summon of a girl who decided to test her summoning skills one day.
You heard right. I'm not even human. And I have no damn idea who I was before the summoning.
This world, drenched in magic, hides countless secrets. I'm just one of them.
Why "failed" summon?
Huh. They called me that because they were hoping for something bigger. Stronger. Definitely not me.
Serves them right. Expecting the world from a max-level summoning spell? God knows what might crawl through.
But all summoned beings follow the contract. Rules that bind us… and restrict our summoners too.
Long story short, that dumb girl can stop my every movement with a word. Like a damn slave.
And you know what? I really do feel like one. It seems I'm bound to serve a woman for the rest of my days.
Not that my life is terrible.
I'm always near that pretty little thing — silver hair, violet eyes, a smoking-hot body…
…Okay, maybe I'm getting off track. I mean I live in a palace. Endless food. Constant visits with important nobles across the country.
The country?
Ashgrad — number one when it comes to mages and sorcerers. Most people live easy lives, untouched by poverty. The rest? Well, they don't live in the capital.
So, am I some gallant knight of Ashgrad, sworn to the princess and her family? Never in my life! I'm just glad I wasn't summoned by some sadist or starving pauper.
Ha-ha-ha-ha!
Ahem. Anyway, how did I end up like this?
One year ago. The summoning chamber. Inside the Ataraxia family palace.
A young girl raised her arms and closed her eyes. Sweat trickled down her forehead from sheer tension.
Her entire family watched. All seven of them.
The youngest of three daughters, Lirael il Ataraxia, was born with the gift of summoning. Spoiled and adored, all her parents' efforts had built up to this moment.
"Sarya el-thir valen. Elune varion… Thira'el Lunavis!"
("Summoning technique. Supreme summoning… Come forth, high spirit!")
The entire family held their breath.
Light burst from her palms, twisting into strands of azure energy.
An intricate rune formed beneath the floor. The glowing lines fed into it, conjuring a sudden gust of wind.
When blue magic collides with a vessel, a flash forms the portal. The wind is the byproduct of a soul syncing with summoned magic.
Yes, magic is an essence not of this world.
The wind grew stronger. Lirael, like the others, struggled to stay on her feet.
The light intensified. Particles of power assembled a shape destined to enter this world.
"Naryae ven thu'el, syra'mei ren talia, yenil veyth'el!"
("I command you to obey me with your heart and soul!")
Supreme summoning magic. Part of the High Magic branch. Only the gifted, those who spent years of brutal training, could master it.
And yet… how did this girl harness such strength so young? Was it talent… or raw ambition?
Her eyes burned with confidence, even as her knees trembled.
This spell could be used only once in a lifetime. After casting it, half of her mana would vanish forever.
That was the cost. That was her fate.
The particles formed a young man with snow-white hair and purple tips. Lean body. Tall frame. Asian face.
And so, I appeared.
Is it even legal to summon a "high spirit" in your house without permission?
Anyway, when I opened my brown eyes, the first thing I saw…
Disappointment. The worst kind.
The magical glow faded. The light particles drifted down and vanished. The chandeliers restored the room's natural shine.
"W-what…?"
Lirael was stunned.
All eyes were on me, yet none showed joy.
"What is this summon?! Daughter, didn't you use Supreme Summoning?"
Her father looked bewildered.
"Y-yes…" Lirael replied. "There shouldn't have been any mistakes…"
To be fair, that spell usually summons dragons or divine beasts, depending on luck.
"Then… who are you, warrior?"
My back straightened. I wore the armor of the ancient Dragonslayers.
I looked at them all.
"Atheron. And what, humans, compelled you to disturb my eternal slumber?"
My voice deep. Regal. Like a hero.
Lirael stepped forward, raising her arms proudly:
"My name is Lirael il Ataraxia. From this moment forward, I am your mistress! Show me and my family the respect we deserve, whoever you are!"
Bold words. Just minutes earlier she nearly wet herself.
"Let me ask you…" her voice faltered, unsure. "Are you… a hero of High Magic?"
"High Magic? Hmph. The word 'hero' in your era has lost all meaning."
I stood tall like a knight, casting a solemn glare.
"I possess no magic. Only the Light element."
No magic. Arrogant gaze. Defiant nature.
Of course, I was doomed to be disliked. Especially in a land of mages.
Days passed. They got used to me. But their opinions soured.
Even if I carried nobility from a forgotten past, in this house I lived as I pleased.
I didn't obey. I answered to no one. Not even the mistress spoke to me.
I became a ghost. But their glares… I could still feel them pierce my back.
My room? Smallest in the palace. Though honestly, still big and comfy.
Every night, I read history books and used Perception technique to eavesdrop on palace gossip.
That was the best part of my day.
One time, I overheard the father say something that stuck with me:
"A human summon… protector of our bloodline? Dragonslayers were strong, yes. Their legacy, invaluable. But they perished facing mages! Their hatred of magic led to their doom…"
Yeah. Could've summoned a Sea God or Beast King. I'm used to hearing that.
The father spoke with the grandfather — the family patriarch. Over eighty, yet far from dead.
"I pity Lirael more," said the father, lowering his hands. "She'll never regain her mana. And her servant? A disgrace to our family!"
"Lirael brought this on herself," the elder muttered, resting his cheek on his palm. "Lack of experience and training… the fault is hers."
"W-what are you saying, Father?! She trained since childhood — you saw it with your own eyes! It was bad luck! Damn it, why him… He is the last one to be called a high spirit!"
And I shut down. Lost all will to respect them.
The Ataraxia family… magic-obsessed snobs who never find joy in anything. What else would you expect from filthy-rich nobles? Silver-haired assholes.
They branded me "The one that leaves a lot to be desired."
Funny, really.
And I haven't even told them what my true power is.
Light is considered outdated in this new era. But in those dusty books, I found something interesting: most Light spells and relics were lost over time.
That works in my favor. No one will know what I'm truly capable of. It might come in handy.
Somehow… I could feel it.
Power. Like waves coursing through me. But I haven't used my element yet.
Too risky. Too soon to show my hand.
Later that year, her father came to me again. Lirael stood beside him, face turned away like I didn't exist.
"You will enroll in the Royal Academy of Magic. It is your duty to protect your mistress. At least fulfill that duty. It is her will."
Her will? Didn't look like she wanted that at all.
Fine. At least it's something to do.
Dragonslayer… hates mages…
Not that they asked what I wanted. I don't even know who I was. Just a name. Just these ancient armaments.
Only one thing interests me now:
Who was I before the summoning? Do I have a past? A legacy?
If the answer exists anywhere… it's in the Academy.
And in a world where magic is a miracle that shapes history… I will carve a different path.
I'll forge my own power. And prove to those bastards that I'm not someone they can underestimate!