Finally, Karl turned to Ember. Noticing his gaze ember shifted her gaze, feathers glinting faintly with latent power.
"You've helped us greatly—with both fighting and scouting, Ember." Karl said, his voice steady. "But I think you need to grow stronger, even more than I do. Your scouting ability is unmatched, yet you also need the strength to defend yourself in the sky. We haven't faced many powerful creatures above us yet, but there will be… and you may encounter one while scouting."
From his pouch, Karl withdrew three Level II Essence Crystals, their glow sharp and alive. He held them out to her. "Absorb them."
Ember ruffled her wings, amber eyes flashing with understanding. She had already consumed two crystals before, sharpening her flight and strikes. Now, as Karl held out three more, she leaned forward and carefully took them one by one with her beak.
Then, with unexpected gentleness, she swooped onto his shoulder and pressed her beak softly against his cheek. The storm-beast that struck terror from the skies now sought his warmth instead. For Ember, Karl was not just her master—he was kin, the closest thing to family she had ever known.
Karl let his hand rest against her feathers, accepting the rare affection. Only after that did Ember hopped back to her perch. One by one, she began to swallow the glowing crystals, her body shimmering faintly as their energy flowed inward. Unlike humans, she didn't need long meditation or effort—the power seeped into her faster, though still steadily, her feathers sparking lightly as she absorbed it.
Satisfied she was safe in her growth, Karl rose and turned toward the Summoning Gate. The stone surface pulsed faintly in the distance, waiting, its hum promising both risk and possibility.
"Let's see who comes." His voice was steady, though a thread of unease coiled beneath it. Summoning was never certain—sometimes it gave a hardened fighter, other times a craftsman or someone with no skill for war at all.
Karl paused before the gate, his hand brushing the cool vines that wrapped its frame. The glow throbbed faintly in rhythm with his heartbeat, as though testing his intent. He thought of the wolves circling just beyond the barrier, of the rival Lord hidden to the northeast, and of his own people who were still too few to withstand everything at once.
What he needed most now was strength—warriors who could stand in the line when the beasts came.
With a slow breath, Karl reached into his pouch, fingers closing around the shards and crystals.
Karl placed four summoning shards and essence crystals into the Summoning Gate. The runes carved into the stone flared to life, vines tightening like veins around a beating heart.
A low hum filled the Sanctuary as light rippled outward, spilling across the ground in a circle.
One by one, shapes began to take form. Limbs, weapons, faint outlines solidifying into flesh and steel. When the glow dimmed, four figures stood before the Sanctuary, blinking as though waking from a long dream.
Their eyes adjusted, meeting Karl's gaze in silence—the bond already threading between them, faint but unbreakable.
Lysa stepped forward, her calm presence steadying the moment. She raised her staff lightly, speaking with quiet authority. "This is Karl, your Lord and summoner. You now belong to this Sanctuary. Introduce yourselves—and tell us what you can offer."
The first to stepped forward was an old man, his hands rough and darkened with soil. He bowed stiffly. "I am Orven, Bronze I," he said, voice rough but steady. "Once a gardener. I know plants and soil better than most."
Next came a woman with gentle eyes, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. "I'm Mirael, Bronze I," she murmured softly. "A housewife. I can cook, clean, and tend to a home."
The third shimmered into being with a broad grin, a villager carrying a small carved basket. "Doran, Bronze I," he said proudly. "I raised and sold chickens. I can care for livestock."
Karl's heart sank slightly. Useful, yes… but not warriors.
Then the fourth arrived. The light clung to him longer, burning hotter, before solidifying into a towering figure clad in battered armor. A massive shield rested on his arm; its surface scarred with marks of countless battles. His voice rumbled like stone as he drove the shield into the ground with a thud. "I am Drael, Bronze II," he declared.
"A Shieldbearer… and once, a general of an empire."
Karl's breath caught for a moment, the weight of the man's words settling over him like stone. A general. Not just a fighter, but someone who had led armies, shield in hand.
Relief flickered across his features, three were simple folk, useful for survival. But Drael… Drael was a wall of iron. Exactly what the Sanctuary lacked.
Karl straightened, meeting the Shieldbearer's gaze. "Good. You came at the right time."
A flicker of relief passed through him, but it was immediately shadowed by unease. He had hoped for more fighters—two or three would've been enough to handle the wolf pack while keeping some crystals in reserve. If one of them showed exceptional promise, he could have focused on strengthening that individual instead of gambling further.
But the truth pressed against him like a blade at his throat—so far, only one true fighter had stepped through, and that wasn't nearly enough. A pack of wolves could shred his fragile unexperienced team in minutes. Farmers, breeders, housekeepers—they could help build a home but not defend it.
Karl's gaze shifted slowly across the group. Each face was earnest, some nervous, some wide-eyed, all trusting him to lead. The weight of responsibility tightened in his chest.
The Sanctuary's survival rested not just on strength, but on timing, tactics, and the small, careful choices he made with the little power he had.
Is my luck truly this poor today? His thoughts tightened as he recalled the first ten summons. Each had been useful—warriors, crafters, hunters.
None had been as helpless as a farmer or as far removed from battle as a housewife. For a moment, he wondered if those first companions had been a gift, fortune smiling on him.
Then the truth hit like cold iron. No… it wasn't luck.
The first companions had explained before — their worlds were collapsing, stripped of hope, forced into ruin. From such endings, the system drew people, offering them a choice: become a companion or stay and die in their hopeless world.
That meant anyone could appear through the gate. A master warrior, yes… but also a farmer. A brewer. A child.
The first ten had been a boon — a gift for a fledgling Lord, a strong beginning. But now, what stood before him was reality: the chaos of dying worlds bleeding into his own.
Drael was a shield he could trust, but the others reminded him of a harsher truth—not every summon would fight. Some would need food, shelter, protection. And it would fall on him to make their presence matter.
he glanced at the four remaining crystals, the last reserves of hope glowing faintly in his palm. Using them all now would leave him with nothing in reserve. Yet hesitation was more dangerous than risk.
Karl clenched his fist around the crystals, feeling the hum of power pulse through his bones. So be it. I'll go all out. Better to summon strength now than die with reserves in hand.
He raised his arm, voice steady but low with resolve.
"Once more…"