Leo kept his head high as he descended from the altar.
His parents had sold everything for this moment. They had worked double shifts, worn their fingers to the bone. He would not give these brats the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
The contract bond flickered into existence with a flash so weak it barely illuminated his wrist.
His beast now granted him a 10% increase in physical strength.
For a scrawny boy like him, that meant carrying perhaps one extra bucket of water, or lasting a few more minutes working in the fields.
Other children received the ability to manipulate elements, massive increases in speed or endurance, even the power to heal.
Every creature, from the most common to the rarest, granted power to its summoner. It was a fundamental law of the contract.
A growl echoed through the temple as crimson scales erupted along Cole’s arms, his nails hardening into reddish claws. His canines lengthened into sharp fangs, and a golden gleam lit his pupils.
The Drake hadn’t just granted him control over fire and a 40% increase to his strength; his entire body was adapting. His endurance, speed, and reflexes would all surge by 20%, and with each evolution, those numbers would double.
By the time that Drake reached Silver rank 2, Cole would possess triple the strength of a normal man, with every other attribute doubled, not to mention his enhanced resistances and fire magic.
Even a simple plant, the kind of beast Leo had secretly hoped for, would have provided a 20% boost to vitality as its primary effect, plus a 10% bonus to all attributes that could reach 30% or 40% with proper cultivation.
“Pathetic,” someone murmured from the crowd. “It’s the only known beast that grants no base power. Just that miserable 10% physical strength boost.”
Leo remained rooted to the spot, bound by protocol to witness the rest of the ceremony. Each new summoning was another knife twisting in the wound of his failure.
A wind eagle that enhanced its master’s reflexes. An earth bear that doubled physical resistance. A mystic fox that sharpened perception and senses.
And then, the final summoner ascended to the altar.
Clara Grimshade. Her blue hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall as she placed her black egg on the pedestal.
One of the most expensive.
The entire temple held its breath.
The crack that split the egg was like lightning in the night. From within emerged a shadow wolf, its eyes gleaming with ancestral power.
The aura that enveloped Clara was almost blinding, promising multiplied speed, sharpened senses, and the gift of wielding multiple forms of elemental magic.
Increases of 500%, even 1000%, were not impossible with a creature like that.
“A beast with Gold potential!” The Ritual Conductor’s voice trembled with excitement. “Extraordinary! A less than one percent probability, even in a high-quality black egg.”
Leo watched as the wolf bowed its head before Clara, sealing a contract that would elevate her above nearly everyone else in the city.
Throughout the temple, the transformations began.
Almost every child embraced them with joy. This was the moment they had awaited their entire lives.
The weakness they had felt in recent years from mana poisoning melted away, replaced by an ecstatic sensation of power.
The eagle boy developed silver markings on his skin as his eyes grew sharper. The girl with the mystic fox felt her senses amplify while reddish marks bloomed on her cheeks.
Each transformation was unique, powerful, a symbol of their new status.
All except for Leo’s.
His spore would be the brand marking his status as the lowest of them all.
At least, he thought with bitter irony, it can’t get any worse than this.
He had no idea how wrong he was.
Then, it was his turn to transform.
The spore simply… dissolved. It melted into his skin without the slightest spectacle, and for a moment, nothing happened.
Then, small, luminescent mushrooms began to sprout from his scalp, like tiny glowing toadstools nestled in his hair.
The laughter was instantaneous.
“Look! He’s rotting!”
“Hey, Stonehand! Are those mushrooms on your head or little peni–”
“Silence!” The Ritual Conductor tried to intervene, but the mockery washed over his command.
“Careful, it’s contagious!”
“Don’t get too close or you’ll grow mushrooms too!”
Having failed to quiet the children, the Ritual Conductor cleared his throat, trying to restore some dignity to the moment. “The spore… uh… can mature with time and proper care. It could reach up to fifty centimeters and grant a 20% increase in physical strength.”
More laughter erupted. Everyone knew that maturing a spore was next to impossible.
The cost in resources and time would be astronomical, all for a result that any common beast achieved on its first day.
Some children even pretended to sneeze as they passed him, making faces of mock fear as if he might infect them.
Each successful transformation around him only made his own more pathetic. While others received claws, mystical marks, and changes that screamed power, he had gotten… distasteful hair decorations.
Clara was the last to transform.
The contract with her shadow wolf traced delicate silver marks across her skin that seemed to dance in the light. Her eyes took on a supernatural gleam, and her blue hair rippled as if submerged in deep water.
The aura of power emanating from her was almost tangible, doubling her speed and enhancing all her physical capabilities by half, to say nothing of her gift for elemental magic.
The mushrooms on Leo’s head flickered weakly, as if ashamed of their own existence.
“In one week,” the Ritual Conductor announced, his voice booming once more, “you will begin your formal education. The carriages will come to collect you for the academy as agreed in the contract, where you will remain until you come of age in eight years. Afterward, you will have a brief rest before beginning your military service.”
“Keep your beasts fused with your bodies. It is a show of respect for the sacred bond you have formed today.”
Leo waited until he was outside the temple.
Away from the mocking glances, the whispers, the poorly disguised pity.
Only then did he close his eyes and expel the spore from his body. The luminescent mushrooms vanished from his hair, and the small gray mass returned to floating beside his shoulder.
To hell with respect. To hell with traditions.
Thirty years of his parents’ work. Their house sold. Over a million crystals saved through a life of frugal misery, all for him to ruin it with a stroke of bad luck.
The path home had never felt so long.
Each step was a reminder of what he had failed to become, of the hopes that had vanished with that pathetic gray glow.
The spore floated silently beside him, a barely visible companion in the evening light. His new partner. His symbol of failure.