The wind sharpened as Arien and Lyris descended the mountain, carving through the cold morning. Pines rustled like whispers, shedding flakes of frost. Every shadow seemed deeper than usual, every sound a little too clear — as if the world had begun paying closer attention.
Arien wasn't imagining it.
Ever since the core embedded into him, reality felt… tense.
Like a stretched string.
One wrong movement, one wrong thought, and it might snap.
Lyris kept a fast pace, boots crunching steadily over the frozen trail. She didn't look back, but Arien could sense her unease from the way her shoulders stiffened every time his chest pulsed with faint golden light.
"You holding up?" she asked eventually.
"Yes," he lied.
He was exhausted.
He felt heavier and lighter at the same time.
His thoughts were sharper yet scattered.
His heartbeat was normal yet echoed with something unfamiliar.
But he couldn't tell her that.
If the Guild sensed something was wrong, he would be taken. Studied. Stripped apart. Lyris had warned him, and he trusted her.
They walked in silence until the trail widened into a flat ledge overlooking the valley below.
And there — like a fortress carved from time — stood the Summoner's Guild Outpost.
The outpost rose from stone and iron, ancient walls fused with modern runework. Tall watchtowers pierced the skyline, each one crowned with shimmering barrier crystals. Large banners flapped in the wind — a golden summoning circle over a black field.
Even from afar, Arien felt the weight of it.
Not the structure…
but the people inside.
Summoners.
Sentries.
Scholars.
Veterans who had survived anomalies and entities that would break the average mind.
They weren't watching the mountains.
They were watching everything.
A sudden pressure pressed against Arien's chest.
Like a hand trying to reach inside him.
He froze.
Lyris immediately grabbed his wrist. "Stay with me. Don't react to anything you feel."
He forced a nod. "What was that?"
"Detection wards," she whispered. "They scan for mana corruption, curse influence, and foreign entities."
Arien's stomach dropped.
The core inside me… is definitely a foreign entity.
"Will they detect…?" he asked quietly.
Lyris held her breath for three seconds before answering.
"I deactivated one layer when we crossed the mountain pass," she whispered. "But the moment we enter the main gate, we will be scanned… and the wards do not lie."
Arien's skin went cold.
"So what do I do?"
"Nothing.
Absolutely nothing."
Her tone sharpened. "Do not think aggressively. Do not panic. Do not summon anything. Keep your heartbeat steady. And if a panel appears—ignore it."
He nodded tightly.
Then the core pulsed again — once, dimly, like a heartbeat echoing from somewhere far away.
Lyris exhaled slowly.
"That pulse," she said. "Can you control it?"
"No."
"Can you hide it?"
"I don't know."
Her jaw clenched. "We'll improvise."
As they approached the outpost gates, two armored sentries stepped forward. Their helms were engraved with silver summoning runes, and their gauntlets glowed with scanning light.
"Identify yourselves," one commanded.
"Lyris Vale, Rank-3 Summoner. Escorting an unregistered recruit."
Her voice was solid, calm, practiced.
The sentry's gauntlet pulsed white as he scanned Lyris — then turned to Arien.
Arien swallowed.
The runes flared and—
A sharp pain stabbed his ribs.
Not physical — magical.
Like the outpost itself was sniffing through his soul.
A warning panel flickered at the edge of his vision.
Arien mentally screamed at it:
NOT NOW.
The panel vanished.
The sentry didn't seem to notice.
Good.
But the scan wasn't done.
Light intensified.
Heat rose.
Pressure tightened around his lungs.
Arien didn't breathe.
Couldn't breathe.
Then—
The gauntlet dimmed.
"Clean," the sentry said.
Lyris released a breath she had been holding so long her lips turned pale. She tugged Arien forward before the sentries could question anything.
As the gates opened, heavy iron doors groaning against stone, she whispered so softly he almost didn't hear:
"That shouldn't have worked."
Arien didn't answer.
Because deep inside his chest, a small line of glowing text appeared softly:
**[Interference Complete.]
Wards Redirected.
You are unseen.
—for now.**
He closed his eyes.
The core…
was protecting him.
Inside the outpost, life moved like clockwork.
Summoners in uniform passed by with sigils glowing under their collars. Apprentices practiced summoning circles on the training grounds — steady hands, focused expressions, precise glyphcraft.
Veterans sparred with spirit-projections of beasts, shadows, and elemental constructs. Their summons radiated power that made Arien's pulse quicken.
This wasn't the outside world.
This was the world behind the world — the world where summoners shaped fate, hunted anomalies, and enforced cosmic laws.
Lyris guided Arien through the courtyard, her steps brisk.
"Keep your head down," she murmured. "Newcomers get no special attention."
Arien tried.
He really did.
But it was impossible not to look.
Everywhere he turned, the outpost breathed danger and discipline.
A summoner conjured a lightning wolf with a flick of his wrist — sparks scattering across the ground like burning snow.
A tall woman commanded a skeletal serpent of bone and blue fire, each rib carved with runic protection.
A trio of researchers examined a floating crystal beating like a heart — similar to the core inside Arien, but weaker, corrupted, damaged.
And every few steps, he saw something else.
Summoners watching him.
Maybe curiosity.
Maybe suspicion.
Maybe instinct.
But every stare felt like a hand pressing against his chest.
The core pulsed again.
Softly.
Warningly.
Lyris turned sharply and whispered:
"Do not react."
Arien clenched his fists.
He felt like a bomb walking through a fire.
They finally reached a stone building with a silver door.
"Evaluation Wing," Lyris said. "Recruits go here first. It's the least dangerous place for now."
"For now?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she led him into a long hallway filled with arcane devices — crystals, sigil-readers, summoner gauntlets, mana-pressure nodes.
At the end stood a tall man with silver hair tied in a short knot and eyes sharp enough to slice air.
Master Veridan.
One of the outpost's elite assessors.
A Rank-5 summoner.
A man famous for rejecting recruits more than accepting them.
He looked up slowly as they approached.
"Lyris. You're late."
"Found something on the mountain," she replied. "A potential recruit."
His eyes locked onto Arien — cold, analyzing, dissecting without mercy.
"Name?"
"Arien."
"Background?"
"None."
"Experience?"
"None."
Veridan raised an eyebrow. "Lyris, you brought me a stray?"
"He survived exposure to an anomaly," Lyris said calmly. "And interacted with it without losing sanity."
Veridan's expression sharpened instantly.
"Explain."
"Not here," Lyris said. "Private room."
Veridan studied her silently.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he activated a runic door.
"Inside."
The room was empty except for a table, two chairs, and a glowing summoning circle etched into the floor.
Veridan closed the door behind them.
"Now speak," he ordered.
Lyris explained everything.
Well — not everything.
She mentioned:
– the relic
– the initial glow
– the shrine reaction
– Arien being "compatible"
– no additional details
She didn't mention the core embedding itself.
She didn't mention the system warnings.
She didn't mention the Entity.
Veridan listened with no reaction.
When she finished, he turned to Arien.
"What did the relic do to you?"
Arien's heartbeat staggered.
The core pulsed once — a silent whisper:
Do not answer.
Arien inhaled and spoke truthfully, but carefully:
"It lit up… then everything went white. When I woke up, the relic was gone. That's all."
Veridan's eyes narrowed.
Arien's stomach twisted.
He knows.
He doesn't know what you're hiding, but he knows something is wrong.
Veridan stepped closer, gaze piercing.
"Look at me," he said.
Arien did.
And for a moment, everything froze.
Veridan's presence pressed against him like gravity.
Old, cold, and unyielding.
The core inside Arien reacted instantly—
A hidden pulse.
A shield forming.
A wall between his mind and Veridan's scrutiny.
The Master blinked.
Just once.
Then stepped back.
"…interesting," he murmured.
Lyris tensed. "Problem?"
"Not a problem," Veridan said slowly. "A complication."
He waved his hand and summoned a crimson scroll.
"Arien," he said, voice final, "you are now officially a Trial Candidate of the Summoner's Guild Outpost."
Arien's heart dropped.
"So soon?" Lyris asked sharply. "There's a procedure—"
"There's no need," Veridan said. "Something has already chosen him. I do not know what. I do not know why. But I will find out."
He extended the scroll.
"Take it."
Arien reached out—
and the core pulsed sharply inside him.
The scroll glowed briefly, reacting to something unseen.
Veridan's expression changed for the first time.
Not anger.
Not suspicion.
But something far more dangerous.
Recognition.
Like he'd seen this signal before.
Like he'd watched a similar phenomenon… once… and it ended badly.
"Lyris," he said softly, "escort him to a private dormitory. No one else is to approach him."
Lyris stiffened. "Is he in danger?"
"Yes," Veridan said, eyes locked on Arien.
"But not from us."
Arien swallowed.
"From what then?"
Veridan didn't blink.
"…from whatever is looking for you."
They left the evaluation room.
Lyris walked faster than before — almost dragging Arien through the hallway.
"Arien," she whispered when they turned a corner, "listen carefully."
He nodded.
"You must not use your ability here.
Not even a spark.
Not even by accident."
"I know."
"No," she said, gripping his arm. "You don't. If you summon anything in this place, Veridan will know instantly. And he won't be the only one."
"What do you mean?"
She stopped walking.
The corridor was empty.
Silent.
Cold.
"Arien…"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"…there are things in this outpost older than summoners. Older than relics. They sleep beneath the Guild. They wake when power moves where it shouldn't."
He felt his blood freeze.
"If they sense the core inside you…" she said quietly, "you won't be tested. You'll be erased."
A soft golden warmth pulsed in his chest.
Arien breathed in slowly.
"Then I just… stay quiet."
"Exactly," she said. "Stay quiet. Stay normal. Stay harmless."
But something in her expression betrayed the truth.
Lyris did not believe Arien could stay harmless.
Not anymore.
They reached his temporary quarters — a small stone room with a bed, a table, and a rune-lit window overlooking the courtyard.
Lyris stood at the door.
"I'll be back after reporting the basics. Don't leave this room."
"Okay."
She opened the door to leave—
Then paused.
"Arien," she said softly, not looking back, "I don't know what happened in that shrine. But whatever path you're on… it's bigger than you think."
The door closed.
Arien sat on the bed, exhaling shakily.
Finally alone.
Finally silent.
But the quiet didn't last.
A faint ripple of gold shimmered on the wall.
Then words formed in the air:
**Door One: Complete.
Door Two: Awaits.
Be ready, Luckbound Summoner.
The watchers are already searching.**
Arien stared at the glowing message.
The outpost, the Guild, Veridan, the world—
none of them were ready for him.
And he wasn't ready for what was coming next.