The room was still. The weight of the moment settled over us, heavy and undeniable.

The grimoire lay before me, pulsing softly, as if it were breathing. The runes along its edges glowed with a quiet intensity, shifting in patterns I didn’t recognize. My fingers hovered over the cover, hesitant to move, hesitant to break the stillness.

Then, a sudden choked breath broke the silence.

I turned—my mother had a hand over her mouth, her eyes glistening. Her shoulders trembled slightly, and when she finally exhaled, it came out shaky, uneven.

“You did it…” she whispered, voice thick with emotion.

She took a step forward, then another, until she was standing beside me. Before I could react, she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

I felt her shaking—not with fear, but with relief.

“I was so scared,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my hair. “I was so scared you wouldn’t awaken…”

I didn’t know what to say. I had never seen my mother cry before. She had always been strong, firm, the kind of woman who ran an entire breeding operation with no hesitation, no fear.

But now… she was just a mother.

A mother who had once failed her own awakening.

I understood, in that moment, just how deeply this had weighed on her.

Slowly, I returned the embrace.

“…I awakened, Mom,” I said quietly. “I did it.”

She let out a soft, trembling laugh, pulling back just enough to cup my face. Her hands were warm, her touch gentle, but her eyes were still wet.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “So, so proud.”

A deep chuckle cut through the moment.

“See, Leina? You worried for nothing,” my father said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. His smile was wide, genuine. “All those visualization sessions I made him do? Looks like they paid off.”

I hesitated, the memory of what had just happened flashing through my mind.

The vision. The game. The past life bleeding into this world.

If only you knew, Father.

I wasn’t about to tell him.

So instead, I nodded. “Yes. Thank you, Father… for the training.”

He let out another satisfied chuckle, clearly pleased.

Then, he leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. “Now, let’s get to the next step. You need to learn how to properly control your artifact.”

“Every artifact,” my father explained, “is bound to its wielder’s soul. You don’t need to carry your grimoire at all times. Instead, you can store it within yourself and summon it at will.”

I frowned slightly. “Like… inside my body?”

“No. Inside your soul.”

He tapped his own chest, right over his heart. “It’s not physical storage—it’s more like… a connection. Your artifact is part of you now. It exists within your mana flow. You can call it forth and dismiss it at will.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I looked down at my grimoire. The idea of storing it inside me sounded ridiculous, but… this was magic. I had seen summoners pull weapons, rings, and tomes out of thin air before.

“How do I do it?”

“Focus,” my father instructed. “Close your eyes. Feel the bond between you and the grimoire.”

I did as he said.

Immediately, I felt it.

A thread—a connection between me and the book. It was faint, but undeniably there, like a pulse just beneath my skin.

“Now, visualize pulling it back into yourself. Absorb it, like pulling breath into your lungs.”

I focused.

The grimoire trembled slightly—then, with a flicker of light, it vanished.

I blinked, looking around. “It’s… gone?”

My father grinned. “Not gone. Stored.”

I frowned. “How do I get it back?”

He lifted a hand. “Now do the opposite. Reach for it. Call it to you.”

I concentrated again, imagining the book in my hands—

With a burst of light, it reappeared.

I exhaled sharply, staring at it. That was… surprisingly easy.

My mother let out a breath of amazement. “You got it on the first try…”

Father’s grin widened. “Good. Now, let’s open it.”

---

I held the grimoire in my hands, feeling its warmth, the pulse of mana running through it like a heartbeat. The weight was perfect—not too heavy, not too light—balanced. Right.

But the real test was inside.

I hesitated.

My father, noticing my pause, smirked. “What’s wrong? Nervous?”

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “No. Just… thinking.”

My mother, standing beside me, gave a reassuring smile. “Whatever is inside, Akul… it is yours. It is a part of you. No matter what affinity you have, we’ll support you.”

My father folded his arms, his gaze thoughtful. “Still… it’s good to think about the possibilities.”

He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. “What do you think it’ll be?”

That was a good question.

I swallowed, glancing down at the engraved runes on the grimoire’s cover. Every summoner was different, but there were a few common affinities most people awakened.

“Maybe an elemental affinity?” I guessed. “Fire, water, lightning? Those are common, right?”

My father nodded. “They are. Elemental summoners have the widest variety of contracts available. With fire, you could summon flame spirits, lava beasts, even phoenixes.”

That sounded… exciting. Versatile. Strong.

“But,” he continued, “there are also special affinities. Rarer ones. Draconic. Mythic. Ghost. Psychic."

My heartbeat picked up. Draconic? Mythic? If I awakened something like that…

My father grinned, sensing my excitement. “Draconic affinity would mean a high chance of contracting dragon-type beasts. Not just lesser wyverns, but true dragons, given time.”

My mother chuckled softly. “Akul and dragons. That would be a sight.”

I felt a surge of hope. What if I really did have a top-tier affinity?

Even war affinity would be amazing—commanding beasts of battle, creatures that led packs, armies, legions.

I clenched my fists. Whatever was inside this book… it would determine my entire path as a summoner.

I took a breath.

“Alright,” I said. “Let’s find out.”

I slowly opened the grimoire.

The moment the cover lifted, an eerie pulse of mana rushed through the air. The pages inside were not normal parchment.

They were black.

Not just dark—deep, endless black, as if they weren’t made of paper at all, but of something more… alive. More arcane. The inky surface was glossy, almost like polished obsidian, yet it had a strange depth to it.

It felt like if I stared too long, I might fall in.

Then—golden text began to form.

The words burned onto the page, bright and radiant, illuminating the darkness like stars against a void.

And at the very top, my name appeared.

A Name Etched in Gold

━━━ ◇ ━━━

Name: Akul Raiven

Age: 12

Artifact Type: Grimoire

Contracted Beasts: 0

Summoning Rank: Awakened Apprentice

━━━ ◇ ━━━

I stared at it, my breath catching.

The golden text shimmered softly, shifting as if responding to my presence. The name, my name, stood bold and clear, marking this as mine—undeniable proof that I had awakened.

My mother gasped softly. “It even records your information…”

“This is a rare format,” my father muttered, his voice laced with curiosity. “Most grimoires don’t display things this clearly. The black pages… the golden inscriptions… I’ve never seen one like this before.”

I swallowed, turning to the next page.

More golden text appeared, unfolding like it was being written by an unseen hand.

━━━ ◇ ━━━

Affinity: ██████████

━━━ ◇ ━━━

I frowned.

“…It’s blank?”

No. Not blank. Blurred.

The golden light flickered—then sharpened.

━━━ ◇ ━━━

Affinity: Physical Type

━━━ ◇ ━━━

Silence.

My mother let out a small, barely audible gasp. My father’s smirk faded into something more serious, unreadable.

“…Physical?” my mother whispered.

The weight of the word settled over the room.

I felt my chest tighten.

This wasn’t elemental.

This wasn’t draconic.

This wasn’t war, mythic, psychic, or anything rare.

It was physical.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. “…Is that bad?”

My mother hesitated. She looked at my father, searching his face, but he didn’t speak immediately.

Finally, she exhaled. “It’s not… bad. Just… difficult.”

She bit her lip. “Physical-type summoners struggle because they don’t have elemental advantages. They don’t bond with fire, ice, or light. Their contracts are harder to cultivate, and they don’t grow in power as easily. You have to train differently.”

She hesitated. “…And raising physical-type beasts is much harder than elemental ones.”

I felt a sinking sensation in my chest.

My father, however, huffed out a short laugh.

“You’re both overthinking this.”

My mother turned to him, frowning. “Hector—”

“Leina, listen,” he said calmly. “Physical affinity isn’t a death sentence. It’s just a different path.”

He leaned back, rubbing his chin. “Physical-type summoners don’t rely on elemental reinforcement, sure. But their summons?”

His eyes gleamed.

“They’re monsters.”

I blinked.

“Monsters?”

“Physical summons don’t burn out mana like elemental creatures. They don’t rely on spell-casting. They rely on raw strength, endurance, and combat ability. At their peak, they don’t just fight—they tear through reality itself.”

He grinned. “They’re tanks. Powerhouses. Beasts that don’t fall easily. They might be slow to develop, but once they hit their stride… they are nearly unstoppable.”

I absorbed his words.

This wasn’t what I had been expecting. I had wanted something flashy, something powerful. Instead, I got something difficult.

But…

Difficult didn’t mean weak.

I clenched my fists.

I wasn't afraid of hard work. If strength is what my summons need, then I would make them the strongest."

If this was my path, then I would walk it.

I met my father’s gaze, my resolve solidifying.

“I can handle it,” I said firmly.

For a moment, my father just stared at me.

Then, he grinned.

“That’s my boy.”

-