A roar of laughter burst across the entire plaza.
"Ha‑ha‑ha‑ha!"
"What even is that? A gecko?"
"The last hope of the House of Ashford, and it’s nothing but a lizard!"
"Cecil von Ashford, son of a disgraced noble, summoned this ridiculous spirit beast during today’s Soul Echo Ritual!"
It was the most grand day of the year at Griffin Holt Magic Academy — not the opening ceremony, nor the graduation feast, but the Day of Soul Echo.
On this day, every seventeen‑year‑old preparatory student would stand before the Ritual Spring to receive their soul resonance and call forth the spirit beast bound to their fate. A beast’s rank largely determined a mage’s future social standing.
Cecil stood at the spring’s centre. He watched the tiny lizard tilt its head — and then it spoke.
"Too noisy."
Its voice was not loud, yet sharp and clear, piercing every ear like shards of ice. The laughter died instantly.
"You ignorant bumpkins." The small lizard swiped a claw across its face and rolled its eyes dramatically. "All of you, be quiet."
Sentience among spirit beasts was not unheard of; most rare‑rank and higher beasts possessed mature intellect. Yet no one present, young or old, had ever seen a newly‑bonded beast carry such haughty, cutting arrogance the very moment the contract formed.
Cecil glanced down at the palm‑sized creature perched on his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching. "...What is your name?"
The lizard tilted its head and stared at him, her gaze as if asking how he dared pose such a foolish question.
"Gwendolyn," she said. "Gwendolyn, the Last Frost Dragon."
The plaza fell dead‑silent once more. After a beat, someone burst out laughing.
"A Frost Dragon? Her?"
In the next instant, pale blue‑white frost mist erupted without warning, swallowing the entire ritual platform.
Eyes went wide. Deep within the fog loomed a slender, cool figure — a young girl.
She wore an ice‑blue gown, her hair cascading like frozen snow, breathtakingly beautiful. Her gaze was cold and aloof, like a dragon‑princess stepped out from ancient glaciers. For a heartbeat, the whole crowd held its breath.
A girl? How could that be?
Before anyone could make out her features, the frost mist abruptly contracted. Blue‑white light surged back toward the centre of the platform, and the stunning figure vanished.
The fog cleared. A palm‑sized lizard licked her claws, scanning the crowd with impatience.
"Seen enough?"
Her tone sounded youthful, yet carried unassailable arrogance.
Silence blanketed the plaza — no one dared make a sound. No one could tell whether what they had witnessed was an illusion, or the true power slumbering within the little lizard.
Standing in the cold spring water, Cecil felt the soul resonance from the small creature: ancient, burning, tinged with irritation. He looked down at her, and she looked up at him.
"What are you staring at?" Gwendolyn huffed. "You cannot even afford a proper robe, yet you dared form a contract with me."
Cecil stayed silent for two seconds, then broke into a grin.
"Very well," he said. "I look forward to working with you, Gwendolyn."
While every gaze fixed upon the spirit beast, a golden semi‑transparent panel, visible only to him, unfolded before his eyes.
[Infinite Divine Beast Awakening System — Binding Successful]
[Host: Cecil von Ashford]
[Contracted Divine Beast: Gwendolyn (Sealed · The Last Frost Dragon)]
[Beast Unseal Progress: 1% (Maximum Seal)]
[Core Activation Condition: Accumulate Merit Points]
[Current Merit Points: 0]
Golden runes swirled across the interface, burning their words into Cecil’s sight. His heart jolted.
Murmurs rose again among the newly quiet crowd.
"Did you see that ice?"
"Just cheap ice magic... It cannot truly be a dragon."
"How could such a colossal legendary creature shrink down to fit in one’s palm?"
A robed ritual elder stepped out from the viewing stand. His grey beard swayed as he squinted, observing Cecil and the tiny beast on his shoulder. He held high an appraisal crystal, silver light swirling inside it, designed to measure a spirit beast’s true rank.
"We shall test its rank." The elder’s voice boomed across the plaza. "Legend or jest, the appraisal crystal does not lie."
Whispers fell silent. Every pair of eyes locked onto the glowing crystal.
Gwendolyn huffed in annoyance, her tiny claws digging lightly into Cecil’s damp robes. "Tch, meddlesome old man. Can he not leave us be?"
Cecil slowly lifted his hand, careful not to jostle her. "Cooperate for now. If you resist, you will only draw more suspicion."
Reluctant though she was, Gwendolyn stretched out one small claw and tapped the surface of the appraisal crystal.
For three seconds, the crystal remained dull and cloudy. The surrounding nobles began snickering again.
"There we go! Just an ordinary‑rank beast after all!"
Before their laughter could fully erupt, icy‑blue light exploded from deep within the crystal. Spider‑web cracks spread rapidly, frost creeping up the elder’s aged fingertips. With a sharp crack, the crystal shattered completely.
The elder froze, staring down at the shards at his feet, all colour draining from his face.
"No... impossible..." he muttered. "This aura. The crystal could not bear it. Its rank exceeds our means of measurement."