Sitting on the pale skin of her hand was a single, tiny, pitch-black ant.
It was completely ordinary, no larger than a grain of sand.
The silence in the grand hall lasted for exactly three seconds.
Then, the dam broke.
A thunderous, cruel wave of laughter rippled through the thousands of students.
“An ant! She actually awakened an ant!”
“Oh my god, that’s a historical record! The absolute weakest beast in human history!”
“Hey, look out, she might crush us all if she drops it!”
The examiner sighed, his face a mask of professional pity as he tapped his digital stylus against the tablet.
“Lyra Vale. Common Grade, Insect-type. No mutations. No elemental affinities detected.”
Lyra felt the sting of the laughter burning her ears, but as she looked down at her hand, something strange happened.
The tiny ant didn’t scurry away in fear.
It didn’t shiver.
It slowly turned its body, its microscopic head lifting to look directly into her eyes with an eerie, unyielding focus.
For some reason she couldn’t explain, the humiliation vanished, replaced by a strange sense of companionship.
“Well,” she whispered softly, her lips barely moving as she held her hand closer to her face.
“It looks like it’s just you and me against the world then.”
The moment the words left her mouth, the entire world went completely, terrifyingly silent.
The laughter of the crowd muted instantly, as if she had been plunged underwater.
Then, a voice echoed directly inside the center of her mind—ancient, heavy, and dripping with an imperial authority that made the dragon’s roar from earlier sound like a child’s toy.
“…Greetings, my Queen.”
For a fraction of a second, a tiny, brief,, burning golden crown shimmered above the ant’s head before melting back into its dark carapace.
“My physical form is bound to yours,” the voice resonated with quiet, terrifying dignity.
“But my spirit commands the foundation. I am Myrmor. And our nation shall rise once more.”
The cruel echo of laughter clung to Lyra long after her boots hit the marble steps of the platform.
“…An ant. Can you believe it?”
“I’ve never heard of an awakening so completely pathetic. It’s a historical record.”
“Forget trying to apply to a combat academy. She’ll be lucky if the local council gives her work as an exterminator.”
A fresh chorus of snickers broke out from a group of noble students standing near the front rows.
Lyra kept her chin up, staring straight ahead as she slipped past them.
She carefully curled her right hand into a protective cup, shielding the tiny black insect resting on her knuckles from the judgmental glare of tens of thousands of eyes.
Her mind was a chaotic, spinning mess.
‘Did it… did it actually speak to me?’
The voice hadn’t felt like psychic link.
It had sounded so devastatingly real, vibrating with a heavy, ancient gravity that still made her teeth ache.
And those words.
‘my Queen.
She slowed her pace as she reached the outer edge of the grand plaza, leaning her back against a massive crystal pillar that refracted the afternoon sun.
All around her, families were weeping tears of pure joy, celebrating rare-tier wolves and elite birds.
Newly awakened Beast Souls were being summoned into the air, showcasing sparks of fire or bursts of wind, or any other elements.
No one paid any attention to the quiet girl with the fading denim jacket and the ant.
Taking a slow, stabilizing breath, Lyra raised her hand slightly closer to her face.
“…Can you hear me?”
The tiny black ant stopped moving.
It turned its microscopic body and looked up.
“I can,” the deep voice resonated cleanly in the center of her mind.
Lyra’s hand jerked, and she nearly dropped him before quickly steadying her fingers.
“You… you really are talking.” She had never heard of a common beast talking, hadn’t it always been said on the books that, only beast of higher rankings that can communicate with their masters/ partners.
Can someone explain to her what’s going on here?.
“I have been communicating since the exact moment our souls bound,” Myrmor replied, his mental tone completely calm, entirely indifferent to the roaring festival around them.
Lyra glanced around in immediate alarm, her heart doing a nervous flutter.
Fortunately, the surrounding families were too absorbed in their own success to notice her whispering to her own hand.
Her lips barely moved as she muttered, “Can anyone else hear you?”
“No.”
“Only me?” She asked, wishing to verify it.
“You alone.”
Lyra stared at the tiny grain of black chitin for several long seconds before letting out a quiet, breathless laugh that bordered on hysteria.
“I must be dreaming. I fear, the stress from that bull attack finally broke my brain.”
“If this were a mere fabrication of your sleeping mind,” Myrmor countered smoothly, “it is an unusually detailed one. I assure you, my Queen, your cognitive faculties remain entirely intact.”
Despite the lingering sting of the crowd’s mockery, a small smile tugged at the corner of Lyra’s mouth.
“So… you’re capable of dry humor.”
“I have had exactly ten thousand years of isolation to perfect my delivery.”
She blinked, her amber eyes widening.
“…Ten thousand?”
Myrmor went completely silent.
Lyra waited, but the ant simply began grooming one of its tiny antennae.
She immediately realized this ancient entity had absolutely no intention of offering a casual explanation.
“Fine,” Lyra whispered, shifting her grip.
“…You called me ‘my Queen.’ I am no Royal, My name is Lyra Vale.”
“I am fully aware of your birth name.”
“Then why call me a queen? Do you wish to get me into trouble with the nobles?”
The little ant lifted its head with an innate, quiet dignity that defied its physical size.
“Because titles of the soul cannot be rewritten by temporary mortal names.”
Lyra’s brow furrowed.
“I don’t understand you.”
“You are not meant to understand,” Myrmor’s voice returned, carrying a deep, infinite patience.
It wasn’t a dismissive answer; it sounded like a teacher waiting for a student to grow into a lesson.
“Not yet.”