Corbyn dismissed the screen and looked up.
Every student in the hall was staring at him. Vance stood frozen, tablet hanging loosely at his side. Renata Ashcroft leaned forward, eyes sharp. Stellan had risen from his seat, arms folded.
Only Lyra hadn’t moved.
She sat exactly as before, arms folded over her notebook, grey eyes fixed on him. No shock. No amusement. Just that quiet, unreadable attention.
"Well?" Stellan said again.
Corbyn looked at the broken crystal on the floor.
Then back up.
"Calamity-class," Corbyn said.
Silence.
One full second of it.
Then Stellan laughed. Short. Sharp. More disbelief than amusement. It spread from the front rows backward until the hall was ringing with it.
Someone actually applauded.
"Calamity-class?" Stellan said. "You?"
"The pillar must’ve scrambled his brain."
"He’s making it up."
A girl near the front folded her arms and looked Corbyn up and down.
"Calamity-class hasn’t appeared in recorded history since the Sovereign Era. There was exactly one summoner who ever reached that level." She let the pause sit. "It wasn’t a kid from Ashfen."
More laughter.
Corbyn didn’t argue. He looked back at the notification still waiting in front of him.
===========
[SUMMONING POOL GENERATED]
[POOL CONTENTS INHERITED FROM: ALDRIC VOSS — DIVINE GENERAL, SOVEREIGN ERA]
[WARNING — POOL IS NOT CALIBRATED FOR AN UNTRAINED HOST]
[FIRST AVAILABLE SUMMON:]
[ENTITY: ISHTAR — GODDESS OF WAR, LOVE AND RUIN]
[DORMANCY: 412 YEARS]
[CLASSIFICATION: CALAMITY-TIER]
[SUMMONING IN A POPULATED AREA IS NOT ADVISED]
[PROCEED? Y / N]
==========
The laughter was still going.
Stellan was saying something to the boy beside him. Renata wasn’t laughing but she wasn’t stopping anyone. Vance had his communicator raised again, speaking fast and low.
Corbyn’s gaze moved to Lyra.
Still sitting. Still watching. Still the only person in the hall who hadn’t laughed.
He didn’t know why he looked at her before deciding.
He just did.
Then he pressed Y.
The laughter didn’t stop immediately.
It faded when the air changed.
A pressure settled over the hall, slow and heavy, the kind that sits on your chest before a storm breaks. The chandeliers began to sway. Nobody had touched them.
Students in the front rows noticed first. Smiles disappeared. Eyes moved toward the shattered base of the pillar.
A thin line of gold appeared above it.
It widened slowly. Not like an explosion. More like something was pulling reality apart at a seam that had been stitched shut for a very long time.
Ancient light poured through, carrying a weight that made the room feel suddenly too small.
Chairs scraped across marble as students backed away without deciding to.
Vance’s communicator hit the floor.
The rift widened.
Then she came through.
She didn’t step.
She descended. Slowly. Gracefully. As though gravity had considered her and decided not to bother.
Tall. Bronze skin. Dark hair drifting slightly with no wind to explain it. Her armor looked ceremonial until you noticed the old damage carved into the metal — worn edges and marks that didn’t come from a forge but from something much older and much worse.
Not a single student made a sound.
She touched the ground without a sound.
Then she opened her eyes.
Gold.
Not glowing. Not burning. Just gold, the way something is when it has been what it is for long enough that it stopped trying.
She surveyed the hall in one slow sweep — the frozen students, the shattered crystal, the elder with the dropped communicator.
Then her gaze settled on Corbyn.
It stayed.
The frayed cuffs. The faded uniform. The crack in his left shoe he’d covered with black marker the night before.
Something shifted in her expression.
Pity.
Not the kind born from arrogance.
The kind that comes from recognizing something you wish you didn’t.
"You are not Aldric Voss."
Her voice didn’t need to be loud.
"No."
"Where is Aldric Voss?"
Corbyn swallowed.
"Dead. Centuries ago."
She looked down briefly.
Whether it was grief or something else entirely, Corbyn couldn’t tell. When she looked up again she took in the silent hall one more time before returning to him.
"I see," Ishtar said quietly. "It has been a long time."
A pause.
Long enough to feel like she was deciding something.
Then she said, "You will have to do."
A final notification appeared.
[MANA EXHAUSTED]
[HOST UNABLE TO SUSTAIN ACTIVE SUMMONING]
[ENTITY RETURNING TO POOL]
[WARNING — HOST REQUIRES IMMEDIATE REST]
The gold light began to fade.
Ishtar looked at him one last time.
The pity was gone.
What replaced it was harder to name. Not warmth. Not cold.
Something older than both.
Then she was gone.
Corbyn’s knees buckled.
The world tilted.
He barely registered the impact as he hit the marble floor.
Voices rushed toward him from every direction. Someone called for a healer. Chairs scraped across the hall. Vance was giving orders. Even Stellan’s voice had lost its composure.
Corbyn’s vision blurred at the edges.
Just before darkness took him he saw Lyra Voss rise from her seat.
Unlike everyone else she wasn’t moving away.
She was walking toward him.
Then everything went black.