His Crest Card says RANK F. SUMMONER.

The son of Edmund Kane, SS-rank legend, the man who single-handedly dragged a dead profession back into relevance, and that is what the ceremony stone produced. An F-rank Summoner. A dead man's profession. His father's name attached to a rank that means nothing.

He already knew how to survive humiliation. House Harwick had been teaching him since he was eleven, the year their advocates, their bribes, and their fabricated debt records put his father in a detention cell and his family name in the ground.

Five years in Greyfen's lower city. Then Caldmore Academy on a scholarship. Then three years of being the quiet one. The one who covered for his team on every run and never asked for anything back.

On the third floor of the Caldmore dungeon, his team leader looked at him bleeding on the stone floor and made a decision.

They left.

He should have died. The wraith had already done the work. The cold was already in his chest.

Instead, silence. Then something vast and patient exhaling for the first time.

[INFINITE GACHA SYSTEM: ONLINE]
[VOID REGISTRY: ACTIVE]
[FIRST PULL: AVAILABLE]

She constituted from nothing: light gathering, form settling. Eyes closed. Then open.

She was also just the first.

He is going to collect every one of those debts from those he is owed. In full. In public. With interest.

And the extraordinary women arriving from destroyed worlds, one by one, pull by pull, each one SSS-rank, are going to make sure he lives long enough to do it.

[R18: Violence · Strong language · Explicit content · Power fantasy · Harem · Revenge]

The morning of the quarter-finals arrived cold and bright over the Grand Arena. A hard frost had settled on the city overnight, and the iron spires of the arena glittered with it, catching the pale sunlight and throwing it back in sharp, brilliant flashes. Inside, the seats were already full. The black and gold of Kane colors had become a permanent fixture in the crowd, a sea of dark fabric and gold thread that shifted and rippled with every roar of the spectators. But today there was another color rising alongside it. Dark grey. The shade of Lysandra's fighting clothes. People had started to care about the shy girl who'd beaten a berserker to death and walked out with blood on her knuckles.


Chapter 59 - CHAPTER 59: STEEL AND RESOLVE 2