Cast Out Tangled in Pink Scales

Beast Summons

The Summoning Arena loomed even larger up close, a colossal coliseum carved from midnight obsidian veined with pulsing silver runes that thrummed like a living heartbeat. Toren stepped through the towering archway, and the air shifted—thickened with raw essence, humming with anticipation, crackling against his skin like static before a storm. Tiered seats rose in jagged spirals, packed with nobles in silken robes, professors gripping rune-carved staves, and wide-eyed families clutching heirlooms. Red sections glowed crimson under enchanted lanterns, casting bloody hues on one side; green swirls bathed the other in verdant light, mist curling from grated vents along the edges, weaving through geometric runes etched deep into the stone floor.

At the center thrust the summoning pillar—a monolithic spire of fused metal and crystal, ancient runes warring with futuristic circuits that sparked erratically. Symbols raced up its surface like mercury, and the number 1 blazed near its base in accusatory gold, daring the first summoner.

Students lined the outer ring, a tense queue of academy tunics embroidered with house crests, faces pale or flushed, hands fidgeting with focus amulets. Whispers slithered through the mist: 'Heard the Valors pushed for priority slots...' 'That commoner's got F-rank vibes...' 'S-Rank this year? Only three last cycle.'

A stern professor in flowing emerald robes ascended the dais, her voice booming via arena acoustics, amplified by hovering echo-crystals. "Step forward when your name is called! Summon with intention. Summon with clarity. Summon with truth. Your essence binds your fate—let the pillar judge."

The runes flickered. The mist stilled.

"Arden Hale!"

A lanky boy with dirt-streaked cheeks shuffled forward, boots dragging. He planted feet in the center circle. Runes ignited in dull orange. He thrust his palm skyward, breath ragged.

A burst of light—mud-brown and sputtering. An armored rhino crashed into existence, plated in rough stone, horns chipped, snorting steam. It pawed the ground, size of a bull, rank etched mid-air: C.

Crowd roar—polite, rumbling. Arden grinned sheepish, fist-pumping as the beast lumbered to his side, nuzzling roughly.

"Solid contract, Hale!" a professor barked from the dais. "Train that charge—could crack walls. Next!"

"Lira Dawn!"

Silver-haired girl glided in, posture regal. Circle flared white-hot. She sliced palm across pillar's sensor—blood beading violet.

Nine-tailed fox uncoiled from silk-light, tails rippling like liquid moonlight, eyes gleaming foxfire intellect. A-Rank. Stands erupted, whistles piercing.

"Elegant bind, Dawn," the professor nodded. "Illusion weave potential. Dismiss and proceed."

One by one, the line thinned.

A wiry kid summoned a black cat, fur speckled stars, slinking shadows—B-Rank, stealth scout. Crowd murmured approval.

"Observe the subtlety," a noble parent lectured nearby. "Not all power roars."

Winged serpent next—emerald scales iridescent, coils whipping air, venom dripping sparks—A-Rank. Handler winced as it nipped his glove.

"Control it, fool!" professor snapped. "Or it'll control you."

Miniature golem stomped up—obsidian limbs grinding, fists hammer-sized—C-Rank. Solid, thudding applause.

Phoenix chick burst last—flames erupting, ash reforming in her cupped hands, chirping embers—B-Rank. Gasps, then cheers.

"Regen affinity," prof analyzed aloud. "Rare. Nurture the fire."

Toren watched from mid-line, heart slamming ribs like a trapped beast. Each summon twisted his gut tighter—What if mine fizzles? Blank circle, like a bugged script. Sweat beaded despite chill mist. Game code never glitched like this. Real pain in veins, real eyes judging.

He flexed fingers, feeling that buried stir—faint, coiling, ancient. Something's there. Watching. But what?*

Whispers needled him: 'That's the Valor stray...' 'No crest, no prep—F at best.' 'Derik's dumping ground.'

Vex shot him a smirk two spots ahead, mouthing 'Watch and weep', gold crest flashing.

Tension coiled arena-wide. Professors leaned on staves. Nobles fidgeted pearls.

"Vex Valor!"

Arena shifted. Crowd surged forward in seats. Mist paused mid-swirl. Pillar's 1 ticked to next.

Vex strode center like owning the stone, uniform pristine, gold crest blazing under lights. Smile shark-sharp, chin high. He rolled shoulders, drawing deep breath—showman prime.

"Make it count, Valor," lead prof urged, eyes sharp. "Family legacy weighs."

Vex chuckled low, audible via amps. "Legacy? I'll redefine it." Palm slammed pillar—runes ignited gold, brighter than priors, essence vortex sucking air.

Air cracked like thunderclap.

Golden light exploded upward, coiling sun-hot. Metallic feathers spiraled, wind howling. Massive shape plummeted—wings spanning twenty feet, talons gouging stone.

Golden Griffin landed quake-hard, feathers molten gold shimmering, beak curved scimitar, eyes pride-blazing amber. Wings half-unfurled, radiating dominance. Presence flooded arena—oppressive, electric.

Gasps rippled. Stands buzzed.

Nyra—the griffin—tilted head, cry piercing skyward, harmonics shivering runes.

Pillar pulsed. Rank materialized: B.

Professor's voice hitched slight—impressed, not awed. "Rank B... Golden Griffin, Nyra. Aerial supremacy, valor strike. Impeccable form, Valor."

Applause thundered—strong, but measured. Nobles nodded approval. Students clapped fists. Vex basked, bowing flourish, Nyra lowering noble head in bond-gesture, beak brushing his shoulder possessively.

"That's my blood," Derik's voice boomed from stands, proud rumble. Lady Elara smiled faint.

Vex turned mid-bow, locking eyes on Toren. Grin widened mocking. "Beat that, stray. If you can summon more than smoke."

Nyra's gaze tracked too—predatory, sizing prey.

Crowd tittered. 'Bold shade.' 'Stray's turn next?'

Toren swallowed gravel, throat dry. B-Rank beast like that? Griffin's elite—Nyra's a meta-pick. Stomach knotted. My turn. No script. No save.

Professors conferred quick. "Next: Toren Vale!"

Line blurred. Eyes pinned him. Mist thickened. That inner stir surged—violet-pink pulse, breathing synced, claws scraping his core.

It's coming.

He stepped forward, world narrowing to runes, pillar, the weight of every stare. Heart thundered. Palm hovered.

Contact.

Vex's POV

Perfect. f*****g perfect. The applause crashed over me like a tidal wave of validation, every clap a brick in the empire I'd build. Nyra's talons scraped stone beside me, her golden bulk a living trophy, wings tucked but radiating that untouchable aura. B-Rank? Please. Professors called it 'impeccable,' nobles whispered 'Valor heir,' and Father's voice boomed pride from the stands—that's my blood. I soaked it in, chest swelling, smirk locked as I pivoted to face the stray.

Toren Vale. The outsider. No crest, no lineage, just a glitch in our family ledger. His turn now, and the arena hung on it like vultures. Flop, you bastard. Fizzle to ash. I'd scripted this in my head: his circle sputtering gray smoke, pillar mocking F, crowd jeering while I stood golden. Nyra's bond thrummed in my veins—power shared, loyalty bought with my essence. She was mine. All mine.

'Master,' her voice slithered into my skull, smooth as heated silk, amber eyes flicking to Toren. 'The weakling approaches. His scent... off. Muddy. Unformed.'

I grinned wider, projecting thoughts back. 'Stay sharp, Nyra. He'll summon a rat. Watch me shine brighter.'

Toren shuffled center, palm trembling over the pillar. Runes flickered lazy under his boots—dull violet, hesitant. Whispers spiked: 'No flare...' 'Common blood shows...'

'Predictable,' Nyra purred telepathically, beak clicking approval. 'Crush his spirit later? Talons itch.'

Soon, I shot back, thrill spiking selfish—imagining her shredding his pathetic beast, arena chanting my name louder. Palm connected. Pillar hummed low.

Then—

Crack.

Not my thunder. Worse.

Violet-pink essence erupted, not light—void, coiling like living smoke, arena lights dimming as runes shattered outward in fractal bursts. Mist boiled away. Pillar groaned, circuits frying, symbols warping ancient. Toren's body arched, eyes blind-white, veins glowing beneath skin.

A roar—primordial, bone-deep—tore reality. Pink scales flashed in the vortex, tentacles? No—writhing mass, eldritch, scales shimmering rose-gold, eyes manifold glowing abyss-deep. Not beast. Entity. Towering, coiling around pillar like claiming throne, aura crushing air, ranks flickering wild: S... SS... ANOMALY.

Stands silent. Then chaos—gasps, staves clattering, nobles lurching back.

Nyra's mind flooded mine: 'Threat. Ancient. Older than griffin lines. Master—retreat?'

No! Fury boiled. My moment—stolen. B-Rank suddenly mediocre, Father's eyes shifting to him. Toren slumped, entity purring around him, tendrils brushing reverent.

Professor stammered: "T-Toren Vale... Primordial Draconic Leviathan... Rank... beyond classification. S-Prime?"

S-Prime students surged from seats—elites, auras blazing—flanking Toren protective. "Ours now," one growled, hand on his shoulder. "Anomaly welcomes."

Crowd exploded uneven—cheers mixed dread. I clenched fists, Nyra's hackles rising. Selfish fire raged: this changes everything. He's no stray. He's ruin.

Derik's POV

From the shadowed noble box, I watched the fracture unfold—not surprise, calculation. Years grooming Vex for the throne, culling weaknesses, and now... him. Toren. My greatest anomaly, forged in neglect's forge. The pillar's wail confirmed it: primordial echo, pink-scaled horror from genesis rifts. Not summoned—awakened. S-Prime unbound, system glitching at raw potential.

Vex seethed below, Nyra's bond taut—solid B, predictable. Useful pawn. But Toren? Weapon. The S-Primes circled him already, alliances forming swift. Political calculus shifted: Valor name tainted by rejection, now leveraged.

Elara leaned close, breath cool: "Retrieve him?"

"Observe," I murmured, staff tapping rhythm. "Chaos births opportunity. He's our scalpel—wielded right. Vex learns humility; Toren, loyalty. The board realigns."

Entity's eyes met mine across distance—knowing. Game begun.