The First Summoner (Eng Version)

The brick rested on the shattered earth, flawless in its shape and utterly indifferent to the chaos around it. Its surface was smooth yet textured—each tiny grain in its composition revealing a carefully compacted structure.

Its hue was a deep, slightly reddish brown, the shade of a refined clay treated with uncommon precision. There were no cracks, no flaws.

For a moment, Kurtis tried to keep his composure. He tried to act like a serious, focused soldier—because the moment demanded it: there were still wounded, still rubble, still a colossal monster retreating into the distance, leaving a trail of terror.

But then he looked at the brick again.

And he simply couldn't hold back his laughter.

At first it came low, almost a choked grunt, but it quickly grew, bursting from his throat like something he couldn't contain.

"Goddamn…" he gasped between laughs, running a hand over his face as he shook his head. "In the middle of this hell, you summon a brick."

He looked at Marcelo, struggling for breath, but when he saw Marcelo's expression of pure despair, his laughter only grew louder.

"I can't believe this!" he exclaimed, pointing at the brick on the ground. "People summon beasts, warriors, every kind of battle creature… and you? A brick!"

Marcelo stood between two emotions: utter shock and a burning desire to simply vanish.

Kurtis was already leaning against a piece of debris, one hand on his stomach, his composure.

Marcelo opened his mouth, a suffocating confusion rising in him.

"I'm going to swap it," he said with determination, trying to push away his frustration. "This can't be my monster. There must be some way to fix it."

Kurtis raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Swap it?" he scoffed. "That's not how it works."

Marcelo frowned, waiting for an explanation. Kurtis pointed at the brick.

"I can tell by your monster's mana level. It's Iron rank—the lowest."

Kurtis snapped his fingers to make his point.

"Monsters have summoning limits based on the summoner's rank. A Novice like you can only maintain one creature. Experts can have two, Masters three, and so on. At the top, Emperors can hold up to six."

He paused, sizing up Marcelo.

"Also, if a monster dies, that slot doesn't regenerate. If a Master loses one of their three summons, they're stuck with two forever. In your case, since you're at the lowest rank, you can only have this one."

Marcelo felt a weight settle on him.

"So that's it? This brick is my only summon?"

Kurtis shrugged.

"For now? Yeah. If you want something better, you'll have to rank up."

Marcelo closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the new reality.

Kurtis, on the other hand, had recovered from his laughter and returned to a serious tone. He tapped Marcelo on the shoulder to get his attention.

"If you need to recall your monster, it's simple. You have to rebuild the connection with the mana that sustains it."

Marcelo looked up, uncertainty in his eyes, as Kurtis continued:

"Remember when you opened the summoning gate? It was like carving a shortcut in the fabric of the world—gathering the energy and letting it flow forth. Now we reverse that process. First, close your eyes and still your mind. Feel the residual energy in your body—the same energy you used to summon the brick."

Kurtis paused, then demonstrated with his hands, tracing a curve in the air.

"Visualize the brick not as a random object but as your personal summon. Imagine the bond you formed—the connection anchoring it to this world. Focus on that tie. As you concentrate your energy, will the brick back into your palm."

As he spoke, Kurtis mimed the motion: raising his hand toward the brick and, with a gentle sweep, murmuring almost inaudible words. To Marcelo, it looked as if small sparks flickered, as though the very mana were guiding itself into Kurtis's hand.

"This process isn't automatic, mason. So when you need to bring it back, concentrate every ounce of your attention on it. Think of it as part of you, even if it's just a piece of clay. You're simply reconnecting it to your mana."

Kurtis stopped and looked directly at Marcelo, whose face mixed frustration with curiosity.

— "Listen, it's not a matter of theoretical knowledge. It's about feeling the energy coursing through you and reestablishing what was temporarily released. If you can focus enough, the brick will respond and return to you, manifesting again under your control."

The devastated surroundings contrasted sharply with Kurtis's precise explanation. Despite the scattered bodies and the atmosphere of pain, in that moment there was a spark—a possibility of mastering one's own summon. Marcelo took a deep breath, trying to absorb every word, while the light around the brick seemed to pulse gently, as if awaiting its creator's command.

Kurtis concluded in a serene tone:

— "This is the art of being a summoner. Even at the lowest rank, you're responsible for your bond with mana. Master it, and you will grow. But remember: every summoner has a limit. In your case, as a Novice, you can maintain only one active monster. If you lose that bond, you lose the ability as well."

Kurtis's words hung in the air, blending with the wind and the scent of destruction. Marcelo closed his eyes for a moment, focusing inward on that energy that somehow pulsed around him. He knew that to rise in rank, that control and connection would have to grow stronger.

Marcelo raised his hand confidently, guided by the sergeant's teaching. In his mind's eye, he visualized the brick—not merely an inert block, but the bond that connected it to his summoner's essence. In a brilliant instant, a glowing rift opened before him, channeling all the energy around his palm.

Without hesitation, he performed the summoning gesture: a light, nearly imperceptible motion. In a blinding flash, the brick lying on the ground was swallowed by the shimmering aperture and, in the blink of an eye, reappeared, merging perfectly into Marcelo's palm.

— "Come on, mason. We still have wounded to rescue."

Marcelo followed alongside Kurtis, weaving through the wreckage as he carried one of the injured. The heat of the flames still hung in the air, mingled with the scent of blood and dust. The ground, once firm and structured, was now nothing but a succession of rubble and ruins of what had once been a vibrant city.

The silence, broken only by groans and faint cries for help, weighed heavier than any explosion. Bodies lay strewn among the debris, some partially buried, others abandoned in a desperate bid for escape. Marcelo's gaze wandered over the pale, lifeless faces, each new sight a blow sinking into his chest.

Kurtis, at his side, kept his gaze steady, but his expression carried something beyond exhaustion—a recognition that he had seen this before. As if this destruction were just another chapter in a story he already knew.

He inhaled slowly, surveying the wreckage as though reading a silent story among the ruins. His eyes swept over the scene with a mix of calculation and resignation, every fallen body, every collapsed structure absorbed by his experience.

— "I've seen this before," he murmured, his voice emotionless, as if merely stating a fact. "I've been through cities wiped out, villages turned to dust."

A shiver ran down Marcelo's spine.

— "And does it always end like this?" he asked, his own question sounding fragile against the backdrop of what he saw.

Kurtis let out a dry, humorless laugh.

— "Not always. Sometimes it's worse."

The wind carried his reply across the rubble, as if perpetuating that immutable truth. Marcelo turned his gaze to the survivors around—wounded, exhausted, trying to pull themselves up amid a world that seemed to have collapsed over them.

Kurtis continued walking, his steps firm even on the uneven debris.

— "But this is how you survive," he said, more to himself than to Marcelo.

The weight of his words hung in the air, mingling with the smell of dust and blood. Marcelo followed beside him, absorbing every syllable as if they were fragments of a truth he was still trying to comprehend.

The path through the wreckage revealed the true scale of the tragedy. Piles of shattered concrete, remnants of structures that once held lives, were now nothing more than silent witnesses to an unforgiving assault. The smell of burning still clung to the wind, and the sight of motionless bodies among the ruins was a brutal reminder that not everyone had the chance to survive.

Marcelo clenched his fists, feeling a knot tighten in his throat. He wanted to say something, to find words that could ease the suffocating sense of helplessness, but nothing seemed right.

Kurtis broke the silence, his voice firm yet without the harsh tone he usually carried.

— "What happened here… was a disaster for us," he murmured, his voice carrying a weight of bitter experience. "But for that monster? It was just an insignificant moment. It wasn't attacking with intent; it wasn't here for us. We were simply in its way."

Marcelo felt a chill climb his spine. The thought was suffocating. All that destruction, all those deaths… and to the creature that caused it, none of it mattered.

Kurtis let out a short sigh, as if reshuffling his memories before continuing.

— "And there are things in this world… things that make even that monster seem insignificant."

His gaze drifted to the horizon, as if seeing something beyond the smoke and rubble.

— "Some of them don't pass through us by chance. Some 'choose' to destroy."

Marcelo swallowed hard. He wanted to ask "what," to know exactly what kinds of creatures Kurtis was referring to. But deep down, part of him feared the answer.

The sky, once merely a gray cloak of smoke and destruction, began to vibrate with a deep, growing sound. The wind swept up a whirl of dust and debris as the first giant aircraft appeared on the horizon, imposing and majestic, like colossi slicing through the firmament.

Marcelo raised his eyes, struck by the sight of the approaching fleet. The aircraft were enormous, each with reinforced, armored hulls and emblems gleaming on their flanks in the light filtered through the chaos. Some resembled metallic airships, with spinning thrusters and open hatches for rapid evacuation. Others—true flying fortresses—bore heavy plating and shafts of blue light cutting through the clouds, heralding their relentless advance.

But what really held his attention were the flying creatures that accompanied the aircraft.

Monsters of staggering size glided through the air around the fleet, their bodies sheathed in scales, feathers, or bare hide, each bearing a warrior in its saddle. Their shapes varied—some were dragons with vast wings and flame-lit eyes, others looked like colossal birds with iridescent plumage and razor-sharp talons. There were even hybrids of reptile and mammal, their roars echoing between the vessels like living thunder.

Kurtis let out a small smile at Marcelo's awe.

"Impressive, right? Those are high-rank creatures… Gold, Champion, maybe even Supreme. These guys aren't playing around."

Marcelo simply nodded, still absorbing the impact of the scene.

The survivors began to react—some raising their hands in plea for help, others dropping to their knees, overcome by exhaustion.

The aircraft readied for landing as the winged mounts circled the ruined field, assessing the wreckage and securing the area.