All My Summons Become Divine Girls

Chapter 227: The Summon and the Scribe

The copper haze did not fade gently, instead popping like an overfilled bubble and throwing a warm draft across the room. Marrick took one look at the center of the office, let out a high-pitched squeak, and dove headfirst under his writing desk.

Standing on the bare floorboards was a woman with dark bronze skin and copper hair tangled around small temple horns.

She was entirely naked, steam rising off her shoulders while fine dark scales coated her forearms.

Hajin did not blink, tossing traveler garments from his inventory to her with a dry sigh.

The woman caught the bundle mid-air, wrapping the wool tunic and trousers around herself with a quick instinct.

She stared at her palms, flexing her knuckles to hear the scales scrape with a sound forgotten for centuries. She touched her collarbone, her chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths as she felt a warm pulse.

"I am breathing," she whispered, her voice cracking as she turned her eyes to Hajin, "how is my blood still warm?"

Hajin rubbed his temples, the harsh drain of the summon still thrumming in his bones. Before he could answer, her gaze drifted to his forearms, locking onto the three concentric golden halos rotating around his wrist.

She took a slow step backward, her scales warming as the sight of the rings triggered a sharp resonance in her compromised memories. Her pupils slit, and she bared her fangs as she tried to force her mind past the blocked memories. The rising heat from her scales curled the corners of the ledger paper on the desk, making Marrick squeak again.

"Those rings," she whispered, her voice dropping an octave as she pressed a palm to her forehead, "are not supposed to exist anymore."

Hajin watched the bands slow their rotation, "they exist because I needed a smith who does not fear anomaly cores."

"You carry the mark of the Mother," she muttered, her eyes locked on his, "but this bond feels like a cold stone wall."

She closed her eyes, trying to force her mind past the barrier, "I can barely reach you through this link."

Hajin checked the system screen, watching the prompt blink in the center of his vision.

[ Soul Anchor Complete: 100% ]

[ Please enter the name for the third Summon. ]

[ Current Soul Compatibility: 68% ]

He thought about the molten metal of the forge, the copper hair, and the dark bronze skin, pointing his finger at the screen, "your name is Ferra."

A sudden heat washed through the room, making the air smell of cedar and hot iron as the system acknowledged the name. The woman gasped as a copper hammer insignia flared on the back of her right hand, burning the cuff of her sleeve. She pressed her palm against her chest, feeling the new bond settle into her core.

[ Summon Registered: Ferra ]

[ Class: Dragon-Blood Forgemistress ]

[ Evolution: 0 Wings ]

[ Bond Level: 1 (68% Compatibility) ]

[ Summon Status: Active ]

Marrick crawled out from under the desk, adjusting his spectacles while keeping his eyes strictly on his inkwells. He picked up his pen with a shaking hand, "I am glad the census is expanding, My Lord."

[ CringeSlayer91: ] three for three on naked summons, at this point it is not a coincidence, it is a design choice

[ TaxpayerOnEarth: ] wait, the bond compatibility is still 68%? she might disobey him

[ ashley (Mod): ] the compatibility affects the mana upkeep, not loyalty, read the wiki guys

[ dungeon_astronomer: ] wait, we have a wiki? since when?

[ ashley (Mod): ] since I coded it last weekend, check the pinned links

Ferra raised her right hand, studying the copper mark with a mixture of curiosity and deep-seated weariness.

"So this is how you bind souls now," she murmured, her thumb tracing the outline of the hammer-shaped mark.

Hajin did not waste time on explanations, pulling the black Apex core from his inventory and placing it onto the table. The core sat perfectly still, but the ambient mana in the room immediately began to warp under its presence.

Marrick flinched, leaning away from the desk as if the dark stone might explode. Ferra did not flinch, instead stepping forward and picking the core up, causing the copper scales on her fingers to hiss as they absorbed the leak of energy.

"Are you capable of refining that core," Hajin asked, looking at her hand, "or is the energy too wild for a smith of your era?"

Ferra’s eyes widened as she turned the core in her palm, the heat rising from her hands as she studied the pulsing stone. She was shocked he possessed a core of this rank, a dark anomaly harvested from a corrupted Gate.

Yet, she looked at his white hair and mismatched eyes, tracking the quiet, steady rotation of the three golden halos around his forearm.

The hybrid mana humming in his bloodline carried a similar weight, telling her that she should not be surprised.

"It is an apex core," she murmured, her thumb pressing against the dark stone to test its resilience, "but your own circles carry the same scent, so I suppose it makes sense."

She set the core on the table, the wood charring slightly under the heat. "What do you want it turned into," she asked, looking up at him, " a core like this can build a forge or a fortress."

Hajin did not hesitate, crossing his arms as he looked at her, "weapons, powerful ones."

Ferra stared at the gold halos still fading from his wrist, the copper scales along her forearms flattening as she let out a slow breath. She touched the hammer insignia on her skin, trying to trace the warmth of the magic back to his core.

However, the path was narrow, blocked by a cold density that felt like a stone boundary.

"You choose your words like a soldier," she murmured, her eyes drifting past the desk to the small window, "but this bond is cold, a wall of rock between my hands and your blood."

Hajin did not pull his hand away, watching the rings around his wrist fade back into his skin. "You will feel it when the forge is hot," he said, turning his back to the window, "for now, we need to know what we are building."

Ferra turned her head toward the street outside, her pupils slitting slightly as she caught the scent of the miners returning from the mountain. The ambient mana of the town felt thin, stripped of the rich elemental currents she remembered from her own time.

"This world has grown cold," she whispered, her voice dropping as she traced the charred wood of the table, "and the tools I see on your people are crude, built without any understanding of the blood in the metal."

Marrick climbed back to his stool, dipping his pen with a hand that had finally stopped shaking.

"The local smiths work with Shard ratings," he muttered, pointing his pen at the ledger, "so they only know how to measure the rank of the steel."

She let out a dry, rattling laugh that sounded like scraping gravel. "Shards are a toy for children," she said, her fingers curling around the core until the scales on her knuckles began to warm, "we will forge something that does not need a scale."

Hajin watched the logs in the hearth settle, the heat from her scales pushing the draft away from the desk.

He knew the war with the Flints would not wait for a perfect bond, but staring at her scarred hands, he felt a strange ease return to his chest.

[ tax_payer: ] she called the shard system a toy for children, she is indeed SSR tier

[ LoreSeeker99: ] wait, pre-system era lore incoming?

[ CringeSlayer91: ] let’s see if she can build the forge before the Flint army burns the town

[ ashley (Mod): ] chat, keep the donations coming, the soul energy numbers are carrying his upkeep