I should’ve known peace was temporary.

  We’d barely finished wiping the exam blood off our souls when a sealed scroll with a gold crest nded on my pillow like divine judgment. I stared at it for a long second, wondering if I could pretend it didn’t exist.

  “Lucien! Did you get the scroll too?”Rielle burst into the room with the energy of a caffeine-deprived sword nut. Eli followed, scroll in hand, face bnk. Gram staggered in st, eyes bloodshot and reeking of mana-distilled herbs.

  “Oh, thank the Ancients,” I muttered. “It’s not just me.”

  The scroll read, in gold-inked tyranny:

  To Squad 7 —You are summoned by direct order of Her Highness Princess Sylvaria Elion Wellstion.Training begins at dawn tomorrow. Dungeon Floor Eleven. Full compliance expected.—Student Council

  You ever read something so royal it sps the rebellion right out of you?

  Yeah, that was this.

  The Real Reason We Were Summoned“Is this... a reward?” Eli asked as we stood in front of the teleport gate the next morning, groggy and unsure if we were dreaming.

  “More like being recruited,” I muttered.

  Princess Sylvaria wanted support. Not friends. Not followers. Support—like soldiers holding up a throne.

  Apparently, the race for the imperial crown wasn’t just decorative. Her brother, the current heir, had... ideas. Authoritarian, old-school, “burn the colonies and build iron towers” kind of ideas.

  She needed a counterweight.

  And we?We were "unpredictable.""Efficient.""Possibly insane."

  Basically, the perfect chaos to weaponize.

  Dungeon Floor Eleven – The Monster Petting ZooThe moment we stepped through the gate, the scent hit me—wild grass, damp leaves, and the very faint musk of magical creatures.

  Floor Eleven wasn’t like the upper undead-infested levels. No decay. No rot. Just a vast, sprawling jungle full of taming-css monsters.

  “Welcome,” Princess Sylvaria said, descending a moss-covered stone stair, dressed in battle armor way too regal for a dungeon dive. “To your real training.”

  Behind her stood four members of the Student Council—deadly, polished, watching us like they already knew we’d crack.

  “Midterms? Cute.” She gestured at the jungle beyond. “This is survival. Growth. Obedience.”

  Her eyes glittered like twin shards of ice.

  “Here, you’ll forge stronger bonds—with your summons, with your elements, and with each other. Or you’ll break.”

  Great.Royal psychotic bootcamp.

  Day One – Snake Issues and Tamer Envy“Your summon’s underdeveloped,” said the girl named Veyna, beast-tamer and council member, eyeing my fire-snake with a mix of disgust and pity. “It’s not even a true contract beast. It’s feral.”

  “Well, he spits fire and bites nobles,” I replied. “So I’m calling that a win.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Summons evolve with their contractor. If it hasn’t? That’s your fault. No bond, no growth.”

  She tossed her silver whip to the ground and summoned her own companion—a massive blue panther with shadow-ced paws and eyes that glowed with ancient wisdom.

  My snake hissed from my shoulder. I swore it was offended.

  “Bond with it,” she said. “Talk to it. Feed it. Bleed for it. Or it’ll never become more than a fancy belt.”

  The Training – Soft Words, Brutal ResultsLet me paint a picture for you.

  Princess Sylvaria didn’t yell. She didn’t threaten. No, that would be beneath her.

  She simply described what you’d do—with a sweet smile and a tone that suggested she’d fy you alive with etiquette if you said no.

  Rielle and Eli? Sent to train in monster-hunting formations against semi-intelligent pack monsters. They were mauled. Not fatally. But emotionally? Wrecked.

  Gram? Forced to craft potions using wild dungeon flora, most of which had legs or mouths. One flower tried to marry him.

  Me?

  Bond training.

  “Sit with your summon. Focus on your mana link. Share your thoughts. Share your pain.”

  “...I’m not taking it on a date,” I muttered.

  But I did what they said.

  My snake, whom I’d never named, slithered up my arm and coiled loosely around my neck as I sat on a mossy stone.

  I closed my eyes. Reached through our link. Felt... flickers.

  Heat. Hunger. Rage. Loneliness.

  The emotions weren’t mine. But they weren’t fully alien either.

  “I’m sorry I treated you like a tool,” I whispered.

  The snake didn’t reply. But the air warmed slightly.The bond pulsed, once. Like an acknowledgment.

  End of Day One – The Color DrainWe returned to camp covered in scratches, sweat, and monster fluids.

  “Remind me,” Eli groaned as she dragged her sword behind her, “why we said yes to this again?”

  “We didn’t,” I muttered. “The princess said yes for us.”

  Gram was chewing on something green and twitchy. “I saw a lizard cast a healing spell. I'm hallucinating.”

  Rielle plopped beside me and stared up at the fake dungeon sky.

  “She’s serious. The princess. She wants to make us... actual weapons.”

  I nodded slowly.

  “She wants us for her crown.”

  No sarcasm this time.

  Just quiet truth.

  A Moment with the SnakeThat night, while the others passed out around the campfire, I sat alone and summoned my snake again.

  He curled around my arm, eyes glowing faintly. This time, he wasn’t coiled in hostility.

  He was calm.

  “You know,” I whispered, “if we survive this, you’re getting a name.”

  A flick of the tongue. Not a refusal.

  “I was thinking something dramatic. Like Pyrrhus.”

  Another flick.

  “Or... if you want something less edgy. Ember?”

  He curled tighter.

  Warmth spread through the bond. My mana fred gently—and for the first time, I felt it loop through him, and back into me.

  We were syncing.

  I smiled.

  “Yeah. Ember works.”

  Closing ThoughtsThis wasn’t just training.

  This was recruitment.

  We weren’t students anymore. We were assets. Pieces on a royal chessboard.

  And we were getting stronger. Not for school. Not even for survival.

  But for what was coming next.

  The war for the crown had begun. Quietly. In whispers.

  And we, Squad 7, were already in the game.