Summoned Celestial Divine Beast

Chapter 3: The Divine Mathematics of Bullshit and Bloodlines

Chapter 3: The Divine Mathematics of Bullshit and Bloodlines

Ryan stepped into the vice principal’s chamber, the scent of old scrolls and enchanted ink heavy in the air, mingling with a faint metallic tang—likely from warding sigils etched into the very walls. He hadn’t expected to find himself face-to-face with one of the highest-ranking figures in Kuma Academy this early. Shit, he’d barely gotten used to the idea that he wasn’t plowing soil anymore.

What surprised him more wasn’t her rank—it was her.

The vice principal, Pearl, possessed an aura of quiet danger hidden beneath the silken layers of her academic robe. The garment clung tightly enough to suggest a lithe frame beneath, though modestly concealed. Her gaze held the sort of depth only years of arcane mastery could carve into a person’s soul—glittering like two wells of ancient knowledge. Ryan felt it immediately. Pressure. Not physical, but like the weight of a stormcloud pressing down on him—dioki pressure.

And she was already inspecting the creature Dan had mentioned in his report: the Sphinx. A divine beast with celestial fur and a gaze colder than death’s breath. Pearl’s brows lifted in restrained curiosity, the spark of scholarly obsession igniting behind her unreadable smile.

“So you are the farm boy from nowhere—Ryan, was it? The child who summoned a beast instead of a humanoid servant,” she said, her voice smooth yet laced with an unshakable dominance. Her tone was neither scolding nor warm—it was clinical. Dangerous.

Ryan took in a lungful of air, trying to still the trembling thud of his heart. “Yes, ma’am.”

She slid a parchment across the floating sigil-lit table between them. “These are your placement answers. I summoned you here not only because of your summon… but because your answers are—let’s say—abnormally competent. Some read like dissertation theses from elder scholars. Not the ramblings of a dirt-blooded peasant who just crawled out of the mud.”

Ryan let the insult pass. After all, she wasn’t wrong. “I only wrote what I understood. I drew from everything I knew... which admittedly isn’t much. I was just trying to be honest. Or desperate, maybe.”

“Desperation.” Pearl tapped her ring against the table, the runes flickering in response. “Let’s verify that. Your answers feel less like guesses and more like the ruminations of a battle-hardened dioki theorist.”

Ryan gave a submissive nod. Inside, he was screaming, Play the part, you cunt. Humble peasant, don’t overdo it.

“Very well. Let me begin with the first question. Let’s talk dioki.”

She stepped aside and conjured a simple ritual: a candle, balanced atop a glyph-inscribed pedestal, and a dagger carved from an obsidian fang.

“This dagger symbolizes your current dioki reserve. Summoning is sacrifice. Every familiar you bind siphons a fixed portion of your dioki—permanently tethered to sustain their presence across the planes. They are eternal tenants in your soul’s house.”

With a clean swipe, she cleaved half the candle away. The wax sizzled, the flame dimmed.

“Your first summon is always the most crucial,” she continued. “It establishes the threshold of your spiritual capacity. Grow it later? Certainly. But without background or resources, scaling dioki is slow and brutal. And if your first summon is weak? Then you’ve already fucked yourself. Badly.”

The edge in her tone was razor-sharp. She wasn't sugarcoating a damn thing.

“The stronger the creature, the more dioki you bleed out to maintain the bond. That’s why most students wait—train, gather artifacts, practice channeling. But not you. You brought forth that.” She pointed toward the Sphinx, who blinked in disinterest.

“Here’s the question. How do you define how much dioki a summoning requires? Your classmates tossed out ranges—0.5x to 100x—but you, Ryan, provided a generalized scaling model. Why?”

Even Dan, standing silently behind Ryan, furrowed his brow. He hadn’t read that far in Ryan’s test. This peasant kid gave a theoretical framework?

Ryan exhaled slowly and nodded. “Your explanation just now actually affirms my reasoning.”

Pearl arched a brow. “Explain. Impress me.”

Ryan swallowed. Then unleashed the finest line of well-dressed bullshit he could conjure.

“If we treat summoned entities like currency, then each tier of familiar has a minimum dioki cost. The goal, then, becomes measurement. Precision. Just as copper buys wood, silver buys steel. If we had a reliable, standardized system to measure a summoner’s exact dioki output—and compare that to the cost threshold of various entities—we could optimize summon rituals with mathematical certainty.”

He paused for dramatic effect, then added, “Imagine if you knew exactly how much dioki summoned a fire sprite versus a void wraith. That changes everything. It’s not wild guessing. It’s summoning by design.”

His heart thumped wildly. This is total fuckery. May the gods bless the cult of nonsense.

Sphinx chuckled inside his mind. Bullshit. Absolute unfiltered bullshit. Yet even the beast sounded amused. You said fake it till you make it. You mad cunt, it’s actually working.

Pearl stood still for a moment. Then... she laughed. Loudly. Richly. Her voice bounced off the sigil-rimmed stone.

Ryan blinked.

Dan leaned closer and whispered, “That was one of her research hypotheses. She crafts four questions, all structured around her own secret theories. You just reverse-engineered her mind.”

Ryan’s jaw clenched. I’m either a genius... or a con man ascending to godhood.

“I like you,” Pearl said at last, composing herself. “Dan, post the scores. This one’s in.”

Dan nodded, unable to contain his own grin. “He belongs here. If his other answers are in the same vein, we’re looking at a potential dioki savant.”

Ryan dipped into a bow. “Th-thank you. Truly.”

Pearl turned as Dan exited the chamber. She approached Ryan with the slow, deliberate steps of someone who controlled everything in the room.

“I am Pearl, vice principal of Kuma Academy. And forest queen, though those days are behind me.”

“I’m Ryan,” he said again, still unsure if this was all real.

She extended her hand, and lightning danced softly between her fingers—blue and violet, laced with scent of burnt cedar and rose petals. Not painful, but wild. Pure raw Ena—no, dioki.

“Ryan,” she said, her voice low and intimate, “Would you like to become my personal disciple?”

Ryan blinked once. Twice.

Sphinx damn near howled in his mind. This cunt just scribbled his way into protection by an archmage.

And Ryan? He just smiled.