The Shamed Bastard Son Who Tamed a Forbidden Angel

The grand plaza of the Klein estate was packed with spectators, all eager to witness the annual Beast-Taming Awakening Ceremony. Eighteen-year-olds from various families lined up before the ancient stone altar, their faces bright with anticipation. Among them stood Harry Klein, his worn clothes and hollow eyes marking him as different from the rest.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Elder Margaret Klein's voice rang out across the plaza, silencing the murmuring crowd. Her silver hair was pulled back severely, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. "Before we begin, the Klein family has an announcement."

Harry's stomach tightened. He knew what was coming.

"Harry Klein," she continued, her lips curling into a cruel smile, "is no longer recognized as a member of this family. At eighteen, he is legally an adult. We have fulfilled our obligation to the runaway daughter's bastard son. From this moment forward, he has no claim to the Klein name or resources."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Harry's cousin John stepped forward, his perfectly tailored suit gleaming in the sunlight. His handsome face twisted into a sneer.

"Look at him," John said loudly, gesturing at Harry with exaggerated disgust. "Standing there like a beaten dog waiting for scraps. You really think someone with your gutter blood could awaken anything worth mentioning? You'll probably summon a cockroach—it'd suit you perfectly."

"That's generous," chimed in another cousin, Amanda. "I was thinking more along the lines of a sewer rat. At least it'd match where he belongs."

The crowd erupted in laughter. Harry stood motionless, his face blank. Years of servitude had taught him to swallow his rage, to let insults wash over him like rain. His jaw tightened imperceptibly—the only sign of the storm raging inside him.

"Enough chatter," Elder Margaret said dismissively. "Let's not waste time on trash. Next candidate, step forward."

But the ceremony master, an elderly man named Professor Walsh, cleared his throat. "According to federal law, all eighteen-year-olds present must participate, regardless of family status."

Elder Margaret's eyes flashed with irritation, but she waved her hand. "Fine. Let the bastard have his turn. It'll be amusing to watch him fail."

Harry climbed the altar steps, each footfall echoing in the sudden silence. The ancient runes carved into the stone began to glow as he reached the summit. He placed his hand on the summoning crystal at the center, feeling its warmth spread through his palm.

Light exploded outward.

The crowd gasped collectively as the brilliance intensified, forcing many to shield their eyes. When the glow finally receded, a figure stood beside Harry—a tall woman with flowing silver hair and six luminous wings spread majestically behind her. Her presence radiated power, and her eyes held the wisdom of ages.

"L-Legendary rank!" someone shouted.

"An angel! He summoned a Legendary angel!"

The plaza erupted into chaos. Voices overlapped in disbelief and shock. Harry stared at the celestial being beside him, his heart pounding. For the first time in his life, something had gone right.

Elder Margaret's face contorted with fury. Beside her, John's father—Victor Klein—clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. His face had gone purple with rage and jealousy.

"Impossible!" John snarled, stomping toward the altar. "That worthless piece of dirt can't have awakened Legendary! He's nobody! He's less than the mud on my boots!"

"The crystal doesn't lie," Professor Walsh said quietly, though his own hands trembled slightly. "The summoning is legitimate."

John's face twisted with humiliation and fury. "Then I'll show you what real power looks like! If that gutter rat can get Legendary, then I'll get Mythic! I'm a pure-blooded Klein—the bloodline runs true in my veins, not polluted like his!"

He practically threw himself at the summoning crystal, his hand slamming down on its surface. The runes flared again, though noticeably dimmer than before. When the light faded, a small figure materialized beside John.

It was a little girl, no more than four feet tall, with pale skin and enormous eyes. She wore a simple white dress, and most strikingly—she had no wings at all.

The silence was deafening.

"What... what is this?" John whispered, his voice cracking.

Professor Walsh leaned forward, squinting at the girl. He pulled out his identification lens, studying her carefully. His frown deepened. "I... I can't identify her rank. She's not registering on any scale I know."

"Below Common rank?" someone whispered.

"Complete trash!"

"Even worse than a normal summon!"

John's face went from pale to crimson in an instant. Humiliation burned through him like acid. This couldn't be happening. Not to him. Not in front of everyone.

The little girl looked up at him with her large, tear-filled eyes. "Master, I—"

"Shut up!" John's hand flew out before he could think, striking her hard across the face.