A worn-out summoning chamber. A corner dedicated to the C-Class that, under normal circumstances, no one would ever spare a glance for.

The magic circle engraved on the floor is frayed, bearing the marks of countless failed attempts. It is an incomplete formula with a dismal success rate.

Even so—they did not give up.

Faint magic power circulates awkwardly within the circle. Uneven chanting. Ragged breathing. A light that looks as if it might flicker out at any moment. Normally, this is where it would have ended.

But in that instant, the center of the magic circle sank slightly "deeper."

As if touching the other side of the world. The pale light intensified for a split second. Then—it swelled explosively.

The air trembles. The ancient protective enchantments carved into the walls of the summoning chamber begin to creak in unison.

It's impossible. There's no way the magic power of the C-Class could produce such a reaction. The light is no longer white; it transforms into a clear, "alien radiance."

Was it a coincidence of overlapping factors? Did a distortion in the formula create a miracle? Or—was it guided this way from the very beginning? No one knows the reason.

Only one thing is certain: To say they "hit the jackpot" wouldn't even come close. The light converges.

Standing there is— A silent, overwhelming presence.

The aura it emits is far from violent, yet everyone in the room understands by instinct. This is not a scale they are capable of handling.

Nevertheless. The entity slowly lowers its gaze. Outside the circle, the C-Class students stand with bated breath.

In that moment—

The atmosphere shifted.

The status of those who had been looked down upon begins to rattle and shake with this single summoning.

The class called the absolute bottom has pulled off an impossible miracle. It is more than enough to become a rumor, yet still too quiet to be called a riot.

But surely— With this day as the turning point, the balance of the academy begins to crumble.