All My Summons Become Divine Girls

Hajin followed the group of applicants out of the main hall and into a long, dimly lit hallway that seemed to stretch much further than the building’s exterior suggested.

The walls were made of heavy, reinforced stone and the ceiling was high enough to let the sound of fourteen pairs of boots dissipate before it could even echo. He looked at the various doors they passed, each one reinforced with iron bands and etched with faint magical runes that hummed with a low, steady frequency.

’This place is way bigger than it looks from the street,’ he thought, looking at the way the hallway seemed to descend into the ground. ’They must have expanded it with space-warping magic or something. It’s like a fortress under the city.’

Allen walked at the front of the line, his hands still resting loosely behind his back as he led them deeper into the facility. He didn’t look back as he started to speak, his voice carrying clearly down the length of the hall.

"Most people think being a Ranker is just about getting a shiny badge and a bigger paycheck," he said, his tone conversational but firm.

"They see the status and think they’ve made it. They stop training, stop taking risks, and spend the rest of their lives coasting on a reputation they earned years ago."

He stopped in front of a pair of massive iron doors at the end of the hallway and turned around to face them.

"The guild doesn’t need more celebrities," he continued, his eyes narrowing as he looked over the group. "We need assets, people who understand that the title of Ranker isn’t a reward, it’s a responsibility. If you’re not out there clearing gates and pushing back the anomalies, you’re just taking up space."

He gestured toward the doors behind him.

"That’s why we’ve changed the exam this year," he said, his voice dropping into a colder register. "We’ve made it significantly harder. In the past, we let too many people through who turned into lazy bums the second they got their permits. Today, we’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen again."

Hajin watched the Guildmaster, noting the way the other applicants were shifting nervously. Beside him, Juna’s tail was twitching in a slow, steady rhythm, her ears tilted forward as she focused on the heavy mana coming from behind the doors.

"If you’re here for the prestige, you should probably leave now," he added, his hand reaching for the lever on the wall. "Because once these doors open, the only way out is to finish what we’ve started."

He pulled the lever down and the iron doors began to grind open with a heavy, metallic groan.

The room behind them was a massive, circular arena made of black obsidian that seemed to absorb the light from the torches on the walls. In the center of the space, sitting on a raised stone pedestal, was a single object that looked like a jagged mountain of crystal.

It was deep violet, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic light that felt like a heartbeat, and the sheer volume of mana radiating from it was heavy enough to make the air feel thick and cold.

It was a monster core, but it wasn’t like any core Hajin had ever seen. This one was nearly as tall as a man, its surface covered in intricate, swirling patterns.

"This," Allen said, walking into the room and gesturing toward the pedestal, "is a ten-shard core from an Ancient Azure Dragon. It was harvested nearly fifty years ago by one of the top five Rankers in the world after a three-day battle that leveled an entire mountain range."

A collective gasp went up from the applicants, and even Gorren looked like he was struggling to keep his jaw from dropping.

A ten-shard core was a legend, something most people only read about in history books or saw from a distance in the royal treasury.

"A core of this level is functionally indestructible to anyone below a seven-shard rating," Allen continued, stopping a few feet away from the pedestal. "The mana density inside it creates a natural barrier that repels almost any physical or magical force. It’s the ultimate test of raw output and focus."

He turned back to face them, his expression completely blank.

"The test is simple. I don’t care how you do it. Use your weapons, use your spells, use your bare hands if you’re feeling suicidal. If anyone in this room can leave even a single scratch on the surface of this core, they pass the Ranker exam automatically."

The room went dead silent.

’Just scratch it?’ Hajin thought, looking at the violet crystal. It looked less like a monster part and more like a solid wall of diamond.

He could feel the pressure coming off it from across the room, a cold, oppressive weight that seemed to push back against his own mana.

"That’s impossible," Elise whispered, her face going pale as she stared at the core. "A ten-shard barrier... there’s no way a rookie can break through that."

"I didn’t say break it," Allen corrected her, his eyes drifting toward Hajin for a split second before looking away. "I said scratch it. Now, who wants to go first?"

"This is bullshit!"

Gorren stepped forward, pointing a trembling finger at the core. His face was flushed with a mixture of anger and disbelief, his jaw working as he tried to find the words to express how cheated he felt.

"You’re asking us to leave a mark on a dragon’s heart?" he yelled, his voice echoing through the arena. "A ten-shard core is basically a divine object. You said it yourself, it’s indestructible to anyone below seven shards."

"We’re applicants! Most of us are barely at three or four shards! You’re not testing us, you’re just mocking us for not being born legends!"

He turned to the other applicants, looking for support. "A hundred gold! I paid a hundred gold to get in here, and now you’re telling me the only way to pass is to do something that literally defies the laws of mana?"

Allen didn’t move, just stood there with his hands behind his back while he watched Gorren’s tantrum without any signs of care.

Hajin watched the scene, then looked back at the pulsing crystal.

’I get it,’ he thought, his expression flat. ’The kingdom is crawling with Rankers who spend more time at noble galas and guild parties than they do inside actual gates. They want the title for the influence, contracts, and the easy life. This isn’t an exam to find the next generation of average fighters.’

He shifted his gaze to the other applicants, most of whom were looking at the core with the same hopelessness as Gorren.

’It’s a filter,’ he continued. ’They don’t want fourteen new Rankers. They want one, one person with enough raw potential or a unique enough ability to ignore the gap in shards. A hidden gem that can actually make a difference when things like that seven-shard gate start showing up.’

But even with that logic in mind, he still felt a small, nagging doubt in the back of his head.

’Even so, this is a bit extreme,’ he thought, his hand subconsciously moving toward the handle of his sword. ’Trying to scratch a ten-shard core with a rookie’s output is like trying to cut a mountain with a spoon. You’d need a perfect strike, perfect timing, and a ridiculous amount of luck.’

"If you’re finished yelling," Allen said, his voice cutting through the mercenary’s rant, "the pedestal is waiting. Or you can take your hundred gold and walk back out the way you came. I’m not forcing anyone to stay."

Gorren’s mouth snapped shut. He looked at the exit, then at the core, his hands clenching into fists until his gloves creaked under the strain.

"Fine," he spat, reaching for the massive two-handed axe strapped to his back. "I’ll show you."