Reincarnated as a Princess's Pet: With Trash Stats, but SSS-Rank Skill

The echo of their footsteps resonated softly through the long castle hallways.

Max walked alongside Don and Dorian, carrying a small bag with the items needed for the ritual. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation... though not exactly calm.

"The king is quite excited about the summoning ritual," Don commented, walking with his hands behind his back. He didn’t turn his head, but his tone was clear.

"...he’s been asking for days when you would return from your rescue mission in the demon realm."

Dorian let out a nasal chuckle.

"He’d better have a good reward for me."

He adjusted his staff over his shoulder.

"...getting those horns wasn’t exactly easy."

Don nodded slightly.

"I heard the story."

Pause.

"...though, considering your past, I’m not surprised you’re still alive and walking after that."

Dorian smirked.

"...’past,’ huh?"

Max, distracted, spoke without thinking.

"Like when you lost your soul in a bet with that southern shaman and came back to life..."

Silence.

Dorian stopped dead in his tracks.

"...that’s not a very well-known story."

He slowly turned his head.

"...where did you hear that?"

Max tensed.

"...uh..."

He scratched the back of his neck.

"I read it in a book. In the castle library."

Dorian raised an eyebrow.

"...a book?"

"...yeah... kind of hidden... it told strange stories, about a group of heroes..."

Dorian smiled, intrigued.

"I’d like to read it, to remember old times."

Max swallowed.

"...it’s gone."

"...what do you mean it’s gone?"

"...Moon had a cold..."

Pause.

"...she sneezed fire near it."

Another pause.

"...and burned it."

Dorian stared at him for a few seconds, then laughed.

"...what a shame."

He shrugged.

"...there are probably more copies."

Max shook his head quickly.

"No. It was the only one."

Don let out a quiet chuckle under his breath. He said nothing—but clearly didn’t believe him.

They kept walking.

Until they arrived.

The massive doors to the throne room were already open. Inside, the king paced back and forth, restless, holding a bottle of wine. No glass—drinking straight from it.

"...what the..." Max muttered.

Before he could react—

"—DEAR MAX!"

The king rushed toward him at full speed and hugged him tightly. Too tightly.

A bit of wine spilled onto his white shirt.

Max froze.

"...uh..."

The king pulled back with a huge smile.

"I’m glad to see you well, my boy!"

He patted his shoulder.

"...and that you all returned!"

He took another swig from the bottle.

"...thank you for getting what I asked for."

Dorian crossed his arms.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I’m the one who almost died for this."

He lifted his shirt.

"Look at this."

The scars on his torso were impossible to ignore.

"...you don’t get these for free."

The king squinted, looked... and blinked a couple of times.

"...I don’t see anything."

Don cleared his throat softly.

"...my king."

Pause.

"...everything is prepared. We can begin whenever you wish."

The king turned sharply and smiled even wider.

"Perfect!"

He raised the bottle and spilled a bit more wine onto the floor.

"Today’s the day!"

He walked over to a nearby rack, grabbed another bottle, and uncorked it forcefully.

POP—

The cork flew past Don’s head.

The butler didn’t even flinch.

Max did.

’...okay... this doesn’t look good...’

The king turned around, euphoric, pointing to the center of the hall.

"Dorian!"

He raised the bottle.

"Prepare the spell."

His eyes shone.

"The moment I’ve been waiting for has arrived."

Pause.

"The moment to summon my very own human pet."

***

Dorian didn’t respond immediately. He simply walked calmly to the center of the hall, as if all the chaos around him didn’t exist.

He set his bag down.

And began.

First, he took out a small vial. He uncorked it and, with almost obsessive precision, began drawing a perfect circle using a thick black ink. The substance seemed to absorb light instead of reflecting it.

The circle grew. Line after line.

Then a smaller one inside.

And others around it.

Concentric layers, each with symbols Dorian drew without even really looking, as if he knew them by heart.

Max watched in silence, arms crossed.

’...this already looks weird...’

Dorian finished the final stroke and stood up.

"Good."

He opened the bag and began taking things out.

A small container of dark blood. He poured it onto one of the marked points in the circle.

"—beast blood."

A lock of silver hair.

"—elf hair."

He dropped it into another point.

A handful of damp soil.

"—fertile earth."

Then, a tiny pouch with a glowing powder that almost seemed to emit its own light.

"—fairy dust."

Max blinked.

’...okay, this is definitely weird. First time seeing a ritual in person...’

Dorian continued. He took out a small red chili pepper, crushed it between his fingers, and let the seeds fall into the circle.

"—and something spicy, because apparently summoning rituals like strong flavor."

Max let out a quiet laugh.

"Is that an official part of the ritual or are you improvising?"

Dorian didn’t even look at him.

"Everything I’m doing is written."

Pause.

"I don’t ask questions."

Max shook his head, amused.

"Sure... sure..."

Then Dorian reached into the bag again.

And pulled out something completely out of place.

A cheese grater.

Old. Metal. Slightly bent on one corner.

Max stared at it.

"...no way, that’s—"

Dorian held it up, inspecting it.

"...yeah, definitely from the kitchen."

Max frowned.

"Isn’t that Bertha’s?"

Dorian smirked.

"I don’t know."

Pause.

"...but if it’s missing, it wasn’t me."

Max laughed.

"She’s going to be mad."

"She works in a castle," Dorian replied, shrugging. "And not just any castle."

He looked at the grater.

"She can ask for another one."

Then, without hesitation, he reached into the bag again... and pulled out one of the demon horns.

Black, twisted, heavy.

Max looked at it.

"...wait."

He frowned.

"Why don’t we use the whole horn?"

Dorian was already positioning it against the grater.

"I don’t know."

Pause.

"That’s how it’s written."

"But—"

"That’s. How. It’s. Written."

Max raised his hands.

"Alright, alright..."

Dorian began grating. The metallic sound echoed through the hall.

KRRR—KRRR—KRRR—

Small dark shavings fell into the circle, right into one of the inner rings.

The air seemed to grow heavier.

But nothing else happened.

Dorian kept going, unfazed. Until finally, he finished. He set the horn aside. Put down the grater.

Everyone stared at the circle.

Nothing happened.

A soft breeze passed through the hall from the open doors.

The king, bottle in hand, watched with an expectant... almost childlike smile.

Max tilted his head.

"...and?"

Silence.

"...shouldn’t something be happening?"

No one answered.

A few more seconds passed.

Max spoke again.

"...don’t you want to grate the other horn too? Maybe it needs both."

Dorian shook his head.

"No."

Pause.

"One is enough."

Max started tapping his foot, restless.

He looked at the circle. Then at Dorian. Then at the king.

’...how long are we going to stare at this...?’

Don tilted his head slightly toward him.

"Don’t get so anxious, young Max... you’ll end up growing calluses on your hooves."

Max looked at him, confused.

"I don’t have hooves."

"It’s a saying in my family."

A pause.

"It means you’ll age faster."

Max let out a laugh.

"Then in my case, it’d be gray hair."

Don nodded.

"That does seem to make more sense."

The king took a long drink. His smile grew a little more... loose. But his eyes remained fixed on the circle.

Waiting.

Dorian finally sighed.

"Fine."

He adjusted his cloak.

"It’s time to complete the ritual."

Max snapped his head toward him.

"What do you mean complete it?"

He frowned.

"Why didn’t you do that before? What were we waiting for?"

Dorian looked at him, barely raising an eyebrow.

"Rituals take time, boy."

He smiled.

"Be patient."

Max scoffed.

"Sounds more like you’re stalling."

The king raised a finger, swaying slightly.

"—Hey!"

He pointed at Max.

"To summon you... we had to wait three days."

Max blinked, surprised.

"...what?"

The king smiled proudly.

"Three full days."

He took another swig.

"This is fast in comparison."

Max stared at him, incredulous.

"I can’t believe you waited three days to bring me here..."

Dorian raised a hand.

"Silence. Everyone in the hall."

His voice changed. Firmer.

The entire hall fell still.

Dorian reached into his robe and pulled out a knife. The blade reflected the torchlight.

The king stepped forward without hesitation and extended his hand.

Dorian took one of his fingers and pricked it. A small drop of blood formed.

It fell.

Right into the center of the circle.

And then—

The ingredients disintegrated into the air, as if pulled by an invisible force. The black ink lit up instantly.

A violent glow ran through every line of the circle. Like an aurora trapped on the floor.

Max immediately raised his arm, shielding his eyes.

"—Shit!"

The light was blinding.

The ground trembled. The walls shook. The very air seemed to scream.

The king burst into laughter.

"HAHAHAHA!"

He raised the bottle.

"FINALLY!"

His eyes gleamed with madness.

"IT’S HERE!"

The light intensified.

More.

More.

Until, in the center of the circle, something began to take shape.

A human silhouette.

Female.

At first, blurry.

But becoming clearer... and clearer.