The battlefield was a nightmare of carnage and desperation. Where once lush fields had bloomed with colorful flowers, now only destruction remained—a canvas painted in shades of red, purple, and black. Ragnos Highvalor stood resolute, his battered form a testament to five days of unrelenting combat against a fallen god.
"Today just isn't my day," he mumbled, batting aside blow after blow. His holy avenger blazed with radiant energy, each swing unleashing holy fire that cut through the darkness surrounding him. The drow and demon army that Lloth had brought forth lay dead or dying, yet the battle was far from over.
Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, his strength nearly spent. His armor was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, blending ornate divine elegance with the wear of a battle-tested veteran. The chestplate, composed of interlocking plates of radiant steel, bore intricate engravings of celestial symbols and holy scriptures, glowing faintly with an ethereal light. Its pauldrons were wide and angular, carved with motifs of wings and flames, radiating both strength and grace. The armor's gauntlets and boots, reinforced and practical, were etched with subtle runes that shimmered faintly with each movement, hinting at powerful protective enchantments. Draped across his shoulders was a flowing, battle-tattered cape of deep crimson, trimmed with gold and bearing the sigil of Bahamut—a symbol of justice and protection.
Yet Ragnos remained standing, a beacon of defiance against the fallen deity. His companions had been channeling a ritual for days, their combined magic working to seal Lloth away. "Even if I fall," Ragnos thought to himself, "Lloth won't be able to reach them before her end." The holy defender and the fallen god were locked in a deadly stalemate, neither willing to concede.
Suddenly, a feminine voice rang in his mind. "I call to thee," it said, ethereal and commanding. "My servant that exists somewhere in this vast universe."
Ragnos wondered briefly if it was Avandra or the Raven Queen calling to him. The voice continued, "My divine, beautiful, wise servant." He couldn't help but scoff internally. Beautiful? He was a battle-worn paladin, hardly a vision of beauty.
"I wish from the very bottom of my heart to accept my guidance and appear."
His vision blurred. Warm, bizarre magic engulfed him—comforting yet alien. He heard Lloth's furious hiss as darkness consumed his consciousness.
When Ragnos awoke, nothing made sense. Gone was the blood-soaked battlefield. Instead, he found himself in a smoking crater, surrounded by young faces staring in shock and disbelief. A small wind spell cleared the dust, revealing his battle-worn form—heavy plate armor still glowing with residual magical energy, blood dripping from one corner of his mouth.
A crown of glowing gems floated above his head, adding to the mystique of his sudden appearance. The students around him whispered and gasped.
"The Zero summoned a knight of some kind?" one student shouted.
"And she practically injured it through summoning it!" another responded.
"That armor doesn't look Tristainian," a third observed.
But Ragnos paid them no mind. His first priority was understanding his situation. He reached into his pouch, retrieving a thick tome. With a practiced gesture and a whispered incantation, a translation orb appeared, allowing him to communicate.
"Perhaps you can understand me now?" he asked, noting the collective nod.
His gaze settled on a small pink-haired girl standing before him. Something about her magical essence caught his attention—raw, untamed, but powerful in a way these other students couldn't comprehend.
"Where am I?" Ragnos asked. "This isn't the field outside of Daggerfjord I was in before."
Puzzled looks greeted him. He noticed a small blue dragon nearby, which prompted an unexpected observation: "That is one small dragon."
Crouching down to the pink-haired girl's level, he asked, "Was it you that brought me here?"
When she nodded, he chuckled. The magical potential to summon a being of his standing was no small feat, especially from one so young.
"To have enough magic at your age to move a being of my standing is an impressive feat, little one," he said. "Perhaps I should introduce myself?"
With each word of his introduction—"High General Ragnos Highvalor of Daggerford, Highlord of the Order of the Astral Shield and Duke of the kingdom of Fjordsvain"—the students' eyes grew wider.
The girl, Louise Francoise de la Baume le Blanc de la Valliere, stood rigid with a mix of panic and excitement. When Ragnos asked who had saved his life, her panic subsided.
A bald professor explained something about a summoning ritual, which Ragnos found amusing. "So I was brought here to be her shield in combat?" he laughed.
But something more interesting had caught his attention—the girl's wasted potential.
"How would you like to learn my people's magic?" he offered, pulling off a gauntlet and placing a small symbol on a chain in her hand.
As exhaustion overtook him, Ragnos mumbled, "Now for some rest," before passing out.
The students stared in disbelief. The "Zero" had summoned not just a knight, but a powerful magical being who seemed more interested in her potential than their mockery.
Little did they know, Ragnos Highvalor's arrival would change everything.
The aftermath of Ragnos's summoning was anything but peaceful. As he stirred in the medical wing, the students of Tristain Academy buzzed with rumors and speculation. Who was this armored stranger? How had Louise, known as the "Zero" for her perpetual magical failures, managed to summon such an imposing figure?
When Ragnos fully awoke, he moved with a warrior's grace, dressing quickly and silently. His armor, though battered from his battle with Lloth, still gleamed with an otherworldly energy. He left the medical area, careful not to disturb Louise, who slept nearby.
As he explored the grounds, Ragnos's keen senses immediately detected the social dynamics of the academy. The whispers, the sidelong glances, the barely concealed mockery—all were familiar to him. He'd seen such treatment before, though usually directed at younger soldiers finding their footing.
His attention was quickly drawn to a blonde boy harassing a maid. Without hesitation, Ragnos intervened. His massive hand grasped the boy's wrist mid-strike, stopping him cold. "And what, pray tell, do you think gives you the right to lay hands on a woman, brat?" The crowd gasped as Guiche cried out in pain, finding himself unceremoniously tossed twenty feet into a wall.
The maid stammered her thanks, but Ragnos was already moving. A golden chain materialized, wrapping around Guiche's neck and yanking him back to his original location. "Now apologize," Ragnos commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. Guiche complied immediately, running off with tears in his eyes and the distinct smell of urine trailing behind him.
Professor Colbert watched the entire exchange with a mixture of shock and fascination. This was no ordinary familiar, that much was clear.
Ragnos approached the bald professor. "I believe we should discuss the circumstances of my arrival," he said matter-of-factly. "And more importantly, the potential of the young mage who summoned me."
Colbert adjusted his glasses. "Miss Valliere is... unique," he began carefully.
A knowing smile crossed Ragnos's battle-worn face. "Unique is often another word for extraordinary, waiting to be understood."
As word spread of the newcomer—a duke, a powerful warrior, a mysterious familiar—the academy buzzed with excitement. Louise's fellow students, who had moments before mocked her as the "Zero," now looked at her with a mixture of fear and newfound respect.
But Ragnos cared little for their opinions. His eyes were focused on Louise and the potential he saw within her. She had summoned him from the brink of death, across impossible distances. Such power, he knew, was not to be underestimated.
When Louise finally awoke, she found her world had changed forever. The symbol he had given her—a small token on a chain—seemed to pulse with an ancient, powerful magic. Ragnos had promised to teach her, to show her a path beyond the limitations others had placed upon her.
Her journey was about to begin.