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The Summoner's Tale

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Frisk stood up, dusting their hands off on their lap while looking at the summoning circle beneath them.

It was a job well done in their opinion. Lines chalked with absolute precision, layered with not a single mistake.. Now, only to face the worse part of it all.. Actually attempting a summon.. One that would, oh so hopefully, succeed in actually bringing forth a monster of some sort..

And after 10 years, they really hoped something would come of this trial.. They gulped. They can do this. Simple words, nothing hard.. Their mouth opens as they mentally prepare for what may be yet another failure-- no.. No.. Concentrate on the summons.. Anything is fine..

The incantation flows freely from their mouth, word for word, streaming out as if engraved deep into their mind.. A flawless execution.. Just like every other day.. Only this time, there's a rush of magic...

It doesn't take long until there's a chorus of laughter throughout the classroom.

Ah, there was the familiar humiliation.. Only, it happens so often, it wasn't humiliating anymore.. Just routine.. However, the jeers were completely different than usual. "Look at it! The he-she summoned a flower! How pathetic and suiting!" "Ha! After 13 years and she can only summon a flower! Why was she allowed past the first stage?" Similar jeers were thrown around, but the insults and misgendering were nothing new to them.. But actually managing to summon something.. They look down to the flower.. To their surprise, the flower was actually smiling back up to them.. Maybe something was actually going good today.. They summoned a monster.. And a nice looking one at that!

They were wrong.

They were so SO wrong..

As soon as the flower heard the insults, it's smile drooped into a scowl. They could not possibly be summoned by someone so.. So.. But they weren't weak. He knew this. He tasted the magic radiating from the summons.. "You Fools! You want to see how weak I am, come in the circle, peasants!"

The flower then turned to face the human that summoned them, observing their entire posture.. The way they held theirself all the way to the way they looked..

Ripped up jeans, tattered rags for clothes.. A Commoner.. No... Not even a commoner.. A Peasant! He was summoned by a peasant!

Unacceptable. This was completely unacceptable! He'd felt the strong ether flowing through the entry bond, a strong fire blocking off the entrance.. It was the best of magic, his absolutely favorite to go after.. He could've used them! But they're, what?


They didn't know what sort of magic they had. They didn't know what sort of soul they had.. No one did. No one. But. Him!

Little seed like pellets form in a complete circle around the flower, his face twisting into the most gruesome it could, mouth leaking a thick, black liquid.. Eyes suddenly glowing a bright violent red.. Glowing in its obvious magic choice..

The gasps echoed throughout the room.

Red. Determination.

It was the strongest force throughout all the magic, other than all magic combined.. Rare.. Vibrant.. Full of hatred..

Within the next instant, the pellets were flying at a rapid pace towards Frisk.. Only to be repelled.. He couldn't hurt them while a contract was in order..

The flower scowls, especially scowling once a searing fire soars by, getting rid of enough of the summoning circle to get rid of Flowey, contract nullified.

The class turns, Frisk a bit horrified by everything that had happened in the last few minutes.. Still processing it all..

And there stood Toriel.. The goat monster that was contracted to the school headmaster.