Starting With an SSS-Rank Goddess Summon!

Harper flinched violently, her entire body snapping backward three paces as a jagged arc of purple lightning instinctively detonated from her knuckles with a sharp crackle.

"Who’s there?!" Harper demanded, her violet eyes darting rapidly across the empty corners of the reinforced office.

"Peace, young warrior," the voice resonated again.

It did not originate from the room, nor from the conduits in the ceiling.

It echoed directly inside Harper’s mind, sounding ancient, melodic, and deeply resonant as well carrying the dry whispering weight of shifting desert dunes.

Harper’s gaze snapped down to the golden Khopesh.

The swirling vortex inside the pommel’s sun-amber gem was spinning faster, pulsing in perfect synchronization with the voice.

"You’re... the blade," Harper said, lowering her hand slightly, though her guard remained firmly raised. "You possess an awakened sentience?"

"I am the memory, the will, and the judgment of the First Per-aa," the voice answered, rich with regal dignity. "For millennia, my form has languished in the dark, dormant vaults of my fractured lineage but when your spark of lightning touched my containment seal within the Sanhedrin, my soul stirred from its slumber. You do not carry the sacred bloodline of Khemet, Daughter of the Storm. Your mana flows from a lineage of thunder and iron... yet the resonance of your ambition and the purity of your spirit have chosen you. I have chosen you as my rightful successor."

Harper took a slow measured breath, crossing her arms over her chest, though the skepticism in her analytical eyes did not waver.

"And why would an ancient weapon choose me so readily?" Harper countered with her tone guarded. "The historical archives from the First Era warn that primordial relics carry severe soul-trials... You don’t simply hand over authority to the first Lord who buys you at an auction."

"Wise words from a sharp mind," the ancient presence chuckled softly, a low sound vibrating through the mahogany desk. "Power unearned is an illusion... To finalize the rite of succession and awaken the dormant tectonic authority sealed within my core, a blood pact of mutual resonance must be sealed. Cut the palm of your right hand. Allow your vital essence to touch the sun-amber pommel, and let the trial of the First Per-aa begin."

Harper’s eyes narrowed into slits.

"And if I refuse? If I keep you locked under containment until my research team completes a full runic diagnostic?"

The weapon hummed, the voice softening with a curious contemplative edge.

"You could do so. But tell me, Daughter of the Storm... what has become of the world in my long slumber? What realm does your spirit inhabit?"

Harper hesitated for a brief moment, but feeling no hostility from the blade, she spoke.

She described the modern era of Earth... the development of advanced dimensional suppression arrays, the sprawling industrial metropolises, the rise of the Lord Association, the intricate governance of the World Council, and the endless perilous expeditions into the Sovereign Realm to battle the monstrous incursions that threatened humanity’s survival.

The ancient presence listened in silence as the sand inside the amber gem shifted slowly.

"A world of towering steel and complex cages," the voice remarked, carrying a nostalgic sorrow. "Yet the fundamental law remains unchanged. Strength is the only shield between civilization and extinction. You carry the burden of leadership, young one. You carry the weight of an entire territory on your shoulders. The trials ahead will break ordinary steel. Do you not seek the strength to stand above the calamity? Do you not have those you wish to protect with unyielding might?"

As the words echoed in Harper’s consciousness, the sharp authoritative image of her corporate duties suddenly blurred, replaced instantly by the clear vivid image of Silas as well as her sister.

She saw him standing tall against the night breeze, his blue eyes ringed with gold, his gentle smile warming his features as he accepted her playful antics.

’Ah...’

She remembered how his presence made the crushing burdens of her family’s schemes feel light, how safe she felt beside him, and the fierce protective fire that had burned in her chest when she thought of anyone threatening him.

’Sis too... I can’t let anything happen to that cute girl.’

She wanted to stand beside Silas as an equal.

She wanted to be strong enough that no calamity, no high-tier beast, and no ancient house could ever threaten the future they were building.

The lingering hesitation in Harper’s chest dissolved into a sharp resolve.

"Alright," Harper whispered.

She stepped up to the desk.

Channeling a microscopic blade of ionized lightning to the tip of her index finger, she made a swift shallow cut across the palm of her right hand.

A single drop of crimson blood, crackling with faint purple sparks, welled on her skin.

Harper leaned forward and pressed her open palm flat against the glowing Sun-Amber pommel.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The entire executive office vanished in a blinding instantaneous flash of solar-gold radiance.

"Haah!"

Harper gasped as the physical sensation of the floor beneath her boots disappeared entirely.

In a microsecond of spatial distortion, the modern glass walls, the leather furniture, and the city skyline were stripped away.

She found herself standing beneath a colossal, burning sky filled with three blazing suns.

Endless dunes of pure golden sand stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see, rolling and shifting beneath a hot, dry wind that carried the heavy scent of crushed stone and ancient mana.

SHUUUUUUUU.

Suddenly, the sand thirty paces before her began to swirl into a violent, spiraling vortex.

The golden grains rose higher and higher into the air, compressing and weaving together with divine fluid grace until the vortex smoothly dissolved, leaving a breathtaking figure standing upon the crest of the dune.

It was a woman of divine majesty.

Her skin was a flawless warm bronze that seemed to radiate the heat of the desert sun.

She possessed sharp striking golden eyes that carried the terrifying, ancient wisdom of a conqueror.

Draped in flowing white linen secured by intricate bands of solid gold and lapis lazuli, an ornate headdress depicting a rearing golden cobra crowned her long, raven-black hair.

In her right hand, she casually held the massive six-foot golden Khopesh with the hawk-beaked blade resting against the sand without sinking an inch.

The woman took a slow regal step forward, her golden eyes locking onto Harper with an intense, piercing pressure that made Harper’s Lord core thrum.

"I am Nitocris-Hathor, the First Per-aa of the Khemet Dominion," the woman spoke, her voice ringing across the endless desert with primordial authority. "I am the hand that built the great pyramids upon the bedrock of the first rifts... I am the blade that reaped one million nightmares from the Sovereign Realm to carve out an empire for mankind..."

Nitocris stepped closer, stopping only an arm’s length away, her gaze sweeping over Harper’s violet hair, her modern attire, and the fierce unbroken fire burning in her violet eyes.

A slow approving smile curved the First Per-aa’s lips.

"You have the eyes of a true warlord, Daughter of the Storm," Nitocris said softly. "You carry raw power, but it is unrefined. As my successor... I shall temper your lightning with the eternal weight of the tectonic sands. I shall make you vastly stronger than you have ever dreamed."

The ancient empress tilted her head, her golden eyes glowing with a sudden fierce luminescence as she raised her left hand.

SHING!

In the air between them, shimmering projections of golden sand began to coalesce, forming vivid moving illusions.

Harper’s breath hitched as she saw Silas... laughing as he caught Lia in the living room, standing calmly with his hands in his pockets, smiling down at Harper under the streetlights of Silverleaf, his lips parting in their breathless kiss.

Nitocris’s golden eyes burned with an intoxicating intensity.

"You hold a great sovereign within your heart," the First Per-aa whispered, her voice wrapping around Harper’s soul like a warm comforting desert breeze. "You wish to be his shield. You wish to be the unyielding storm that crushes his enemies beneath the earth. To claim this legacy... to master the judgment of the desert kings... you have only to open your core completely. You just have to put all your trust in me... in Nitocris."

Harper looked at the ancient empress, looked at the glowing Khopesh, and felt the immense terrifying power of the desert calling to the lightning in her blood.

A determined fearless smile spread across Harper’s lips.

"Show me what you’ve got, Your Majesty," Harper replied.

...

Later that afternoon, the quiet tree-lined avenue of the Silverleaf District was bathed in the warm, mellow rays of the descending sun.

The pristine Zenith IVR Supercar turned smoothly off the main boulevard, its enchanted mana engine emitting a soft vibrationless hum as it glided along the polished stone driveway of the Graves residence.

’I finished paying all of my debts...’ Martha thought as she looked forward, she was grateful.

Lord Silas was truly doing a lot for her, now all she had to do was to pay her personal debts to him by being the best maid he could have.

The automated perimeter security gates slid open with a whisper of metal, allowing the luxury vehicle to pull up directly in front of the villa’s grand front porch before smoothly coming to a complete halt.

The driver’s door opened, and Martha stepped out in her crisp black-and-white uniform, smoothing down her apron as she walked around to open the rear passenger door.

Lia stepped out onto the driveway, her heavy academy satchel slung over one shoulder and her uniform blazer slightly rumpled after a full day of foundational theory lectures and practicals.

She stood beside the vehicle, looking up at the quiet curtained front windows of the house as a sudden familiar hesitation flickered in her brown eyes.

"Martha..." Lia murmured, turning her head slightly toward the middle-aged maid. "Do you... do you think Big Brother actually stayed home all day? Or do you think he got called away to his territory?"

Martha offered a gentle reassuring smile, placing a warm hand lightly on Lia’s shoulder.

"Master Silas is a Lord with immense territorial responsibilities, Lady Lia," Martha answered softly, her tone carrying the patient wisdom of a devoted caretaker. "Even if matters in the Sovereign Realm required his immediate attention, you must know that his devotion to your well-being never wavers but your brother is also a man of his word."

Lia gave a small quiet nod.

She understood the weight of Silas’s position... she knew how dangerous and unforgiving the Sovereign Realm was, and how much effort was required to build a safe domain from nothing.

But deep down, in the hidden, vulnerable corners of her heart, she just wanted her big brother to be there when she came home.

Taking a breath, Lia walked up the three stone steps to the front porch, grasped the polished brass handle, and pushed the heavy oak front door open.

CREAK!

The moment the door swung inward, a rich and wonderfully savory aroma washed over the foyer.

It was the warm comforting scent of slow-simmered garlic, sweet roasted root vegetables, aromatic herbs, and rich golden poultry broth sizzling over a low flame.

Lia’s eyes widened.

Her nose twitched as she took in the delicious scent, and without even kicking off her academy shoes, she dashed down the entrance hallway with her shoes skidding across the polished hardwood as she rounded the corner into the large open kitchen.

Standing by the central marble island, wearing a simple navy-blue kitchen apron tied over his dark shirt and trousers, was Silas.

He was holding a large wooden ladle in one hand, carefully tasting a spoonful of rich, golden broth from a massive enameled pot simmering on the induction range.

Beside him on the island rested a large porcelain platter piled high with golden-brown roasted garlic-herb chicken thighs, crispy roasted baby potatoes tossed in rosemary and sea salt, and a vibrant medley of caramelized honey-glazed carrots and tender buttered green beans.

Silas turned his head at the sound of frantic footsteps, a warm relaxed grin breaking across his rugged face.

"Hey," Silas greeted her, wiping a stray drop of sauce from the counter with a clean cloth. "Perfect timing. Food’s almost ready... the garlic-herb chicken is just finishing resting, and the vegetable potage is at the exact right consistency."

Lia didn’t say a single word.

’U–uh...’

A radiant wave of pure happiness exploded across her face.

THUD!

She dropped her heavy academy satchel straight onto the floor with a loud sound, crossed the kitchen in three rapid strides, threw her arms around Silas’s waist, and buried her face into his apron, hugging him with everything she had.

Silas laughed warmly as he set the wooden ladle down and wrapped his large, muscular arm around her shoulders, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

"What’s this?" Silas teased gently, ruffling her messy brown hair. "Did the academy professors work you so hard that you lost the ability to speak?"

"You stayed," Lia mumbled into his apron, her voice thick and slightly muffled. "You actually stayed the whole day."

"Of course I stayed," Silas said softly, looking down at her with gentle warmth. "I made a promise to my little sister, didn’t I? A Lord who can’t keep a promise to his family isn’t fit to command a single foot of territory."

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