Yamino sank.
The world above faded into silence and shadows, the pressure of the river squeezing his chest tighter with every second. He could no longer move. No longer struggle. Cold wrapped around him like chains. His vision flickered. Darkness crept in.
So this is how I die?
But just as the last breath of life seemed to slip from his lips, something stirred in the abyss.
Light.
Soft at first. Then brighter.
Tiny spheres of blue light appeared from the depths, like living embers floating through water. They swirled around him gently, like spirits whispering through the current. His limp hands started to glow—soft, electric blue veins of light pulsing under his skin.
Then—
The mark appeared.
A symbol etched itself into the flesh of his right hand, not carved, but born of light itself. A throne. Elegant, ancient, crowned with spikes and wrapped in spiraling runes. It shimmered in bluish-green radiance, casting a glow across the dark water around him.
The lightballs began to converge.
They rushed toward his glowing hands, one by one, sinking into his skin like drops of starlight. Each orb sent a pulse through his body, awakening something inside—an immense force that flooded his veins and made his soul scream in recognition.
Power.
Not just raw strength—this was dominion.
Suddenly, from the deep riverbed beneath him, the water exploded.
A shockwave surged upward, launching Yamino from the river's embrace like a cannonball. The explosion sent sprays of rainbow-hued water bursting skyward.
BOOM!
His body flew through the air and crashed onto the muddy riverbank with a thud, coughing out water, mud splattered across his face.
He laid there gasping, heart pounding like a war drum.
The mark on his hand still glowed faintly, searing warm like an ember refusing to die out.
The Eidolon Pact System had truly awakened.
And "Solo King" had just begun to rise.
Yamino's eyes fluttered open.
But this wasn't the forest. Nor the riverbank. He stood—no, floated—on a glassy surface that rippled like water beneath his feet, yet held his weight like solid ground. Above him, a white sky stretched endlessly, painted with drifting golden clouds. The air shimmered, heavy with an otherworldly energy.
Before him stood a legion.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of armored soldiers stood in rows, blades sheathed, heads slightly bowed. Men and women of varying eras, their faces blurred by time. Some wore traditional kimonos, others chainmail or strange gear from unknown cultures. Interspersed among them were beasts—lions, snakes, wolves, even scaled creatures he couldn't recognize.
All staring at him.
Yamino's throat tightened. "Where... am I?"
The soldiers and beasts murmured among themselves in a low, cryptic language. The sounds echoed strangely across the pale world. Though he couldn't understand their words, the tone felt reverent—expectant.
Suddenly, a voice rang inside his head, soft as silk and heavy as a crown:
> "Pact with me. I will be loyal."
More voices followed. Then more. Layered upon each other, rising like a tidal wave.
> "Let me serve you."
> "Make the pact."
> "I have waited long…"
Their whispers clawed at his mind, overlapping until they became unbearable.
"Shut up!!" Yamino shouted, clutching his head.
And they did.
Silence fell like a curtain. All eyes still on him.
Panting, Yamino looked down at his hand. The glowing throne tattoo pulsed again, as if in response.
Then the system's voice returned, calm and echoing:
> "You are inside the Symbol of Solo—your Pact Domain."
> "These are the low-rank spirits of the dead—souls that perished in the river, wandering without anchor. They are too weak to form a full bond. But your arrival has awakened them."
The truth fell into place. The glowing hands, the mark, the power—the Solo King.
He stood at the center of his own throne realm.
"Then why are they all here?" he asked aloud.
> "To serve. They seek meaning. And you, Solo King, are the one they can belong to."
Yamino looked around again—warriors of forgotten wars, beasts of long-lost woods, even tiny, trembling spirits with glowing eyes.
A strange idea sparked in his mind.
"If you're all so eager," he said, narrowing his eyes, "then fight for it."
The spirits flinched.
"Whoever wins will make a pact with me."
For a moment, there was hesitation. Then, like a trigger had been pulled, the stillness shattered.
Roars. Screeches. War cries.
The court of the dead turned into a battleground—and Yamino stood in the center, watching the chaos unfold, the mark of the throne pulsing brighter with every clash.
The Pact of Kings… had begun.
The battlefield was silent.
Smoke-like mist curled across the water-like ground of the Pact Domain, where moments ago, chaos had reigned. Now, all the spirits—beasts and soldiers alike—lay sprawled and fading, their ghostly forms slowly dissolving.
Yamino stood in the center, panting softly, his fists clenched.
"…Did it fail?" he whispered.
None of them moved. None rose. His heart dropped. He had gambled everything on that idea. A test. A challenge to see who truly deserved to form the first pact. But now…
Just as he took a step forward, the air shimmered.
One by one, the spirits turned into glowing lights—blue, white, green, red—all drifting toward the center of the domain like fireflies pulled by gravity. Yamino stared as the lights spun, danced, and merged.
The wind howled in this silent world as the lights formed a figure.
First came the outline of a man, tall and lean.
Then the limbs—six muscular arms, each slowly forming around an ethereal weapon: a greatsword, a spear, a dagger, a whip, a bow, and a hammer.
Next came four beast-like legs with claws instead of feet. A single dark wing grew from his left shoulder, jagged and scaled like a dragon's.
His face formed last—part human, part beast. One golden eye, one glowing red. Horns curved from his temples, and a mane of black and silver hair flowed behind him like fire.
Finally, the creature—no, the being—knelt before Yamino.
> "My king," the beastman said, his deep voice like thunder wrapped in silk, "I have been forged from the unworthy. The pact was made through combat. Grant me a name and bind me, as promised."
Yamino's lips parted in awe. This… this was the result of his will. His power. All the spirits merged into one. He had created something new.
A smile crept across his face.
"…Then your name shall be Toms Zano. My first."
The beastman's body erupted in light, engulfing the domain in radiant energy. The throne tattoo on Yamino's hand flared, and a cascade of system notifications flooded his mind.
> [Pact Completed: Toms Zano has been named.]
> [Toms Zano has evolved from Lesser Beastman → Hyper Beastman.]
> [Skill Awakened: S-Rank — 'Beast'.]
> [Solo King Passive Triggered — Pact Reward Multiplied 1,000,000x.]
> [You have acquired Skill: Sovereign of Beasts (SSS Rank).]
Yamino gasped as power surged through his body. His muscles tightened. His senses expanded. In his mind's eye, he saw packs of beasts kneeling, obeying his call.
He looked at Toms Zano—his first knight, his first alley entity.