Since the discovery of the magical texts in his adopted familyâs basement, März has been training to earnestly become a magus for the upcoming war. His adopted family was by no means high up on the social ladder of any of the other families nevertheless, he wanted to do them proud and help them. They hadnât won the last war, or the last, or the one previously.  He was assisted during the preparation, with drawing the circle and acquiring the gems necessary. His family provided a human skull as a catalyst, luckily they were able to steal it from another familyâs storage during the last war.  Due to not being physically strong enough, his father had set the eight ounce skull outside of the circle and promptly left afterward leaving the incantation to März.
Was he really going to do this? Frankly, he felt nervous, but feeling like that would do him no good in the end. März checks his watch, seeing that 2 am has rolled around. His Mana would be at his peak, according to the different books heâs read through on the war. Biting his lip, he approaches the circle and begins the summoning incantation.
âSilver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg,â The jewels he holds fall into the circle, dissipating into liquid form. The circle itself begins to alights. He speaks the incantation in his mother tongue, the words roll smoothly from his lips, â Schutz gegen einen heftigen Wind. SchlieĂ alle Tore, geh aus der Krone, zirkulier die Gabelung nach dem KĂśnig.â
His momentum continues to grow, âFĂźll, fĂźll, fĂźll, fĂźll, fĂźll. Repeat every five times, simply, shatter once filled.â His brows begin to furrow, sweat rolls down his forehead.
âAssassin, I announce!â
âYour self is under me, my fate is in your sword. In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer! Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead!â The light in the room was growing increasingly brighter, each word inscribed onto the floor glows fiercely until he has been blinded.
â Du bist der Himmel mit dreien Wortseelen. Komm, aus dem Kreis der UnterdrĂźckung, der Schutzgeist der Balkenwaage Assassin...!!!!!!â
When the light dies down, exhaustion catches up with him, and März finds himself fall backward onto his bottom. He takes deep breaths, but his eyes never leave the summoning circle.Â