A Dual Crest Summoner In Infinite Summoning World

Every day he activated his right crest and gathered these mysterious dust particles. After two weeks, he had barely gathered less than 100 grams of it—he summoned barely 10 grams each day, and that was with multiple activations. It was pitch black in color; he couldn't even tell that before, when there were so few. But now it was clear. 

They were really tiny, round particles—together it looked like powder, its size barely big enough to match three or four hairs held together. It was barely a twentieth of a centimeter in size by ratio.

He tasted it, but there was no taste. It was like eating sand. It didn't burn or melt, no matter how hot the temperature was. It did not dissolve in water either. He had never seen anything like it. It had to be some metal. The weight wasn't much, but it was there—heavier than dirt and sand at least. A metal as a summon would indeed be quite valuable.

The left hand's crest that summoned a rock turned out to be even weirder than this one. For some reason, the obsidian-like rock—despite being an object summon—did not act like one. He could only summon one, and he could even unsummon it—that was not possible for objects. If it was already summoned, the crest did not work—that only happened for animals or spirits. Object summoners could summon their thing as many times as their bodies allowed. It was different for each person, depending on the material and size of the thing.

Auren checked on the people around him. He was at the back side of the house, only his grandma walking in the front yard could be seen. Sable was busy cooking. Dante couldn't see him. He walked to a place where he had buried the obsidian stone in the backyard, taking it out and once again trying to figure out what exactly the damned thing was.

In his right hand, the 100 grams of black particles were placed in a piece of cloth. And the left one held the obsidian rock. The rock's surface was so smooth even the dirt did not remain on it. No matter how long he buried it—there was never any dirt on it once he shook it off.

Auren looked from one side to another—confused and a little annoyed. Two things, and not one, made any sense. 

Neither took the energy inside him to do something. He knew such a thing was not possible. Objects summoned were just normal objects—nothing special or magical about them. The obsidian rock was so hard he couldn't even break it with the strength he had.

Auren changed the grip on the black stone; it was uncomfortable to hold in his small hands. Suddenly, holding the two things at once, he noticed the black powder containing the tiny black particles move a little. That was odd. He was near the fence, and the wind wasn't that fast either—the particles were heavy and not affected much by the wind before.

Auren changed the grip on the obsidian stone again, and there was indeed a slight movement in the black powder—the top moved to the left a little. His eyes widened. Was he hallucinating? What the hell was happening?

He put the cloth containing the small amount of black powder down on the ground and held the obsidian stone with both his hands, trying to squish it, turn it up and down, running his small hands all around it. There was movement. It was real.

He spent the whole evening doing this and understood that the obsidian thing was some kind of remote. Touching it with different patterns and different pressure made the black particles move in particular orders. Pressure on the left pulled all particles left, a few fingers of pressure on the right pulled it right. A swipe on top, a touch at bottom—there were many gestures that resulted in all unique actions. 

That was not all. When he held the stone tightly and thought about a particular shape, the powder took that shape. He successfully changed it into a long strand from a small pile. It was a small piece of black thread now, he could even make it hard or flexible as he imagined. The change was fixed. Even after he put the stone away, the thread remained in the same position. He completely ignored the small amount of energy it was taking for changing shapes and controlled movement.

He felt like he could even lift it off the ground, but when he tried it, the smoke-like white energy inside his body was suddenly sucked dry by his left crest and he felt the hand go numb. As if the blood circulation in his left hand from the shoulder was completely cut off. A second later, the sensation returned—but brought a mind-numbing pain with it.

It was technically a cramp—but worse times five.

It took a lot of mental strength not to scream and gather his new family beside him. He stopped messing around with his summons and unsummoned the obsidian stone. Taking the black thread with him, he ran back in his house and sprawled on his back on the stone floor.

With time the hand became less painful, and slowly it was returning to normal. Guess he could not lift the black particles off the land—that was a stupid thing to do anyway. Still, Auren smiled widely. 

It was complicated and weird—but that he could deal with. Just knowing they weren't completely useless filled him with a happiness he had no idea he could even feel anymore. Sable noticed his unusual giddiness quickly and came inside the house to check up on him.

"What are you doing, Auren?" She asked.

His face made comical expressions before he could assert any control over it. He let out a tiny gasp, eyes darting—busted.

"What is that?" She asked, removing her makeshift sandals and walking near him, taking the black thread from his hands.

She looked at it from all around, trying to figure out what it was. In the end, she gave up—it did not feel like thread and was quite heavier.

"Can I have it? I found it outside.." Auren made an excuse.

Sable looked at his innocent, chubby face and narrowed her eyes. But a second later, she smiled. Then she sat beside him and wrapped the black thread around his tiny wrist, tying it with a knot. Then said with warmth,

"You were born of stardust and lullabies. Don't forget that. You can have it all."