SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

The sun had just passed its peak, but the temperature in the testing arena was rising—not from the heat, but from the gathering tension.

The Year Five students—the most senior, most elite, and most refined of each of the four great institutions—were now standing in formation at the base of the arena, awaiting their turn.

Their uniforms were pristine, etched with glowing threads of their respective schools’ insignias.

Each carried the weight of hundreds of hours of combat, spellcasting, and cultivation on their backs. They were not students. They were weapons waiting to be unsheathed.

From Crowgarth, the air was thick with smug arrogance. Their leading student, Vekar Dorn, a sharp-jawed boy with storm tattoos coiled around his neck and arms, glared toward the Thornevale contingent.

He wasn’t over his junior’s humiliating defeat in the impromptu duel earlier.

As the announcement for the Year Five testing echoed, Vekar took a deliberate step toward Kaelis Varn, Thornevale’s top Year Five—a lean, long-haired youth with twin blades strapped to his back and an unshaken look of boredom on his face.

“You better hope your luck doesn’t run out, Varn,” Vekar muttered, voice low enough for only a few to hear. “Unlike my junior, I don’t play fair.”

Kaelis didn’t even glance his way. “I didn’t know thunderclouds whined now.”

That drew a few snorts from the Wyrmere team standing nearby.

Within seconds, Vekar’s hand twitched toward the short spear strapped to his back.

But before he could draw it, the sharp clang of a bell rang out from the elevated stage where the testing overseer, a tall man in gold-edged crimson robes, stood with his arms crossed.

“No duels. No exceptions,” he announced firmly, casting a warning glance at Dean Dethrein, who looked particularly unbothered. “This phase is for structured evaluations. You’ll have time to swing at each other later—when it’s authorized.”

Vekar clicked his tongue and backed off, giving Kaelis a death glare before turning toward the front of the line.

Miss Leana, standing among the guardians on the second row of the pavilion, leaned down toward her students—Damon, Anaya, Daveon, and Celeste.

“Watch closely,” she said quietly. “Especially the one in the third row. ElderGlow. Left side.”

Damon followed her gaze.

There he was—a plain, forgettable boy in a grey-blue robe. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, and his brown hair was slightly too long for academy standards. He didn’t wear any visible weapons. No visible aura. He looked… average. Less than average.

“That’s just someone’s scribe,” Daveon muttered.

“No,” Leana said. “That’s Elias Verdan.”

Anaya narrowed her eyes. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“That’s the point,” Leana whispered. “He stays out of every spotlight. But he’s ElderGlow’s highest scorer in internal assessments. Never top one. Never bottom five. He passes everything—but never stands out.”

Damon smirked. “I wanna be like that.”

Daveon chuckled. “Too late. You already shine too bright. I’ll live like that for you instead.”

The instructor called out again, and the crowd hushed.

“Begin Phase One: Essence Control.”

The field shifted once more as rows of elemental spheres rose from the ground, each hovering above complex magic circles.

Each student would face a randomly selected element and demonstrate their ability to manipulate it with precision and stability, rather than raw force.

One by one, the Year Fives stepped forward.

Kaelis Varn from Thornevale was assigned lightning—he danced through the test, controlling arcs of voltage between four crystal pillars with masterful control, never overcharging a single node.

Vekar was given wind—and while his control was violent and aggressive, it passed. Barely.

Others performed adequately, but none stole the spotlight.

Then Elias stepped up.

The circle beneath him glowed as water was summoned. A massive floating orb of liquid hovered before him. He didn’t use gestures. He didn’t chant. He just breathed.

The orb began to rotate slowly. Then faster. Then it separated into spirals, weaving through hoops and threading themselves into different shapes—each perfectly symmetrical.

Even the judges leaned in slightly.

Elias stepped away without fanfare.

“Phase One: Complete.”

“Phase Two: Reflex and Perception,” the instructor called.

This was an evolving maze—runes shifting, walls warping, floors disappearing. At random moments, magical pulses would simulate ambushes or explosions. Only those with exceptional reflexes and instincts would exit cleanly.

Kaelis went first. His twin blades allowed him to deflect several flying shards mid-run, and he used wind boosts to vault sections of the labyrinth.

Vekar bulldozed through the maze, shattering illusions with brute force. Inefficient—but effective.

Elias, when it was his turn, strolled in.

The maze shifted, tried to trip him, tried to trick him.

He never flinched. Never rushed. Never hesitated.

He walked through the entire course like he’d studied it days before.

He didn’t score top marks—but he wasn’t far behind Kaelis.

“Phase Three: Essence Output,” the overseer shouted.

A large obsidian essence obelisk rose from the earth. Students had to channel their raw mana into it, and the obelisk would project its power level onto a floating rune scale.

This one was always dramatic.

Vekar stepped up first and blasted the pillar with crimson lightning. The rune scale flared—High Tier.

Kaelis followed—his dual-aura output was a blend of wind and flame. His ranking: High-Mid Tier.

Others scored variably.

When Elias stepped forward, he didn’t release a flare. No glow. No roar. Just a faint humming sound. His score: Mid-High Tier.

Most would dismiss it.

But Miss Leana’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s masking it,” she muttered.

“Phase Four: Combat Simulation.”

Finally.

The one students loved. Each participant entered a personal illusion field—designed to simulate a warzone filled with enemies, obstacles, hostages, and decisions.

Damon, Anaya, and the rest leaned forward.

Kaelis fought with fluid, clean movements—every illusionary foe dispatched, every tactic clean. He didn’t just kill enemies—he saved civilians in the simulation, defended allies, and disabled traps. His score: Excellent.

Vekar, in contrast, flattened the entire field. Friend, foe, environment—everything was destroyed. He passed, but with a side note: “Reckless.”

Elias?

Still no flashy moves. He used minimal spells, took careful routes, even used parts of the environment to trap foes instead of attacking head-on.

He completed the simulation in under half the time of most others—and without spending more than half his essence.

The panel of judges murmured among themselves.

“Phase Complete. Year Five Evaluation: Concluded.”

The students were dismissed back to their teams.

The results hovered in runic projections overhead.

Kaelis Varn—Top Three.

Vekar—Top Ten, barely.

Elias Verdan—Ranked Fifth. Consistently across all tests.

Damon sat back, arms crossed, lips curling.

“So that’s what a ghost with teeth looks like.”

Miss Leana nodded. “Let’s hope he stays quiet when it’s your turn to shine.”

As the Year Fives walked off the field, whispers were already starting to spread.

Some students feared Vekar’s retaliation later. Others spoke about Kaelis’ grace and power. But those who truly watched knew…

Elias Verdan wasn’t just a shadow in ElderGlow’s ranks.

He was the kind of shadow that waited—until the time to strike came.

And no one would see it coming.

The announcement echoed across the arena like a thunderclap:

“The evaluations are concluded. Due to the earlier interruption, the start of the tournament’s main event will be moved from noon to sundown. Year Ones will begin first.”

A collective exhale rippled through the colosseum.

The tension didn’t disappear, but it stretched—thinner, quieter, like a drawn bow waiting to be released.

Teams began to disperse from the testing grounds. Some left in tight, silent groups, their gazes locked forward with focused fury. Others swaggered away with laughs and boasts, trying to ease the building nerves.

Damon’s team?

They moved as one—but not to a training ground.

“Food,” Damon said, stretching his arms behind his head. “We’re eating first. I can’t fight or even think on an empty stomach.”

Daveon smirked. “You just watched Year Five students nearly explode. That didn’t kill your appetite?”

Damon shrugged. “If it didn’t kill me, it didn’t kill my hunger.”

Celeste rolled her eyes, but followed.

Anaya nodded and took Damon’s arm without comment.

Together, the four of them headed for the academy’s Grand Cafeteria—a massive building lined with dozens of cooking stations, enchanted trays, and warm, floating scent-runes that carried the aroma of grilled meats and freshly brewed energizing tea.

The place buzzed with students. Not everyone was resting or training. Some, like Damon, knew the value of a full belly before a storm.

They picked a corner booth near the edge of the courtyard section, slightly elevated. From there, they could see the sprawl of gathered students and hear snippets of conversations from other teams.

Plates clattered onto their table.

Damon had stacked two trays high, filled with meats, eggs, thick broth, and a pile of sweetbread.

“I’ve never seen someone eat this much before battle,” Celeste muttered, sipping her tea.

“That’s because most people think too much,” Damon replied between bites. “I think after I eat.”

Anaya giggled. “And fight before you think.”

Even tho it wasn’t true, they laughed lightly together before the conversation turned more serious.

Daveon leaned in, lowering his voice slightly. “So. Let’s talk opponents. Who impressed you most during the Year Five evaluations?”

“Kaelis Varn,” Celeste answered immediately. “Thornevale. Twin blades, wind and flame affinity. Controlled, lethal, disciplined.”

Anaya nodded. “Agreed. That illusion trap he used in the simulation phase was subtle. No flair, but if you walked into it, you’d lose before even knowing.”

Damon grunted, then stabbed a piece of roasted beast meat. “Elias Verdan.”

Daveon arched a brow. “The quiet one from our school?”

Damon nodded. “He never once tried to stand out. But somehow, he kept coming in just behind the top scorers in every test. Not once did he slip. That kind of consistency takes terrifying control.”

“He was holding back,” Anaya added. “Miss Leana was watching him like a hawk.”

“He’s not flashy,” Damon said. “But I bet if he went serious, he’d rank above everyone.”

Celeste considered. “Then why hold back?”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!