SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

The sun had already dipped behind Westmont’s tallest rooftops when a knock came at the Mercenary Guild’s main door.

Damien had just finished going over his inventory again, this time checking the enchantments on his gear.

Arielle was lounging in the common room, boots kicked off, sipping what smelled faintly of citrus wine.

Lyone sat cross-legged by the fireplace, showing the baby how to make animal shadows with his fingers against the flames.

The knock was firm—measured and deliberate.

Damien stood, half-expecting trouble, until he opened the door to find one of Lord Ellian’s guards standing tall in his polished silver-etched armor. The man gave a slight bow before straightening and handing Damien a sealed envelope.

“A summons from the Lord,” the guard said. “You are invited to the manor. A celebration in your honor, Lord Damien.”

Damien stared at the letter for a long second before breaking the seal and skimming its contents. He frowned slightly.

“He’s throwing a send-off,” he said aloud. “Tonight.”

Arielle raised a brow, already on her feet. “Tonight? Wasn’t exactly a lot of notice.”

“He says he assumed we’d be leaving by morning,” Damien added. “Figured Lyone would be coming along with us too.”

Arielle grinned. “He knows you too well.”

“I don’t like fanfare,” Damien muttered, folding the letter and stuffing it into his coat.

“Well, tough luck. You’re Westmont’s most beloved mercenary. You can’t expect the Town Lord to let you slip away without at least a toast,” she teased. “Besides, the food is bound to be better than whatever dried meat you packed.”

Damien glanced at Lyone, who had perked up at the mention of a party, then at Neraya, who leaned against the stair railing with a knowing smirk.

“I suppose I’m invited as well?” she asked.

Damien sighed. “Let’s just go before this turns into something bigger.”

Lord Ellian’s manor stood as stately as ever at the heart of Westmont, its marble archways and vine-covered walls glowing under lantern light.

The guards at the gate offered respectful nods as the group passed—Damien in his black overcoat, Arielle in a simple but elegant green dress that flowed like ivy, Lyone nervously clutching a small pendant Arielle had given him, and Neraya trailing in a midnight-blue cloak that matched her winking eyes.

Inside, the manor was lit in warm tones, the great dining hall dressed in simple elegance. A long table, set for perhaps a dozen, gleamed under a chandelier of floating crystals enchanted with a gentle light.

Servants bustled quietly around the edges, delivering trays of roasted meats, spiced rice, buttered vegetables, and an impressive variety of desserts.

Lord Ellian rose from his seat near the head of the table and greeted them with a warm, if slightly weary, smile.

“I was beginning to worry you’d ignore my summons,” he said.

“You gave us no time to make an excuse,” Damien replied dryly, but he clasped the older man’s hand with genuine warmth.

Lord Ellian laughed. “Exactly why I didn’t give you any.”

His eyes drifted toward Lyone, then back to Damien. “I figured you’d take him with you. You were never one to hesitate in decisions when it mattered. So when you did concerning him, I knew.”

Damien didn’t deny it. Instead, he looked toward Lyone, who gazed around the hall in wide-eyed wonder. There was a childlike innocence to him that reminded Damien of his own early days in Westmont — full of fear and fascination.

“This send-off,” Damien said after a pause. “You kept it small.”

“As requested. Only a few of my advisors, no press, no town criers,” Ellian confirmed. “The last thing I want is a crowd mourning your departure before you even leave.”

“And you didn’t invite the few nobles in town?” Arielle asked, clearly relieved.

“Most of them dislike Damien’s methods,” Lord Ellian replied with a shrug. “I didn’t see a reason to make things awkward.”

They took their seats. The food was as excellent as expected, and the wine poured freely. Neraya leaned close to the Town Lord, exchanging whispered jabs and flirtatious laughter.

Arielle kept a wary eye on her, occasionally nudging Damien with her elbow and muttering under her breath.

Lyone, meanwhile, sat quietly beside Damien, occasionally spooning food into the baby’s mouth between bites of his own. Lord Ellian’s expression softened each time he glanced at the boy.

“This journey of yours,” Ellian said suddenly, quiet enough that only Damien, Arielle, and Neraya could hear. “You’re not just leaving to explore.”

“No,” Damien said, not bothering to lie. “But it’s better if Westmont doesn’t know the reason.”

“I figured as much.” Ellian leaned back in his chair. “Just promise me you’ll keep the boy safe. And that you’ll return, someday.”

Damien didn’t answer immediately.

“I’ll try.”

That was all he could offer.

~~~~~

The night wore on, the mood growing more relaxed as the food vanished from platters and laughter echoed through the quiet halls. A bard in the corner played a soft melody on a stringed instrument, a tune that was both nostalgic and strangely comforting.

At some point, Arielle and Neraya began arguing over who had the best dagger technique, which ended with both women standing in the middle of the hall, balancing apples on the heads of two unlucky servants and trying to one-up each other with flicks of their wrists. Damien had to call it off before someone lost an ear.

Eventually, the celebration wound down, and the Lord gave each of them a firm handshake and a subtle blessing.

By the time they returned to the Guild building, the sky had turned to ink and only the moonlight guided their way.

Inside, everything was quiet. Even the mercenaries had long gone to bed at their various motels or houses. The only sound was the creak of the old wood beneath their feet.

Damien stood in the hallway, watching as Arielle retreated to her room with a tired yawn. Neraya disappeared into the quarters that would become her new office. And Lyone carried the now-sleeping baby to his cot in his mother’s office space.

For a long moment, Damien stood alone in the center of the guild, staring at the walls he’d fought so hard to protect. The home he’d built. The people he’d come to care for.

Tomorrow, it would all be behind him.

And ahead—uncertainty, danger, and the slow unraveling of mysteries yet unsolved.

He turned without a word and made his way to his room.

At dawn, they would leave Westmont behind.

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