SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

A man dismounted beside her. “Command unit. East Greshan station. We received your signal through a beacon. And your companion’s magic essence was everywhere so we knew how to locate you.”

He glanced at Aquila.

“Nice trick.”

Aquila huffed smoke from her nostrils.

“Don’t get in my way,” she said.

The man grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Meanwhile, Arielle was still thinking about it. It was clear she hadn’t sent any beacon. Maybe one of the kids had done so before leaving? She had no idea.

More soldiers poured in. Ranged casters formed a second line. Warders began tracing new magic lines into the ground. Healers reached for Arielle but stopped when Aquila stepped between them.

“She’ll move when she’s ready,” the griffin growled.

And she did.

Slowly. Painfully.

But Arielle stood.

One last time.

Sword in hand.

Reinforcements at her back.

“I told them we’d hold,” she whispered.

And with Aquila roaring beside her, they began the counter-attack.

~~~~~

[Kill Count: 1,511 / 5,000]

[Combined Summon Kills: 850]

Damien’s breath exited in a slow, measured rhythm as he drove his staff through the skull of a horned crawler, spun it in a tight arc, and slammed the shaft into the chest of another lunging brute.

Crack!

Bones shattered. Demonic blood sprayed.

Luton absorbed three dismembered bodies behind him without hesitation—stretching wide and wobbling violently before spitting out a chunk of corrupted spine with a wet plop.

Skylar passed overhead, shadows trailing behind his wings like stormclouds. His black fire had scorched entire rows clean, yet still, the horde didn’t stop.

And now, they were adapting.

Damien saw it in the way the smarter ones moved.

They were shifting formations.

Avoiding Luton’s aura traps.

Weaving around the magic circle-scorched zones that had turned hundreds of their kin into scorched bone.

Some had even begun testing the barrier runes—tossing corpses ahead of them to trigger premature detonations.

Clever.

Too clever.

And too many.

A howl rose from behind Damien’s front—near the broken eastern flank. It wasn’t demonic.

It was human.

Battleborn.

“Attack!! Do not let that man steal all the glory!”

A cluster of Greshan’s own had pushed forward: mercenaries in worn armor, Dunters with signature beastbone gauntlets, and robed casters whose hands pulsed with dull, overworked runes.

“Fall in!” someone bellowed.

“Frontline collapsing!”

“Hold the left arc! Watch the gaps between stones!”

Then—impact.

The demons that had evaded Damien’s front now crashed into the desperate defenders in a second clash of blood and steel. Some fell instantly—overwhelmed by swarmers or caught off guard by skittering crawlers.

But they gave as hard as they took.

Dunters skewered Grade Fives in clean, practiced motions. Mercenaries with cleavers hacked through demon jaws. Casters threw out wide-area suppression spells—many crude, but effective.

One woman screamed as she was pulled down—her body vanishing beneath four creatures.

Boooom!

Her partner detonated a crystal bomb at point-blank range. Nothing rose after the fire cleared.

Death was everywhere.

But so was resistance.

[Kill Count: 1,569 / 5,000]

Damien was a blur, flipping through clusters, shattering skulls with point jabs, parrying claws with one-handed redirections, and spinning through the larger beasts with calculated arcs.

But behind every strike, his thoughts narrowed.

Aquila.

And Arielle.

They were the reason he fought like this. Fast. Relentless. Brutal. He wanted this battle over so he could fly straight toward them and cut down anything in the way.

He could feel the thread connecting him to Aquila—tight, pulsing faintly like a string pulled taut between two mountain peaks. Strained. But steady.

He needed to know.

He turned slightly, barked a sharp command over his shoulder.

“Luton—here.”

The red slime chirped once and zipped toward him, stopping just behind his boots. Its mass expanded slightly, forming a half-shield around him.

“Guard me,” Damien said.

Then he closed his eyes. “Link my senses with Aquila’s.” He mentally commanded his system.

[Subskill: Sensory Link – Activated]

[Target: Summon (Aquila) – Confirmed]

Damien’s vision collapsed inward—then expanded again wildly.

His world was no longer flat.

It was vast. High. Fast.

Wind buffeted his ears from two directions. Each gust was weighted. Each flap of wings had purpose. He could feel the impact of talons scraping against stone, the recoil of muscle as wings flexed, the weight of things trying to pull her down.

He smelled blood—so much blood.

Demon blood. Scorched flesh. Burnt feathers.

He tasted ash.

He blinked—through her eyes.

The sky was painted orange with distant firelight. Trees stood like silent witnesses to a massacre unfolding just over the cliffs.

Below, Aquila was leaping across scattered corpses, biting through the neck of a Grade Five whose spine cracked under her beak.

Damien felt the bone snap.

The taste of raw flesh hit his tongue.

Then another demon flanked from the right.

He saw it through her peripheral.

Aquila twisted, slamming her wing outward like a sword, sending the creature tumbling into a shallow ravine.

But they weren’t stopping.

Demons came from both flanks. She was pushing back against too many. She fought without hesitation, but her movements were slightly off—strained.

She was carrying something.

Damien sharpened his awareness.

Then he noticed it.

A slight imbalance in her motion. The way her shoulder dropped a few centimeters before each launch. Her stride had more tension than weight.

She wasn’t flying freely.

She was bearing someone.

And Damien knew instantly—Arielle was on her back.

He didn’t need to see her.

He knew.

The pressure in Aquila’s talons. The delay in her kickbacks. The slight weight on her spine. Arielle was there—alive, if weak—and Aquila was protecting her with the kind of brutal precision only a summon under a life-bound contract could show.

Damien smiled—just barely. He could see others fighting alongside Aquila. Reinforcements were here.

That relief in the bond. That flicker of calm amidst the chaos.

She’d made it through.

He let the shared senses linger for a moment longer—just enough to feel the warmth of Aquila’s feathers in the wind.

Then he whispered, “Thank you.”

And ended the link.

His eyes opened.

The battlefield rushed back in.

Noise. Screams. Fire. Steel. Ash.

“Good job, Luton,” Damien murmured.

The slime wobbled again—and snapped its body forward, consuming a full demon leg that had tumbled too close.

Damien stood.

Recentered.

He looked toward the treeline, where another wave emerged. Larger now. More strategic. One wore enchanted bone armor. Another carried a corrupted spell magic circle tattooed across its chest.

Smarter enemies.

Good.

He wanted 2,000 before sundown.

And now?

Now, he could fight knowing Arielle still lived.

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