SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

As the guild doors closed behind them with a deep, echoing thud, Lyone let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Pheww… That was suffocating.”

The sounds from outside faded into the background, replaced by the low murmur of distant voices, the shuffle of booted feet, and the familiar creak of floorboards soaked in years of footsteps.

The scent inside was different too—aged wood, oiled leather, dried herbs, and faint traces of blood and ink. Just as Damien remembered it.

The Mercenary Guild felt like a place where stories were told with scars and glances more than words.

Damien walked with certainty down the main corridor. Lyone stayed close, practically glued to his cloak, glancing sideways at every armored figure they passed.

Some nodded at Damien, others barely acknowledged him—but Lyone could feel it.

They knew him.

And they respected him.

Arielle led them through a side passage, past a weapons rack and a wall lined with guild postings, until they reached a quiet meeting room near the back of the building.

Round, thick-walled, with a single worn table in the center. Two chairs. One window. No distractions.

Arielle pushed the door shut behind them and turned.

“Alright,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. “Talk.”

Damien stood by the far wall, arms crossed.

Lyone hovered near the door, unsure if he was allowed to sit.

Arielle gestured at one of the chairs without looking. “You too, kid. Sit.”

Lyone obeyed instantly.

Damien started. “Raegon is dead.”

“That much I guessed, you’re one who wouldn’t return without succeeding.” Arielle replied, leaning forward onto the table. “What I want to know is how—and how the kid factors into it.”

Damien glanced at Lyone, then back to her. “I infiltrated the palace during a festival being held at the palace. Slipped into the upper chambers, made the kill clean. No alarms except for two explosions. No one saw me.”

“No blood trail?” Arielle asked, narrowing her eyes. “No noise?”

Lyone winced at that, then cleared his throat. “I, uh… saw the aftermath. Fire at the heart of the city.”

Arielle turned to him. “And who exactly are you, again?”

“I’m Lyone. From a village past the riverbend near Velthorne.”

Arielle studied him for a beat. “You don’t look like a mercenary.”

“I’m not.”

“He’s a runaway,” Damien said plainly. “Or more accurately, an exile. His people would sooner or later turn on him. Branded his mother a witch and would soon do the same to him once they found out about his talent.”

There was a long pause.

Arielle’s gaze lingered on the boy, less skeptical now. “And why’d you follow him?”

“I saw him. I saw his wyvern, Skylar. I knew if I let him leave, I’d never get out. He was the only person who looked like they weren’t from that cursed place.”

Arielle tilted her head slightly, then looked back at Damien. “And you decided to… what? Take him in?”

Damien shrugged. “He wouldn’t shut up.”

“I said please like a dozen times.”

“You said please a lot of times,” Damien corrected. “And then kept talking.”

Lyone smiled faintly. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Arielle leaned back into her chair, exhaling through her nose. “You two are something else.”

“We passed through a few forest areas,” Damien continued, his tone flattening again. “No demon fields. No corrupted sightings. It was too quiet.”

“Too quiet how?”

“Like they were being pulled back. Or hiding.”

Arielle went silent, eyes darkening with thought.

“That’s not good.”

“No,” Damien said. “It’s not.”

She stood, walking slowly to the other side of the table. Her fingers drummed lightly along the edge. “You both look like you haven’t slept in days. The kid’s practically vibrating from exhaustion.”

Lyone perked up. “I’m not that—”

“Close it,” she cut in with a half-smile. “Come on, I’ll show you to a spare room upstairs. Unless you want to sleep next to Damien’s weapons rack.”

“…Spare room sounds fine.”

She turned and nodded at Damien. “Give me a minute. I’ll be back.”

Lyone followed her out with one last glance at Damien, who gave no reaction beyond a slow blink.

Five minutes passed.

Damien remained where he stood, unmoving. His thoughts drifted—not to the kill, not to Velthorne, but to the look on Arielle’s face when she saw him at the guild entrance.

There’d been tension. Relief. Something like anger wrapped in concern.

He didn’t know how to name it. He only knew it was real.

The door opened again, soft and familiar.

Arielle stepped back inside, closing it with a quieter touch this time. She leaned her back against the door and looked at him.

“He’ll be fine,” she said.

“I know.”

“He asked if you were really as dangerous as people say.”

Damien raised a brow. “What did you tell him?”

“I said they were probably underestimating you.”

Damien’s lip curled slightly, then faded. “That’s not helpful.”

Arielle crossed the room, then leaned forward on the table again, fingers laced. “What now?”

“I keep moving.”

“Where?”

“Forward.”

A pause.

“You’ve been in neutral for a while now,” she said. “No high-risk hunts.”

“I know.”

“So what changes?”

Damien exhaled. “I’m going to start hunting again.”

She frowned. “Just like that?”

He nodded. “I’ve stalled long enough.”

Arielle studied him. “And you think it’ll be different now?”

“No,” he said. “But I’m different.”

She looked at him for a long time. Something unspoken passed between them—like the ghosts of old choices, old fights.

Then, finally: “And what are you hunting?”

His eyes hardened slightly. “Demons precisely.”

Arielle didn’t laugh. She didn’t smirk.

She only nodded once, slowly.

“I’ve been thinking the same,” she said quietly. “I’ve been idle too long. The war’s coming… it’s not going to be friendly.”

“You’re resuming your search?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice almost distant. “I really want to find out the origin of demons. I need to find it.”

Damien stepped forward, crossing the room until they stood nearly shoulder to shoulder.

“If you find it,” he said lowly, “what will you do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then let’s find it together.”

Arielle turned her head slightly. “Are you asking to partner with me?”

“No,” Damien said. “I’m telling you that I already decided.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Still bossy.”

“You like that.”

“I simply tolerate it.”

A small silence passed between them.

Then Arielle smirked and pushed off the table. “You’re lucky I missed you.”

“I know.”

She walked to the door.

He didn’t stop her.

But just before stepping out, she paused.

“We’re going to need supplies.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“And maps.”

“I’ve got them.”

She opened the door. “See you in the morning.”

Damien nodded once. “Get some rest.”

Arielle left.