SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

Chapter 423: Saving Lyone

One second, he was speaking, the other second, he was disappearing from their sight.

His jaw tightened, his pace doubling as he surged ahead, senses stretched to catch the faintest trail of Lyone’s essence. The boy had no business in these tunnels—but he was here, and he was terrified.

Another scream followed. Not Lyone’s this time—someone else, cut short with a wet, gurgling sound. Then the rumble of beasts, closer now, shaking the ground beneath their boots.

The squad broke into a sprint, the narrow walls funneling their movements. Their torches flickered as air shifted from the massive shapes pushing through corridors somewhere ahead.

Damien’s mind moved as fast as his body. The tunnels were closing, monsters released, Lyone inside at the same time… This wasn’t what he had in mind at all!

He clenched his fist, suppressing the anger boiling in his chest. Whoever set this trap had miscalculated one thing.

Damien was down here.

Lyone’s lungs burned as he ran, every breath tearing at his throat. The tunnel stretched endlessly, torchlight dimming with every turn. Behind him, the roars grew louder, closer, the beasts gaining with each pounding step. “Why did they choose to come after me?!”

His vision blurred with panic, and for the first time since arriving in Delwig, Lyone felt utterly powerless. Now he understood why Damien had left without telling them anything.

“Damn it! I should’ve stayed out!” He cried internally unable to afford scolding himself right now.

“DAMIIIEEEEN!” Still, he screamed Damien’s name again, voice raw, praying through the chaos that his mentor would hear.

The monsters’ breath steamed against the back of his neck.

The ground shook.

And from deeper in the tunnels came an answering roar—not a beast’s, but Fenrir’s.

~~~~~

The sky was pale through Delwig’s watchtowers. Arielle stood at the window of their quarters, arms folded as the night dragged on.

First Damien had vanished into the tunnels without a word. Now Lyone, who’d promised he was training, had not returned either.

Her brow furrowed. She wasn’t the type to panic, but unease gnawed at her chest like a worm. She had seen that flicker of defiance in Lyone’s eyes before he excused himself. He wasn’t only training.

“Foolish boy,” she muttered, grabbing her cloak. “And foolish young man.”

If Damien and Lyone thought she would sit idle while they went around making her worry, they had underestimated her patience.

When she arrived at General Ivaan’s command post, the first thing she noticed was how… empty it felt. Where once stood rows of disciplined warriors and bustling aides, now there were fewer bodies, shadows stretched across the wide room. Half the seats at the map tables were unfilled.

Her eyes narrowed.

Two guards leaned against the far wall, armor dented, lips split with fresh bruises. They straightened as she passed, but she barely spared them a glance. Their injuries weren’t her problem.

Damien was.

She strode up to General Ivaan, who was bent over a map with Apnoch at his side. Both men looked up when she stopped before them, her expression thunderous.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

Ivaan’s brow furrowed. “Arielle—”

“Don’t play coy, General,” she cut in. “Damien. And Lyone. Where did you send them?”

The room stilled.

Ivaan exhaled heavily, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I was going to ask you that. Lyone was here not long ago. He claimed he came on your request to see Damien.”

Arielle blinked once, then her lips thinned. “I never sent him.”

Silence pressed between them, thick as stone.

Finally, Ivaan said grimly, “Then he lied his way past my guards. Damien volunteered earlier to scout the tunnels created in yesterday’s breach along with Captain Apnoch. Lyone must have followed after him.”

Arielle’s chest tightened. The frustration on her face was clear, but she didn’t waste more words. She turned sharply, cloak snapping behind her as she headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” General Ivaan called.

“To retrieve my team,” she shot back without slowing.

Far below, the tunnels were alive with chaos.

Lyone staggered, sword trembling in his grip as the hulking, twisted shapes advanced. Their bodies were horrors stitched together by essence—wolfish jaws, humanlike torsos, claws that scraped stone like chalk. They were only Grade Five and Six, but the demonic essence seething within them made the air vibrate with malice.

His chest burned. His body screamed at him to flee.

And then the shadows split.

Fenrir burst forth from the darkness like a storm given form—white fur rippling, eyes glowing with ancient hunger.

Rooooar!!

His arrival shook the tunnel itself, the beast’s roar reverberating until stone dust rained down from above.

The corrupted mana beasts snarled in answer, but their voices faltered under the crushing pressure Fenrir exuded. The wolf lunged, fangs tearing into the first of the beasts and ripping it apart with terrifying force.

Lyone stumbled back, relief flooding through him as he recognized Fenrir. His voice cracked as he shouted, “Damien!”

But the one who came next was not Damien.

A dark, viscous shape slithered along the floor like a shadow freed from its owner.

Luton emerged silently, moving with a thief’s intent, its surface rippling like liquid fire. It latched onto the remnants of Fenrir’s prey, engulfing chunks of corrupted flesh and broken cores, devouring with greed.

The slime shuddered as if exhilarated, though the essence it consumed wasn’t enough to truly empower it. Still, it tried, swallowing everything Fenrir left behind in an attempt to grow stronger.

Lyone gaped. “Luton too…?”

“Not too eager, are you?”

The voice came from behind, calm yet edged like steel. Damien stepped from the darkness at last, sword in hand, his figure lit faintly by the torchlight behind him. His eyes flicked from Fenrir tearing apart another beast, to Luton gorging itself like a starved dog.

Finally, they landed on Lyone.

“What are you doing here?”

Lyone’s heart hammered. He had dreaded this question. He could lie—he wanted to—but Damien’s gaze stripped the thought away before it formed. He bit his lip, fists tightening at his sides.

“I… I wanted to help,” he admitted, voice trembling but firm. “I asked around. I tricked the guards into telling me where you’d gone.”

Damien’s eyes narrowed.

“I followed because—” Lyone forced himself to meet Damien’s gaze, even as shame burned in his chest. “Because I didn’t want to wait anymore. I’m tired of sitting behind, tired of training while you face everything. I thought—” His voice cracked. “I thought if I fought with you here, you’d see I was ready.”

Fenrir’s roar split the air again, another beast torn in half behind them. Luton gurgled hungrily, devouring the scraps.

Damien stepped closer, shadows sharpening across his face.

“You disobeyed. You endangered yourself. You lied.”

Lyone flinched, but he clenched his fists harder, trembling with defiance. “And I’m not sorry.”

The words rang through the tunnel, raw and reckless.

Damien’s silence was heavier than any roar of beast or collapse of stone.