SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

The night was still young in Delwig when Captain Apnoch finally found himself standing before Damien’s quarters.

The faint lamplight spilling from a single window made it clear someone was awake—but when he knocked, it wasn’t Damien who answered.

Arielle opened the door, her expression tight, as though she’d been expecting someone far worse. Lyone appeared behind her, half-dressed for bed but visibly alert.

“Captain?” Arielle asked. “Is something wrong?”

Apnoch’s eyes swept the room instinctively—one habit that came from too many years of bad surprises. “I was hoping to speak with Damien. While it was true that he returned early this evening, I didn’t get to speak much to him earlier on and was hoping I could catch up with him now. Is he here?”

Lyone shook his head. “He was, but he left a little while ago. Didn’t say where.”

Apnoch frowned. “Left? At this hour?”

Arielle sighed, stepping aside so the captain could see for himself that the room was indeed missing one brooding mercenary. “He said he needed some time to clear his head. He’s been somewhat… tense since returning.”

“Tense,” Apnoch repeated dryly. “That man’s version of ‘tense’ usually ends in someone bleeding or dying.”

Lyone chuckled weakly. “He took no weapons, if that helps.”

“That,” Apnoch muttered, “is somehow worse.”

He nodded to them both. “Stay here. Lock your doors and don’t open for anyone but me or the general. I’ll find him.”

Arielle hesitated. “Is something wrong?”

Apnoch paused at the threshold, then met her eyes. “Let’s hope not.”

And with that, he left.

Delwig at night was a city that never truly slept—too many soldiers, few merchants, too many shadows. While a lot of people had closed and gone to their various resting places, a decent number of people were still actively moving around, selling and buying.

Some were even hooking up as Apnoch had witnessed a man get dragged into a strange room by two women who were promising to give him the time of his life.

Lanterns flickered over rain-slicked cobblestones as Apnoch walked through the emptying streets, his boots echoing softly.

He had a hunch where Damien might have gone. The mercenary didn’t frequent taverns at all, but when he did, he went for one reason. It was to think, not to drown.

He followed the faint hum of noise until he reached a low-ceilinged, weakly lit tavern at the edge of the merchant quarter. The scent of roasted meat and cheap ale hung thick in the air.

Outside, two men lay sprawled in the alley—both bruised, both unconscious. Apnoch didn’t even need to check for a pulse. They were alive, just very, very unlucky.

“Found him,” Apnoch muttered under his breath.

Inside, Damien sat at the bar, a half-empty glass in front of him. He wasn’t drunk—far from it. His eyes were sharp, fixed on the amber liquid like he was waiting for it to whisper an answer.

When Apnoch sat beside him, Damien didn’t even look up. “You’re late.”

“I didn’t realize we had an appointment,” Apnoch said, signaling the bartender for water. “You’ve been busy, I see.” He tilted his head toward the door. “Friends of yours?”

“They were following me,” Damien replied, calm but distant. “So I decided to ask them why. They didn’t answer politely.”

Apnoch exhaled through his nose. “You could’ve just scared them off.”

“I did.” Damien’s tone was dry. “Permanently, maybe. Depends how good their memory is when they wake.”

Apnoch studied him for a moment—the stoic expression, the tension behind his eyes. He wasn’t just irritated. He was troubled. Deeply.

“Veyne’s dead,” Apnoch said quietly, testing his reaction.

Damien’s fingers twitched on the glass. “I know.”

“Then you also know why I’m here.”

“Because you think I do.”

Apnoch leaned forward. “Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve worked with you long enough to know when you’re holding something back. Veyne wasn’t killed by random bandits. Someone silenced him. And I think you know why.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. The low chatter of other patrons faded into background noise.

Damien finally set his glass down and said flatly, “Knowing doesn’t change anything.”

“It does if it keeps more of us alive,” Apnoch countered.

Damien’s eyes flicked up, sharp and cold. “You think knowing the truth will make you safer?”

“No,” Apnoch said, voice steady. “But it’ll make me prepared.”

The mercenary sighed and rubbed a hand across his face, the weight of sleeplessness heavy in his movements.

“You’re asking me to hand you a curse, Captain,” he muttered. “And once you hear it, you won’t be able to forget.”

“Then curse me,” Apnoch said. “You have my word—by my mana, I’ll keep it between us.”

That made Damien pause. A mana oath. Heavy words, not said lightly. The kind that burned the soul if broken. A mana oath between two was the highest form of oath. If one broke it, their essence core was as good as crippled for life.

“Say it properly,” Damien said quietly.

Apnoch straightened, raising a hand. His tone became formal, binding. “By my mana and essence, I swear that what is said between us tonight will not leave my lips to another soul unless you permit it.”

There was a brief pulse of faint blue light as the oath sealed itself.

Damien looked at him, the faintest trace of respect in his gaze. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Then make it worth it,” Apnoch replied.

The silence stretched again, long enough that Apnoch thought he might have refused. But then Damien finally spoke, voice low, heavy, edged with fatigue.

“There’s something in the Verdant Verge,” he said. “A construct—a gate. Old. Sealed. Nothing natural about it.”

Apnoch’s brow furrowed. “A gate? To where?”

“If I knew,” Damien said bitterly, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

He told him everything. The encounter in the forest. The beasts guarding it. The sigils carved deep into the stone, pulsing like a heartbeat. How no one—not even his summons—could penetrate the barrier.

When he finished, Apnoch sat back, expression hard to read. “You kept this from the general.”

“I did,” Damien said simply.

“Why?”

“Because the moment Ivaan knows, it stops being contained,” Damien said. “He’ll send squads, researchers, soldiers—people who don’t understand what they’re touching. That thing wasn’t meant to be opened. Not yet.”

Apnoch’s jaw clenched. “You think Veyne found out?”

Damien nodded. “He was there when we discovered it. He agreed to keep it quiet—but maybe someone else noticed his silence. Maybe he hesitated, or someone followed him.”

Apnoch leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So you’re saying Veyne was killed to protect this secret.”

“Or to cover up whoever wants it open,” Damien replied darkly.

That made Apnoch’s blood run cold. “You think someone in Delwig—”

“I don’t think,” Damien interrupted quietly. “I know.”

Apnoch stared at him. “You have proof?”

“No. Just patterns,” Damien said. “Coincidences that aren’t actually coincidences. Guards who shouldn’t be where they are. Patrol routes that change right before every attack. And that aura I felt near the gate—it was human. Faint, but human.”

Apnoch’s face hardened. “Then we’re already compromised.”

Damien didn’t answer immediately. He stared into the half-empty glass again, watching the amber ripple faintly. “Delwig’s been compromised for a while,” he murmured. “We just didn’t want to see it.”

They sat in silence for a while—two soldiers bound by secrets neither wanted.

Finally, Apnoch said, “So what now?”

Damien looked up at him, his eyes sharp again. “Now? You go back and act like you never found me. Keep the general calm. Watch who he speaks to. Someone will slip soon enough.”

“And you?”

Damien stood, tossing a few coins on the counter. “I’ll find whoever dragged that corpse into the forest. If it ties back to the Gate, I’ll make sure they don’t live long enough to open it.”

Apnoch rose too, gripping his arm. “Damien—if you’re right, we’re standing on the edge of something far bigger than either of us.”

“I know,” Damien said, pulling free. “And that’s exactly why I can’t let it spread through all of the city.”

He turned toward the door, his expression unreadable, but there was something colder about him now—something determined.

Apnoch called after him, “If the general finds out you’re keeping this from him—”

“He’ll have to catch me first,” Damien said without looking back.

Then he stepped into the street, the night air swallowing him whole.

Apnoch stayed behind for a while, still at the counter, staring at the faint blue shimmer on his palm—the lingering trace of his mana oath. The secret now burned in his veins.

When he finally left the tavern, the unconscious men were gone. The alley was empty, as if the night itself had swallowed them.

Apnoch looked toward the Verdant Verge, its outline barely visible against the moonlit horizon.

“A gate,” he murmured. “And we’re already standing inside it.”

He turned back toward the fortress, the weight of what he’d learned heavy on his shoulders, and the faint echo of Damien’s last words followed him like a ghost.

“It won’t stay buried much longer.”