SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

Morning in Delwig came slowly, like a half-hearted promise. The light through the barracks windows was thin and pale, struggling to break through the lingering mist.

Damien stirred to the low sound of boots against the stone hallway outside — a runner, stopping at his door.

“Sir Damien,” the guard called. “General Ivaan requests your presence. Immediately.”

Damien groaned softly, sitting up, his head still thick from the drink he’d had with Apnoch the previous night. “Now?” he muttered.

“Now, sir.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Tell the general I’ll be there.”

The man saluted and left. Damien dressed quickly — black vest, dark coat, his usual attire that made him look more like a mercenary than a stationed soldier — and stepped out into the early morning chill.

By the time he reached the General’s quarters, the entire command wing was already awake.

The guards saluted as he entered, but there was something strange about the air — tense, like the walls themselves were listening.

He walked straight into Ivaan’s office.

Empty.

Damien frowned. The desk seemed untouched, reports neatly stacked, quills aligned. The faint scent of ash hung in the room, though there was no sign of a recent fire.

He sat down on the side bench to wait. But as the minutes stretched into half an hour, a crawling discomfort began to settle in his chest.

He stood abruptly, scanning the room again — not visually this time, but through essence perception.

Nothing.

He frowned deeper. That wasn’t right. Even in still air, the essence flow around a military office like this should’ve shown faint movement — from the guards outside, the residual aura of Ivaan’s mana when he worked late. But this place was… blank. Like someone had cleaned it too thoroughly.

He walked outside.

Two guards stood at the hallway corners, perfectly still.

He eyed them as he passed. “When did the General leave?”

Neither responded immediately. One blinked, glanced at the other, then said flatly, “Not long ago, sir.”

Damien nodded slowly. “And did he say where he was going?”

A pause. “No, sir.”

“Interesting.” He turned away and walked further down the hall — then stopped, frowning. The two guards hadn’t moved. Not even to shift their weight.

He turned back. “You two—”

“Damien!”

Apnoch’s voice cut across the hall. The captain approached quickly, cloak swaying, expression drawn tight. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for Ivaan,” Damien said. “But the general’s gone.”

Apnoch nodded. “I think he left before dawn. No one’s sure where to. Probably recon.”

“Mm.” Damien’s eyes flicked to the two guards again. They were staring straight ahead, unnervingly motionless.

Apnoch noticed the way Damien’s gaze lingered. “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s off.”

Damien stepped closer to the guards, his presence pressing down like a cold wind. He didn’t speak — he simply watched them.

Their essence flow… was inconsistent. Faint, uneven. One man’s mana fluctuated between a normal pulse and something faintly distorted, like an echo behind the rhythm.

“I want to confirm something,” Damien murmured.

Apnoch frowned. “You’re interrogating soldiers now?”

“Yes.”

Apnoch’s tone sharpened. “Damien, these are our own men.”

“Are they?” Damien’s voice turned flat. “Take a closer look.”

He extended a faint pulse of mana, subtle enough to go unnoticed by most — except it made both men stiffen slightly, just for a heartbeat.

Apnoch caught it too. His expression hardened. “You think they’re imposters?”

“I know they are.”

Damien turned, scanning the rest of the command corridor. Three more guards among the seven by the door to the war room. Two more at the hallway bend walking behind a line of soldiers. Their essence patterns were off too — barely, but enough.

“Six of them,” he said.

Apnoch’s hand went to his weapon, but Damien caught his wrist before he could move. “Don’t,” he warned. “If they’re this deep in, there are probably others. If we alert them now, they’ll scatter — and we’ll lose the trail.”

Apnoch hesitated, then slowly nodded. “What do you suggest?”

Damien’s eyes glinted faintly. “A little isolation exercise.”

He stepped back toward the six guards he’d identified and raised his voice, calm and commanding. “You six. With me. The General wanted the southern post checked. Move.”

None of them questioned the order. They fell into line almost too smoothly — another sign.

Apnoch watched them march away, unease prickling his gut. He knew that look in Damien’s eyes — that cold, surgical precision.

They walked until the sound of boots against stone faded behind them. Damien led them toward the lower warehouse hall, far from the barracks and mess halls. The air was damp, carrying the faint metallic scent of mana residue from the armory storage nearby.

He stopped in the center of the hall. “Here’s fine.”

The six men looked around, uncertain.

“Now,” Damien said softly, “why don’t you tell me where General Ivaan went.”

No one moved.

He sighed. “Thought so. You all knew he left but not one person is willing to say more than that.”

He looked at them individually and sighed as he spoke to his system. “Summon Luton,” and then Luton emerged, the slime’s red body wobbled and its surface reflecting sunlight like liquid glass.

The guards recoiled instinctively.

Damien’s voice stayed calm. “Store them inside.”

The slime split into six tendrils, swallowing the guards before they could shout. Muffled struggles followed — brief, frantic — then silence.

“Good,” Damien said. “Now… one at a time, spit them out.”

Luton obeyed, spitting out the first man. He hit the floor with a wet thud, coughing and gasping for air.

Damien crouched beside him. “Let’s make this simple. Who are you?”

The man’s eyes darted, wild. “S-soldier of Delwig—”

Damien raised a hand, and Luton tightened its grip around the man’s legs, crushing pressure making his words choke.

“Don’t lie.”

The man screamed, panic spilling out of him like blood. “We were— we were sent—”

“By who?”

“Th— the chain of—” He convulsed suddenly, eyes rolling white. His veins turned black, essence bursting through them like fire.

Fwoooooosh~

In an instant, his body disintegrated — the same self-destruct mechanism the impostor had triggered before.

The second was the same and so was the third.

Before they could reveal anything of importance, he watched them die.

Damien didn’t even flinch. “Next.”

The fourth man emerged, trembling violently. “P-please— I don’t—”

“Where’s the General?”

He hesitated too long. Luton devoured his arm and he screamed in pain.

“Where.”

“He— he went— went to the Verdant Verge! To the forest— to the— the Gate!”

Damien froze.

His heartbeat slowed, then sped up again, fury and disbelief mixing in equal measure.

He stood abruptly. “You’re sure.”

The man nodded frantically. “Yes! He— he said the ‘truth’s buried beneath it.’ That’s all I know!”

Luton released him — only for the man’s body to seize and burn from within seconds later. “Arghhhh!” The man screamed and then…

Boooom!

Another self-detonation.

The remaining two never stood a chance. Damien didn’t even question them after that. They were ticking bombs, tools that would rather die than speak.

“Devour them.” He let Luton finish the work quickly and painlessly, then withdrew the summon, his mind burning.

When he emerged from the warehouse, Apnoch was waiting by the entrance, arms folded, expression grim. “Well?”

Damien’s jaw was tight. “Your general went into the Verdant Verge.”

Apnoch blinked. “What?”

“Into the forest. To the Gate I told you about last night.”

“That’s impossible. General Ivaan wouldn’t—”

“He would if he thought he needed to confirm what we found.”

Apnoch stared, pale. “How did he know about the Gate, Damien?”

The silence between them stretched long and sharp.

Apnoch’s voice lowered. “You told me only last night. No one else knew.”

Damien’s gaze cut to him like a blade. “Then how did he find out?”

Apnoch looked genuinely wounded. “You think I told him?”

“I think someone did.” Damien’s tone was flat, but the weight behind it made Apnoch flinch. “And since only you and I knew—”

“I didn’t.”

Damien stepped closer. “Then tell me who did.”

Apnoch’s hands clenched at his sides. “No one.”

Damien’s aura flared briefly, magic essence coiling around his being. “Apnoch—”

“Damien.” The captain’s tone hardened. “If I’d told General Ivaan, I wouldn’t be standing here arguing with you. I’d have gone with him. I serve him. You know that.”

The silence between them was razor-thin.

Finally, Damien exhaled through his teeth, frustration and worry colliding in his chest. “Then we have a bigger problem. Because if Ivaan’s really gone there alone—”

Apnoch finished the thought for him, voice low. “He won’t be alone for long.”

Damien nodded grimly. “I’ll go after him.”

“Damien, wait—”

“Don’t try to stop me. If he’s tampering with that Gate, this city won’t stand.”

He turned, cloak snapping behind him as he strode down the corridor, already summoning Aquila through a burst of golden essence.

Apnoch watched him as he walked away, unease gnawing at him like a slow fire.

He muttered under his breath, “General…”

“Ivaan, what have you done?” For the first time in a while, Apnoch addressed the general by his name.