SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

Arielle soared high above the battlefield, the wind whipping against her face as Aquila carried her through the sky with breathtaking speed.

From up here, she could see everything—the clashing armies, the blood-soaked battlefield, and the chaos unfolding below.

Despite the roars of battle and the explosions shaking the ground, she remained completely focused.

She had a job to do.

Even as arrows and spells were fired at her from below, they were laughably ineffective.

The mercenaries trying to shoot her down were Silver or Gold Rank at best—far too weak to land a fatal hit on Aquila.

Their attacks either missed entirely or glanced off the Griffin’s golden feathers, leaving no damage whatsoever.

She smirked.

“Idiots.”

Still, she wasn’t careless.

Every now and then, she commanded Aquila to dive, swooping low so she could cut down a few foes with precise, deadly strikes before quickly ascending back to safety.

She never let her guard down.

And then—

As Aquila soared upward once again, something caught her eye.

Far behind Raegon’s forces, she spotted three approaching figures.

At first, she thought they were reckless fools—three humans walking toward an army of thousands, as if they had no care in the world.

But the moment she focused on them, her instincts screamed that these were not ordinary people.

Two of them radiated destruction, their very presence distorting the air around them.

And then—the third one.

The third figure looked strangely familiar.

Arielle narrowed her eyes, her heartbeat quickening.

The girl…

Her features…

Her movements…

And then it hit her.

The striking resemblance to Luton.

No—it wasn’t just a resemblance.

It was Luton.

But she wasn’t in her usual slime-like form.

She had taken on a human appearance.

Arielle’s grip on Aquila’s reins tightened as she turned her gaze to the other two figures.

She studied them carefully, and the more she looked—

The more she recognized.

Their powerful auras.

Their movements—dangerous, calculated.

Their features.

They were too similar to Fenrir and Cerbe to be a coincidence.

Her eyes flickered to the distance, searching for one last confirmation.

And there—walking lazily toward the battlefield as if he were on a casual stroll—was Damien.

A slow grin spread across Arielle’s face.

“There you are, you reckless bastard.”

He was here.

And that meant this battle was already won.

Damien stood amidst the battlefield, his gaze cold and calculating as chaos unfolded around him.

From behind, he led an ambush against Lord Raegon’s forces, cutting them down mercilessly. At the front, Lord Ellian’s army held the line, preventing the enemy from advancing further into Westmont.

“Arrrghhh!!”

Screams of agony filled the air, accompanied by the deafening roar of explosions and the desperate cries of dying men.

The sudden collapse of his rear guard alerted Lord Raegon to the ambush from behind, and with a furious snarl, he commanded half of his mercenary forces to turn back and counter the assault.

But Damien didn’t care.

He wasn’t even fighting.

His summons were.

Standing at the center of it all, Damien watched as his creatures of destruction laid waste to everything in sight.

Fenrir, in his manly form, was an unstoppable force of carnage. His massive greatsword, one he’d picked from the battlefield, cleaved through soldiers like paper, sending their blood splattering across the dirt.

Every swing left a trail of severed limbs and broken bodies, his silver eyes glowing with a primal hunger for battle.

Beside him, Cerbe, also in his human form, fought with terrifying brutality. Unlike Fenrir’s calculated strikes, Cerbe’s head burned with hellish fire, and with each punch, he ignited the very air, setting mercenaries ablaze with supernatural flames. His flaming fists crushed armor like brittle clay, turning men into screaming infernos.

Then there was Luton.

She didn’t fight with destruction. She didn’t cause explosions.

She simply made enemies disappear.

In her feminine form, Luton’s body moved like a ghost through the battlefield, her crimson eyes locking onto her victims before they vanished without a sound.

One moment, a mercenary would charge at her with a sword raised—the next, they were gone. Swallowed whole, erased from existence.

But while his summons ravaged the battlefield, Damien’s mind was elsewhere.

Despite the bloodshed, despite the chaos, his thoughts were locked onto a single question. ‘Why did Cerbe take a new form?’

The system had explicitly stated that once a summon took its first transformation, it could not change forms.

And yet—Cerbe had.

Damien’s blue eyes narrowed as he observed his summon from afar, his mind racing. Could it be some kind of exception? A hidden evolution? He needed answers.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed the approaching mercenary.

“Die you strange bastard!” The enemy soldier lunged, his sword flashing in the light as he aimed straight for Damien’s heart.

Damien snapped back to reality.

His fingers twitched.

A blur of steel moved from the ground.

In the blink of an eye, the sword resting beside him shot forward, moving faster than the mercenary could react.

The blade pierced flesh.

Stab!

One.

Stab!!

Two.

Stab!!!

Three times.

Damien stabbed him over and over, each strike clean and precise, ensuring the man would never rise again.

The mercenary collapsed, lifeless, blood pooling around him.

Damien sighed, shaking off the distraction. He turned his gaze back to the battlefield, scanning the scene. His summons had already done most of the work, turning Raegon’s forces into a crumbling mess.

Still, something was missing.

Lord Raegon needed to feel fear.

True, suffocating fear.

“Enough fear so that he would never consider attacking Westmont again, even in my absence.” Damien exhaled, his expression cold.

“Summon Skylar.”

The air around him shifted.

Dark essence swirled in the sky, gathering into a massive vortex as a new presence descended upon the battlefield.

A chilling screech echoed through the air, sending shivers down the spines of every soldier—friend and foe alike.

Then, the sky darkened.

From the swirling storm of shadows, a massive wyvern emerged, its black scales gleaming under the fading sunlight.

Its deathly eyes burned with a hunger for blood, and its jagged wings flapped once, sending a powerful gust that shook the battlefield.

Skylar, the Shadowfang Wyvern, had arrived.

Roaaaaaaar!!

A moment of silence fell over the battlefield as all eyes turned toward the beast in the sky.

And then Lord Raegon’s army broke.

The once-formidable mercenaries stumbled back in horror, their weapons trembling in their hands. They had already been struggling against Fenrir, Cerbe, and Luton—but now, seeing a wyvern descend from the heavens shattered their morale completely.

The sight alone drained the fight from their bones.

“Well… have at it.” Damien commanded his wyvern.

And then, Skylar attacked.

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