SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

Fenrir stood tall, his muscular frame shrouded in a thin layer of mist from the blood-soaked battlefield.

His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger as he loomed over the fallen Lord Raegon.

The warlord had been knocked off his horse, the beast already dead from exhaustion and wounds inflicted upon it by Fenrir, yet Raegon himself still drew breath.

It was a mistake Fenrir intended to correct.

The massive wolf, now in his humanoid form, cracked his knuckles and stepped forward, his smirk widening. He could see the fear in Raegon’s eyes, hidden behind the warlord’s stubborn glare.

“I should tear you apart limb by limb,” Fenrir mused, his voice dark, amused. “It would be merciful compared to what you deserve.”

But then Fenrir shook his head. “But my master commanded me not to kill you so I’ll only have one limb torn off. That should do.”

But just as he reached out, something shimmered around Raegon’s neck—a faint, pulsing light from the pendant he wore.

Woooooong~

Fenrir’s sharp eyes narrowed as he recognized the flow of magical energy radiating from it.

Fwooooshhh…

Before he could react, a golden barrier erupted, slamming into him like a forceful shockwave and throwing him several meters back.

He landed on his feet, growling, his nails digging into the dirt. His furious gaze flicked to Raegon, who was now encased within a translucent dome of shimmering gold.

Raegon sat upright, panting, but the relief in his expression was unmistakable. He knew exactly what had happened.

“Damn it,” Fenrir muttered, rolling his shoulders. “That seems like something that’ll protect him. He doesn’t need protection.”

Raegon’s grin returned, his breathing still ragged, but his confidence restored.

“You’re too late,” he spat, pressing his palm to the pendant. “You think you’ve won, but this battle means nothing in the grand scheme of things.”

Fenrir took a step forward, his head tilting. “You really think that flimsy little shield is enough to save you?”

He pressed his palm against the barrier—it rippled, resisting him, but he could feel it… weakness.

The pendant around Raegon’s neck was no ordinary trinket. It had been a gift from his mother, a relic passed down in his bloodline, containing two abilities—one for survival, one for escape.

The first ability was a teleportation spell, automatically activating when he was on the verge of death. It would transport him to a safe location, predetermined long ago—his palace in Velthorne.

But teleportation spells took time to activate.

And that was where the second ability came in—a protective barrier, capable of withstanding nearly any attack for a few precious seconds, just long enough for the teleportation magic to complete.

Raegon knew this. He had used it before. And now, it was his lifeline.

But Fenrir had noticed the shift in space.

And he wasn’t going to let it happen.

Fenrir pushed against the barrier, testing its strength. It vibrated in response, pushing back, but he could feel it giving way.

Raegon sneered from within his golden prison. “You think brute force will break through? This is an ancient relic! You can’t stop me.”

Raegon stretched out and arm, raising the middle finger toward Fenrir. “I’m going home.”

Fenrir bared his teeth.

“I don’t need to break it,” he growled. “I just need to make sure you don’t leave alive or at the very least, intact.”

Raegon’s smirk faltered as he noticed Fenrir’s fingers digging through the golden glow. His claws pierced through the magical defense, breaching the barrier by sheer willpower alone.

Raegon’s heart pounded.

It shouldn’t be possible.

And yet Fenrir’s hand shot forward, latching onto Raegon’s outstretched arm. “I told you so. You’re not leaving yet.”

Raegon’s eyes widened in horror.

“W-Wait—”

The teleportation activated.

Light engulfed Raegon’s body. His form began to fade.

But his arm…

His arm remained in Fenrir’s grip.

Shrrriiip!!

A sickening rip echoed through the air as the rest of his body vanished into thin air.

Thud!

His severed limb dropped to the ground, blood gushing from the shoulder where it had been violently separated.

Fenrir stared at the freshly torn arm, then at his own blood-covered hands.

Silence.

Then, he sighed.

“How the hell am I going to explain this to him? How am I supposed to explain that I failed?”

~~~~~

Thud!

The teleportation completed in an instant, depositing Lord Raegon onto the cold, polished floors of his personal chamber deep within Velthorne Palace.

For a moment, he thought he had escaped unscathed.

And then, the burning sensation hit him.

His entire right side felt light. Wrong. Empty.

His breathing hitched.

Something was missing.

Slowly, almost dreading the answer, Raegon turned his head—

And saw.

His arm was gone.

Not just a cut—his entire arm had been severed at the shoulder.

Blood poured from the open wound, soaking the expensive carpet beneath him. His body shook uncontrollably.

Then came the pain.

White-hot agony.

A roar of pure suffering ripped from his throat as he collapsed, writhing in torment.

“Arrrghhh!!” His scream echoed through the palace, alerting his guards and attendants.

The heavy doors of his chamber burst open, armored soldiers and worried attendants rushing inside.

But by the time they reached him—

Lord Raegon had already lost consciousness.

Blood pooled around his limp body.

And his once mighty empire stood on the edge of uncertainty.

~~~~~

Fenrir returned to Damien, carrying Raegon’s severed arm like a trophy.

Damien raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “I told you to bring him back alive.”

Fenrir tossed the arm onto the ground between them, his expression blank.

“There’s a problem. He is alive,” he said.

“Then where’s he if he’s alive? Last I checked, you can’t store people like Luton.” Damien asked with a raised brow.

Luton, hearing her name, turned to Damien for a monent.

“He escaped through a teleportation activated by his necklace but he seems to be… missing a piece.” Fenrir pointed to the hand on the floor.

Arielle looked down at the bloody limb, then back at Fenrir. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Damien exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “So, he escaped. How annoying.”

Arielle frowned. “What now?”

Damien stared at the distant horizon, where Velthorne lay beyond the mountains.

Raegon wasn’t gone forever. He would probably return. Stronger. Angrier.

But Damien?

Damien would be waiting. Or not…

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