SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts - Chapter 410: Bleed Now, So You Don’t Die Later
Chapter 410: Bleed Now, So You Don’t Die Later
The training grounds of Delwig’s eastern barracks were alive with noise. Metal rang against metal, boots thudded across dirt, and voices barked commands.
Lyone stood at the center of it all, panting heavily, his knuckles white around the hilt of his practice blade.
Captain Apnoch had requested he switched weapons as they were training and his training partners weren’t going to kill him.
Around Lyone, six of Captain Apnoch’s men circled like wolves.
“Don’t lower your guard,” one sneered.
Lyone’s eyes flicked left and right. He remembered Damien’s warning: Never waste your talent unless you have no other choice.
His fingers twitched, instinctively longing to twist the threads of time, but he gritted his teeth and kept them still. If Damien said he needed to grow without relying on it, then so be it.
The first warrior lunged. Lyone parried clumsily, the impact rattling his arms. Another struck from behind, and only by rolling forward did he avoid having the blunt edge of a spear ram his spine. They weren’t holding back—Apnoch had told them not to.
Of course they would attempt to kill him during the training but actually killing him was prohibited.
“Too slow!” one barked, catching him across the ribs with a practice staff. Lyone staggered but refused to fall.
Apnoch watched from the sidelines, arms crossed. His voice cut across the yard like a whip. “Again!”
Lyone’s blood boiled. He surged forward, blade flashing. This time his strikes were cleaner, sharper. He ducked under a spear thrust, slashing the man’s thigh before twisting to block a sword from another. Blow by blow, he adapted. He wasn’t winning—not yet—but he was lasting longer.
Finally, after half an hour of grueling exchanges, Apnoch raised a hand. “Enough.” The warriors stepped back, sweat on their brows. Lyone collapsed to one knee, chest heaving.
Apnoch smirked. “Not hopeless.”
Lyone lifted his head, eyes blazing despite his crazy levels of exhaustion. “What’s next?”
The captain snapped his fingers. A massive cage was wheeled onto the grounds, iron bars rattling as the beast inside roared.
A Grade Seven rock-horned bull slammed its bulk against the bars, shaking the ground. Unlike the abominations Damien and Arielle hunted, this one was pure—a natural mana beast.
“This,” Apnoch said, his voice carrying to every corner of the grounds, “is your true trial. If you can’t handle a single beast without your talent, then you’ll never stand against what’s coming.”
The cage opened. The bull charged.
~~~~~
Far from the barracks, east of Delwig, the forest was no less violent. Arielle’s staff whirled in arcs of light, unleashing blasts of azure flame that tore through corrupted wolves. Each beast’s eyes glowed crimson, their bodies twisted by demonic essence.
Damien stood behind her, not idle but watching, his gaze sharp as a blade. He tracked the ebb and flow of corrupted essence in the beasts’ bodies. Every time one fell, he summoned Luton, the red slime rippling across the battlefield.
“Eat,” Damien ordered.
Luton needed no encouragement. It engulfed corpses whole, dissolving fur, flesh, and bone alike before spitting out cracked essence cores. It pulsed, swelling slightly with every meal.
“Greedy thing,” Arielle muttered between spells.
Damien only smirked. “The greedier, the stronger. That’s how it survives and you’ve witnessed it enough times to know that.”
When the last beast fell, silence returned to the clearing. Damien crouched, picking up one of the half-dissolved cores. Black veins ran through it, spiderwebbing across the surface. His thumb brushed it, and he hissed at the sting.
“They’re refining the corruption,” he murmured. “Less instability than before. Whoever’s behind this is getting better.”
Arielle wiped sweat from her brow, frowning. “Then we need to get ahead of them before they perfect it.”
Damien’s jaw clenched. “Exactly.”
~~~~~
Back at the barracks, Lyone dodged as the bull’s horns grazed past, carving a trench in the dirt. His blade snapped forward, striking the beast’s flank, but the rock-hard hide absorbed most of the blow. The bull bellowed, swinging its head.
The impact threw Lyone across the ground. He spat blood, forcing himself to stand.
“On your feet!” Apnoch roared. “It’s a beast, not a god. Read it!”
Lyone focused, forcing himself to breathe. The bull stomped, pawing the ground, preparing another charge.
He watched the twitch of its muscles, the shift of weight in its shoulders. Left horn first… then right swing.
When it charged, he leapt aside just in time, slashing across its leg. Blood sprayed, and the bull stumbled, bellowing in rage. Lyone pressed the attack, striking again and again. His arms trembled, but his eyes burned with determination.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the beast collapsed with a final roar, crashing into the dirt. Lyone stood above it, panting, blade dripping red.
The yard erupted in cheers. Apnoch’s warriors grinned, some clapping, others nodding in approval.
Apnoch approached, his expression unreadable. Then he smirked. “Not bad, boy. You’re raw, but you’ve got a spine. Keep this up, and you might live long enough to matter.”
Lyone managed a grin through the exhaustion. “I’ll… take that as a compliment.”
Eastward, Damien and Arielle pressed on. Each day, the corrupted essence grew thicker, the attacks more frequent. Twice more they were ambushed by beasts twisted into grotesque forms. Arielle fought tirelessly, her spells keeping the tide at bay, while Luton feasted on the aftermath.
At night, when they rested, Damien etched notes into his journal. The corruption patterns, the rune designs, the increasing stability of the essence—all recorded. He didn’t speak his full thoughts to Arielle, but the knot in his chest tightened with every page.
Someone was moving faster than they expected. Someone who wanted to see the world choke on demons.
Lyone, meanwhile, collapsed onto his cot at night, bruised and battered but smiling faintly. Each day under Apnoch’s watchful eyes made him stronger, sharper.
But in the back of his mind, Damien’s words echoed.
One day, he’ll be one of the people standing between the demons and humans. He’ll be their hope, their help, their last line of defense.
So he had to learn.
“Bleed now, so you don’t die later.”
Lyone closed his eyes, gripping the hilt of his practice sword until sleep took him.
