SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts - Chapter 455 455: I Don't Think It's Over
For endless minutes, the forest had been roaring with the sound of destruction — crashing trees, shrieking beasts, and the hiss of magic tearing through the air like a storm.
Then, suddenly, it all stopped. The silence that followed was worse than the chaos. Heavy. Dead. Almost sacred.
Captain Apnoch could barely breathe under the weight of it. His men, sprawled behind him and soaked in sweat and dirt, stared wide-eyed at the distant treeline.
The air still quivered from the aftershock. Every heartbeat seemed to echo in the stillness.
“Stay low,” Apnoch ordered hoarsely. His throat was dry, voice raw. “We don’t know what came out of there.”
They hadn’t been able to move for the last twenty minutes — pinned down by bursts of pressure so intense they felt their bones crackle. First had come the mana surge — a vertical storm of energy so massive it painted the sky black.
Then the beasts had gone mad, running in every direction, trampling each other in blind terror. Even the trees had bent away from the core of the forest as though the heart of nature itself wanted to flee.
Now… nothing.
No wind. No birds. No essence vibrations. Just a low, throbbing hum in the air — the sound of mana trying to restabilize after a cataclysm.
Apnoch wiped his brow and looked around. “Status.”
The nearest soldier coughed, gripping his weapon. “We’ve lost two to essence shock. The others—” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. The rest were pale, barely standing.
They’d managed to encounter a few soldiers numbering a dozen who’d been away from the city and were on their way back when the destruction took place.
It was this group of soldiers that gave them some sense of security.
“Keep your formation tight,” Apnoch muttered. “If another wave hits, we move further away—”
He stopped mid-sentence as something changed.
The forest ahead began to glow faintly — thin lines of crimson and gold threading between the trees, pulsing once… twice… then fading. A deep vibration rolled across the earth, slow and heavy, like the footstep of something ancient.
And then they saw it.
Two silhouettes emerging through the haze — one man, one beast.
The man walked steadily, as though none of the world’s fury could touch him. His cloak was torn, darkened by soot and blood, but his stride never faltered. The creature beside him padded silently — a small fox with three white flowing tails.
The sight rooted everyone to the ground.
“By the gods,” someone whispered. “What is that?”
Apnoch stood motionless. The closer they came, the clearer it became — the man’s aura wasn’t just powerful; it was calm. But the beast beside him was even more terrifying.
Controlled. The oppressive pressure that had suffocated the forest seemed to retreat around him.
“Damien,” Apnoch breathed. Relief and disbelief tangled in his chest. “You’re alive.”
The mercenary lifted his gaze, eyes faintly luminous under the settling dust. “Barely,” he said, his tone dry but steady. “You all look like you’ve been through hell.”
Apnoch gave a short, humorless laugh. “We could say the same about you.”
Damien noted that the other two, Lyone and Arielle were alive and a small smile formed on his face.
Damien stopped a few feet away and nodded toward the fox at his side. “This is Lin,” he said simply. The fox’s tails swayed, brushing the ground, and its crimson eyes flicked across the group.
The soldiers stiffened instinctively. It wasn’t threatening — but there was power there, something old and silent that watched and understood too much.
“Another summon?” Arielle forced herself to asked carefully.
“Something like that,” Damien replied.
Apnoch hesitated, glancing at the smoldering treeline behind them. “What happened in there?”
Damien’s expression didn’t change, but his silence spoke volumes. When he finally answered, his voice was low.
“Ivaan tried to open the Gate.”
The words struck like a blade.
Apnoch stared. “The general—?”
“He used the blood of the beasts,” Damien continued, eyes distant. “He drew runes, chanted, and forced the Gate to react. He had returned to the city earlier to take more essence and would have succeeded but I stopped him before it opened completely.” His jaw tightened. “But the cost… was everything around him. Including Delwig.”
“And the general?”
“Gone,” Damien said simply. “Destroyed him before the Gate could finish opening and so the seal returned.”
Silence stretched. The men behind them exchanged uneasy looks. None dared to speak.
Finally, Apnoch stepped closer. “Then… it’s over?”
Damien shook his head. “No. The Gate didn’t open. But it’s cracked. And once something that old cracks…” He looked up at the sky, where the faint trail of black mana still twisted through the clouds. “…it doesn’t go back to sleep.”
Damien’s eyes darkened. “Casualties in Delwig?”
“High,” Apnoch said grimly. “We don’t know how many. After what the general did to the city…” He trailed off. “…I doubt anyone survived.”
For a moment, the only sound was the whisper of the wind through the burned trees. Lin’s tails brushed lightly against Damien’s arm as if sensing the weight settling over him.
He exhaled slowly, a long, steadying breath. “Then we’re going back.”
Apnoch blinked. “Back? You saw what happened out there—”
“I need to see it,” Damien cut in, his tone iron. “With my own eyes.”
Apnoch wanted to argue, but something in Damien’s voice silenced him. It wasn’t recklessness. It was certainty — the kind that came from someone who already understood there was no other choice.
So they went.
The trek back toward Delwig was eerily quiet.
No beasts stirred. No birds sang. The Verdant Verge, once alive with the hum of mana, felt hollow — like the air itself had died.
Damien walked at the front, Lin padding beside him, her tails swaying with quiet grace. Apnoch and the remaining soldiers followed in uneasy silence.
Lyone didn’t say a single word through their whole encounter.
Damien suspected that the boy was traumatised after such a close encounter with death.
Every few steps, one of them would glance nervously at the fox; Lin would glance back, eyes glimmering like molten rubies, and they’d quickly look away.
Apnoch eventually broke the silence. “That fox of yours—it’a… not like your others.”
Damien nodded faintly. “She’s stronger. If that satisfies your curiosity.” He glanced down at Lin, who met his gaze for a heartbeat before looking ahead again. “She even healed me. Else I might’ve died in the forest.”
Apnoch didn’t reply. He just tightened his grip on his weapon and kept walking.
As they neared the edge of the forest, the stench of smoke and ash grew stronger. The trees gave way to open ground — or what used to be.
Blackened earth stretched out in every direction, and at its center, the ruins of Delwig’s northern walls stood twisted and broken.
The men stopped, speechless.
Damien said nothing. He just kept walking.
They passed burned-out homes, overturned wagons, and the skeletons of what had once been guard towers. The closer they got to the city center, the heavier the air became. Essence residue hung like fog, thick enough to make breathing difficult.
A few survivors were already out — soot-stained, trembling, but alive. They stared as Damien approached, some whispering his name like a prayer, others flinching in fear at the sight of Lin.
Apnoch’s voice was a rough whisper. “I didn’t think there were any survivors…”
“There are always survivors,” Damien said quietly. “The world’s too cruel to take everyone at once.”
When they reached the main gate, he stopped. What had once been the proud entrance to Delwig was now little more than rubble. The massive gate doors lay splintered, the metal warped by heat. Beyond it, the streets were unrecognizable. Ivaan had made sure to destroy it all.
Apnoch took a step forward, but Damien lifted a hand to stop him. His eyes glowed faintly as he surveyed the devastation.
The ground still thrummed with mana — faint, residual waves leaking from the direction of the inner city. The pulse matched the rhythm he’d felt at the Gate before. Weak, but persistent. It was their essence that they’d used to try to unseal the gate after all.
Lin’s ears twitched, and a low growl rumbled in her throat.
Damien turned his gaze toward the city’s heart, where the central keep once stood. “Something’s still active,” he murmured.
Apnoch followed his gaze. “Ivaan’s work?”
“Maybe,” Damien said, though his voice was uncertain. “Or something worse.”
For a long while, no one spoke. The soldiers began to move through the ruins, checking for survivors, whispering prayers for the dead. The wind carried the faint sound of collapsing timber and the crackle of distant embers.
Damien knelt, running his fingers through the blackened soil. It was still warm.
Behind him, Apnoch finally spoke, voice low. “So what now?”
Damien rose slowly, turning toward the heart of the city where faint wisps of dark mana still shimmered against the morning light. Lin stepped forward beside him, tails flicking once.
“Now,” Damien said, his tone quiet but sharp as steel, “we find out what the Gate left behind. I don’t think it’s over.”
