SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts - Chapter 490: Battle On The Sea II

Chapter 490: Battle On The Sea II

Behind them, Garrick was still fighting.

Damien didn’t interfere.

He watched.

For ten more minutes, Garrick battled his opponent alone, eventually driving his blade through its skull with a roar that matched the storm itself.

The beast fell.

The storm began to fade.

The rain slowed. The waves calmed.

Crew members stood frozen for a moment to understand what had just happened and the moment it dawned on them, they erupted into noise.

Cheers. Laughter. Exhausted relief.

Garrick approached Damien, bloodied but smiling grimly. “You’re fast,” he said. “And dangerous.”

Damien inclined his head slightly. “I just do my best.”

None knew he wasn’t even trying to do his best.

“You earned my respect,” Garrick continued. “Even while I was fighting, I knew what you were doing.”

Around them, Luton slid off Damien’s shoulder and oozed toward the demon corpse floating near the ship.

Slowly and deliberately, it began to devour the remains, stretching and contracting as though savoring every moment.

The crew watched in uneasy fascination.

Luton could have swallowed it instantly.

Instead, it took its time.

Damien allowed it.

Fear, respect, and awe mixed freely among the crew now.

And far beneath the calming sea, more creatures began to shift…

The calmness was just a pretense.

~~~~~

The sea never truly calmed.

It only pretended to.

For nearly an hour after the last demon fell, the Grimhorn sailed through rolling waves beneath a sky that remained bruised and heavy, clouds churning slowly as though deciding whether to unleash another tantrum.

Crew members worked in silence now, no jokes or idle chatter, only sharp glances cast toward the water and hands kept close to weapons.

Damien remained where he was near the rail, Luton settled on his shoulder like an indulgent crown.

Fenrir had been dismissed again after the battle, both to spare the wolf’s nerves and to avoid unnecessary strain. Even so, Damien’s senses stayed taut.

The sea watched.

He could feel it.

“Captain,” one of the lookouts called, voice tight. “Mana fluctuation off the stern. Multiple signatures.”

Garrick didn’t curse.

That alone told Damien enough.

“Second wave,” the captain said calmly. “All hands, battle readiness. Same formations as before. Assume escalation. And be ready for the worse.”

As if responding to the words, the water behind the ship began to glow faintly.

Then it boiled. Seconds after, it seemed to settle but that was far from the truth.

The first creatures didn’t burst upward.

They crawled.

Black, slick forms clung to the hull like living tar, their bodies thin and eel-like, mouths filled with rotating rings of teeth. Their claws scraped against reinforced wood as they pulled themselves higher.

“Hull-clingers!” Torren barked. “Don’t let them breach below deck!”

Crossbow bolts rained down, pinning several creatures in place, but more came in dozens this time, climbing over one another, screeching as demonic essence pulsed through their twisted bodies.

Damien frowned.

“They’re smarter,” he muttered.

These weren’t simply attacking blindly. They were testing the ship.

One creature split apart mid-climb, its body unraveling into several smaller entities that scurried in different directions. Another spat corrosive fluid that hissed as it struck the deck barrier.

“These are new!” someone shouted.

The crew reacted instantly.

Firebombs detonated along the hull, burning creatures away in screaming clusters. Mages reinforced the runes beneath the deck, the ship glowing brighter as it resisted the assault.

But the water didn’t stop moving.

Farther out, shapes began to rise. Too many to count.

This time, the beasts came in numbers.

Fins cut through the surface like knives. Massive shadows moved beneath the waves, circling, herding. Then the sea erupted as multiple sea magic beasts launched themselves at once.

Grade Six. Grade Five.

Too many.

“Left side!”

“Above the bow!”

“Brace!”

The Grimhorn rocked violently as creatures slammed against it from multiple directions. One beast landed fully on deck, its body armored in crystalline plates that deflected steel.

Three crew members attacked together, barely forcing it back before another replaced it.

Damien moved at last.

He stepped forward, blade flashing once.

The creature’s head came off.

Another lunged from the side—Damien pivoted, driving his elbow into its skull with enough force to collapse the bone inward. It fell without a sound.

Luton slid from his shoulder, expanding rapidly, intercepting two beasts mid-air. Tendrils lashed out, dragging them screaming into its body as it absorbed them whole.

The crew stared.

Then fought harder.

The water darkened unnaturally.

A pulse of corrupted mana rippled outward, making several sailors stagger.

“Demons!” Garrick roared.

They rose slowly this time—humanoid shapes with webbed limbs, jagged armor fused to flesh, eyes glowing with malicious awareness. Lesser sea demons, but demons nonetheless.

A dozen.

Then more.

“They’re coordinating,” Jessa said, teeth clenched as she fired bolt after bolt.

One demon raised its hand, summoning a spinning vortex of water that tore across the deck, sending men flying. Another dove beneath the ship, slamming upward moments later, cracking runes and nearly capsizing the vessel.

“Captain!” Torren shouted.

Garrick was already moving.

He engaged two demons at once, blade flashing, mana flaring violently as he fought to keep them away from the mast.

Still, there were too many.

Damien exhaled slowly.

“So they really don’t want us passing,” he murmured.

He raised his hand again.

This time, the summon was immediate.

Fenrir erupted into existence beside him, massive paws digging into the deck as the wolf threw his head back and howled.

The sound cut through storm and battle alike.

Several demons flinched.

Fenrir didn’t care that the deck swayed or that the sea churned beneath them. His hatred for the ocean was overridden by his hunger for enemies.

He charged.

Where Fenrir went, demons fell.

He tore through them with savage efficiency, jaws crushing skulls, claws ripping apart corrupted bodies. Water-based attacks froze against his fur and shattered under sheer force.

Damien moved with him, their coordination seamless.

He struck where Fenrir created openings, blade finding cores, severing limbs, ending fights in single precise motions. There was no wasted movement now—no hesitation.

This wasn’t a rescue.

It was a purge.

As demons died, the sea grew furious.

A massive wave surged toward the Grimhorn, taller than the mast, infused with demonic essence. At its heart, a twisted amalgamation of beast and demon writhed—multiple heads, fused bodies, screaming in unison.

A failed creation.

“Grade Four—no—borderline Grade Three!” someone shouted in terror.

The crew faltered.

Damien didn’t.

“Hold the ship steady,” he said calmly.

Fenrir braced.

Damien leapt.

He landed atop the rising wave itself, mana reinforcing his footing as he sprinted forward, blade glowing with compressed force.

He struck once—straight into the core of the abomination.

Fenrir followed, launching upward and slamming into the creature with his full weight, jaws tearing into the exposed core.

The wave collapsed.

The demon disintegrated.

The sea screamed—and then fell silent.

When the last ripples faded, the Grimhorn still floated.

Damaged. Scorched. But alive.

Crew members slumped where they stood, panting, bloodied, laughing shakily. Some leaned on weapons. Others simply lay on the deck, staring at the sky.

Luton finished devouring the last demon slowly, almost theatrically, before returning to Damien’s shoulder with a satisfied bubble.

Fenrir stood tall beside Damien, chest heaving, eyes bright.

Garrick approached again, this time offering his forearm.

Damien clasped it.

“You weren’t lying about being dangerous,” the captain said grimly. “If there’s a hell at sea… we just walked through it.”

Damien looked toward the horizon, where the clouds still churned.

“This was only the second wave,” he replied quietly.

The captain followed his gaze.

And for the first time since setting sail, doubt crept into his eyes.

Far ahead, beyond storm and shadow, the waters grew darker still.

They barely had time to breathe.

The deck was still slick with seawater and ichor, broken planks hastily reinforced with glowing runes.

Crew members were in the middle of hauling wounded men aside, redistributing weapons, reloading essence bolts.

Some were still laughing weakly from surviving the last wave; others sat hunched, hands shaking as adrenaline drained away.

The sea did not allow them even that mercy.

Damien felt it first.

A sudden tightening—sharp and wrong—deep beneath the surface. Not the chaotic turbulence of beasts, nor the wild surge of demonic essence. This was focused. Predatory. Patient.

His eyes snapped toward the water.

“Captain—!” someone shouted.

Garrick was already moving.

The captain had taken it upon himself to ease the strain on the crew, leaping from one side of the deck to the other, blade flashing as he cut down stragglers—lesser sea demons and mana beasts that lingered after the previous assault. His movements were fast, relentless, driven by the unspoken fear that if he slowed, the sea would not.

“Hold formation!” Garrick roared. “Don’t break—!”

The words never finished.

The ocean exploded.

A massive tentacle, thicker than the mast and covered in ridged suckers lined with hooked barbs, shot out of the water with terrifying speed. It wrapped around Garrick’s torso in a single fluid motion.

There was a split second—just enough for Garrick’s eyes to widen.

Then he was yanked off the deck.