SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts - Chapter 517 517: It Will Be Too Late
Damien did not move immediately after the interrogation and killing of the captured demon.
He climbed to higher ground and watched.
For two days.
The eastern stronghold had not relocated. It had not scattered. But its patrol pattern had changed. Slightly tighter. Slightly more alert.
They knew one of their soldiers was missing.
They did not know how.
That was important.
Damien lay flat against a thick branch high above the canopy, essence compressed to near invisibility. Below, two demonic soldiers moved in a staggered patrol formation. One ahead. One trailing behind by several dozen meters.
Smart.
But not smart enough.
He had learned something critical from the tortured soldier.
The captains monitored suppression grids.
Which meant fluctuations would draw attention.
Loud battles. Essence bursts. Unstable deaths.
All of that would ripple outward.
He could not afford noise.
If demons began dying violently and leaving residue behind, captains would investigate.
So instead, he would make them vanish.
No bodies.
No lingering cores.
No scent.
Nothing.
He waited until the lead demon crossed a narrow ravine. The trailing one paused briefly to inspect claw marks along a tree trunk.
Damien moved.
He dropped silently behind the trailing demon.
His hand shot forward and clamped over its mouth.
The other drove two fingers into the base of its skull.
A concentrated pulse of essence surged inward.
Not explosive.
Not visible.
Just precise.
The demon stiffened violently.
Its core trembled.
Damien twisted.
A faint crack echoed inside the creature’s neck.
The body went limp instantly.
No scream.
No flare.
Just silence.
Before it could even fall fully, Luton surged from Damien’s shoulder and swallowed the corpse whole.
Gone.
Not a drop of blood hit the ground.
Damien did not pause.
He leapt across the ravine.
The lead demon sensed something behind it and turned… too late.
Damien’s knee smashed into its sternum, folding it backward against a tree. His hand pierced through its throat before it could release a sound.
He leaned close.
“Don’t.”
The demon’s eyes widened as it attempted to destabilize its core.
Damien crushed it manually.
His fingers tightened around the chest cavity until the essence flow snapped violently inside the creature’s body.
The demon convulsed once, then stilled. It was dead.
Luton consumed it instantly.
Two patrol units.
Erased.
Damien exhaled slowly.
He had not summoned Fenrir. Had not summoned Cerbe.
Speed. Silence. Erasure.
He scanned the forest.
No reaction.
Good.
He retreated immediately and circled wide.
He would not strike from the same vector twice.
Night fell again.
This time he approached from the western side of the stronghold.
He summoned Fenrir.
The great wolf materialized without sound, fur bristling faintly in the darkness.
“You will not roar,” Damien whispered.
Fenrir’s icy eyes gleamed with understanding.
Damien signaled forward.
A lone demon soldier moved between two perimeter points, inspecting carved suppression markings along tree trunks.
This one was stronger than the previous pair.
Alert.
Focused.
Damien let Fenrir circle behind it while he moved from the opposite side.
When the demon paused to examine a glowing rune carved into bark, Fenrir lunged.
Its jaws clamped around the demon’s upper torso and ripped backward violently.
The demon tried to scream.
Damien was already there.
His fist drove straight through its abdomen, gripping its core region from inside its body.
He twisted and pulled.
The demon’s scream died in its throat.
Fenrir did not devour immediately.
Instead, Damien nodded.
The wolf tore the corpse into large pieces and consumed them quickly, methodically.
No leftovers.
No scattered limbs.
No blood trail.
Fenrir’s tail flicked once in satisfaction.
Damien placed a hand on its head briefly.
“Good.”
He dismissed it immediately afterward.
Summons lingered presence.
Presence left traces.
He would rotate them strategically.
By the third day, tension in the eastern cluster had grown palpable.
Patrols doubled.
Rotations tightened.
Search teams moved further into surrounding regions.
They knew something was wrong.
But they still did not know what.
And that was the brilliance of it.
Missing.
Not slain.
Not obliterated.
Just… gone.
Damien located his third target at dawn.
A soldier stationed near an essence anchor point — a carved stone partially embedded into the forest floor, glowing faintly with suppressed energy.
The demon knelt before it, adjusting etched markings with careful precision.
Stabilizer duty.
Damien observed quietly.
Then summoned Cerbe.
The three-headed hellhound appeared without fanfare, black flames licking faintly around its paws before extinguishing at Damien’s gesture.
“Minimal fire,” he warned.
Cerbe’s central head lowered obediently.
They moved together.
Cerbe circled wide.
Damien approached head-on.
The demon sensed him at the last moment and sprang to its feet, claws igniting with dark essence.
“Human—”
Damien closed the distance instantly.
His elbow shattered the demon’s jaw before the word finished.
Cerbe struck from behind, one head clamping onto the demon’s shoulder while another seized its leg.
They dragged it down together.
The demon tried to surge essence.
Damien slammed his palm into its chest and compressed its core flow, disrupting the surge mid-channel.
Cerbe’s third head bit down at the base of its neck and tore.
The body spasmed once.
Then fell still.
Cerbe consumed it quickly, flames flickering just enough to cauterize blood before it touched earth.
Damien dismissed the summon again.
Three soldiers in three days.
No traces.
No cores left behind.
No scent markers.
The eastern stronghold was now significantly reduced.
He returned to high ground and observed once more.
The remaining demons were uneasy.
One intelligent presence paced more frequently now.
Communication between units had increased.
They were beginning to suspect external interference.
But not the scale.
Not yet.
Damien’s gaze shifted deeper into the forest.
Three captains existed.
If soldiers began vanishing too quickly, captains would investigate personally.
He needed the eastern cluster weakened but not wiped out entirely.
Not until he was ready.
He had proven something important.
He could isolate and eliminate without triggering large-scale reaction.
He could dismantle the structure piece by piece.
He stood slowly, wind brushing against his dark hair.
“By the time they realize what’s happening,” he murmured quietly,
“It will be too late.”
Below, the remaining demons continued their rotations, unaware that their numbers had already thinned significantly.
Unaware that their stabilizing network was weakening.
Unaware that the apex predator of Twin Disasters had shifted from open warfare to systematic extinction.
And this was only the beginning.
