SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

The wind carried the scent of ash now.

Faint. Distant. But growing.

Arielle stood at the cliff's edge near the outpost, the forest clearing behind her littered with old weapon racks, abandoned tents, and half-crushed barrels.

Before her, a narrow path wound downward between two steep rock faces—just wide enough for two to walk shoulder-to-shoulder.

Beyond that path, across the northern ridgeline, the demon horde stirred. The vibrations were becoming more pronounced. They were getting closer.

She could feel it.

Not see—not yet.

But the pressure in the air was unmistakable. Essence warped. Light dimmed. The shadows between trees began to move on their own.

They were coming.

She turned back toward the others.

Deyna, Elian, Tarn, Rom, and Kirra stood in a loose cluster, expressions tight, eyes full of unease.

She could feel the change in their moods. There was something off about how they appeared.

"You said you'd stand with me," Arielle said, he'd eyes moving from one person to another as though she was scanning their souls.

"We did," Deyna muttered, not meeting her gaze.

"You said you remembered who I was." Arielle spoke again.

"And we do," Kirra added quickly. "But that doesn't mean we're ready to die."

Arielle narrowed her eyes. "You think I want you to die?"

Rom stepped forward. "You're asking us to hold off a horde. That's not survival. That's suicide."

"No," she said firmly. "That's duty."

"Heh! Hahaha..." Tarn gave a bitter laugh. "You sound like one of them now. The higher Traversers. The ones who told us we were expendable. That we had no worth unless we bled for someone else's cause."

Arielle's voice dropped. "I'm not them. I never was."

"But you still want us to die for a city that's not ours," Deyna said. "For people we don't know."

"They'll die if we don't slow the horde."

"Then let them handle it," Elian snapped. "We're not soldiers anymore. We're not tools."

Arielle stepped closer. Her voice remained steady, but her eyes hardened.

"I'm not asking you to die for strangers. I'm asking you to stand, just for a few minutes, so Greshan can be warned. So people who can fight have a chance."

No one answered.

The silence stung more than the protests.

Then Rom said quietly, "If this were years ago… maybe. I'd have followed you anywhere, Arielle."

"Then why not now?"

"Because you left us," he said. "You vanished. You survived, but we all broke. We weren't the same after that. And now you're asking us to put ourselves back together for one more mission. For one more final stand."

He looked away.

"I just… can't."

Arielle didn't flinch. Not visibly.

But something inside her cracked.

"I see," she said. "Then go."

The others looked up, surprised.

"You want to leave? Fine. Walk away. Take the safe trail back to the western pass and disappear. Do what you've always done—survive."

Her tone was cold now. "But if you walk away from this, don't ever speak my name again. Don't ever stand beside me. Don't ever pretend we were a family."

Zeke, silent until now, stepped forward. "Ari—"

"No," she snapped. "Let them go."

One by one, they shifted. Some glanced at her. Some didn't. Eventually, all of them turned.

No one said goodbye.

Not one of them looked back.

Only Lira hesitated—for a heartbeat but eventually...

"Good bye, Arielle." Then she too turned around and left. She followed the others.

Arielle didn't move until the last of their footsteps vanished into the tree line.

Only then did she exhale.

Aquila stepped beside her.

"They're not worth your grief."

"They were my people," Arielle said. "Once."

Aquila's golden eyes scanned the forest beyond. "Then honor them by surviving."

Arielle nodded. "We hold here."

The griffin—still in her human form—turned toward the narrow path. "Good bottleneck. We can cut them down as they come. One by one."

"They'll break through eventually."

"Eventually," Aquila agreed. "But not before we've killed dozens."

"Or hundreds."

Arielle crouched at the edge of the bottleneck and drew her dagger across the earth. Tiny magic circles formed—sharp, defensive patterns etched into the soil with practiced hands.

She unrolled a cloth bundle and revealed six polished shards—portable ward anchors. She drove one into the center of the magic circle.

Then she stood.

"They'll bleed to get through here."

Aquila cracked her knuckles. "Then let's start bleeding them."

The first demon appeared forty minutes later.

Not with a roar—but a hiss.

Its black form slithered into view at the far end of the narrow path. A humanoid torso atop a centipede body, with bone-blades extending from each limb.

Arielle exhaled.

"Only one," Aquila noted.

"Scouting."

Another emerged. Then another.

They were slow.

Careful.

They smelled the magic circles. Felt the hum of magic on the air.

Then one charged.

It dashed across the path with unnatural speed, claws clicking against stone.

Arielle raised her hand—and the magic circle flared.

A spear of blue flame erupted from the soil and impaled the creature mid-sprint.

Puck!

"Kreeeei! The demon screamed once, then vanished into ash.

The other two snarled and leapt.

Aquila moved.

She vanished from Arielle's side in a burst of wind and reappeared mid-lunge, her body twisting with a beast's grace.

Her fist collided with the chest of the first demon, shattering bone, before she spun and caught the second with her heel, sending it flying off the path entirely, its head shattered by her attack.

Arielle stepped beside her.

"Don't push too far," she warned.

"I'm not the one with something to prove."

Arielle gave a bitter smile. "We both are. Two Against Demons."

"Has a nice ring to it." Aquila smirked.

More demons rushed in.

Five at first. Then nine.

The magic circles cut down the first wave, but the second pushed harder. Aquila switched to dual blades—a gift from Damien, enchanted steel curved like falcon wings. Arielle flanked with magic, weaving essence into sharp lines of kinetic force.

Each time they cut one down, another arrived.

But only two at a time could engage at the bottleneck.

And that was their advantage.

Blood painted the rocks.

Ash clung to their clothes.

Arielle fought like a woman possessed—not reckless, not suicidal—but resolute. With every strike, she remembered the faces of those who walked away.

With every spell, she thought of Damien.

If he came…

If he didn't…

It wouldn't change her next step.

She would hold.

With Aquila beside her, she would not break.

Not here.

Not until the world made her.