SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

The celebrations in Westmont carried deeper and deeper into the night.

For the people, it was a time to revel in victory, to forget their wounds and losses, even if just for a little while.

Their lord had commanded and approved their celebration, and they obeyed with full hearts, knowing that in the coming days, they would mourn the fallen. But tonight, they drank and feasted in honor of their survival.

Damien sat alone, away from the center of the festivities, watching as the townspeople and soldiers lost themselves in merriment.

Mugs of ale clashed together, spilling foam onto the ground as warriors roared with laughter, boasting of their bravery on the battlefield.

The air was thick with the scent of grilled meats and burning torches, the sounds of cheerful singing filling the night. Amidst it all, some women danced and others served more meat and ale to people around.

At the center of it all, a group of soldiers had begun to compose a song about the battle. They sang the names of those who had led them to victory, their voices rising in a drunken chorus.

Lord Ellian’s name was the first, for he had commanded the entire force. Then came a dozen others who had fought bravely. But as the song grew louder, two names were repeated over and over.

Arielle, the rider of the skies, who had descended upon the battlefield like a vengeful storm, cutting down foes with her twin blades while Aquila, her majestic beast, tore through their ranks with dangerously powerful talons.

And then, the name that was sung the loudest.

Damien.

The ender of wars. The lord of beasts. The shadow that brought death.

He had ended two of their battles and so the name Ender of Wars was given to him.

He had summoned and controlled almost half a dozen powerful magic beasts which earned him the title of Lord of Beasts.

Skylar, his Shadowfang Wyvern and it’s destruction had gifted him the name Shadow that brought Death.

He listened as their voices wove stories of his monstrous summons, of Fenrir’s swordplay, Cerbe’s merciless fire, and Luton’s insatiable hunger. Skylar’s black flames were not excluded from their songs.

They sang of how his creatures had turned the tide and even how one had ensured that Lord Raegon would never wield a weapon with his right hand again.

Their voices rose:

“He stood ‘midst beasts, with eyes so cold,

No blade could harm, no fire could hold.

With hounds of flame and wolves of might,

He turned the tide, he won the fight.”

“The earth did shake, the foes did run,

The dragon’s roar had sealed the sun.

But none stood taller, none stood free,

Than the lord of beasts who bent no knee.”

Damien smirked, shaking his head. They were exaggerating, of course. But he had to admit, it was a damn good song.

“Enjoying the praise?”

The voice pulled him from his thoughts. Turning, he found Lord Ellian standing beside him, two mugs of ale in his hand, his usual formal demeanor softened by the warmth of victory.

Damien nodded. “They like to sing, don’t they?”

“They do,” Ellian agreed, taking a sip of his drink and passing the other mug to Damien with a smirk. “But they aren’t singing lies.”

Damien chuckled. “They’re making me sound like a god of war. I’m just a man who did what was needed.”

Ellian shook his head. “No, Damien. What you did today was beyond what any ordinary man could have done. Many would have fought for wealth, for land, for power. But you…” He set his drink down and looked Damien in the eye. “You fought only for the safety of Westmont. And that is rare.”

He took a breath before continuing. “I must thank you for that.”

Damien exhaled, looking back at the celebrating soldiers. He understood what Ellian meant.

If someone else had commanded creatures as strong as his, they would have demanded titles, riches, and influence.

“I could ask for payment,” Damien admitted. “But truthfully, Westmont’s entire treasury might not be enough to give me what I want.”

Ellian frowned. “And what is it that you want?”

Damien leaned forward, staring into the dancing flames of a nearby torch. “A place to belong.”

Ellian remained silent, listening.

“I’ve been exiled, Lord Ellian,” Damien continued, his voice quieter now. “My own family abandoned me because they saw me as a failure. My talent was called unnatural and unworthy of the family. I was seen as a threat to the balance of power and for that alone, I was sent off to die.”

He looked up at Ellian, his expression unreadable. “But here? No one cares about that. No one cares that I was a failure in someone else’s eyes. Westmont accepted me for what I am.”

He clenched his fists. “And there’s an orphanage here. A place I’ve put time into protecting. A place that won’t survive if Westmont falls.”

Damien took a deep breath before finishing. “That’s why I fought. Not for wealth, not for titles. I fought because this place is home now. And I’ll protect it, no matter what.”

For a long moment, Ellian said nothing.

Then, slowly, he bowed his head.

“Damien,” he said. “Westmont may have won this war because of your strength, but it is your heart that makes you one of us.”

He straightened, looking at Damien with newfound respect. “And as long as I rule this city, you will never have to fight alone.”

Damien smirked, shaking his head. “Careful, Lord Ellian. That almost sounded like an emotional speech.”

Ellian chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Don’t worry, I’m known to hold secrets best without a single soul knowing.” Damien smiled with a subtle nod.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching as the town continued to sing and dance.

The war was over. For now.

But Damien knew better than to believe in lasting peace.

Somewhere out there, Lord Raegon still breathed.

And men like him never stayed down for long.

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