SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

Damien soared through the sky atop Skylar, the great and mighty mana beast in form of a Wyvern cutting through the air with powerful beats of its wings.

Below them, the vast landscape of small towns and villages stretched endlessly, their flickering torches and lamplights dotting the darkness like stars scattered across the ground.

He didn’t bother to avoid them. There was no need. Even if anyone noticed, Skylar moved too fast for the normal human eyes, its form barely more than a shadow streaking across the sky.

But not everyone missed it.

In a secluded village, one further removed from civilization than most, a young boy saw everything.

He stood barefoot outside his small wooden house, staring at the sky with wide, unblinking eyes. His gaze locked onto the massive creature above, tracing every detail—the gleaming black scales, the bladed wings, and the lone rider guiding it toward the horizon.

The young boy spotted its rider with silver hair as the only observable feature due to the distance.

His breath caught in his throat.

“A… a dragon,” he whispered, then turned on his heel and sprinted toward his house.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he raced through the narrow dirt paths of the village.

The young boy leapt over scattered barrels, dodged a woman carrying a basket, and pushed past a group of men drinking outside one of the village’s only taverns.

His father had to know.

He slid right under a cart being pulled by two bulls and leapt back to his feet before he resumed his sprinting.

He cut into one alley and turned to one part of the wall with a hole wide enough to fit him. Without hesitation, he slipped through the hole without stopping to catch his breath.

He came out on the other end of the hole appearing on another street in the village. He was closer to his destination now that he’d have been if he took the intended path.

Soon, he got to his destination, a decent small building on the left side of the street.

“Father!” he cried as he burst into their home, nearly tripping over the uneven wooden floor.

His father sat by the fireplace, sharpening a worn hunting knife. The man barely spared him a glance.

“What is it, boy?”

“I—I saw it! A dragon!”

His father exhaled sharply through his nose. He didn’t even look up. “You’ve been reading too many stories.”

“No, Father, I saw it! It was real, I swear!” The boy’s voice rose with urgency. “Black scales, massive wings—it flew so fast, but I saw it.”

The man finally looked at his son, his brows drawing together in irritation. “Enough Lyone! You sound like a fool.”

“But—”

His father slammed the knife onto the wooden table, the blade’s impact echoing through the small room.

“I said enough.” His tone was final. “Dragons don’t exist, boy. Go to bed.”

The boy’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. His father’s rejection stung, but deep down, he had expected it. No one would believe him. Not even his own blood.

Just like no one had believed his mother.

“Yes father.” The boy responded, retreating to his small room in silence.

The wooden walls felt smaller than before, suffocating even. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his own hands.

His mother had once told him that their bloodline was special. That all members of her Great Family awakened a gift upon reaching fifteen. But she never had the chance to teach him about it properly.

She had been hanged as a witch just months ago before she could teach or even show it to him.

The people of this village had feared her, hated her for being different. Even his father, the man who was supposed to love her, had stood by and done nothing.

And now, he was following the same path.

He had awakened a power, but it was wild, uncontrollable.

Sometimes, he saw things slower than they really were—details frozen in time, as if the world had decided to move at his pace. Other times, everything sped up, becoming a blur of movement and light.

Regardless of how fast or slow things appeared, he remembered everything.

That was how he had seen the dragon. While the rest of the village only caught a brief shadow in the sky, his unnatural sight had allowed him to witness it in full.

His mother had been executed for having a power similar to this.

Would his father do the same if he found out?

The boy swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Yes.

If the villagers whispered enough, if they convinced his father that his own son was cursed, then the man would not hesitate to give him up.

He might have to leave.

Lyone weighed his options. Stay here and risk dying or leave and risk dying.

He had to leave. “Well… Death awaits me no matter my choice. Might as well spend the rest of my life exploring places and if fate wills it, survive instead of die.”

His heart pounded with the weight of his decision. He grabbed a small cloth sack, stuffing it with whatever clothes he could find. He took some bread from the kitchen, a small knife, and a flask of water.

Then, with silent steps, he slipped through the back window of their home and vanished into the approaching night.

The village was small, and it didn’t take long for him to leave it behind. He stood at its outskirts, gazing at the path ahead. Dark woods stretched before him, and beyond them, the open plains.

He had nowhere to go.

No family. No home.

But then, he remembered.

The dragon—the rider.

The mysterious figure who had been atop the creature had stopped it for a moment, just before it had vanished into the horizon.

They were headed somewhere.

And if his memory was right, judging from their direction, that somewhere was Velthorne.

Velthorne. A full-day’s journey by foot.

Maybe he would find the rider.

Maybe—just maybe—that person would believe him and his talent.

He took a deep breath, gripping the straps of his bag tightly.

And then, he started walking. “Off to Velthorne I guess.” Lyone grinned with anticipation.

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