SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

In Damon’s chosen Path, the fog deepened with every step.

Damon moved through a place that looked like a memory—one he shouldn’t remember. His childhood home, reduced to splinters. The bloodstained snow from the night his first summon failed. The Academy courtyard after a failed mission—Anaya’s broken body crumpled on the ground.

But it wasn’t real. None of it was.

He knew it wasn’t real.

He never had such a childhood. That was fake.

He never summoned or even awakened the summoning talent, that was Damien’s talent. That was also fake.

The academy courtyard after a failed mission?? He hadn’t failed any mission so that was probably a future scene. Regardless, it was fake too.

Anaya’s broken body? That tipped it all off! He would never allow such a thing to happen. Not to the woman he loved.

However, that didn’t stop his hands from trembling slightly.

The path’s magic was intrusive—threaded with sentience. It didn’t just show illusions. It studied him. Found guilt, fear, anger—even if they weren’t real, and weaponized them.

“You’ll have to do better,” he muttered, slicing his palm and letting his blood mark the earth.

A hiss rippled through the fog.

From it, stepped… himself.

Same silver hair. Same weapon. But hollow-eyed, with a crooked smile and a shadow aura rippling off his back like smoke.

“You think you’re ready?” the illusion said, voice distorted. “You think you’re better now?”

Damon didn’t flinch.

“No. But I know who I am.”

He moved first.

Steel clashed with steel. Sparks scattered across the ghostly battlefield as he locked blades with his own reflection. The illusion was fast—his speed. It knew his tricks. His counters. His rhythm.

But it didn’t have his control.

Damon spun low, drew a hidden dagger, and drove it into his mirror-self’s thigh. The illusion cracked like glass.

“You’re not my shadow,” Damon muttered. “Just a cheap copy.”

He stepped forward.

The mist recoiled.

And the path let him pass into the next chamber.

~~~~~

Anaya – Path of the Wild Veil

The further she crept, the more unnatural the jungle became.

The mana in the air had changed. It pulsed—not just with power, but with hunger.

The trees leaned toward her now. The ground occasionally rippled as if reacting to her weight. Worse still, she could sense something stalking her through the canopy—fast, heavy, and intelligent.

She paused beside a gnarled root arch and touched her fingertips to the dirt. The vibrations came back in waves.

“Four-legged. Camouflaged. Heavy breathing.”

She didn’t wait.

She sprinted.

Behind her, the beast gave chase.

Raaaaaar!!

It roared once—a sound like stone grinding over bone—and the trees responded by shifting, trying to slow her.

Anaya rolled beneath a low branch, sprang onto a higher ledge, and launched a series of enchanted throwing knives in the shape of crescent leaves.

The first two missed.

The third embedded into the air—and stuck.

An invisibility illusion shattered. The beast—a moss-covered panther made of bark and bone—lurched back, roaring.

Anaya grinned.

“Got you.”

She dove at it, daggers drawn. One strike to the hind leg. One to the neck joint. Then a kick off its back and she vanished again into the shadows.

Thud!!

It collapsed.

The jungle rumbled in reply.

But the path ahead opened, vines parting with reluctant groans.

~~~~~

Celeste continued down her Path of Severance

Her lungs burned and every step forward dragged like iron. Her limbs were heavy, her muscles trembling from exhaustion. The constructs kept coming—three, now five, then seven.

Her glaive was a blur in her hands, its weight swinging with practiced arcs. But the enemies were relentless.

And worst of all—her mana still refused to answer.

She ducked beneath a sweeping blade and countered with a rising strike that sheared through the construct’s midsection. It collapsed in a shower of metal sparks.

The others hesitated.

Celeste fell to one knee, panting. Her arms screamed at her. Sweat dripped into her eyes.

“Still… not done,” she growled.

She forced herself to her feet.

A construct leapt.

Celeste dropped her glaive—then punched the construct’s head so hard it snapped back.

The crowd watching through projection crystals gasped.

In the ElderGlow balcony, Damon’s guardian Leana chuckled darkly.

“She’s angry now.”

Another construct charged.

Celeste picked up a broken metal arm from the ground and used it as a weapon, swinging it like a club. She broke its leg clean off, then headbutted it back into the wall.

The moment the last one fell, the suppression field flickered—her mana returned in a wave of cold fire.

She stood there in the aftermath, eyes glowing again, a cruel smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re all dead now.”

The next gate opened.

~~~~~

Daveon’s Path of Flame and Pressure.

Daveon stood on a small circular platform, floating in the middle of a lava pit. Around him, others rose and fell with unstable timing.

He had no path.

The trial wasn’t about surviving the heat.

It was about navigating chaos.

He squinted at the shifting formations. There was a pattern. A rhythm. Every fourth platform held for an extra two seconds. Every sixth belched fire upward. He tracked the motion with his eyes, marking every movement.

He didn’t run.

He waited.

Then—

He moved.

He leapt forward—one platform, two, rolled over the third, slid beneath a burst of fire on the fourth.

He landed.

The crowd roared.

Then the pressure wave came—air collapsing in a violent gust.

He steadied himself with one palm against the platform’s edge.

“Not enough,” he growled.

The next platform was higher.

He built power into his core.

Flames raced up his spine, curling around his neck like a living scarf.

Then—explosion.

Boooom!!

He blasted himself into the air, rocketing over three platforms to land on one near the final exit.

He tumbled, rolled, and lay flat for a breath.

“Okay,” he wheezed. “Maybe I overdid that one.”

But the next platform opened.

And he kept moving.

Above it all, the floating screens shimmered, the crowd growing louder with each passing moment.

But none of the students could hear it now.

They were too deep.

Too focused.

And in their own personal gauntlets of survival.

The Trial of Divergence was truly amazing.

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