SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

"A war…"

The messenger gasped for air, obviously exhausted from the distance he'd covered, running from Lord Ellian's manor down to the Mercenary Guild building.

He took a few seconds to catch his breath before finally speaking again.

"A war is coming! Lord Ellian has requested the assistance of every one of you." The messenger said in one sentence.

Damien and Arielle didn't wait with the others to hear all the messenger had to say and immediately headed outside to go confirm for themselves.

The moment Damien and Arielle stepped out of the Mercenary Guild, another guard rushed toward them, his face flushed with urgency.

"Sir Damien! Lady Arielle!" he called out, barely stopping himself from stumbling.

Damien raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"The Town Lord," the guard gasped, catching his breath. "Lord Ellian is calling for you both. Immediately."

Arielle folded her arms. "Why us specifically?"

The guard straightened, his eyes serious.

"Because he believes you two are the pillars of this town."

Damien's expression didn't change, but Arielle smirked.

"The pillars, huh?" she murmured, glancing at Damien. "Sounds like you've got a reputation."

Damien sighed. "Let's just go."

Before they left, Arielle turned to the gathered mercenaries who were still listening to the other messenger's story about the incoming war.

"You heard the guard," she called out. "The Lord has sent messengers to organize a defense. If you care about this town, get yourselves moving!"

The mercenaries murmured amongst themselves, some already preparing their gear.

Damien didn't wait to hear the rest—he and Arielle were already moving.

Upon arriving at the manor, the atmosphere was intense.

The guards were in full armor, runners carrying weapons and orders back and forth.

Damien and Arielle were quickly ushered inside where the Lord of Westmont, Lord Ellian, was in the middle of preparing for war.

He stood in front of a large wooden stand, various maps spread across it, and several of his captains were gathered nearby, all clad in steel-plated armor.

But what caught Damien's attention most was that Lord Ellian himself was gearing up.

A servant was tightening the straps on his chest plate, while another handed him his belt and sword.

'He's going to fight,' Damien noted.

When Ellian noticed them enter, his frown immediately softened.

A relieved smile crossed his face.

"Damien, Arielle," he greeted, stepping forward. "I'm truly glad you came."

Damien gave a polite bow, while Arielle offered a curtsey.

"Let's not waste time," Damien said. "Why did you call us?"

Lord Ellian's smile faded, his expression growing grim.

"Westmont is in danger," he said simply.

He went on to explain everything—the army led by Lord Raegon. Their intentions to conquer Westmont. The siege that would be upon them in a few short hours.

But what caught Damien's attention the most was the Lord's next words.

"You are seen as our savior," Lord Ellian admitted. "Some believe you to be Westmont's secret weapon. But I believe I know the truth."

His gaze flickered toward Arielle.

"You only remain here because Arielle is still here."

Arielle's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.

Damien remained silent, offering no confirmation or denial.

But his silence was answer enough.

Lord Ellian's expression softened, though a shadow of desperation lingered.

"I will be frank with you, Damien," he said.

Then—to everyone's shock—Lord Ellian suddenly dropped to one knee.

A nobleman, kneeling before a mercenary.

Arielle's eyes widened in disbelief.

The captains and servants in the room stood frozen.

"Westmont cannot stand against Raegon's army alone," Ellian pleaded.

"I beg you. Join our forces. Help us defend this town."

Damien sighed. "You didn't need to kneel."

He crossed his arms, regarding Ellian carefully.

"That said," he continued, "I already decided to help. Since Arielle is willing to fight, I will too."

Ellian let out a quiet breath of relief, nodding.

But Damien wasn't done.

"However," he added, his voice firm, "I have a condition."

Ellian frowned slightly. "A condition?"

Damien nodded.

"I will act independently."

He stepped forward, his sharp gaze meeting the Lord's.

"I won't take orders from anyone."

"If I fight, I fight on my own terms. I'll do what I believe is necessary without interference."

The room was silent.

The captains exchanged uneasy glances.

But Ellian—without hesitation—nodded.

"Very well," he agreed. "Do as you see fit."

Damien smirked. "Good."

He turned toward the door. "Then I'm leaving."

Arielle blinked. "Already?"

Damien ignored her question.

As they stepped outside, he summoned Aquila.

The massive Griffin appeared in a burst of energy, its sharp eyes scanning the area before focusing on Damien.

"Stay with Arielle," Damien commanded. "Protect her by all means and at all costs."

Aquila let out a low, approving screech before turning to Arielle, standing protectively by her side.

Arielle frowned. "Where the hell are you going?"

Damien stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders.

"Ambushing the invaders," he said casually.

Arielle gawked at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course."

She grabbed his arm. "Damien, that's an entire army! Even you—"

"I won't fight them all," Damien interrupted. "I'll weaken their forces from behind. Cause chaos. Force them to split their troops before they even reach Westmont."

Arielle stared at him, her grip tightening.

"You're insane," she muttered.

Damien grinned. "You're just realizing that now?"

Arielle sighed, releasing his arm.

"Fine," she said. "Just don't die, alright?"

Damien winked. "I won't."

And with that Damien turned and vanished into the shadows.

Damien moved swiftly through the outskirts of the town, his steps silent as a predator in the night.

His goal was clear. 'Strike first. Disrupt their movements. Make sure they never reach Westmont in full strength.'

As he neared the enemy camp, he could hear the rhythmic marching of soldiers, the occasional clash of weapons, and the muffled conversations of warriors preparing for battle.

Damien's eyes narrowed.

He wasn't facing common soldiers.

Raegon was a conqueror, and his men were seasoned fighters.

Attacking them recklessly would be suicidal. Even for Damien.

But Damien wasn't reckless. This time, he would be a strategist.

A predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And as he observed the movements of the troops, the layout of their camp, he smirked.

"This is going to be fun." Damien murmured, disappearing into the darkness, his mind already formulating his attack.

By the time Raegon's army realized what was happening—

It would already be too late.