SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

Chapter 395: Realm Cleaver

Ash filled the area, the academy grounds, once serene under the pale light of ElderGlow’s moon, now carried scars of violence.

Stone walls bore cracks, dormitory roofs smoldered faintly, and the scent of charred demon-blood clung stubbornly to the night wind. The chaos had ended, but its echoes lingered, and the Deans moved to ensure no remnant dared stir again.

Dean Godsthorn moved like a shadow through the academy’s deeper halls, the needle-like tool now tucked back into his sleeve. His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp, constantly measuring, searching.

He swept his essence across every corridor, every hidden passage. His senses pierced through walls like lantern-light through mist.

Nothing.

No hidden intruder. No wounded student left behind. The attack had been thorough but not cunning enough to slip past the combined might of the Deans.

He stopped in the western courtyard, where the earth was still scorched from Razel’s clash with the transformed mercenaries. There, he raised his hand and summoned the bodies of the fallen intruders.

They appeared one by one—limbs stiff, eyes vacant, forms still bearing the grotesque remnants of their transformation.

Godsthorn crouched beside them. He pressed his palm over the nearest corpse and let his essence seep in. The body quivered.

Faint traces of what once had been human flickered in its mana veins, warped, twisted, force-fed until their natural channels had broken under the strain. ʀᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛʀs ᴀᴛ novel✶fire.net

His brow tightened. These had not been born demons. They had been made.

He gathered the corpses into a single sealed sphere of compressed space. Later, he would dissect them, probe their essence structures, peel apart the truth of what Dean Veyra had turned them into. But for now, containment would suffice.

Godsthorn straightened, his long shadow stretching across the courtyard. His voice was little more than a murmur.

“Why risk so much, Veyra? What could be worth breaking ElderGlow itself?”

Elsewhere, Dean Oryll and Sub-Dean Koven strode across the student housing districts, their presence steadying the frightened young cultivators who peeked cautiously from doorways.

“Back inside,” Oryll repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time that night. “Doors sealed, runes lit, no wandering until sunrise.”

The students obeyed. His tone carried no room for argument. Behind him, Koven checked each building personally, scanning for life-force fluctuations, tallying heads. His methodical nature spared no corner.

The two Deans compared their notes as they moved:

“No injuries beyond minor burns and shock,” Koven reported.

“And no missing students,” Oryll added with relief. He had feared Veyra’s vanishing act had concealed an abduction. But every class, every year—from first-year initiates to fifth-year aspirants—were accounted for. Staff too. Not a single life had been stolen.

Oryll crossed his arms, scowling as they passed the eastern dormitory. “Then why vanish alone? What did she take?”

Koven shook his head. “Or perhaps she came for something she couldn’t reach this time.”

Their eyes met briefly, silent understanding passing between them. The war wasn’t over. Tonight had been only a probe. A taste.

Razel Acheon stretched his neck until it cracked, surveying the battlefield he and Elias had left behind. The young swordsman stood beside him, blade still faintly glowing from its last strike.

“Are you hurt?” Razel asked gruffly.

Elias shook his head. “Just drained. Too much essence channeling.”

“Good.” Razel clapped him on the shoulder with surprising force. “You did well. Held your ground better than I expected.”

Elias opened his mouth to reply but was cut off as teachers began to arrive, checking the damaged district. With their arrival, Razel finally allowed himself to relax, his grin sharp as ever.

Still, his eyes narrowed at the thought of the one who had slipped away—the one he had promised to “deal with so good he’d wish he were dead.” The bastard had vanished amidst the chaos. And Razel would not forget that face.

Far from the chatter and counting, in the quiet northern courtyard, Lord Terrace finally stirred.

He had sat in meditation for hours, essence surging through every vein and pore, condensing, sharpening.

The orbs entrusted to him earlier pulsed faintly within his void key, but he had not touched them. His focus had been on himself—on the wellspring of power coiled within his body.

Now, at last, he stood.

The night air trembled. His presence was no longer restrained, no longer hidden. He let it flow, let it bloom, his aura pressing against the barrier like a tidal wave.

He slid one hand across the sheath at his waist, the motion steady, reverent. Then, in a single motion, he drew the sword.

Light shimmered along the blade as he poured the entirety of his gathered essence into it. His muscles flexed, veins lit like molten rivers beneath his skin.

The barrier ahead shimmered faintly in response, as though sensing the danger.

“Realm Cleaver.” Lord Terrace exhaled once. Then swung.

A blinding arc of energy tore forward, concentrated destruction wrapped in precision. The sound was silent thunder, air splitting apart as the slash ripped through space itself. The barrier groaned—and broke. A clean, gaping wound sliced through it.

Outside the academy, Dean Dethrein had just arrived. His expression darkened when he saw the dome of force wrapping part of the academy grounds, faintly glowing with foreign runes.

“A barrier…” he muttered. His tone was half amusement, half irritation. “You dare set this over ElderGlow?”

He raised his hand, essence flaring, preparing to strike when his instincts screamed. Without hesitation, he shifted sideways.

And a beam of pure annihilation cut through the space where he had stood, so sharp it left a faint scar in the night sky.

His eyes widened briefly, then narrowed with grim understanding. “That wasn’t meant to miss me.”

The barrier tore open in front of him, shattering in a rain of sparks. From within the breach, Lord Terrace stepped out, sword humming, essence still crackling around him. His eyes were fixed on Dethrein, cold and unblinking.

For the first time that night, two titans stood face to face.

The silence between them was louder than the earlier chaos.

Dethrein smirked faintly, though his body tensed in readiness. “So. This is how ElderGlow greets those who come late.”

Lord Terrace raised his blade slowly, his aura roaring behind him.

Neither bowed. Neither lowered their guard.

The night, once filled with demons and fire, now balanced on the edge of a duel that could scar the academy itself.

A/N: Hello Dear Readers. I want to use this medium to apologise to you all for the inconsistent updates these past few weeks.

This is my final semester as a University student and it is quite arduous for me. It is very tasking and so I barely have the time to write and update new Chapters but as the semester comes to an end soon, I want to assure you all that daily updates will Indo return strongly. Thank you all for reading this far. I love you all.