SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

Chapter 433: An Enemy Commander In Delwig

Apnoch opened his mouth to respond—but Damien’s hand shot out, blocking him.

“Don’t,” Damien said quietly.

Apnoch froze. “What—”

Before he could finish, Damien moved. ” They’re fake!”

A burst of magic essence erupted beneath his boots, launching him forward like a streak of lightning. His blade cleared its sheath in a single fluid motion, slicing through the air toward the taller guard.

The man barely had time to react. His shield flared red, demonic essence bleeding through its cracks as Damien’s strike split it apart. Sparks danced through the tunnel.

The second guard shouted, raising his spear, but Apnoch was already in motion, instinct driving him to draw and block.

Bang!

Clang!

Steel rang against steel, the sound sharp and raw in the enclosed space where they fought.

The fight was brutal and fast. The fake guards moved like assassins—fluid, coordinated, and unnervingly precise. Their weapons shimmered faintly with dark energy, the same sickly red hue Damien had seen in the underground labs.

The tall one lunged at Damien again, his strength inhuman. But Damien ducked low, twisted, and slammed an open palm loaded with magic essence into the man’s chest.

Kraaaa!!

The air cracked. The man’s ribs shattered inward, essence rupturing from within him like splintering glass.

He collapsed without a sound.

The second guard spun to flee, retreating toward the tunnel entrance—but Apnoch was faster. The captain’s sword blurred through the dim light, catching the man’s leg and sending him sprawling. Before he could rise, Apnoch was on him, blade pressed to his throat.

“Who are you working for?” Apnoch barked.

The man’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. His eyes glowed faintly red, unnatural and pulsing with corruption.

Damien knelt beside him, calm and composed despite the tension. “Don’t bother,” he said softly. “He won’t talk.”

The infiltrator said nothing, his gaze defiant. Sweat trickled down his neck, but his breathing remained even. It was the kind of steadiness that only came from conditioning—not fearlessness, but obedience.

Apnoch’s grip tightened. “Then we’ll make him talk.”

Damien’s hand rose, halting him. “No. There’s another way.”

He placed two fingers on the man’s forehead. A faint shimmer rippled through the tunnel as Damien’s eyes burned silver.

This was a skill meant for animals. ’I guess it’ll work as long as I consider him an animal.’ Damien thought as he began the process.

His pupils dilated, and the world around him bled into fragments of shadow and memory.

[Hindsight — Activate]

The man’s life unfolded in flashes before Damien’s eyes.

A dimly lit chamber beneath the city. Men and women kneeling before robed figures whose faces were hidden behind masks.

The scent of iron, of smoke, of blood. Vials filled with dark essence distributed like communion.

The same rune—etched into the floor in a circle of red and black—matching the one Damien had found in the abandoned lab beyond Delwig.

The infiltrator kneeling, accepting a black crystal pressed into his hand. His veins darkening. His eyes glowing red for the first time.

Then—chaos. The order to infiltrate the southern watchtower. A voice, low and commanding, instructing them to “maintain the flow.” A familiar tone, deep and composed, the kind of voice that belonged to a man of authority.

Before Damien could trace it further, the vision fractured.

The infiltrator’s essence spiked violently, crimson light bleeding through his skin.

His chest convulsed once, twice—then exploded in a burst of red mana.

Booom!

Apnoch staggered back, shielding his face. “What in the—!”

The smell of burnt flesh filled the tunnel. When the light died, nothing remained of the man but a half-charred corpse.

Damien stood slowly, brushing ash off his coat. His expression didn’t change. “Self-destruction spell. A fail-safe.”

Apnoch swore, kicking the nearby wall hard enough to crack stone. “Every damn time. We get so close.”

Damien didn’t respond immediately. His gaze lingered on the fading residue of mana still curling in the air. He was memorizing it—the exact hue, the rhythm, the way it pulsed before collapse.

Finally, he spoke. “They’re organized. This isn’t a cult.”

Apnoch looked up, confused. “What? I thought we already knew that.”

“It’s structure,” Damien continued, tone analytical. “Orders, hierarchy, chain of command. They’re operating like a military unit—cell-based, autonomous, but connected through a relay system. Which means there’s a commander directing them from inside the city.”

Apnoch’s jaw tightened. “Inside Delwig? You’re saying one of ours?”

“Possibly more than one.”

For a long moment, silence pressed heavy between them.

Then Apnoch drew a slow breath. “I’ll report this to Ivaan myself. Quietly. We can’t let word of this spread through the ranks—not until we know who’s clean.”

“Good,” Damien said. “And seal this place. Every corridor, every hidden path. Burn it down if you have to.”

Apnoch nodded grimly. “And you?”

Damien turned toward the mouth of the tunnel. “I’ll handle the next step.”

They emerged into the quarter as daylight faded, the sun bleeding orange through the clouds. The air above the walls hummed faintly, though most wouldn’t have noticed.

Damien did.

He paused mid-step, his gaze shifting toward the distant horizon beyond Delwig’s barrier. A sharp spike of energy cut through his senses—familiar, fierce, and unmistakably alive. Aquila’s essence.

But something was off about it—sharper than usual, tinged with a note of conflict.

Apnoch noticed the change in his expression. “What is it?”

“They’ve made contact,” Damien said quietly.

Apnoch frowned. “Contact with what?”

Damien’s lips curved faintly, but his eyes had hardened. “With whoever’s or whatever’s still running the network outside the walls.”

He turned toward the open yard, shadows curling faintly around his boots as his mana began to rise.

Apnoch blinked. “Damien—wait. You’re not thinking of—”

“Change of plans,” Damien interrupted. “We move now. Before they’re surrounded.”

The ground beneath him rippled as dark essence poured outward, coalescing into form. The air warped.

A low growl rolled through the courtyard as Fenrir emerged from the blue portal—massive, sleek, and brimming with restrained fury. Its eyes burned with cold, pale light as it lowered its head beside its master.

Damien glanced at Apnoch once. “Tell Ivaan to keep the city locked down. No one in or out.”

Apnoch’s hand clenched around his sword hilt. “And if you’re wrong?”

Damien swung onto Fenrir’s back, eyes glinting beneath the shadow of his hood. “Then I’ll find out before you do.”

With a rumble that shook the ground, Fenrir bounded forward, dissolving into a streak of white light that vanished beyond the gate.

Apnoch stood there for a moment, the echo of the creature’s howl fading into the distance.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face.

“Damn it, Damien,” he muttered. “You’d better be right about this.”

And deep beneath Delwig’s walls, in the places no sunlight reached, something unseen shifted—watching, listening, waiting.