Summoned Celestial Divine Beast

Chapter 6: The Song of Clashing Realms and Shattered Silence

Chapter 6: The Song of Clashing Realms and Shattered Silence

A thousand questions stormed Ryan’s thoughts, yet instinct smothered contemplation. There was no time to strategize at leisure—the threat was real, immediate, and lethal. A terrorist attack was underway, and bloodshed loomed like a sword over their heads.

“Sphinx,” Ryan muttered, not needing to say more.

The celestial beast responded, bounding onto Ryan’s crown like a regal sentinel surveying its domain. His golden eyes scanned the chaotic scene below, glinting with predatory awareness.

“Twenty-two figures,” Sphinx announced with a disconcerting calm. “Ten are actual humans. The rest are summoned trash.”

“You can talk?” Franca’s brows shot up as if someone had just slapped her with a book of forbidden incantations. “Never mind! Can you mark them? Find the real ones!”

With a mischievous curl of his whiskers, Sphinx sucked in a gust of air that inflated his belly like a balloon. Then, with the theatricality of a court jester, he let out a high-pitched roar.

“Wraawf!”

It was absurdly adorable—but the power behind it was bone-chilling. The sonic tremor carried with it a pressure that raked across the battlefield. Franca felt it immediately—a raw, feral energy that raked at her instincts. It was the roar of a predator whose bloodline didn’t just dominate—it devoured.

“Those who keep moving are the human ones,” Sphinx declared, eyes locked like divine compasses.

And just as he said, ten figures pressed forward through the tremor’s pressure, unyielding and unaffected. Franca’s eyes narrowed. Targets confirmed.

She raised her arm, and the Dioki inside her spiraled into a sharp formation. Wind answered her call in an instant, surging toward a cluster of four—two humans flanked by a pair of familiars.

One of the familiars, hunched and earthen, slammed its fists into the ground and raised a wall of jagged stone. The other, fluid and glimmering, summoned a flowing barrier of water.

The windstorm smashed against the barrier—shattering the stone like dry bread while the water held, barely.

But this was no frontal assault—it was subterfuge.

Her free hand summoned a spectral bow out of pure Dioki, and in an elegant motion, she loosed a shimmering arrow. It carved the air with a resonant hum and struck its mark through the water veil. The human’s skull burst like fruit under pressure—clean, fatal, final.

The battlefield stilled for a breath, but only to roar again.

From the remaining enemy ranks, a crimson phoenix erupted, streaking through the air like a comet. Another familiar—a lumbering brute wielding an axe the size of a tree trunk—charged in its wake.

Franca clapped her hands, sending a blast of centrifugal wind outward. The firebird’s blaze snuffed instantly, but the axe-wielding beast kept coming.

The axe cleaved downward—but as it met Franca’s outstretched palm, it was caught by a vortex of spiraling wind. The steel stopped midair, howling in protest.

The brute’s eyes bulged. His body betrayed his disbelief—he hadn't expected such a powerful foe to be stationed at the academy’s gates.

But the chaos wasn’t limited to their side of the courtyard.

Shrieks tore through the atmosphere.

“Somebody help us!”

Franca’s head snapped toward the right—two young students were being herded by a cloaked terrorist.

She needed to move, but Ryan—Ryan stood behind her, vulnerable.

Then she sensed it—a clash of blood and mana, erupting from the opposite flank.

“Blood Lance,” whispered a voice across the field, distant yet thunderous.

Franca’s teeth clenched. That incantation... It was unmistakable.

“Chaollete Ashley,” she hissed. The vampire heiress had entered the fray.

Chaollete’s familiar—a vampire with wings like shredded velvet and eyes glowing with hunger—hovered inches off the ground. Three spears made of coagulated blood whirled around her in a defensive dance before launching at an incoming enemy.

The enemy familiar was a titan—horned, monstrous, grunting like a slaughterhouse bull.

The blood spears struck with kinetic force, but the bull-man crushed them one by one with its raw strength, trampling forward.

The vampire’s eyes turned a deeper shade, and with a vicious scream, she formed twin cyclones of blood in her palms. She hurled them toward the bull from opposite sides, pinching the beast in a crushing arcane vise.

The bull didn’t dodge.

It caught the twin storms with bare, calloused hands.

"Fuck," the vampire cursed, panic flaring.

She poured more Dioki into the blood vortexes, but it was already too late. Her grip faltered.

Behind her, a sinister voice pierced the melee.

“Gotcha, little vamp.”

A figure emerged—human, grinning like a madman. He snatched Chaollete, yanking her backward.

“Let go of me, cunt!” she thrashed violently.

“Chaollete!” her familiar cried out, panic lacing her voice.

But from the periphery, Ryan came flying in like divine retribution. His fist met the terrorist’s face with a wet crunch that sent the man spiraling into the dirt.

On the other side, Sphinx launched off Ryan’s shoulder, fangs gleaming like daggers. He collided with the bull-beast and tore its neck wide open with a single bite. Blood arced through the air in a crimson halo.

The vampire spun, ready to annihilate the human who grabbed her summoner, but Ryan pointed.

“Help Franca!” he commanded.

There was a flicker of hesitation—but Ryan’s eyes were steady, unwavering.

Trust.

She turned, her fingertips already dripping blood. Crimson bats formed in the air, screeching and flapping toward the axe-wielding familiar.

They swarmed the brute, biting and clawing. It staggered.

Franca seized the moment. She twirled and delivered a wind-propelled kick straight into the monster’s gut. The impact sent him tumbling.

She turned again, not pausing, and raised her bow. The battlefield had shifted—two girls were being cornered by terrorists.

Ryan pointed toward them.

Franca nodded.

She loosed an arrow. The first terrorist collapsed, skull punctured. She aimed again, but the axe-beast returned.

This time, the vampire lent her aid. Two tornadic blood spirals soared at the familiar, forcing him to raise his axe defensively.

Franca’s second arrow whistled through the pause and pierced another terrorist, saving the girls.

“More,” she growled.

She summoned another arrow—this one richer in Dioki, gleaming brighter.

The axe familiar bellowed and surged forward, axe spinning.

He cleaved through the blood tornadoes, charging with a death cry.

He swung at the oncoming arrow—but it curved, veered, slithered like a snake.

It weaved around his axe and bored through his skull.

Franca exhaled, but the danger wasn’t over.

A terrorist lunged toward Ryan from behind.

The vampire turned, eyes wide.

Too far.

Chaollete was too slow.

And that fist—crackling with Dioki—would cave Ryan’s chest in.

Yet Ryan didn’t flinch. He smiled, eerily serene.

“You’d be clever… if I was ordinary.”

Sphinx’s voice roared above, godlike and final.

The beast descended like an executioner and snapped the terrorist’s neck with a crunch that silenced the battlefield.

The man dropped. Lifeless. Forgotten.