Awakening with two legendary Summons-Chapter 25: Summoners Lone Fighter

The sun had begun to set, casting long golden rays that draped themselves across the academy buildings like a glowing veil. It was a breathtaking view, the kind that made the world pause for a moment. That is—if anyone actually cared to notice it.

But no one did.

That wasn't the matter at hand.

Darnell walked through the silent halls of the academy, the shadows stretching behind him as the sun descended. In his right hand, he held a bag filled with food—delicacies he had purchased from the supermarket outside the school grounds. It was his way of making amends. He hadn't spent any time with his friends all day, and guilt had begun to gnaw at him. Sharing this food with them felt like the perfect way to make it up.

But as he strolled deeper into the academy corridors, something began to feel... off.

There was a shift—subtle at first, like a whisper in the wind—but undeniable. The students he passed didn't wear the typical academy uniform. Instead, they donned something eerily similar, yet unmistakably different. The standard black leather jackets of the academy were present, yes—but these students carried themselves with an intensity that screamed of something more. Their physiques were bulkier, their eyes colder, and their presence heavier.

Something wasn't right.

They weren't from this side of the academy. And who in their right mind wore a school uniform on a holiday?

That alone was enough to spark a warning flare in Darnell's mind.

Instinctively, he picked up his pace. Whatever was going on, he wanted no part in it. He had almost made it around the corner when he saw them—two of the strangely dressed students standing calmly in the corridor ahead. Their eyes locked onto his the moment he came into view.

Shit.

Darnell's heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, he turned sharply, bolting into another hallway, hoping to outrun their attention—but he didn't make it far.

The moment he rounded the corner, he collided with another figure.

A student.

But not just any student.

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This one was female, dressed in the same intimidating uniform. She stood perfectly still, her gaze calm and almost amused, as though she'd been waiting for this moment.

Darnell's eyes widened as he whipped his head around. The two male students from before had already closed in, blocking his escape route.

He was surrounded.

His muscles tensed. He clenched his fists, allowing the bag of food to slip from his hand and thud against the ground.

Now it was obvious.

They'd been after him all along.

But why?

"By now," the girl began, pressing her long, fixed nails against her lips with an eerie calmness, "you should know you can't leave here."

Her voice was soft—almost too polite for the situation. Her accent was strange too. Country? Foreign? It was hard to place. But no matter how pleasant her tone, the hostility in her eyes was unmistakable.

"I am Keon. A second-year student. Nice to meet you, Darnell."

He didn't respond at first. He was too busy analyzing their formation, their demeanor. They weren't here by accident. They had planned this.

"What do you want from me?" he asked through clenched teeth, his stance already shifted into a fighting pose.

"Wow," one of the boys said flatly, his face blank but his tone mockingly amused. "What sort of knight gets trapped this easily? Every move you make now will lead to your loss. Two bishops and a proper queen already handle this matter."

'One speaks in chess?' Darnell thought, eyebrows twitching. 'Another talks too nicely. And the last one doesn't even speak at all.'

Still, despite the tension, a crooked smile formed on his lips.

"If it's a fight you want," he growled, "why not just say so? I've always wondered what it feels like to beat the shit out of a second-year."

Keon tilted her head slightly, clicking her tongue. Her warm demeanor began to shift.

"Don't get too cocky, friend," she said. "We're only ordered to hurt you if you refuse our terms."

"Terms?" Darnell's eyes narrowed. Why would second-years be giving him ultimatums?

"Give us your king," the chess-speaking boy said cryptically.

Darnell raised a brow.

"He means bring us Kairos," Keon clarified, pausing as she saw the defiant look forming on Darnell's face. "Deliver him to us, and we'll let you walk away."

Darnell didn't even hesitate.

With a smug grin, he slowly raised his hand and gave them a firm middle finger.

"Come at me with all you've got, then," he said. "Because where I'm from, we don't sell out the people we've shared a meal with."

The smile on Keon's face twitched. Her pleasant expression faltered.

"In that case..." she muttered darkly, "we move to Plan B. Please, Radek."

The silent one stepped forward.

Radek—the largest of the group, and easily the most physically intimidating—began to advance with heavy, deliberate steps. His eyes were locked onto Darnell, a deep glare carved into his stone-like face.

Darnell dropped into a low stance, his grin widening.

"Come on then!" he barked. "To hell would I sell out my friend!"

---

Meanwhile...

In the city separated from the academy, the golden hues had long faded. Night had fallen, and the bright bulbs lining the streets had blinked to life, casting warm glows over the sidewalks. Curfew was nearing, and students moved hurriedly, returning to their dorms before they were locked out.

Among the scattered groups was Mike and his two close friends—Tom and Grey.

The only one missing was his sister, Lyza, who still lay recovering at the academy hospital.

Their day had been spent shopping, wasting away their military-issued academy coins—tokens stored and monitored via their watches. For most students, the coins were used sparingly.

Mike was not most students.

He had splurged without thought, buying food he didn't need and snacks he couldn't possibly finish. Now he walked with a massive bag slung over his shoulder, chewing on a bar of chocolate with wild abandon.

"Mike, come on," Tom complained, his skinny frame jittering with annoyance. "Your eating is getting seriously annoying."

Mike just chuckled, ignoring him.

Grey wasn't as patient.

"Tom's right!" he snapped. "Stop eating like a goddamn child—it's annoying as hell!"

Finally, Mike stopped.

He scowled, his mouth still full of chocolate, and snapped his fingers dramatically before turning his back on them.

"Where the hell are you going now?" Tom asked, voice rising with irritation.

Mike didn't turn around.

"Fuck off, both of you," he muttered. "You called me annoying. Fine. I'll go be annoying by myself. Go back to the dorms or whatever."

With that, he waved them off.

Grumbling under their breath, both boys reluctantly turned and left.

Mike, on the other hand, had spotted another store a few blocks away. The glowing sign beckoned to him like a siren.

More chocolate.

He smirked.

'There can never be too much chocolate,' he thought smugly.

He entered the store, purchased another armful of bars, and exited into the quiet street.

Now alone, Mike strolled casually under the soft hum of the bulbs, peeling open a new chocolate bar to enjoy slowly this time. The streets were nearly empty, and the silence was... almost peaceful.

Until it wasn't.

He heard it.

Footsteps.

At first, he brushed it off—probably another student trying to beat the curfew, just like him.

But then he turned a corner. Then another. He paused once, then twice. And the footsteps still followed.

It wasn't coincidence anymore.

Mike's carefree expression faded. His chewing stopped.

He calmly slipped the chocolate bar back into his bag and turned to face the direction of the footsteps.

A figure stood just beyond the reach of the streetlamp's light—shrouded in shadows. The person wore a black bag over their head, likely to conceal their identity.

"Who are you?" Mike called out.

Silence.

Of course there was no answer—the figure's face was entirely covered.

Mike clenched his jaw.

"I'm not scared to fight," he warned. "I have an advanced Summon. You'll regret this."

Still, nothing.

Then finally—a voice.

Muffled and monstrous, vibrating through the thick bag over the figure's head.

"Come and be educated, fool."