Awakening with two legendary Summons
Chapter 126: The summoner and the Stray

Chapter 126: The summoner and the Stray

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The desolate planet was nothing short of torment itself—home only to tormenting beasts and unforgiving terrains. A world so cruel and unrelenting that only the monsters born from its very core could survive here. Yet, in this nightmarish wasteland, amidst the scavengers and ruins, remained two souls—an Adultan named Goldrics and a child, barely ten years old, named Elteth.

After the war was over, what was left behind was nothing but devastation. The once-bustling planet now lay in a horrific silence, broken only by the occasional guttural roar of feral beasts. Dead bodies, brittle bones, twisted metal, and toppled alien structures carpeted the landscape—an unholy monument to the clash between humans, aliens, and something worse.

Beasts roamed in flocks, scavenging the corpses of both human and alien alike. They came in waves, drawn to the stench of blood and decay. Whenever they approached, Goldrics would hunt them down with brutal efficiency. He took their corpses not only to defend what little safety he and the child had carved out but also for food. He brought the meat back to a small camp he had built within one of the least-damaged alien ships—a broken wreck still sturdy enough to keep the beasts at bay.

It was there that little Elteth waited. Covered in dust, his clothes torn and stained, he sat silently every day, his expression hollow—too discouraged even to weep anymore.

Goldrics would arrive, drop the massive slabs of meat from his back onto the ground with a grunt, and silently begin building a fire. That was their daily rhythm. They spoke rarely, and even then, only when necessary. There was simply... nothing to say.

The only words Goldrics had ever offered the boy were ones of false hope: that the military would come for them soon. He repeated the promise like a chant, over and over. But deep down, even he no longer believed it. Too many weeks had passed. The stars offered no sign. The radios remained dead.

And so, he went about his tasks—survive, protect, hunt, eat—and hoped. Hoped for rescue. Hoped for purpose.

Today, however, something was different.

As Goldrics crouched down, carefully lighting a fire with salvaged alien tech and broken splinters of metal-wood, Elteth finally broke the silence.

"Are we going to die here?" His voice was low, almost inaudible. Not cold, but shaken. Fragile.

Goldrics froze. For a moment, he was caught off guard, stunned by the weight of the question. But he quickly masked his concern behind the hardened shell of a seasoned soldier.

"No," he replied firmly, "We will not die. Right now... I am the most powerful thing on this planet. So, no—we won’t."

Elteth absorbed the words silently. Goldrics didn’t know if his words had reassured the boy or not, but it was the only truth—or lie—he could offer. It was all he had.

"Why don’t we die here?" Elteth asked again, softer this time. "I mean... I have no reason left to live. All my people are already dead. Why live at all—with those memories?"

Goldrics looked at him carefully. He could see through the boy’s words. It wasn’t a question of death—it was a cry for purpose. A cry for something to cling to. But Goldrics had none of those answers. He himself had no idea what he clung to anymore.

Once, he had lived for his family. Once, he had fought to protect. But the war had taken everything. Now, he survived not for dreams or ideals, but out of habit—out of duty ingrained into his bones. He fought because that’s all he knew. All he had left was the title of a soldier, and the promise that maybe, just maybe, he could keep someone else from enduring the same loss.

But today, the boy needed more than silence.

Goldrics sat down beside the growing fire. The flames crackled sincerely, dancing shadows across the torn walls of the wrecked ship. He let out a quiet exhale and looked ahead, his voice low and calm.

"Memory," he said, "I used to know a young boy. He was my reason to keep on living. A few things happened... and in the end, I lost him. That loss taught me something."

He looked at Elteth directly.

"I think you should live—not to become another forgotten name like your people—but to carry those memories. Hold them tightly."

Elteth’s gaze stayed on him, wide and intent.

"Do you know what creates a person?" Goldrics asked.

Elteth shook his head slowly.

"A single drop of water... given time... can carve through a boulder. The same goes for memory. They hurt, yes—they tear you apart—but they also remake you. Memory drives you forward. And forward is where your reason to live begins."

Elteth stared into the fire now, and Goldrics could almost see the gears in his mind turning, trying to understand, to accept.

Then—he hesitated.

"What if my goals point me to destroy the military... and the aliens?" His voice was cautious, careful.

Goldrics didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

He nodded, "Your goals come first. Always. But... understand this—choosing a path different from others makes you strange. Choosing a path that goes against them makes you a villain. It’s all balance. And balance... always shifts."

"Including goals?" Elteth asked.

Goldrics nodded once more, his gaze drifting to a metal spike in the corner of the room—a jagged piece of alien alloy he had kept for only one purpose. If the military never came... if hope truly died... he had planned to use it to kill Elteth. Then himself.

But maybe... just maybe... that wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

"You don’t have to kill me and yourself anymore then," Elteth said suddenly.

The words struck like a slap. Goldrics gasped softly, stunned. His eyes widened slightly before he caught himself and forced his expression back to neutral.

"You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? Hohohohoho!" Goldrics chuckled, a strange laugh that mixed discomfort and a flicker of amusement.

Elteth stood now, walking over to him.

"Give me your life, if you have no use for it. Help me complete my goals."

It was madness. A boy, barely old enough to understand war, asking for something so absurd. But Elteth was different. He was intelligent—unnaturally so. Maybe he came from royalty, maybe not. But he spoke with intent. With command.

Goldrics should have disregarded the request. It was ridiculous. But something inside him stirred. He had lost his way. Battles had become meaningless bloodshed. His dreams were dead. The world was crumbling, and he was ready to leave it behind.

But now... this boy had lit a fire.

Whether he sought vengeance on the military or the aliens—it didn’t matter. It was a cause. And it was intriguing.

In that moment, Goldrics saw Elteth not just as a lost child.

He saw a son.

’I’ll see how far this broken kid can go... I need to see just how crazy his goals will reach.’

---

Now—inside the dome, Goldrics stood, clutching his throat, blood trickling through his fingers. He was using integration to heal it while holding up the defensive dome, but he could sense the pressure. The tearing. They would break in soon.

’Not yet... It’s not time for me to lose. I won’t lose...’

Memories assaulted him—his wife, his son, the life he had failed to protect. Pain rippled through him, but so did something else.

Strength.

His thoughts went to Ravin Elteth.

He remembered their last exchange before they departed the cursed planet, each flying off in different repaired ships, Elteth made from the remains of those abandoned on the planet.

"We’ll go our separate ways now. But thank you for everything, Goldrics. For all you’ve done... I’ll take your son’s name," Elteth had said, waving with a gentle smile. "I’ll now be known as Ravin Elteth."

That moment—burned forever into his mind.

No. Goldrics couldn’t fail.

Not here. Not now.

Even if it meant burning through every last reserve of strength, he would see it through.

He would complete Ravin Elteth’s wish.

And he would kill those three.

No matter the cost.

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