Awakening with two legendary Summons
Chapter 143: Summoner’s agony

Chapter 143: Summoner’s agony

As Kairos plunged the blade down toward Carlos’ head, his teeth clenched tightly with raw determination. He was going to do it—end it all right here. His heart thundered in his chest, his grip unwavering. But the moment the blade made contact with Carlos’ forehead... it stopped.

The steel refused to drive through.

Kairos’ wrist had been caught, gripped firmly and unyieldingly.

By Ashen.

"It’s not worth it," Ashen said, his voice low but resolute, holding Kairos in place with an iron grip. The strain in his muscles was evident, but so was his purpose—to stop the killing.

From the way Kairos allowed himself to be held, it was clear he had wanted someone to stop him.

His body barely resisted. His heart, however, raged.

"If you kill him... his family will turn against you. You won’t find peace—not in this life," Ashen continued, his voice steady with experience. "Trust me, there’s no gain in challenging a family stronger than you."

Slowly, as if the fight was draining out of him by the second, Ashen felt the intensity of Kairos’ grip begin to fade.

Across the rooftop, Rivet stood, watching in silence. He hated the thought of letting Carlos go—hated it more than he could express—but the moment he saw Ashen restrain Kairos, a crooked, muddy grin formed on his face.

’I can’t stop him... but Ashen can. That’s why I brought him.’

Kairos gritted his teeth harder, his voice raw with fury. "After all he did... how am I supposed to just let him live...?"

Carlos, still beneath the weight of judgment, dared to speak.

"It’s just a girl," he murmured, voice as cold as it was dismissive.

The words landed like a hammer to the chest. And just like that, Kairos flared with new rage, his strength flooding back as he attempted once again to drive the blade through Carlos’ skull. But Ashen held firm. Years of combat, the instinct of restraint in battle, the control born from hardship—it all allowed him to lock Kairos down without hesitation.

"A girl?!" Kairos roared, his voice echoing across the rooftop. "That was an innocent person! That was Darnell’s friend!"

His voice broke slightly with emotion.

"What separates us from monsters like Ravin if we start killing innocents, discarding lives all for the sake of a mission?!"

His eyes were wide now, not just with fury, but pain—memories flashing violently behind them. He saw the final days with his parents. The blood. The man. His mother’s skull hanging like a trophy.

And in that instant, Kairos knew. If he allowed himself to kill without empathy—without reason—then he was no better than the monster who’d taken everything from him.

Carlos’ tone remained void of empathy, chilling in its calculative edge. "I can’t understand you, Kairos Veyl," he said. "You lost your parents to the military. You should want revenge... killing soldiers one after the other. You grew up in the trenches, and yet you still... care. You smile. You laugh. As if you’ve never known pain. Why is that?"

The question wasn’t meant to inspire sympathy. It was cold curiosity.

Carlos moved his head out from beneath the blade as Kairos’ grip weakened. His body, trembling slightly, sat upright. His eyes locked on Kairos.

The sword clattered to the ground, lifeless.

Kairos said nothing. His silence was heavy, but his body was shifting. His wounds—gaping, severe wounds—began to close at an unnatural pace. The others stared in disbelief as the torn flesh stitched together, muscle repairing and skin knitting over.

It was like watching time in reverse.

And still, the pain hadn’t left him.

But now... he could speak.

Kairos raised his head, meeting Carlos’ gaze directly, and without hesitation, his fist lashed out—quick, brutal, and fierce—smashing into Carlos’ chin with enough force to throw him to the ground, dazed.

"My parents raised me with standards. Ideals," Kairos hissed, his voice thick with venom. "Unlike yours... who only taught you how to kill and obey."

His hand trembled, clenched tightly. "I know what it feels like to be weak. To suffer. To be alone. That’s why I can still care... even when I’m angry. Even when I want to do nothing more than kill."

He took one shaky step forward.

"Sure, I can fight. I can trick and beat down anyone. But killing an innocent just because of a mission? For family pride?" He spat on the floor beside Carlos. "Never."

Carlos sat up, rubbing his chin. A dark glare filled his face—but he said nothing.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself.

All emotions drained from his face. He turned his gaze to the floor, unreadable.

Kairos didn’t know what was going on in Carlos’ head. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to strike him again... and again... and again until the pain in his chest faded.

But then—

The sound of soft but rapid footsteps landing on the rooftop snapped them all to alert.

They turned.

Lina. Kaela. Rayla.

The three stood a short distance away, their expressions riddled with shock and concern. Kaela gasped as she saw Kairos—bloodied, pale, barely upright. Lina let her knees give out beneath her and dropped to the ground, exhaling sharply with trembling relief.

Kaela sprinted forward to Kairos without hesitation.

None of the boys said a word. Not one. The weight in the air was too thick, the grief too fresh.

One by one, they collapsed—some to their knees, some to their sides. Not from injury alone, but from exhaustion. From the burden of all they’d endured.

Lina sat still, staring at the ground. Her heart was heavy.

She remembered parting ways with Carlos earlier, after she’d sensed Kaela and the others being overwhelmed. She had abandoned the mission to go help them, keeping her sensory Integration at its peak. She watched over the battlefield like a silent sentinel.

That’s when she felt it.

One life fading fast. Then another—snuffed out in seconds.

She didn’t know who had died yet, but she had sensed Carlos’ energy during the act. That familiar pattern. That haunting signature.

That was why she’d sent Ashen up. Why she hadn’t hesitated.

And moments after, the beasts had retreated, vanished like shadows with the disappearance of Ravin’s presence.

But now—now she stood before this scene.

Lina fell back completely, lying against the cold surface of the roof. Her hand covered her face, blocking out the sky.

Her chest ached.

Lyza... her friend. Dorms not far from hers. Smiles. Talks. Laughs. A future.

Gone.

Taken unjustly. Taken by a faction they had no power against.

"Fuck!" she cried aloud, her voice laced with agony and helplessness.

The mission was over.

They had survived.

But each of them had been broken in a different way. The battle had left wounds that wouldn’t heal with time or magic.

The mission was a failure, all they did was survive with greater scars...

And the cost was far too high.