Awakening with two legendary Summons
Chapter 156: Summoner’s Title

Chapter 156: Summoner’s Title

It was dark—terribly dark.

A suffocating blackness engulfed everything, as though the land itself had been swallowed by the absence of light. There was no sign of the moon’s radiance, no stars above to pierce the void. The wasteland lay bare beneath a sky bereft of comfort, where not even the eerie glow of the dark moon could reach. It was either the heavy curtain of night or perhaps something worse—the heat, the exhaustion, maybe both—had sunken his vision into blindness, past even the lids of his eyes.

Kairos stirred.

He could feel his body. But it was heavy—unnaturally heavy. As if unseen chains had been wrapped around his limbs, holding him down. His hands throbbed with soreness, stiff and aching. His lips were cracked and dry, and his throat burned, making each swallow feel like shards of glass were sliding down. Breathing through his nostrils stung, as if inhaling ash.

He didn’t know where he was.

And yet... he did.

Somewhere deep within, in that gut-feeling place where logic failed but instincts ruled—he knew this place. Or at least what it meant.

A sound broke the stillness.

It was faint—almost insignificant—but unmistakable. A low shuffle, the soft slide of feet over dust. A presence. Something—or someone—was nearby. Despite the blindness, he could sense the source. He turned toward it, his body slow and reluctant to obey.

He couldn’t see it clearly.

But he felt it.

A shape in the shadows. Intent coiled around it like smoke, thick with malice. A presence cold enough to chill the marrow in his bones. It wasn’t just nearby—it was approaching.

Closer.

Closer.

The pressure thickened. The presence was radiating one clear purpose: to kill. That intent was unmistakable. It flooded the air around him, stabbing at his instincts like needles. In the darkness, a glint—a blade. A small dagger, gleaming with death’s promise.

The figure raised the weapon.

It was almost upon him now and—

---

Kairos’s eyes snapped open.

Reality crashed in like a wave, shattering the illusion.

’What the hell?’

He shot upright, sweat pouring down his face like rain. His heart hammered in his chest, and his breaths came short and fast. He raised a trembling hand to his lips, then swallowed hard. His throat still ached, but... it was different now. Less raw. His surroundings were no longer endless darkness—they were familiar.

His room.

He was in his room.

’That dream... it’s too real to be called a dream.’

He glanced around. The early morning light was just beginning to seep in through the small vented window. Faint silhouettes of his roommates still in bed assured him he wasn’t alone.

’And what was it with the dark moon...?’

He tried to shake the imagery from his mind. A moon that shone dark light? It didn’t even make sense—moons reflected light. And yet, the way the memory clung to him, the surreal clarity of every detail... it had to mean something. Still, he dismissed it.

’It’s probably the pressure of the test on me... after all, it’s today.’

He rubbed his right eye, trying to wash away the last fragments of the vision. Then he turned to glance at the others. Carlos was still fast asleep, breathing softly. Darnell sprawled across his bed like a soldier after training—because that’s all he’d been doing since they arrived.

It had been several days since their arrival. Carlos had managed to keep up his deception well enough—no signs of cracks in his cover. Kairos gave him credit where it was due.

’I give him bravado... he’s really good at staying in character.’

Darnell, on the other hand, had thrown himself into combat challenges and physical exercises, engaging with other students like a man on a mission. It was understandable—lectures had been infrequent due to the absence of most first-year sergeants.

The only one who still made appearances was Sergeant Henry.

Henry had given them a few short, focused teachings. He explained the structure of the test, the expectations, and more importantly, the difference between a Grade One and Grade Two Summoner.

Kairos had been stunned.

The leap between those two grades wasn’t just strength—it was integration. Full High Integration. A state that fused soul and summon at a terrifying degree. Beyond that, Henry mentioned the Master Ranked Summoners, a classification cloaked in mystery. The abilities of Masters were not to be revealed until one reached their level. Information beyond that point was forbidden.

Kairos sighed deeply and called upon the system.

[Grade One Shadow Summoner]

He stared at the floating notification.

’Does this system operate on the same scale as the academy? Or... is it something entirely different?’

There was no way to tell.

Not yet.

Not until he completed the test and unlocked more. Since the confrontation with Ravin, the system had gifted him tools and paths he hadn’t fully explored. He’d been too distracted. Too drained.

He laid back down, letting his body sink into the thin mattress. Then, he willed himself into his summoning space.

The transition was smooth, like slipping into water.

The room formed around him—massive, wide, and forged entirely from shadows. Tendrils of darkness coiled along the ground, dancing and swirling like living smoke. The ceiling above emitted a soft, ghostly white glow, barely enough to light the entire chamber.

Two summons stood within.

The Shadow Wolf, now visibly larger than before, sat with a sense of pride and power. Its forelimbs folded over one another like a sentinel resting after battle. It had healed from the titans fight—it was different now. Hardened. Tempered like a blade honed in war. A primal warrior born of blood and void.

The Shadow Dragon still rested within its egg.

Kairos approached it slowly. The egg hadn’t visibly changed, but something felt different. Something beneath the surface—its aura pulsed subtly.

He placed a hand on the shell.

A system message hovered into existence.

{Title: Desire Born of Weepers’ Tears}

Kairos frowned.

It was haunting. A title that evoked sorrow, longing... sacrifice. Even his wolf didn’t possess a title, and yet this dragon did.

The same went for him, he placed his hand against his own chest.

Another notification appeared.

{Title: Wails of the Blind Shadow}

His breath caught.

’What does this even mean?’

No descriptions. No abilities tied to it. Nothing. Just the name. But it felt heavy—as if the very title weighed on his soul. Something he had earned in the battle against Ravin... and perhaps something darker.

The name didn’t feel like a blessing.

It felt like a curse.

He pulled himself out of the summoning space, mind buzzing with questions he couldn’t yet answer. He still had time before the test. A little more rest, maybe. Then face the challenge that lay ahead.

An expedition.

One to another world.

A world probably like Pascoloid... or worse...

***Author’s note***

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Thank you for reading.