Boundless Evolution: The Summoning Beast
Chapter 45: Meeting Bennet Valen

Chapter 45: Meeting Bennet Valen

The servant bowed low and hurried from the hall, his footsteps echoing through the vast chamber.

The flickering torches cast elongated shadows against the towering stone walls, their golden light barely holding back the encroaching darkness. The faint scent of melted wax and aged parchment lingered in the chamber, mixing with the metallic tang of unease.

As the doors shut behind him, the vast space seemed even larger—emptier, as if it, too, had sensed the shift in the air.

Outside, the distant howl of the wind rattled against the windows, a cold reminder of the storm brewing far beyond these walls—both within and without.

Bennet’s gaze then swept across the room as if calculating what to do next once more before stopping at Raegan, his expression unreadable but charged with something as he spoke, "Tell me everything about the battle."

At this Raegan was taken aback as he hurriedly spoke to clear up the misconception, "Lord Valen, I was not at the battlefield or the debriefing in the headquarters."

"If you want the details..." he exhaled sharply before turning and casting a glance at Boy, "He will tell you."

The reaction was immediate as the two advisors with Bennet had their eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"Wait..." Master Fenwell spoke, his gaze snapping between Raegan and Boy, "Did you ask us to speak with a summon?"

The tension in the room immediately shifted from solemn grief as the statement from Raegan had utterly baffled them.

Captain Voss, the other advisor, spoke out, cutting through the silence, "Surely, you don’t mean to suggest that we hold a strategic discussion with a beast?"

Raegan rubbed his temple before meeting their gazes head-on.

His tone of voice switched too, carrying an edge as he was not amused by the dismissive attitude toward Boy, nor toward himself, a high officer.

"That ’beast’ is one of the survivors of the siege of Windbreak. And not just that, without him, you would not be receiving the last words in the recording crystal, the insignia, or Commander Darius’s cape. If any of you doubt its intelligence, I’d ask you to reconsider before dismissing it outright," he spoke in a cold tone, "And if any of you believe that I -a High Officer- would speak for a mindless creature, then perhaps you should reassess your own judgement before questioning mine."

This statement from Raegan seemed to spark anger in the minds of the two advisors who were both extremely prominent figures in the region and in Westreach.

Master Fenwell’s lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze darkened, "This is absurd..."

Captain Voss, on the other side of the table from Master Fenwell, crossed his arms as he spoke, his voice laced with indignation, "You dare speak to us like that, Raegan? If you are a High Officer, then don’t suggest such outrageous -"

"Enough."

Bennet’s voice cut through the rising tones between the three men, sharp and controlled.

The room immediately fell quiet to Bennet’s call as his gaze first went to his two advisors, "We are not here to debate a summon’s worth or the trust of a High Officer’s words."

He then turned to Boy, "Do you have knowledge of the battle and witnessed my father’s final moments?"

Boy nodded.

’Yes. I was there with your father at Windbreak.’

The word was not spoken aloud, yet it resonated within the chamber, reaching Bennet’s mind directly.

Bennet’s breath stilled. His eyes slightly widened, a flicker of surprise breaking through his otherwise unreadable expression.

He had heard of telepathic communication before, but experiencing it firsthand was entirely different.

His gaze immediately shifted toward Raegan, who simply gave a small nod of approval, arms crossed, as if he had been expecting this reaction.

Captain Voss’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twitching in barely veiled distaste as he caught the faintest trace of a smirk on Raegan’s face.

"What, exactly, do you find so amusing?" His tone was sharp, edged with suspicion, "A single nod proves nothing. It does not think. It does not reason. It merely follows."

Master Fenwell exhaled through his nose, his arms folding across his chest, "I fail to see what warrants such excitement. I have seen trained hounds follow commands with greater efficiency. This is no different."

He scoffed, shaking his head, "A summon is still a summon. A tool, not a tactician."

Raegan turned his gaze toward them, his expression impassive, "If you still doubt him, then I suggest you ask Lord Valen."

At this, both Voss and Fenwell turned their attention back to Bennet, waiting for his response.

Bennet exhaled, his composure returning, but there was something different now—a shift in his stance, in his expression.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the edge of the table as he regarded Boy with a newfound intensity.

"Telepathy," he said, his tone carrying a weight that silenced the room, "I did not expect to encounter a summon with such an ability."

For the first time since Boy had entered the estate, Bennet was truly looking at him.

He straightened, addressing Boy with full interest now, "Then speak. Tell me everything."

Boy could feel the weight of the room shift onto him. The murmurs had faded, but the silence was somehow louder.

His golden eyes flicked toward Bennet, whose intense gaze bore into him, waiting.

Expecting.

Boy inhaled deeply, steadying himself as he began to recount the event.

Bennet sat motionless as Boy spoke about the battle, his gaze locked onto him, but something inside him was unraveling. He had braced himself for this moment, prepared to hear what had transpired, but nothing could have steeled him for the weight of Boy’s words.

The stronghold’s collapse, his father’s calculated last stand—each revelation twisted something inside him, leaving a weight that he had not expected to feel at this moment.

Especially the final words Darius had entrusted to the hyena lingered in his mind, echoing in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Sadness welled inside him, an ache buried beneath years of rigid composure, but so did something else.

Pride. His father had died a warrior’s death, a commander to the very end. And yet, that knowledge did not ease the grief clawing at him. He had not been there. But this summon had. This summon, whom his advisors so quickly dismissed, had witnessed his father’s last breath—and was now the only tether to that moment Bennet would ever have.

However, that pride was soon overshadowed by something else. The more Boy spoke, the more Bennet’s shock grew.

’Telepathy...’ Bennet was stuck in admiration and wonder at Boy’s intelligence. It was his first time experiencing telepathy from a summon and never in his dreams did he expect it to be this impressive.

’Not just communication, but something more controlled, more precise than he had ever encountered from a summon. This wasn’t just intelligence—it was understanding. Awareness.’

By the time Boy finished speaking, the silence in the room was suffocating.

"This is... incredible," Bennet mumbled, his voice filled with curiosity, "You recall everything in such detail? Almost as if—"

Before he could finish, Master Fenwell leaned forward, expression dark with intrigue, "Lord Valen, please tell us what the summon had just told you. We would like to hear it too, just what exactly could cause you to be stuck in such wonder..."

"This isn’t normal," Bennet muttered, shifting uneasily, "From all the books and research I’ve studied on summons, there was never a mention of telepathy to have ever shown this level of... sentience."

"What?" Captain Voss asked, shocked by the statement that he had heard from Bennet, "What exactly are you implying, Lord Valen?"

Bennet’s lips parted, his gaze flickering toward Boy as if about to ask something—something crucial.

The silence in the room was suffocating. Fenwell and Voss were staring, their skepticism wavering, their minds working through the unthinkable. No one moved. The weight of everything hung in the air like a blade suspended over their heads, waiting to drop.

Then, the heavy doors swung open, the sound like a thunderclap breaking through the tension.