SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts

The training room was dimly lit, its wide-open space illuminated by a few faintly glowing crystal sconces embedded in the walls. The cool, smooth floor reflected the faint light, creating an almost serene atmosphere.

The room was silent, save for the sound of Damon's labored breathing. He lay sprawled on the cold surface, drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

Fifteen hours. That was how long Damon had pushed himself today. It was the first day of a three-day break announced by Dean Godsthorn after the departure of Damon's father, Lord Terrace. While most students had taken the opportunity to rest, relax, or socialize, Damon had thrown himself into an intense training regimen.

The room itself was sparsely furnished, with only a weapons rack lining one wall, a set of mats neatly stacked in the corner, and one pillow. It was one of the academy's private training quarters, offered to students of high-ranking families.

Damon had earned access to it due to his status as the son of Lord Terrace, but he used it as though he had to prove himself worthy of it.

He had spent the day cycling through physical drills, combat exercises, and advanced techniques to refine his use of magic essence. Meditation sessions to hone his mental clarity had been wedged in between, leaving him utterly drained by the time he completed his schedule.

Now, his body felt like it had been crushed under the weight of his own determination. His muscles ached with every movement, and hunger clawed at his insides, making his hands tremble. He tried to summon enough strength to get up and leave the training room, but his body refused to obey. "This…is hard. Life's tough." He breathed.

As he lay there, staring up at the faintly glowing ceiling, a shadow fell across his face. Blinking in surprise, Damon saw the inverted image of a figure leaning over him.

The peach-colored hair was unmistakable, cascading down like the petals of a flower. Despite his exhaustion, Damon let out a small groan.

"Anaya Stockshorn," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

Anaya, standing over him with a playful smirk, flipped a strand of her peach hair over her shoulder. Her long, flowing dress of soft lavender swayed slightly as she straightened up, the faint shimmer of its material catching the light from the sconces. "Nice to see you too," she replied, her voice light with amusement. "You look like you've been flattened by a stampede."

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Damon managed a weak glare, but it had no real heat. "How'd you even get in here? This is supposed to be a private training room."

Anaya crossed her arms, her smirk widening. "Dean Godsthorn isn't the only one with access, you know. Besides, your roommate told me where you were after I couldn't find you anywhere else."

Damon sighed, letting his head fall back against the cold floor. "Figures. So why are you here?"

Instead of answering, Anaya crouched beside him and set down a small wooden box near his head. Damon's nose twitched as the scent of food wafted toward him, and his stomach let out a loud, embarrassing growl.

"Because someone had to make sure you didn't starve to death," Anaya said, rolling her eyes. "Your roommate said you've been here all day without a single break. I figured you'd need this."

The box was simple but well-made, its polished surface catching the light. Damon stared at it for a moment before forcing himself to sit up, his limbs protesting the movement.

When he opened the lid, the sight of the meal inside made his mouth water—grilled meat, steamed vegetables, and a small loaf of bread still warm to the touch.

He didn't bother with pleasantries. With trembling hands, he grabbed the food and began to eat, his hunger overriding any sense of decorum. Anaya stepped back, watching him with a raised eyebrow as she found a pillow lying neatly at the corner of the room.

"What's this doing here?" she asked, holding up the small, slightly worn pillow.

Damon paused between bites, glancing at her. "For when I'm too tired to make it back to my dorm," he mumbled before returning to his meal.

Anaya tilted her head curiously but said nothing, instead plopping the pillow down on the floor and sitting cross-legged on it. Her dress billowed slightly as she settled in, the lavender fabric pooling around her.

The room's atmosphere was quiet, the faint hum of magic from the sconces the only background noise as Damon devoured his meal. Anaya studied him, her bright green eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"You eat like a starving beast," she commented dryly.

Damon didn't respond, too focused on silencing the gnawing hunger in his stomach. It wasn't until he finished and set the empty box aside that he finally turned to her with a weary but curious expression.

"Alright," he said, his voice stronger now. "Why are you really here?"

Anaya's expression shifted slightly, the teasing edge replaced by something more serious. "You mean to tell me that Lord Terrace was here, and you didn't think to inform me?"

Damon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "I… didn't think it was necessary," he admitted. "He wasn't exactly here to chat."

Anaya crossed her arms, leaning forward slightly. "Still, a little warning would've been nice. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to meet a family lord, or better still, him?"

Damon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He was still wearing his training uniform—a fitted black sleeveless shirt and matching pants that clung to his sweat-soaked body. "Sorry. He barely had time for me, let alone anyone else."

Anaya's gaze softened slightly, but she still looked exasperated. "You're impossible sometimes, you know that?"

Damon shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "You're not the first to say that."

The two sat in silence for a while, the tension easing as the quiet of the training room enveloped them. Damon closed his eyes briefly, feeling the weight of the day's exhaustion finally settling over him.

"You should go rest," Anaya said eventually, her tone softer now. "You've done enough for one day."

Damon opened one eye, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "Maybe. But tomorrow's another free day. I've got more training to do."

Anaya sighed, shaking her head. "Just don't forget to eat, alright?"

Damon chuckled lightly, closing his eyes again. The sound of Anaya's presence nearby was oddly comforting, and as he drifted off into a light doze, she stayed where she was, deciding to keep him company for a little while longer.