SSS-Ranked Summoner: Only I Summon All Heroes And Heroines Of Legend-Chapter 12: I’m Ready

Then, she leaned in and kissed him.

It lasted only two seconds.

Two of the most confusing seconds of Altair’s life.

His brain short-circuited in the chaos of the moment, between who is this and wait, I know exactly who this is. His body went rigid from the absolute audacity she acted with. But when she pulled back, her eyes were right there, close enough that he could read every detail in them.

Please. Just go with it.

He swallowed the instinct to step back.

Instead, he did nothing. Said nothing. His arm hung at his side like deadweight and his face was carefully blank, trying to not incriminate himself.

Behind her, he heard one of the lackeys snicker.

"Guess she wasn’t lying bro."

"Tragic." the other one pitched.

Fleur didn’t even look back. Her eyes stayed on Altair’s, still broadcasting that quiet please.

He exhaled through his nose. Fine.

The ringleader was the last to move. Altair caught the look on his face in his periphery, he wasn’t laughing, or disappointed. He only watched with a cool kind of disgust, the sort that didn’t leave when the moment did. Then he turned and walked, his entourage falling in behind him like obedient shadows.

The iron gate swung shut.

Fleur’s shoulders dropped half an inch. Just half. Then she stepped back, smoothing her jacket like she hadn’t just used Altair’s face as a prop.

"Fleur de Valois," Altair said flatly.

"Altair Elfender," she replied, matching his tone exactly.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

She glanced once toward the gate, then back at him. "Let’s go somewhere else. Come on."

They found a bench in one of the open gardens, far enough from the practice yards that foot traffic moved past them lazily. Students lounging on the grass. A pair of upperclassmen playing something that looked like enchanted chess.

Fleur sat with her spine straight, hands folded in her lap, every inch the composed noblewoman she’d been raised to be. Then she sighed and let some of it go.

"His name is Lex. Prince Lex, if you want his full title." She said prince the way someone says inconvenient.

Altair raised an eyebrow. "You’ve got me wrapped up in this with a prince, are you trying to get me killed?"

"I’m sorry." And she actually meant it, which was somehow more annoying. "I needed to do something, and in the heat of the moment, that’s all I could think of. You were just... there."

"Lucky me."

"He’s the twentieth son of King Mhorex III," she continued, ignoring him. "One of the three southern kings. Lex is practically invisible , twentieth in line, no real prospects. But here?"

She gestured vaguely at the Academy around them. "He tries to compensate. Loudly. He’s been at it since my first year."

"How long ago was that?"

"Third year now."

Altair nodded slowly. Third year. That meant she’d been navigating this particular problem for two years before he’d walked into it blind.

"Right." He leaned back on the bench, tilting his face toward the sky for a moment.

"So what about you, boyfriend?" The word landed with a smirk attached.

Fleur’s composure cracked. Just barely.

"Don’t." He chuckled. He couldn’t help it.

Between them stretched years of childhood mornings spent at each other’s estates, him showing her which trees in the Elfender grounds were good for climbing.

The alliance between House Valois and House Elfender had always been warm if not grand. The Valois name was younger, smaller, but what they lacked in ancient lineage they made up for in producing the occasional extraordinary mage.

Fleur had been exactly that. One of the rare ones.

Their parents had even floated the idea of a betrothal, once, in that casual way noble parents did when they thought their children weren’t listening.

That had all stopped when Altair failed to manifest his seal. The slow unraveling of expectations, then connections, then contact entirely. He’d been cut off from the family name in full standing, and from the alliances that came with it.

From her, too, though neither of them had said it plainly.

And now here they were. A bench in one of Gran-lusia’s gardens. Of all places.

"Well," Altair said. "I’m sure the rumors made the rounds, but I finally got my summon. So. Here I am."

Fleur studied him for a moment, something careful in her expression. "Better late than never, I suppose." The corner of her mouth moved. letting out a slight smile.

"So what spell did you cast to have a princes’ eyes locked on you?" he teased.

Her reaction was immediate, matching his humor. "Excuse me?"

"You, who just stood there and let me kiss you..."

"I bet you enjoyed every bit of it."

"Right, right." He waved a hand, reeling it back before it spirraled further. "Be for real."

She huffed, then relented. "I’m top of my class. Have been since first year. That’s what he wants , not me, exactly, just... the status of it. Bragging rights. That and, he doesn’t take well to being told no."

"Mm. Okay then"

Fleur looked at him sharply.

"Altair. Hierarchy runs deep in this place. You’re still in freshman red, doesn’t matter how old you look. That uniform marks you. And people like Lex know exactly how to use that."

It was then that he actually looked at what she was wearing. He’d registered the colors before, vaguely, but now he took in the full picture, forest green, the Berdania crest, jacket cut with a quiet elegance, it was a bit differently styled.

"Berdania," he said.

"Right," she confirmed.

"So, what’s the vibe with the houses?"She leaned back, shifting into that ’I’ve had two years to overanalyze everyone’ energy. "Halo is basically just a bunch of ego-trippers. They’re actually talented, which makes them ten times more annoying. Slykhar produces two types: either absolute icons or literal trash. Your prince squad is peak Slykhar, obviously." She paused. "And the red munchkins are just out here doing the most to be ’virtuous’ or whatever."

Altair laughed. "Red munchkins. Please."

"I stand by it."

He pushed himself off the bench. "Alright. Thanks for the intel." He glanced down at her. "I think I’ll head back to the dorm."

"Okay, sure." She tilted her head. "Want my ID though?"

"Your what?"

The look she gave him was patient in the way of someone suppressing genuine exasperation. "Oh, you freshies," she said, shaking her head. "Go to the socials tab. That’s literally the only way to stay in the loop here. You actually have yours, right?"

He pulled out his phone. Without waiting for an invite, she held out her hand, and he handed it over. He watched as she swiped through his screens, her fingers a blur as she added her info and passed it back.

Her name was already in his contacts list.

Fleur.

He pocketed it, turned to leave.

Then stopped.

"Fleur."

She looked up.

"It’s good to see you here." He said it simply.

Her face softened for a split second—a quick, subtle spark—before she turned her attention back to the garden.

He headed out.

From the edge of the grounds, partially hidden by a vine-covered stone arch, Prince Lex watched the guy in freshman red vanish down the path. Lex still had that same vibe from the practice yard: cold, detached, and totally unreadable.

"Duncan."

One of his guys stepped up.

"Follow him."

Duncan gave a quick nod and dipped, trailing the freshman without saying a word.

Lex folded his arms behind his back, his eyes shifting to the bench where Fleur was still sitting. She was already back on her phone.

His eyebrow twitched, Just a little. Who is he?

Altair made it back to the dormitory in twenty minutes. He took the stairs, pushed open the door to his room, and found Finn in what appeared to be full protective combat gear. Padded shoulders, reinforced gloves, a chest plate that was one size too large and tilting slightly to the left. He looked like a very enthusiastic turtle.

"You’re finally back," Finn announced, with that same sunrise-bright energy that had been the first thing Altair encountered this morning.

Altair had decided, somewhere around the umpteenth time he’d seen it, that it was getting less grating. He wasn’t sure if that was progress or just resignation.

"Why are you wearing that?"

"I found a training spot the freshmen are using to prep for the trials!" Finn’s hands came up, gesturing enthusiastically.

"There’s a whole group of us going to run through some drills. Are you coming?"

Altair dropped onto his bed face-first.

"Maybe later."

"Okay!" Finn responded, bright as ever. The door clicked shut behind him as he left.

Altair lay still for a moment. The day had been a lot. Assembly, Oz, Fleur, a prince with a grudge forming in real time, and just two days until the trials.

He rolled over, and opened his system interface, navigating to the Codex tab.

The folder was familiar now. Still faintly luminous around the edges. He scrolled past the icons he’d already touched until he found the one he was looking for.

HERACLES.

Beneath the name, in letters that pulsed with a slow, golden rhythm:

[PENDING CONTRACT]

He tapped it, the room dissolved.

The domain made itself known. Above, the sky was a deep, dark orange, torn open by sharp streaks of light. The air was thick and hot, smelling of burnt metal and old stone. Massive pillars of black rock stood like jagged teeth surrounding the plains, their surfaces carved with the names of conquered foes that glowed with a faint, steady heat.

Heracles was at the epicenter, waiting.

He stood with his arms crossed, a mountain of a man. He didn’t look like someone made of skin and bone; he looked like a statue brought to life, the exact image of power that people had carved into stone walls for thousands of years.

He watched Altair arrive with eyes that had seen entire cities rise and fall, looking as though he found the whole of history only slightly worth his time.

"So," That vast, unhurried voice spoke. "You’re back."

"I am."

"And does that mean you are ready?"

Altair met his gaze steadily. "Yes."

"I’m ready."