SSS-Ranked Summoner: Only I Summon All Heroes And Heroines Of Legend-Chapter 7: Summoned By Heroes

3 Days to Resumption

Ding. Ding.

[The Legend HERACLES has sent you an invitation]

[The Legend DELILAH has sent you an invitation]

Altair’s eyes snapped open. Dawn light filtered through his window, painting his room in shades of gold and amber. For a moment, he just stared at the notifications hovering in his vision.

Then it hit him.

They’ve responded.

His gasped immediately. After hours of waiting, analyzing every detail, preparing himself, and finally, finally, they’d noticed him.

He sat up, running his right hand through his hair. He then took a deep breath, and exhaled.

"Heracles first," he muttered. A fellow warrior. The hero of impossible labors, if anyone would understand struggle, it would be him.

Altair focused on the notification, willing it to expand.

The world about him dissolved into nothingness.

---

He materialized in a different space than Minerva’s library. This place was ancient, a coliseum of eroded stone under an endless bronze sky. The air tasted of dust and sweat and old blood. Arena sand crunched beneath his boots.

Across the space, a hulking figure stood waiting.

Heracles.

Altair drew breath .The legends hadn’t done him justice. The man, if you could call him that, stood nearly seven feet tall, muscles carved like they’d been chiseled from marble by a master sculptor.The Nemean lion’s pelt draped across his massive shoulders, the beast’s head serving as a hood. His bronzed skin was a map of violence, etched with scars that served as a silent chronicle of every Twelve Labor he had survived.

His eyes were what held Altair, though. Dark, intense, like the were all-knowing. Eyes that had stared down gods and monsters and never blinked.

"So." Heracles’ voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You’re the one who read my story."

Not a question. A statement.

"I am." Altair forced himself to stand straight, to lock gazes without flinching. "Altair Elfender."

"Elfender." Heracles tilted his head. "I’ve heard that name echoing through the Codex. Something tells me you’re of noble blood." He stepped closer, taking his time with each step. "Yet here you stand. I see no inherited glory in you."

"Just a boy with a book nobody respects."

A vein throbbed on Altair’s temples. "If you came to mock me, you’re late to the party. My family’s already handled that."

"Mock you?" Heracles barked a humourless laugh. "Boy, do you know what the gods gave me for my first labor?"

"I read the book".

"They told me to kill the Nemean Lion. A beast with hide so thick no weapon could pierce it. Claws that could rend steel like parchment." Heracles gestured to the pelt on his shoulders. "I had no divine sword or magic tools. Just my hands and my will."

He stopped directly in front of Altair, looming.

"I strangled it with my bare hands and took its pelt as proof. Then they gave me eleven more ’impossible’ tasks, each designed to break me." His eyes bored into Altair’s. "Tell me, Elfender. When they call you useless, when they spit on your summon, when they say you don’t belong, do you break?"

"No."

The word came out hard, showing Altair’s resolve.

"I don’t break."

"Heracles weighed the him in a silence that stretched for a long, heavy moment. Then, the hard lines of his face began to soften, not into a grin, but a subtle thawing of his features. It was a look of sober approval, the silent acknowledgement of one veteran recognizing another."

"Good." He crossed his arms. "Because I don’t bind myself to the weak minded. I don’t answer summons from those who crumble under pressure. The Codex chose you for a reason, but that doesn’t mean I choose you. Not yet."

A cold pit formed in Altair’s gut. "What?"

"You want my strength? My legend?" Heracles gestured broadly at the arena. "Prove yourself worthy of it. I’m granting you a trial period, consider it your first labor."

"What kind of trial?"

"The same kind I faced." Heracles’ grin turned fierce. "Survive. Adapt. Overcome. Show me you’re not just another spoiled noble playing at heroism. Show me you have the spine to wield power earned through struggle, not handed down through bloodlines."

He extended his hand. Not for a handshake, for a warrior’s clasp, forearm to forearm.

"Impress me, Altair Elfender. Prove you understand what it means to carry a legend on your shoulders. Do that, and I’ll fight beside you."

The arena began to fade.

Altair grabbed Heracles’ forearm before the world dissolved completely. The hero’s grip was iron, his skin hot like forge-heated metal.

"I won’t fail."

"We’ll see."

---

Reality returned slowly into view.

Altair gasped, stumbling forward. He braced himself against the table, his heart raced. He hadn’t gotten contract. No guarantee, just a challenge from a legend who’d probably forgotten more about struggle than Altair had ever known.

"A trial period," he muttered. "Of course it couldn’t be easy."

But what he felt wasn’t frustration, it was something else. Determination. A new fire.

Heracles hadn’t dismissed him. Instead he offered a chance.

That was more than his own family had done.

Altair streatched, rolling his shoulders. He focused on the second notification still hovering in his peripheral vision.

[The Legend DELILAH has sent you an invitation]

"Right. Let’s see what you want."

He tapped the notification.

The world shifted again, but gentler this time.

He appeared in a garden at twilight. Flowering vines twisted around marble columns. The air was cleaner, it smelled of jasmine and wine and yet it was tinged with something dangerous hidden beneath the beauty.

"Well, well."

The voice wrapped around him like silk.

Altair turned.

Delilah reclined on a plush sofa beneath a pergola, one leg crossed over the other with an effortless poise. She was a vision of seductive beauty. Her dark hair waves tumbled past her shoulders, and her amber eyes glowed in the twilight, her curves accentuated by silken fabrics that teased the line between modest and scandalous with every movement, she was absolutely mesmerizing.

But her smile was what warned him. It promised secrets, temptation. Power, but at a price.

"Altair Elfender." She gestured to a seat across from her. "Please. Sit."

He approached cautiously, settling onto the offered cushion.

"You’ve read my story," Delilah continued, pouring wine into two goblets. "So you know what I’m capable of. "

She offered him a goblet.

Altair didn’t take it.

Her smile widened. "Smart boy. Tell me, what did Heracles offer you?"

"How did you..."

"I know every secret, darling. It’s how I’ve survived this long." She sipped her wine, eyes never leaving his. "But all of that, trial, test of worthiness?, ’prove yourself through combat. It means so little on the grand scale of things.’"

She set down her goblet, leaning forward.

"I’m not interested in all that, Altair. I don’t care about honor. I don’t care about your struggles or your failures or your sad family drama. What I care about is potential."

"And you see potential in me?"

"Oh, absolutely." Delilah’s gaze raked over him. "You’re an outsider in your own house. The disappointment. The failure. But you hold something different, a Codex that grants you access to legends across all time."

She leaned into him.

"Others will underestimate you. They’ll perceive you as weak. They won’t see the threat until it’s too late."

Her hand trailed across his shoulders. Altair forced himself not to flinch.

"That’s where I come in," Delilah whispered near his ear. "I teach you how to use their assumptions against them. How to play the game beneath the game. How to smile while you sharpen your knife."

She leaned closer until their faces nearly touched, her warm breath ghosting over his lips

"Heracles will make you strong. I’ll make you dangerous. And unlike him, I don’t need you to prove yourself."

Her eyes glinted.

"I already know what you’re capable of. The question is, do you?"

She extended her hand, palm up. A contract seal materialized above it. it was intricate, beautiful, edged with thorns.

"So what do you say, Altair Elfender? Ready to partner with a legend who knows what it takes to win?"

Altair stared at the seal representing the choice before him.

Heracles demanded he prove himself. Delilah simply... accepted him.

Two contrasting Legends, maybe this was Minerva’s intention, exposing him to both sides of the codex to achieve balance early enough.

One a man of code and honor. The other, a rule breaker.

"Yes."

He clasped her hand.

The contract seal ignited in a flash of brilliant crimson, searing itself into his palm. It integrated seamlessly with his unfinished seal, the patterns intertwining as if they were always meant to be one. A subtle power rushed through him, granting him more knowledge and Instinct. The ability to read a room, to see the moves before they happened.

Delilah’s smile turned triumphant.

"Excellent choice, darling. Now, let’s make sure you survive long enough to use what I teach you, till we meet again, darling."

---

Altair opened his eyes in his room, gasping. His palm burned where the contract seal had marked him.

The System immediately chimed.

[CONTRACT ESTABLISHED: DELILAH]

[Analyzing Legend Template...]

[DELILAH - The Temptress]

- Grade: C++

- Specialization: Subterfuge, Manipulation, Strategic Combat

- Abilities:

- Whispered Insight [Passive]: Enhanced perception of social dynamics and hidden motives

-Concealment [Active]: Mask her true capabilities and physical features from assessment magic/skills

- Serpent’s Tongue [Active]: Improve persuasion attempts, detect lies

[Mana Capacity: 127/127]

[Current Contracts: 1/0000]

[Warning: Summoning Delilah will require 80 MP minimum]

Altair studied the information. One contract secured. powers that would let him hide his true strength while everyone assumed him weak. Heracles was still on trial.

Perfect.

Knock knock knock.

He looked up sharply.

"Master Altair?" The voice was formal. Sir Edward , one of the younger butlers of the manor. "Lord Godric Elfender requests your presence at dinner this evening. The entire family is expected to attend."

He pause.

"Your father has... matters to discuss."

"Tell him I’ll be there."

"Yes Master Altair" The bultler bowed slighty before leaving the room.

His footsteps retreated down the hall.

Altair changed into some fresh clothes and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The boy everyone had written off, now marked by a legend’s contract.

They had no idea.

"Let’s see how this plays out," he whispered.