Summoners War: Only I Summoned Divine Beasts

Nathan’s first summoning circle fizzled with fur and fangs instead of fangs and halos.

While other summoners called forth archangels in burning armor, elegant elves with silver bows, and demon kings wrapped in shadow, he got a paw. A snout. Scales. Claws. The academy whispered that something was wrong with him, that his bond could never reach the refined, humanoid spirits that ruled the battlefields.

They were wrong.

The “beasts” that answered Nathan’s call are older than those angels, crueler than those demons, and remembered only in half-rotted temple carvings and drunken legends. A wolf whose jaws once closed on a god’s throat. An eight-headed serpent long enough to encircle mountains. A bird whose feathers pour daylight, searing the air. A dragon that chewed the roots of the world tree until the sky learned to tremble.

On the day the alien symbiote hordes descend—an ocean of hungry black armor rolling over the land—Nathan stands between two nightmares: to his left, the polished lines of the traditional summoners with their proud, humanoid champions; to his right, an advancing swarm that wants to hollow this realm out and wear it like a skin.

He draws a new circle anyway. The ground shudders as claws, coils, wings, and talons answer once more.

Let the others cling to their saints and devils. Nathan fights with the old things that never learned how to kneel—and once they taste war again, this world will never be able to put them back to sleep.