All My Summons Become Divine Girls

Two figures stood on a ridge far to the east, their silhouettes barely visible against the darkening sky, watching the campfire flicker below.

The girl sat on a flat rock with her knees pulled up to her chest, her tail wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her arms. Her eyes were fixed on the distant glow of the camp, but her expression was tight, her brow furrowed in a way that had not eased since the fight ended.

"That was too close," she said, her voice quiet.

The boy stood beside her, arms crossed, his gaze steady on the camp below, not responding right away.

"If that spike had hit his heart, he would have died," she continued, her tail twitching, "and if he dies, the fragment dies with him. And if the fragment dies, we answer to the King."

"We did not let him die," the boy said, his tone flat.

"We almost did," she shot back, lifting her head to glare at him, "we stood here and watched while a puppet worm put a hole through his chest. If that cyan-haired girl had not shown up when she did, we would be digging his body out of the sand right now and trying to explain to the Underworld King how we let the Goddess fragment shatter because we were too busy watching."

The boy’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"I do not like this," she muttered, dropping her head back onto her arms, "we are supposed to be monitoring him, not letting him walk into death traps. If the King finds out we stood by while he almost got himself killed..."

"He will survive," the boy cut in, his voice firmer this time, "that fragment inside him is not going to let him die that easily."

She let out a long, frustrated breath.

"Next time he decides to do something that stupid, I am stepping in," she said, "I do not care if it blows our cover. A scolding from the King is better than showing up empty-handed because our asset got himself impaled."

The boy did not argue, his eyes still fixed on the distant fire, but after a moment she spoke again.

"What exactly is his power anyway?"

He glanced at her.

"I mean it," she said, gesturing toward the camp below, "we know he uses a chain and gold mana. That mana is obviously divine, the fragment’s influence, but what is his actual ability? What is his class? We have been tracking him for weeks and he has never once used a proper skill or casting, just raw punches and that chain."

The boy was quiet for a moment.

"And those girls," she continued, her brow furrowing, "they have the exact same mana signature as him, the same circulation pattern, the same resonance. That is not normal. Even bonded partners or contracted spirits have distinct signatures. Those three are practically extensions of his own core."

She looked at him.

"Could that be his ability? To share his mana with others? To create copies of himself?"

The boy stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the distant campfire, and after a long moment he shook his head slowly.

"I do not know," he said.

She clicked her tongue and turned away, "useless," before pulling her knees closer to her chest and staring at the distant glow with narrowed eyes, "so how long do you think it will take for him to catch up to our level?"

The boy did not answer right away, his expression unreadable, "a few months."

She let out a short laugh, "very funny," but he did not laugh, his face staying completely flat while she waited for him to crack, but her smile faded slowly as she realized he was serious.

"Wait," she said, her voice dropping, "you are serious?"

He did not answer, which was answer enough, and she turned back toward the distant campfire with the silence stretching between them as she processed the weight of what he had just said.

A few months was nothing, a blink in demon terms, and a human who had barely been a Ranker for weeks would be matching their level in that time.

"That is impossible," she muttered, "we have been training for decades, there is no way a human with a broken fragment can close that gap in a few months."

She paused, her expression souring as something else crossed her mind.

"Not that it matters anyway," she said, her voice dropping, "even if he reaches our level, he will not be able to defeat the boss monster."

The boy glanced at her.

"Just thinking about that thing annoys me," she continued, her tail lashing, "it has such a bad temper, I cannot wait for the day someone finally teaches it a lesson."

"You are the one that made it," the boy said, his voice flat.

She went still, her tail freezing mid-lash.

"I know," she muttered after a moment, dropping her head onto her arms, "I might have gone a bit too far with the corruption."

The boy raised an eyebrow, "a bit?"

She let out a defensive groan, "I was experimenting, alright? I did not think it would get that out of control. The original template was just a four-shard beast, but the demonic essence kept stacking and mutating until it turned into something that even we have trouble handling."

She paused, her voice dropping.

"If he and his party fight it as they are right now, they will all die."

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of her words settling between them as the fire flickered in the distance.

Back at the camp, the fire had settled into a quiet rhythm as the last of the meal was cleared away. Wounded knights lay wrapped in blankets near the warmth, their breathing steady after Vella’s reluctant healing, while Juna and Loccy had curled up near the flames with their eyes half-closed.

The Captain stood near his tent with his hand resting on the flap, preparing to turn in for the night, but Hajin appeared beside him without a sound.

The Captain’s hand stopped mid-motion, his head turning slightly, "something on your mind?"

"Can we talk?" Hajin asked, his voice low.

"About what?"

Hajin glanced around the camp at the resting knights and Helen’s silhouette near the cooking station, shaking his head, "not here."

The Captain studied him for a moment before letting go of the tent flap and giving a short nod.

They walked past the edge of the camp together, their footsteps quiet against the sand, and Helen watched them go from where she stood, her eyes following their figures until they disappeared into the dark.