SSS-Ranked Summoner: Only I Summon All Heroes And Heroines Of Legend-Chapter 47: Phase 2: Three vs One

Musashi dropped from the tree without a sound.

His descent was unreal, as if he had his own control of gravity. His feet kissed the forest floor with complete silence . The winter mist swirled around him, thick and cold, but through the bond skill Altair had activated, he could see everything with perfect clarity.

The battlefield spread out before him like a tactical map.

Duncan’s orc stood about fifteen feet away, its massive frame hunched forward as it sniffed the air. The creature’s nostrils flared wide, drawing in the scents of the forest—damp earth, rotting leaves, and somewhere beneath it all, the faint trace of human presence.

It detected him.

The orc’s head snapped toward Musashi’s position, its yellow eyes narrowing. A low, rumbling growl emanated from deep in its chest.

Further away, Millot’s jellyfish continued its rhythmic pulsing, its transparent body drifting lazily through the air. The creature seemed completely unaware of Musashi’s location, its tentacles swaying gently as if caught in an invisible current.

But the fox knew.

Larix prowled somewhere to Musashi’s left, circling slowly through the trees. The shadow fox moved with the patience of an experienced predator, its body flickering between solid and smoke as it searched for the perfect angle of attack.

Musashi’s grip tightened slightly on both katanas.

"Master", he thought, his mental voice calmly whispering to Altair. "Keep the archer your eyes peeled for the archer, they can be troublesome. But leave the rest to me."

From his perch in the tree above, Altair’s response came immediately. "Understood."

Musashi shifted his stance, hunching a bit to reduce his center of gravity and increase his balance. His short sword angled upward defensively. His long sword extended forward, placed parallel to the ground.

The orc lumbered toward him.

Each step shook the earth slightly, the creature’s eight-foot frame casting a massive shadow even through the dense mist. It raised its war-axe high—a brutal weapon easily the length of a grown man, its blade chipped and stained with old blood.

The orc brought the axe down in a crushing overhead strike.

But Musashi didn’t evade. Instead, he stepped forward.

CLANG!

His short sword rose to meet the descending axe, the blades connecting with a sharp metallic ring that echoed through the forest. The impact should have driven Musashi into the ground. Should have shattered bone or at least forced him backward.

Instead, the axe stopped dead.

Musashi’s blade had caught it at the perfect angle, redirecting the force just enough to turn what should have been a killing blow into a glancing strike that sailed past his shoulder.

His long sword moved in the same heartbeat.

A single, fluid slash across the orc’s exposed torso. The blade bit deep, cutting through thick green skin and dense muscle with a clean swipe. Blood—dark and viscous—sprayed across the forest floor.

The orc roared in pain but didn’t fall.

It swung the axe horizontally, trying to catch Musashi in a wide arc.

But Musashi’s form flowed like water.

His body shifted backward, just enough to let the axe whistle past his chest. Then he moved forward again, closing the distance before the orc could recover. His short sword flicked out in a quick strike aimed at the creature’s wrist.

The orc jerked its arm back, but not fast enough.

Musashi’s blade connected, slicing through sinew and tendon. The orc’s grip faltered, its fingers loosening on the axe handle.

And then Musashi was behind it.

He moved so smoothly it looked effortless—a single sidestep that carried him around the orc’s massive frame. His long sword traced a horizontal line across the creature’s back, cutting deep between the shoulder blades.

The orc tried to turn, raising the axe for another attack.

But something was wrong.

The creature’s movements were sluggish. Uncoordinated. It swung the axe, but the motion was weak, the weapon wobbling in its grip.

Then the orc looked down.

Its right hand—the one holding the war-axe—slid off its wrist.

Cleanly severed.

When?!. Duncan thought in awe

The massive hand hit the ground with a dull thud, still gripping the axe handle. Blood fountained from the stump where the wrist had been, dark and thick.

The orc’s roar transformed into a wail of pure agony.

Duncan’s voice cut through the mist, sharp with disbelief. "This can’t be—"

But Musashi didn’t give the orc time to process.

The creature shifted its stance, reaching across its body with its left hand to grab the axe. It was trying to continue fighting, while maimed and even bleeding out.

Musashi respected that.

But he wouldn’t permit it.

He surged forward, both swords moving in perfect synchronization. His short blade swept low, cutting across the orc’s left knee. His long blade followed high, slashing across its throat.

The orc’s leg buckled. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

ORRHNNNN. The Orc let out a grown that should’ve been a roar.

Its throat opened. Blood poured from both wounds simultaneously.

Musashi stepped back as the creature collapsed forward, crashing face-first into the dirt with enough force to shake the ground.

It didn’t move again.

Duncan stared in horror. "No... that’s impossible..."

Musashi turned slightly, his eye brow arched but his overall expression remained unchanged. "One down."

---

Rra-hle

The shadow fox darted quickly, before attacking from the left.

Larix burst through the mist like a bullet, its body solidifying mid-leap. Jaws wide apart and claws already extended like it was a preconceived move. It aimed directly at Musashi’s exposed side.

Musashi’s short sword came up in a sharp defensive arc.

TANG!

The blade caught the fox’s baring fangs again, stopping its momentum cold. The creature’s teeth scraped against the steel with a horrible screeching sound.

Musashi twisted his wrist, using the leverage to throw the fox sideways. It hit the ground hard, rolled once, and immediately dissolved into smoke.

He didn’t relax.

His eyes tracked the smoke as it drifted upward and reformed on a low-hanging branch ten feet away. The fox crouched there, its yellow eyes glowing faintly as it assessed its opponent.

Omar’s voice rang out from somewhere in the mist. "Larix, pattern two!"

The fox responded instantly.

It dropped from the branch and charged again, but this time it didn’t commit fully. It lunged, then dissolved into smoke just before impact, reforming behind Musashi in the same heartbeat.

Clever.

Musashi spun on his heel, his long sword sweeping backward in a horizontal slash.

The blade passed through empty air.

The fox had already shifted to smoke again, sliding around the attack like water. It reformed to Musashi’s right, jaws snapping toward his arm.

Musashi’s short sword intercepted it with a quick thrust. The fox twisted mid-air, avoiding the blade by inches, and dissolved again.

This was the creature’s strategy.

Attack, shift to smoke, reposition. It looked like Larix would not fully commit. Never stay solid long enough to be hit. And then wear the opponent down through attrition, this was obviously it’s pattern two.

Musashi’s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed everything.

Interesting.

The fox attacked again from above, diving down from a tree branch with its claws outstretched.

Musashi raised both swords in a cross-guard, catching the fox between the blades. For a fraction of a second, the creature was trapped—solid and vulnerable.

His short sword twisted, trying to pierce the fox’s chest.

But Larix dissolved before the blade could connect, slipping through the crossed swords like smoke and reforming on the ground behind Musashi.

It lunged for his leg.

Musashi’s long sword swept downward, forcing the fox to abort and shift to smoke again.

Omar was grinning now, his confidence returning. "You can’t touch it! Larix is untouchable!"

Musashi said nothing.

He simply watched.

The fox circled him, prowling low. It lunged, dissolved, reformed. Lunged again from a different angle. Dissolved again.

But Musashi wasn’t trying to hit it anymore.

He was merely feinting and observing.

Watching the pattern, the rhythm, and the timing.

Every time the fox dissolved, it stayed in smoke form for exactly one and a half seconds. Not longer. Not shorter. A fixed interval dictated by the summon’s natural ability.

And every time it reformed, there was a split-second delay before it could move again. A brief moment of vulnerability as its body solidified and regained mass.

Musashi’s grip shifted slightly on his long sword.

The fox lunged again, coming in fast from the right.

Musashi only dropped a subtle feint.

The fox dissolved mid-leap, its body turning to smoke and flowing around Musashi’s form.

One and a half seconds.

The smoke drifted to Musashi’s left, beginning to coalesce back into solid form

Musashi moved.

Not toward where the fox was passing, but toward where it would be.

His long sword thrust forward with perfect timing, the blade piercing through the air exactly as the fox’s head solidified. The tip of the katana stabbed straight through the creature’s skull, punching out the other side with a wet, sickening sound.