GOD-LEVEL SUMMONER: My Wives Are Mythical Beast

Recap:

The battlefield lay in ruins, the stench of iron and ash still clinging to the air. Jemil and his wives had fought tooth and nail, but their victory was a thin one — every survivor carried more scars than smiles. As the dust began to settle, a strange wooden case had been recovered from the enemy commander's possessions. When Jemil touched it, a voice — soft, deliberate, and utterly alien — whispered directly into his mind.

The wind over Floor Eight's cliffs was sharp, cutting against Jemil's cheek as he stared at the case resting on a stone slab before him.

It was… unremarkable, to the naked eye. Faded oak wood. Brass hinges dulled by time. A simple clasp.

And yet, when his fingers brushed it again, he swore he felt breathing. Slow, deliberate… patient.

Nyxara stood a few paces away, arms crossed, tail flicking like an agitated cat.

"I don't like this, Jemil," she said flatly. "That thing isn't a treasure — it's a snare."

Seris, ever the calm one, circled it once, her footsteps whispering against the stone. She didn't speak right away. Instead, she tilted her head, eyes narrowing.

"The voice you heard," she murmured. "It spoke in a language you didn't understand, yet you knew what it meant. That's… dangerous."

Jemil didn't answer. His gaze was locked on the clasp. He hadn't opened it — not yet — but he couldn't shake the feeling that it wanted him to.

A cold gust blew past, carrying with it the faintest whisper.

This time, everyone heard it.

A sound like silk tearing under water.

Seris froze. Nyxara's claws flexed.

And Jemil… felt his pulse skip.

The whisper faded, but the silence it left behind was heavier than before.

No one moved. Even the wind seemed to pause, as if the whole floor was holding its breath.

Jemil's hand hovered over the clasp, not touching it this time, but feeling the pull — like the case had a heartbeat that matched his own.

"It's calling me," he said quietly.

Nyxara's ears flattened.

"And you're not going to answer."

Seris finally looked up from her inspection. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a faint edge to her voice.

"That wood… it's not from this world. It's grown in places where sunlight never reaches. The brass is forged from moon-ore, mined only in the Hollow Depths. Whoever made this wanted it sealed… not opened."

Jemil took a slow step back.

But the case… shifted.

Not much — just enough for the tiniest scrape of brass against stone to echo in the quiet.

A ripple of unease went through the group.

Nyxara whispered, almost to herself,

"It moved toward you…"

Before anyone could speak again, the clasp clicked.

No hands had touched it.

Scene 3 – The Pull of the Unseen

The clasp dangled loose now, as if some unseen hand had undone it.

Jemil's breath misted in the cold air, though the chamber was not cold a moment ago.

Seris gripped her spear tighter.

"We should leave it. Bury it again. This isn't our fight."

Nyxara's tail lashed, her eyes never leaving the case.

"It's already our fight. Whatever's inside knows him. It's calling him by name."

Jemil swallowed hard.

He hadn't told them — but in the moment the clasp clicked, a voice had whispered inside his mind.

It wasn't words exactly… it was recognition.

Like something ancient and patient had just found its lost piece.

The silence shattered — thud… thud… thud… — heavy footsteps, coming from somewhere deep within the ruins. The walls shivered with each impact.

Seris's gaze darted toward the shadows.

"We're not alone."

Nyxara stepped closer to Jemil, her arm brushing his.

"If you open that thing, you'd better be ready to fight whatever comes for it."

Jemil's fingers hovered over the lid.

The strange heartbeat inside was faster now — matching the rhythm of those approaching steps.

Somewhere deep inside, he knew:

Opening it wouldn't just reveal what was inside…

It would unleash it.

Scene 4 – The Thing in the Shadows

The footsteps grew louder, each one a dull quake under their feet. Dust trembled from the ancient ceiling.

Jemil's hand pulled back from the case instinctively, but the whisper in his mind did not stop.

It grew sharper, urgent, almost pleading.

Like a prisoner sensing the key just inches away.

"Jemil…"

This time, the voice was clear. Male. Old. And far too close.

Seris spun toward the sound.

Her spear tip glinted in the faint glow as she scanned the archway ahead.

"That voice—did you hear it?"

Nyxara's lips curled into a tense smile, her claws flexing.

"Oh, we all heard it. And it's not coming alone."

From the shadows beyond the archway, something emerged — not a person, but a silhouette that seemed to bend the light around it.

It had no face, no true form, only shifting darkness and the glint of what might have been eyes.

The heartbeat from the case matched perfectly with the echo of its steps.

No — Jemil realized with a chill — it wasn't echoing.

The heartbeat was coming from the thing itself.

The figure stopped a few paces away.

The whisper returned — but this time, it wasn't inside Jemil's head.

It filled the chamber.

"Return… what is mine."

The clasp on the case snapped shut on its own.

The voice fell silent.

The figure stood still, waiting… as if the next move was Jemil's to make.

Scene 5 – When Darkness Moves

Jemil didn't answer. He didn't dare.

Every instinct screamed that speaking to the thing — acknowledging it — would give it something it wanted.

The silence between them stretched.

The figure tilted its head, the movement unnatural, like bones bending the wrong way.

The faint gleam of its "eyes" locked on the case in Jemil's hands.

Seris adjusted her stance, spear leveled.

"Say the word, and I'll pin it to the wall."

Nyxara smirked without humor.

"If you can find a wall solid enough to hold it."

The shadow moved. Not forward — but around.

It flowed along the edges of the chamber like smoke seeking cracks.

No footsteps. No sound.

Only the slow, steady thump of that impossible heartbeat.

Jemil's grip tightened.

Something inside the case seemed to pulse back, like a trapped animal sensing a predator.

The creature spoke again, but its voice splintered into three tones at once — deep, guttural, and almost childlike.

"Return it… or be unmade."

The ground shifted under their feet.

Tiles cracked, dust rained from the ceiling, and a cold wind blew in from nowhere, carrying the scent of ash.

Seris lunged forward, her spear stabbing straight into its chest.

For a moment, Jemil thought she'd struck true —

But the weapon passed through the shadow like it was water.

And then the figure laughed.

It didn't sound amused.

It sounded like a door creaking open in a place that should never be entered.

The chamber darkened.

Not because the lights dimmed — but because the shadows spread, swallowing the walls, the floor, even the air between them.

Jemil felt the case grow heavier in his hands.

And then, in a voice as cold as the grave, the figure whispered—

"You were never meant to find it."

The darkness surged forward.

In the silence after the battle, Jemil feels it — a presence too close, too cold. Shadows ripple at the edge of his vision, whispering his name like a promise and a threat, pulling him toward a darkness that feels far too familiar to be a stranger.

To be continued…

Next Chapter Preview – Chapter 45: "The Shadow That Follows"

The chamber is gone.

When Jemil opens his eyes, he is standing in a place that feels wrong. The air is heavy, pressing against his skin like a living thing.

Nyxara and Seris are nowhere to be seen — or perhaps they are there, but swallowed by the ocean of blackness that stretches endlessly in every direction.

The shadow's voice is no longer a distant threat. It is in his ear, his chest, his bones.

It whispers secrets he should not understand, truths about the case he carries… and the cost of keeping it.

But the shadow is not alone in this place.

Something else moves in the dark. Something older. Something that knows Jemil's name, his past… and the faces of all his mythical wives.

If Jemil is to escape, he must confront not only the shadow that hunts him — but the part of himself it has been feeding on all along.

And when the light returns… not everyone may come back with him.

Call to Action (CTA):

Jemil's descent into the shadow realm is only the beginning — and the secrets buried here will change everything he thought he knew about his quest… and his wives.

🔥 Will he resist the darkness, or let it claim him in exchange for power?

⚔️ Will his mythical wives find a way to reach him before the shadow consumes him?

💔 And when he returns, who — or what — will he be?

Keep reading God-Level Summoner: My Wives Are Mythical Beasts for Chapter 45, where the fight against the unseen becomes a battle for Jemil's very soul.