Summoned as an SSS-Rank Hero… with My Stepmom and Stepsisters?!

The grand amphitheater vibrated with a living murmur.

Thousands of students crowded around me, forming perfect circles around the central stage. The pale stone floor reflected the blue gleam of mana, and golden arcs occasionally streaked across the sky, as if the entire world were holding its breath. Everything had an air of ceremony—too solemn, too orderly not to be hiding something.

I stood at the center of the crowd, my back straight, hands clasped behind me.

A year.A whole year walking these same pavements, breathing the same mana-soaked dust. A year pretending to understand a world that still exceeded me. And yet, I had changed. The metallic taste in the air had not.

On the circular platform, Princess Ka'ha'Uhala rose.

Her silhouette was cut out by the morning light, wrapped in a robe of dark scales. To her right, Rector Sahr'Veyra stood like a blade—rigid, unflinching. Behind them, the professors formed a silent, almost military line.When the princess spoke, her voice rang through the dome like a restrained thunderclap.

— Thank you for coming. It's been a year since you arrived here. A year of growth, ensuring the future of the noble races.

I flinched.

The words noble races hit me like a cold slap. That word again. Always that invisible hierarchy, carved even into the blood by the gods themselves. My jaw tightened.

— The first six months forged your foundations—physical and social. The next six taught you how to survive as a group. And today, you gather for the final stage.

She paused, letting the wind whistle between the towers.

— The Final Exam. The War of Clubs.

The silence that followed was almost sacred. Even the wind seemed hesitant to move. The runes engraved in the stone began to pulse softly, as if breathing in sync with us.

— Only five clubs have been selected, she announced in a clear voice. Those not among them will have to join one... or be expelled.

Murmurs rose immediately. Stifled cries. Gasps of panic.

— That's unfair! someone shouted from the crowd.

But he didn't have time to say more.

— Silence!

Rector Sahr'Veyra hadn't shouted—she had roared. Her voice cracked like a whip, and the echo made the stained glass tremble. The uproar died instantly, replaced by a religious stillness.

Ka'ha'Uhala continued, unshaken:

— The five selected clubs are: Black Anvil. Glass Hand. Scarlet Crown. Oath of Shadows.

She marked one last pause.

— And of course... the most anticipated.

Her gaze drifted slowly toward us.

— The Azure Pact.

A chill rippled through the stands. Applause broke out here and there, muffled by the tension. Some students stared at us with admiration, others with raw, almost hateful jealousy.

I didn't move.

I simply crossed my arms, watching the princess the way one watches a dangerous flame.

— The exam will take place in three days, she declared. In the Eastern Arena. She pointed toward the horizon, where the sky seemed to merge with the mountains. The terrain will be mixed—forest and rock. Each club will have a base and a Heart. If a Heart is stolen and brought back to another base, the original club is eliminated. There will be no time limit. A stolen Heart grants one point. Final victory grants five. Maps will be distributed tomorrow morning.

Her tone softened just slightly:

— Prepare yourselves. May the gods—and your races—watch over you.

She bowed lightly. The Rector did not move.

Then the silence shattered.

The crowd erupted in clamor. Cries of joy, fear, excitement. Some students stood; others already collapsed, aware of what it meant.

I stayed still, eyes lost in the void. The noise had faded, swallowed by the wind, but its echo still vibrated in my skull. A year of struggle had led to this… and now, war. I should have felt ready. Instead, I just wanted coffee.

~

Golden light filtered through the stained glass, painting warm patches over the club's large table. Maps sprawled out, half-empty cups of coffee, wrinkled banners—everything smelled of effort and overload. I had slumped in the central chair, kimono creased, shoulders heavy with a fatigue that wasn't only physical.

Reina sat to my right. She'd earned the title of Ice Strategist during the dungeon campaigns. To my left, Sylvara… had inherited another: The Tyrant's Blade.Apparently, in their minds, the tyrant was me. Seriously—when did everything go so wrong? I wanted a club, not a damn military legend. And now I was stuck between reason incarnate and execution made flesh. What the hell had I done to deserve this?

Miyu, light as air and already teasing:

— Hey, Tyrant, we're talking to you! she said, dropping onto a nearby chair with a grin.

— Huh? Yeah… what? I replied, half-distracted, half-grateful for the warmth breaking the solemn air.

Hikari, arms crossed, pouted like a spoiled child seeking comfort.

— You never listen to us!

I looked at them both. They had found a fragile peace—fragile as polished glass. And yet, I had that uneasy feeling that everything would shatter after the exam; too much salt on a wound barely closed, and this wound was something else entirely.

Ayame, teasing and motherly, raised a hand, leaning toward me.

— Hey, Mr. Tyrant, drifting off again? Can you even hold a conversation?

I rolled my eyes, exasperated.

— You're not starting too, are you? Seriously?

She made a theatrical pout, then feigned shock.

— Was that a threat? she gasped in mock indignation.

Kaelthys, leaning lazily against the wall, let a sarcasm slip.

— Sounds like a real tyrant to me.

Talyra, resting against a chair's back, nodded so exaggeratedly it was clearly a joke; her mock-solemn tone drew smiles even from the grumpiest.

— Good way to shut the big mouths, boss.

I swore under my breath, more for effect than anger.

— Damn it… what went wrong, seriously? I muttered, mostly to myself.

Kairen chuckled behind his usual mask of arrogance.

— To be fair, your methods are a bit rough, kid. Rougher than mine—and that's saying something.

Lyss, without lifting her eyes from her diagrams, added clinically:

— Technically, your results are the best. So… efficient tyranny.

Erius, stiff as ever, spoke in that dry tone that fit him too well.

— A rational tyrant. Rare specimen.

Luno burst out laughing.

— Yeah, but still annoying at breakfast.

Rynelle, calm as always, concluded with a simplicity that cut through the banter.

— And yet, everyone obeys. That's what makes a leader.

Naël nodded, stoic.

— If he gives orders, it's because he knows what he's doing.

Silence followed, then collective laughter swelled like a wave. I watched them moving around the table, each with their quirks, their strengths. Each had found their place. Their role. More and more, I felt I no longer carried the weight alone—we had become a dysfunctional, but real, family.

I tapped the table, marking the end of the pause.

— Alright, back on track. The exam, I said.

Miyu, ever provocative, shot me a sideways glance.

— The nerve! You weren't even listening earlier.

I gave a brief, sheepish laugh.

— Guilty. My apologies.

Reina unfolded a runic map. The relief shifted before our eyes—a small marvel of ink and magic, showing mountains, rifts, and forests with painful precision.

— The terrain is mountainous and forested, she said calmly. Perfect for a fortified camp. I've spotted a stable height to the east, with a river below—natural defense, maximum visibility. We hold the line and control the approaches.

Sylvara spoke, her voice cool but pragmatic.

— At higher ground, we'll have the wind advantage. Enemy flights will be harder, and the beacons will function better.

Kaelthys added, thrilled by the technical aspect:

— And ideal terrain for setting up runic relays. We can lock down entry points and redirect mana flows.

Reina nodded, already calculating.

— I'll submit the proposal to the princess. If she approves, we begin preparations tomorrow. We send the squads, assign roles, and secure supply points.

The weight of responsibility settled back onto my shoulders like a mantle reclaimed. A familiar shiver ran down my spine—fear and excitement intertwined.

— Perfect, I declared. Meeting adjourned. Rest up. In three days, the whole world will watch our rise.

They laughed—some nervously, others with quiet confidence. I looked around the table—Miyu, Hikari, Reina, Sylvara, Kaelthys, Talyra, Lyss, Erius, Naël, Luno, Rynelle—and understood, with almost painful clarity, that I was no longer a lost boy. I was the center of a mechanism—imperfect, maybe tyrannical, but necessary.

I stood up, the chair creaking. Afternoon light stretched across the maps, blending shadow and gold. Around me, the voices faded, replaced by that strange calm that always follows a storm. Everyone had gone back to their duties, and I… I just needed to breathe, to bring order back to the chaos I'd unleashed. My steps echoed in the empty hallway. I needed air—or maybe just silence—the kind found only in one place, apart from the world.

The mana chamber was silent.

Blue runes pulsed softly under the twilight glow. The floor, covered in concentric circles, seemed to breathe with each heartbeat of mana, and a thin golden mist lingered near the ground, making it feel as though everything here floated between two worlds.

I closed the door behind me. The sound of the latch echoed for a moment before melting into the low hum of the room.

Finally alone.

I sat cross-legged at the center of the circle. My fingers brushed the carvings on the floor—warm, alive. Each rune seemed to welcome me, as if the chamber itself recognized me. I inhaled deeply, slowly, until my breath matched the rhythm of the room.

Silence settled. And little by little, the world narrowed around me.

My breathing slowed. I felt mana rise through my arms, pulse through my veins, blend into my blood. Threads of gold lit up beneath my skin—first faint, then brighter—snaking along my muscles like tamed lightning. I closed my eyes.

My body no longer trembled. My eye no longer burned.

The golden circuits intertwined without consuming me. I had found balance—fragile, but real. Between Genesis and Oblivion.Two forces repelling yet not destroying each other—two breaths in a single body.

I saw again the light of the Garden, Lyseria's golden radiance, blood on Sylvara's wings, the golden butterflies circling our battered bodies. Images that no longer belonged to dream or reality.

My voice escaped in a whisper:

— That word… wasn't meant only for my powers. It belongs to the world itself.

A tired smile touched my lips.

— Balance.

I opened my eyes. The room still breathed, but the light had changed. The runes cast amber reflections on the walls, as if dusk itself had slipped inside. I placed a hand on my chest. Beneath the skin, the golden filaments pulsed softly—steady, obedient.

— I need to become stronger, I murmured. Much stronger.

My tone carried neither anger nor pride. Only a promise.

— To achieve what I want.

I rose slowly. The fatigue lingered, but it tasted different now—almost peaceful. As I crossed the threshold, the hum faded behind me, as if the chamber itself went back to sleep.

I stopped on the balcony.

The Azure wind blew—warm and gentle—still carrying the scent of mana. The sky above the towers glowed with liquid gold, and the light slid over the stone like a blessing.

I lifted my gaze to that endless sky, and a whisper escaped me, barely audible:

— Once again… thank you for everything, Lyseria.

The wind rose, brushing my face, lifting the hem of my kimono. Behind me, the wall runes lit up one last time before fading into calm. And in that perfect silence, I could have sworn the world itself was breathing in rhythm with me.