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

The wind slipped through the camp's canvas, cold and dry, biting the skin despite the morning light. The sky was a pale blue, washed clean by the night—too calm for what it foretold.

Around me, the camp of the Azure Pact hummed with a restrained agitation: footsteps, muffled voices, the rhythmic clinking of weapons being checked one last time. It wasn't the chaos of an army, more the nervous breathing of a heart waiting for its signal.

I was lying on the same fallen log as before, hands crossed behind my head. I had found there a fragile balance between waiting and calm.

To my left, Sylvara—straight as a blade, her cloak fluttering gently in the wind. To my right, Reina—silent, hands clasped behind her back, eyes fixed on the valley below. Two still, solid presences — pillars. Me, in the middle, looked like a lazy man lying between two statues of command.

The blue flags of the Pact flapped faintly above our heads, casting shifting reflections on the tents and armor. The mountain seemed to breathe at its own pace—slow, majestic. Thin threads of mana rose from the ground like a golden mist, coiling around the rocks before dissolving into light. At times, it almost felt like the world itself was exhaling.

A bird cut through the sky, tracing a white line above the camp before vanishing behind the ridge. Its shadow slid across my face for an instant. I followed its path with narrowed eyes. I liked that kind of suspended silence—the kind where the wind speaks louder than men. Because after this… there would only be noise.

The wind swept over the valley, carrying with it the distant echo of movement. I watched the dust rising far away—clear proof that the other clubs had already left their bases.

— "Didn't take long for the clubs to start moving," I murmured, mostly to myself.

Reina stayed straight, hands still folded behind her back.

— "You can see the lack of experience. They're still students, not soldiers."

I leaned forward slightly, resting an arm on the log.

— "Don't underestimate them, Reina. A mistake like that is exactly what we expect from them… but it could also be a trap. Keep that in mind."

Silence fell again. The wind lifted a strand of her hair, which she tucked back behind her ear without taking her eyes off the mountain. She didn't answer, but I saw her gaze change — and in that instant, I knew she'd understood.

A flap of wings broke the stillness. I looked up just in time to see a bird descend in a spiral before landing on my hand. Its talons were thin and precise, and a small copper tube glinted on its leg, still warm from flight.

— "Right on time," I murmured with a faint smile.

I detached the message and unrolled the parchment. The symbols glowed with a pale light, as if still breathing with the sender's mana. My eyes swept quickly across the lines, deciphering the codes, positions, and first maneuvers. A quiet sigh escaped me—half satisfied, half thoughtful.

— "The only club that hasn't moved yet… is the Oath of Shadows."

Sylvara turned her head toward me. Her gaze hardened instantly, sharp as the blade she always carried at her hip.

— "The one Garrum leads."

I nodded slowly, eyes narrowed.

— "Exactly. And that surprises me. He's usually impulsive, isn't he?"

My tone was calm, but I could feel the edge in my own words. Reina briefly looked away, saying nothing. Sylvara stayed still, her gaze lost somewhere beyond the horizon.

— "Yes… before his illness," she finally replied, her voice lower. "He's not quite the same anymore."

She paused, then continued, almost reluctantly.

— "He seems distant, like he's chasing something I can't see. Since then, he's pulled away from me. I don't really know what he's thinking anymore."

A faint but heavy silence settled between us. The wind made the mana chimes ring softly, and the pale sky seemed to listen.

Reina eventually broke the quiet in a neutral tone.

— "Or maybe he just found a good strategist to guide him."

I raised an eyebrow, not contradicting her.

— "Maybe."

I straightened up, stretching my shoulders stiffened by the wait, and let out a sigh.

— "No point overthinking. We'll see soon enough."

The wind passed between us one last time, lifting Sylvara's cloak. In her eyes, I caught a hint of worry—an old shadow I hadn't seen in a long while.

I looked up at the sky. The sun had already climbed above the ridgeline, filtering through the clouds like an impatient gaze. The wind had calmed, but the air still carried that metallic taste that preceded great days. I could feel the moment coming—the one where thought gives way to action.

— "Alright… it's time," I said, standing up.

The log creaked beneath my weight. I placed a hand on Aurelia's hilt, feeling the familiar cold of the metal beneath my fingers. The spear vibrated softly, as if it, too, awaited its signal.

I turned toward them.

— "Sylvara, take Erius and Rynelle's unit."

Then toward Reina, whose gaze remained as calm as a lake before a storm.

— "You handle Luno and Kaelthys. Do as planned. We meet at the rendezvous point."

They both nodded, wordless. It wasn't the time for speeches. There was nothing left to say that we didn't already know.

One last glance passed between us—brief, silent, but charged with that kind of trust only battles can forge. Sylvara gave a small nod; Reina simply tilted her chin before turning away.

Their figures faded into the wind, gliding between the pines like two blue shadows. The banners trembled as they passed, and soon, only the murmur of the wind and the soft pulse of runes beneath the ground remained.

I stayed there for a moment, watching them disappear. This calm before war had always been unbearable to me—like the held breath of a world about to explode.

Silence slowly draped itself over everything, like a blanket drawn over the world. Reina and Sylvara's footsteps faded among the trees, leaving nothing but the steady rustle of wind brushing against the tent cloth. I sat on my log, face turned toward the breeze. The air smelled of resin and iron. It felt as if even the mountain held its breath, waiting.

From my pocket, I pulled out a small azure cube—polished, translucent. The heart of our club for the exam. Sunlight reflected inside it with each turn, tracing fine blue lines over my fingers. I turned it absently in my hand, thoughts adrift. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

A year ago, I would've laughed at all this. I'd have found it ridiculous to talk about strategy, hierarchy, emblems. And yet here I was, waiting for a war signal like some legendary general. Ironic, isn't it? I swore I'd never become like those who thought they could control everything. And now I was giving orders as if everything depended on me.

I sighed and looked up at the sky.

I thought of Sylvara—of that fragile closeness since the Garden. Of Hikari—sweet in public, completely out of control in private. And Miyu—still unpredictable, always there to wreck my peace.

A smile escaped me, followed by a quiet laugh.

Some things never change. I was still surrounded by beautiful, dangerous women.

Closing my eyes, I drew in a long breath. The wind grew stronger, lifting dust and the ashes of last night's fire. The world had that strange way of going still right before it struck. A minute, maybe two… time no longer had shape or meaning.

I finally stood, brushed off my kimono, and turned to the treeline bordering the camp.

— "Ten minutes circling around…" I muttered, raising my head.

A tired but sincere smile crossed my face.

— "Shall we begin?"

I tossed the azure cube into the air. It spun, catching the sunlight and every gaze around, before falling. I caught it between my fingers and slid it into the dimensional pocket of my kimono.

The wind rose again, sharper now, tugging at my clothes. Somewhere in the forest, a bird took flight. The waiting was over.

I slowly lifted my eyes toward the edge of the woods. The wind had died, as if even the forest held its breath. The air vibrated with a low, heavy tension. I stood still for a moment, my gaze fixed on the shifting shadows between the trees, then spoke in a calm, almost detached voice.

— "You can come out now."

Nothing. Only the faint rustling of leaves. I sighed and raised my voice a little, without forcing it.

— "I'm alone. Don't worry."

A whisper ran through the forest. The shadows moved. Soft, precise steps approached. About thirty elves emerged from the woods, their slender figures carved out by the light. Their silver armor reflected the sky's blue glow, scattering cold gleams across the ground. They advanced without a word—the same arrogance in their bearing, the same cruel grace of those born believing they stand above others.

At their head walked Shaliel Aenwyn. Tall, poised, as beautiful as she was dangerous. Her pale hair caught the light like a freshly polished blade. Her eyes—steel green—held that calm steadiness of someone who knows they're in control. And her smile… that half-smile, caught between pity and superiority, made me want to sigh.

— "Kaito," she said, stopping a few steps away. "Give us the Heart, and this will end painlessly."

She tilted her head slightly, feigning softness.

— "I'd rather not harm a human… especially one with such a fragile body."

Behind her, a few muffled chuckles broke out. Dry, synchronized, almost like a choir of arrogance. The elves traded complicit glances, filled with the certainty of their superiority.

I watched them silently, one eyebrow raised. I could have answered—but why bother?

Second-rate villains from a bad webtoon, I thought. And her, Shaliel… still the same condescending tone. After everything I've done here, everything I've proven, she still talks to me like I'm some fragile child. Is she really that stupid?

A long, weary sigh escaped me.

My voice fell low, sharp as a thread of steel.

— "Genesis."