Summoned as an SSS-Rank Hero… with My Stepmom and Stepsisters?! Chapter 59: The Garden of Broken Skies (6) – The Petals of t

We had walked for a long ti before daring to breathe again.

The trees slowly swallowed us, closing behind us the light and the ruins. The air grew heavier, thicker. Every breath burned my throat, saturated with mana and moisture. The Garden felt like it wanted to devour us whole.

When we were finally far enough, I let myself fall against a trunk, out of breath. The moss there was cold, soaked with water. Sylvara sat down right beside , knees pulled up, head low. Her wings still trembled—not from fear, but from a nervous exhaustion I shared all too well.

We stayed there for a while, listening to the sound of our breaths clashing in the silence.

The wind stirred the leaves above us. There was sothing unsettling in that rustle—almost too alive. It felt like the forest was holding back a laugh.

Sylvara spoke first, her voice hoarse but steady.

— It’s probably the heart of the dungeon... or its guardian.

I turned my head toward her.

— I thought the sa.

She nodded slowly, staring into the void between the trees.

— The problem is, it’s not just a beast. It’s a monster. And a smart one. We can’t underestimate it. And with that swarm around it... there’s no way we can take it alone.

I wiped my face, still damp with sweat.

— We could go back and look for the others.

She shook her head before I could even finish.

— They were probably separated like we were.

Silence fell again. The kind that leaves you alone with your thoughts. I looked up at the branches. The light barely filtered through the thick canopy, drawing moving shapes on the ground that looked like golden eyes. I shivered.

Sylvara sighed, her gaze lost in those reflections.

— I haven’t told you yet, but...Her tone had changed—lower, more asured.

— You were separated first. Then two days later, . If I’m right, others from the Pact will be separated too. Every two days. The dungeon is tearing us apart, one by one.

I clenched my jaw.

— Then that’s one more reason to act now. If we wait, we’ll all end up alone. And we’ll die off in corners, not even knowing if the others are still breathing.

She turned sharply toward , eyes wide.

— And you want to fight... that? That thing? You saw it, Kaito! That’s suicide!

I shrugged, a weak smile crossing my face despite myself.

— I’ve survived worse.

— That’s not a valid reason, she muttered.

— Maybe not.

I spun Aurelia between my fingers, watching sunlight glint across the blade.

— But I can neutralize the swarm at the start. After that, it’ll just be him.

Sylvara stayed silent for a mont. I could feel her gaze on —heavy, almost too human.

— Are you sure about this? she finally asked.

I exhaled, a faint smile at the corner of my lips.

— I’ll show you the power of science.

She rolled her eyes, exasperated, but her expression softened.

— Fine... but at the first sign of trouble, we pull back. Promise?

I raised an eyebrow.

— Promise.

Her smile this ti was real. Tired, but real.

— Then it’s settled. But before that, we rest. We’ll need every ounce of strength to face that thing.

She half-lay against the trunk, arms crossed over her chest, wings folded like a cloak. I did the sa. The warm ground suddenly felt welcoming. My heartbeat slowed bit by bit, syncing with Sylvara’s steady breathing beside .

Calm had returned. A real calm—not the kind that hides a storm, but the one that settles after a fear too vast to na. The golden light of evening slipped through the leaves, painting the ground with shifting patterns, warm as embers. The air slled of soft mana and burnt sap—a scent both soothing and strange, like the mory of a fire long gone.

I had let myself slide against the trunk, arms crossed behind my head. Sylvara lay half-curled beside , her wings folded around her like a blanket of scales and light. We didn’t speak. Sotis our breaths matched, slow, tired. I no longer knew how much ti had passed—an hour, maybe more. In this world, ti only existed to mock us.

She was the one who broke the silence, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

— You know, Kaito... when I was little, I always dread of being able to fly.

I turned to her, surprised.

— Fly? But... you were born a dragonid.

A sad smile curved her lips.

— Let finish.

She kept her eyes on the canopy, as if speaking to soone invisible.

— I was sick. A rare illness from my ho world, one that kept from spreading my wings. And in a world where flight ans everything—where strength defines your worth—I was... a reject. A mistake.

My throat tightened.

— ...Sylvara...

She shook her head gently, stopping from saying more.

— So I decided I’d never depend on anyone again. I trained without rest. I carved my body, my mind, until I silenced the sha. And when I was summoned here, I received my blessing. The day my wings finally opened, I thought the world was mine. I was proud. Too proud.

Her eyes dimd.

— I thought I was invincible.

Silence filled the air again, broken only by the whisper of the wind.

— And then I t you, she went on.

Her voice had turned softer, almost fragile.

— At the Academy, you—the fragile human—showed that strength isn’t just about muscle or blood. You taught patience, unity, respect. To look beyond my pride.

I laughed a little, embarrassed.

— I was mostly a stubborn idiot.

She actually laughed this ti—a brief spark that made the light dance in her eyes.

— True. But a stubborn idiot who changed .

Her words fell between us—simple, honest. The kind of truth you only say once, before a battle you might not survive.

She spoke again, lower this ti.

— Yesterday, when you said I was the one you trusted the most... it ant a lot. Because I feel exactly the sa about you, Kaito.

I found no words. I was afraid my voice would shatter the fragile balance of that suspended mont.

The wind brushed through the leaves above us. She turned her head, and her amber gaze t mine.

— So thank you, she murmured. For everything.

She hesitated, then added in a whisper:

— If sothing happens to out there... I wanted you to know that—

I placed my hand over hers before she could go on.

— Stop.

My voice was gentler than I expected.

— We’ll co back. Both of us. Alive. I swear it, Sylvara.

She stayed still, her hand warm in mine. The contact was real, grounding. Her eyes softened; a faint shimr passed through them before she breathed out:

— Then promise .

I tightened my grip slightly.

— I promise.

The wind rose gently, carrying with it a rain of golden petals. So landed in her hair, on our shoulders. The light of dusk filtered through the forest, wrapping everything in a soft glow.

I stayed there, watching her for a mont, aware that in a world trying to break us apart, those few minutes of peace were worth more than any victory.

Ti seed to freeze around us, as if the Garden itself held its breath. The wind stilled, the leaves no longer moved. Only the murmur of mana beneath the earth kept pulsing softly, steady as a heartbeat.

I pushed myself up slowly, my body heavy but my mind clear. The fatigue, the fear—everything had settled, replaced by that strange calm one feels right before jumping into the void.

Sylvara stood too, her wings rustling faintly. The light of sunset slid across the azure mbranes, tracing a pale halo around her.

She stretched, testing every joint, every beat of her wings. Her movents were precise, asured, disciplined. It looked less like she was preparing for battle, and more like a ritual.

The forest was drenched in amber light. Our shadows stretched across the ground, long and fragile. The air slled of sap, dust, and fear.

She finally broke the silence, her voice calm but firm.

— Ready to dive into the jaws of the Garden?

I lifted my head toward her. Her amber gaze was steady, free of hesitation. A faint smile crossed my lips—the kind you wear when you’ve already accepted the worst.

— Always.

She raised an eyebrow, amused despite everything.

— Then let’s go, idiot.

I laughed softly. That laugh, in that light, felt almost sacred.

A blue butterfly landed on my shoulder—a fragile spark suspended in ti. Its wings beat once, twice, before it flew away in silence, tracing a glowing path toward the ruins.

Our eyes t. Nothing more needed to be said. Everything was already decided.

We followed the butterfly.

Two silhouettes lost in the golden light, walking toward the jaws of the Garden—toward the monster, toward the end or victory, it didn’t matter.

That day, we walked together, carried by the sa light. And I knew, with quiet certainty, that whatever awaited us, we would never turn back.