I Only Summon Amazon Giantesses

Mark walked through the airport terminal with his bag slung over one shoulder, his flight finally behind him. He had left the school uniform behind for the trip, opting instead for a green hoodie marked with two white stripes along the sleeves, a pair of worn blue jeans, and comfortable sneakers.

No one seemed to pay him any real attention, and he found himself quietly grateful for the anonymity, though he suspected it would not last much longer, especially once he noticed a large screen mounted near the terminal, playing out a scene that immediately caught his eye.

Mark’s expression shifted the moment he saw what was on it, a heavy, tightening pressure settling into his throat. A handful of other bystanders and passing travelers gathered nearby to watch the same brief news segment, narrated by a female anchor whose voice carried the same casual, detached tone one might expect from a routine weather report.

On the screen played footage of a crumbling, collapsed structure that Mark instantly recognized as the Great Hall of Amstral High, a towering, humanlike giant slowly rising up from the wreckage like some foreboding symbol of chaos and crisis.

The event itself had happened nearly a week ago now, something Mark had hoped might quietly fade into the past, yet here it was again, resurfacing as though freshly reported, almost as if it had only just occurred. He couldn’t help but wonder whether this was simply the news cycle repeating itself, or something more deliberate.

”... This was ultimately the result of a ceremonial event, and while most of the devastating scene and its underlying cause were disclosed directly by the school itself, several additional reports have since reached the desks of the authorities. Fortunately, the damaged infrastructure has already been repaired, thanks to the efforts of several prominent summoners with engineering based abilities.”

”But turning now to today’s main story, we’re seeing a notable spike in dangerous dungeons and nexus rifts appearing across several districts of the city. As many of you know, this kind of surge tends to align with a recurring seasonal pattern tied to their appearance. Civilians are strongly advised to avoid abandoned or secluded areas, as well as any nearby borders, for the time being. This caution extends even to your own homes and workplaces, given just how significant this particular spike has proven for local guilds to manage.”

Mark continued forward with a quiet sigh. This was Waylon, his homeland, and one of the largest, most active cities in all of Wland. It was also the place where his family’s name carried the most weight, tied inseparably to the events surrounding his father. This was where everything had truly begun, and where it had all eventually come to an end.

Still, he remained largely known here only as an ordinary mundane from his earlier years, with almost no one aware of the life he had since built for himself elsewhere. This city represented the deepest well of his personal despair, and returning always meant confronting a bitter, unresolved past that never seemed to fully let him go.

This city was also, without question, the birthplace of the Dark Summoner himself, the very place where he had first risen and eventually launched his conquest across other nations of the world. Waylon had served as his base, the true anchor of his growing dominance, and the place that had absorbed the greatest share of his devastating power. It was where he built his following, shaped his history, and, eventually, where his story finally came to its violent end.

Yet his conquest had rippled far beyond these borders, spreading like a plague across countless neighboring nations before the outbreak of the Great War, a sweeping conflict fought between summoners across the entire world, one heavily shaped and manipulated by his lingering influence.

There were persistent rumors, whispered here and there, claiming his eventual return was somehow inevitable, though such stories usually surfaced only as a way to unsettle and frighten the public, most commonly around Halloween.

Wland itself was a sovereign island nation situated in the North Atlantic Ocean, positioned between North America and Europe. Given its unique geographic location, it had long served as a critical hub for shipping routes, international travel, and mineral trade.

There was nothing particularly unusual about its political structure, cultural identity, or economic framework when compared to other western nations of similar standing.

The country originally covered a land area of roughly 2.1 million square kilometers, though that number had since shrunk to approximately 1.9 million following the loss of certain regions swallowed up by dungeon related devastation. It remained one of the largest island nations in the world, though still notably smaller than Greenland.

Thanks to its advanced technological innovation and thriving industrial base, Wland had grown into a remarkably rich and forward thinking nation. Its widespread reputation stemmed largely from the staggering rate of prosperity it had managed to maintain across nearly every sector, including its impressive continued growth even throughout the unpredictable years of the Mana Age.

The Wlandic Crown, abbreviated simply as WC, served as the nation’s official currency, carrying significantly greater economic value than even the widely recognized dollar. As a result, the overall cost of living, working, and securing housing remained notably high throughout much of the country, a direct reflection of its outsized economic influence.

This was also where many of the world’s top guilds and agents had first established themselves, eventually rising to become recognizable faces on the global stage thanks to their impressive, well documented records. They had accomplished remarkable feats over the years, particularly when it came to clearing dangerous dungeons and saving countless lives throughout the surrounding region.

As things currently stood, however, the nation found itself deep in the grip of a severe, heavily concentrated dungeon crisis, one steadily spreading across multiple cities, this one very much included.

Dungeons themselves came in three distinct, well documented types, each carrying its own unique level of danger.

The Ever Dungeon remained permanently fixed, never collapsing or reversing its underlying properties, making it a reliable, valuable source of ongoing resources and raw materials. Rumors also suggested these particular dungeons tended to gradually expand in both size and territory over time.

The Lost Dungeon, by contrast, gave off no detectable warning signs at all, remaining completely invisible to the naked eye. Someone could stumble into one entirely by accident, with no clear way of knowing they had entered until the fighting inside had fully run its course, assuming they managed to survive it. This particular type was treated with the utmost caution by the general public, given how easily it could seal someone’s fate without any warning whatsoever.

The Calamity Dungeon represented the most extreme and feared category of all, a city wide catastrophe capable of triggering the highest possible degree of dungeon break. Most people dreaded even the possibility of one appearing, since it carried the potential to wipe an entire city, or even two, completely off the map without warning or mercy. Thankfully, this particular type remained exceedingly rare compared to the other two.

To Mark, this entire crisis might represent a genuine opportunity finally opening up before him, or it might just as easily turn out to be a dangerous trap capable of ending both his life and his journey altogether. Still, he remained determined to grow stronger, to push himself beyond his current Basic Tier, if he ever hoped to stand firmly on his own against whatever real danger eventually came his way.

After making his way through the standard airport procedures, he stepped outside and climbed into a waiting taxi, settling in as it carried him steadily through the familiar streets toward his intended destination.

The driver glanced back at him with a knowing smile, clearly recognizing him from past visits. Mark scratched the back of his head with an awkward chuckle in response. The ride itself proved quick and smooth, covering the distance in only a matter of minutes before finally arriving at his destination.

Soon enough, Mark found himself standing before the massive double gate of a towering, ten story hospital complex, its structure built from expansive glass panels and reinforced metal framework. A wide signboard stretched across its front, one that likely glowed brightly once night eventually fell over the city.

Mark let out a slow breath as a small, human sized section of the main gate slid open with a sharp beep, revealing the sprawling compound waiting just beyond it. Making his way through the entrance, he stepped into the reception area, where the sharp, clinical smell of disinfectant and antiseptic immediately struck his nostrils.

The scent alone was enough to make him frown slightly. It always served as a bitter, unwelcome reminder of exactly why he kept coming back here. He had lived under the weight of this particular reality for ten and a half years now, a wound that felt permanently etched into his heart like carved stone. And the reason for it all waited somewhere just beyond these walls.

When the female receptionist reviewed his visitor request card, her expression shifted into something quietly somber, clearly familiar with the circumstances behind his visit. Smoothing down her fitted skirt, she rose from her seat and guided him up through several flights of stairs and winding corridors before finally reaching their intended destination.

”I’m sorry about your situation. I truly hope she stays strong, with you by her side,” she said gently, genuine concern coloring her tone.

”Thanks, I really do appreciate you saying that, but honestly, I think I’m the one who owes an apology here, for not visiting sooner.” Mark turned toward the door in front of him and knocked lightly. It featured a long window, though the glare of reflected light from his side kept the view mostly obscured.

”Who is it? Introduce yourself,” a familiar, light voice called out from the other side of the door.

”Just look through the window, you little pest. It’s Mark, by the way.” He could not help but let out a light, easy chuckle.

There was a brief pause, followed by a soft, audible gasp of recognition, before the door swung open just enough to reveal a girl peeking through the gap, her auburn hair matching his own, her dark green eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. Her mouth fell open into a small, surprised O before she pulled the door open fully to let him inside.

Stepping into the room, Mark was immediately pulled into a warm, tight hug, his older sister’s arms wrapping firmly around his neck. He returned the embrace just as warmly, one hand patting gently against her lower back.

”It’s been a while. So how has mom been holding up since last year? Has anything changed with her condition?”

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A/N: How do you like my self-made country?

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