Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights

Chapter 321: A Fever

Godfrey laid on his bed gazing at the ceiling. His eyes snapped open as scenes of his death kept flashing through his eyes.

BADUMP!

His heartbeat was loud.

No, it wasn’t, it just felt loud because his sensitivity was high at this moment as he could almost relive the moment his heart was ripped out of his chest.

His neck hurt. The scene of the unknown king’s sword piercing through his throat replayed in his mind.

Godfrey grabbed his neck when the unknown king slashed half of his neck open. He shut his eyes, breathing heavily.

Godfrey had gone to dungeons all this while knowing he could die but when death finally came, not once but three times, it shook him.

Death... was terrifying.

Godfrey stretched his right arm vertically, watching as he clenched and opened his fist. Now more than ever, Godfrey realized death wasn’t too far away despite his strength and no amount of mental preparation could prepare him for the real deal.

’Still...’

He sat up, touching his forehead. There were sweat beads on his forehead and his skin was hot.

’A fever? Am I that shaken?’ Godfrey left the bed and began to do push-ups. ’My mind is still weak.’

’One...’

’Two...’

’Three...’

At first he focused on doing push-ups to get his mind away and maybe, just maybe, exhaust himself and fall asleep. He switched to using one finger with both hands but even after crossing the two thousand mark, his body was still brimming with energy.

’I can’t believe I’ll one day wish for suppressors.’ Godfrey laid on his back. It was no use, his body had grown so strong that not even ten thousand push-ups might exhaust him to the point of falling asleep.

Maybe he should try punching hills and mountains or try splitting rivers... that could probably exhaust him.

That was absurd. He could see why even powerful summoners had suppressors. Sometimes, people want to feel human again, feel tired again, feel the effort again.

It was a human thing. Even the poor, when they became wealthy, sometimes longed for the satisfaction they had over simple things in their past.

’I have to admit I’m scared... even when I don’t want to be. Will I still enter dungeons knowing how terrifying death actually is?’

Godfrey asked himself and suddenly chuckled. From the depth of his heart, the answer was a yes. His whole being resonated with that response.

Yes, he wasn’t immune to death. There was probably someone out there whose skill might even kill an immortal so death would always hang at the horizon, waiting to take a life to the Afterlife world.

Unfortunately, the fear of death just couldn’t stop him. It was unfortunate because Godfrey himself found it absurd that not even his fear could stop him.

He was stunned with himself and a little proud.

Death, as dreadful as it was, was helpless in this regard. Godfrey just couldn’t stop fighting; despite the pains and risks, he couldn’t stop growing because this world won’t allow it.

He won’t allow it.

It wasn’t just the world, he yearned to ascend to a place without a name, a tier that couldn’t be calculated, he sought after the place where light of recognition stopped so that control would also cease.

And he could finally rest as an unrecognizable being. An uncontainable one.

There were forces, lots of forces at play. The mana tree was the architect, an entity that would do anything, use anyone to achieve its goal. An evil even he couldn’t despise.

As his fear died under his resolve, sleep finally came but a silhouette appeared on the sofa by the second window.

Her elegant figure basked under the moonlight as her golden ornaments gleamed softly.

Sleep left Godfrey’s eyes as if blown away by a sudden breeze.

Isolde approached him and sat on the floor. ”Frey.”

Her sweet voice echoed several times in his ears but it couldn’t pull him out of his spellbound state.

His pupils dilated as her gorgeous face reflected in his eyes. Isolde’s eyelashes were longer than before, like artificial eyelashes but hers were so delicate they drew him into her eyes.

The golden tear tattoo, so delicately drawn into her face, made her like some kind of goddess in human form. Was this Isolde?

Was this his wife?

When did he marry this radiant queen?

”You’re Isolde, right?” He blinked twice.

Isolde raised an eyebrow, tucked her hair behind her ear as she tilted her head.

”Are you okay?” she asked, placing her palm on his forehead.

Isolde’s eyes widened.

Godfrey almost gasped at how her face changed into a more expressive and breathtaking one.

”You have a fever!” Isolde gasped.

He suddenly dragged her, making her lie on his chest, then whispered into her ear.

”It’s you.”

Isolde blushed.

However, Godfrey noticed that Isolde was quite tense. He felt a hard impact, an instinctive move to defend herself but she realized in less than a second. Yet couldn’t stop her hand from hitting his chest even if the blow wasn’t as hard as it was meant to be.

They both had their guard down around themselves. Both of them could toss each other around but it was different this time.

There was slight resistance from her.

Something must have happened in the dragon domain.

Godfrey caressed her hair. It felt good caressing her hair and as his hand glided down her back, Isolde slowly closed her eyes.

When Godfrey felt her melt completely into his embrace, he spoke softly. ”What happened?”

Isolde’s eyelids trembled and her eyelashes became moist.

”Sylphiette... I killed her.”

He was a listening ear, calm, silent and comforting as she poured her heart out. Behind this physical beauty that could make anyone swoon was an internal mess. A young woman filled with guilt and pain.

”It’s not your fault.” Godfrey said at the end. Isolde didn’t reply, she just remained in his arms until she slept off.

Godfrey gently tucked her into the bed using his telekinetic skill, kissed her forehead, then telekinetically made a sofa glide over.

He sat on the sofa, watching Isolde sleep for hours. That was when Godfrey saw something he didn’t believe had been obvious since.

Isolde’s fingers were empty, all ten of them, not one told a tale of him.

Just what had he been doing?!

She did serve herself to him on a silver platter because... he was a terrible lover.