Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights

Chapter 358: Still Outnumbered

The Immortal Armour manifested, covering him from head to toe as he lifted his longsword and slowly rested it with a soft clink on his shoulder, protected by a crimson pauldron.

Seeing Godfrey and his noble knights, the boss’s eyes narrowed, and it unleashed a fierce roar. ”Still outnumbered!”

He snarled as his legion burst forward; some ran with their digitigrade legs, others went on all fours, their claws digging up large amounts of sand, so much that the boss was hidden behind a veil of red dust.

”Ballista.” Godfrey glanced at his second knight from the corner of his eyes. Ballista gave a nod and summoned his incarnation.

A huge, nineteen-foot-tall Goliath clad from head to toe in golden armour, with tassets at both sides of his waist above chainmail that formed a battle skirt, emerged.

Dust and sand billowed as he appeared behind them, looming like a mountain forged into a man. He had a Corinthian-style helmet, but his eyes were hidden behind shadows. From the top of his head fell an unruly white plume, like Dirge’s plume, but his own was much bigger.

Goliath’s armour turned crimson as he activated Black-Out State, his massive cloak billowing.

With a deep breath, he lifted a massive warbow taller than all of Godfrey’s knights. As Goliath nocked an arrow and drew it, he grunted.

’A giant grunts to shoot that bow? What kind of damage would it deal?’ Godfrey asked himself as Goliath aimed higher and released the bow.

He covered his eyes as sand burst outward. The arrow tore into the sky, made a clean curve, and descended, not as one arrow, but as a rain of arrows. Each arrow was taller than a spear, with arrowheads like the blades of a short sword.

Several arrows plunged down, skewering the werewolves, and by the time it stopped, five hundred werewolves were dead or heavily injured.

Still, the werewolves charged on, growling furiously.

”It’s your turn, Mountain.” Godfrey’s words had barely left his lips when Mountain had already jumped from the top of the dune. He soared into the air, two more arrows from Goliath swooshing past him and harvesting more lives as he descended like a missile.

With a thunderous sound, Mountain landed on the sand, his shield planted deep into it. Thousands of werewolves were already upon him. Ballista summoned five Archers, knowing what Mountain wanted.

Mountain’s eyes gleamed; he nodded, not facing back, but Ballista knew that nod was for him.

In the next moment, over two thousand Heavy Infantry, with their shields and spears, formed a wall, with Mountain at the heart of it.

Over one thousand five hundred of them formed the wall, while the other five hundred hung their shields at their backs, picked up their spears, and began to assemble them. Runes glowed as two or three spears fused, one end to the other.

Then they formed a line behind the shield bearers. When the werewolves came, the long spears struck like vipers, tearing through their hard, sword-deflecting fur, ripping right through their flesh and bursting out of their backs.

Two Knights held a spear, their strength linked to produce greater might. They would pull the spear backward and strike once more.

The werewolves were barely able to reach the shield wall as they fell, slaughtered by a well-disciplined army with rune technology and battle experience honed over centuries.

It didn’t last long, as some werewolves leaped onto the spears, covering the distance with great speed, while others dodged. But as the first few tried leaping over the wall, a knight with golden lightning tendril wings, each thick and crackling, flew past them.

His wings wrapped around their bodies, electrocuting them until only bones remained, as he crashed on the sand before the shield wall.

Tempest flung his double-bladed greatsword, and like a Beyblade, it spun around with the Pull rune activated. Werewolves were dragged towards it despite their resistance, only to be sliced apart.

When the greatsword came back to his hand, Tempest slammed it into the ground, channeled a great amount of mana, and activated Pull once more.

The red sand trembled. Sand and werewolves alike were pulled toward the blade, hundreds of them!

Toria flew above Tempest, her massive wings spread out. The flames caught the werewolves, their howls dying quickly as they burned until only incomplete bones remained.

Smoke billowed from the bones, drifting upward like incense, welcoming Toria’s arrival. Her wings blasted a large amount of sand as her ironclad boots reached the ground.

A huge werewolf lunged toward her, claws gleaming as it flew at her. Toria dug her boots into the sand, drew her rapier, and positioned it.

The werewolf met the rapier. It was unfortunate, as the rapier stabbed right through its chest, and Toria lifted the huge wolf into the air.

It dangled above her, blood sliding down her rapier.

Toria noticed more wolves enclosing her in a semicircle. She threw the dead werewolf off, and her rapier transformed into a whip.

As her hand went up, her legs widened for a proper stance. She could remember being in a snowy forest, surrounded by hounds.

That was where she learned this move.

No words, no grunt, no scream—just awareness and response. That was the knight she was trained to be.

She could feel the joint at her shoulder adjusting quickly to this move as mana coursed. There was a slight ache as her arm stretched to the limit of her shoulder, but it was worth it.

For this move... was called the Beheader!

She swung the whip, and it flashed, like nothing happened. The werewolves were still running toward her, but their heads were rolling on the sand as blood spurted from their necks.

They eventually collapsed and were set ablaze.

But this was a battlefield; the enemies were not finished. A werewolf, twelve feet tall, possibly a Paragon, took advantage of that moment.

Right as that whip did its work, the werewolf closed in, running on all fours before lunging like a wolf that had finally outsmarted its prey.

Something whooshed past Toria and impaled the werewolf. It was Tempest’s spear.

It pierced through the werewolf’s skull.

Toria turned and saw Tempest flying toward her with great speed. She stretched her hand, and he grabbed it, spun several times mid-air, and launched her.

She traveled like a missile, burning all she passed before crashing where the wolves were more thickly populated. The moment she crashed, blue flame petals opened up like a rose blossom.

It was beautiful, with a crimson knight with massive wings at the core, but this mesmerizing sight on this vast, endless red desert burned werewolves until they were ash.