Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights Chapter 347: Miquella

As the Ruination loomed closer, Godfrey aimed to conquer as many dungeons as he could before the Ruination gates appeared.

After that, numerous individuals would lack the chance to tackle those other gates, potentially resulting in innumerable fatalities.

This served as the harbinger of calamity. Without proper readiness, both Godfrey and Isolde would find themselves stuck at their current tier.

That's why he dispatched his knights to purge every dungeon they could reach.

Although this formed his core plan, Godfrey never anticipated what unfolded next.

From beyond the doorway, he and the elder observed Sarah stirring on her bed, rolling over, and noticing Mountain within her chamber. They had assigned her the grandest room, featuring a soaring ceiling capable of housing his colossal build.

Sarah blinked in surprise, then erupted into sobs while rushing toward Mountain, clinging to his thigh, and weeping uncontrollably.

Godfrey remembered she was only a nine-year-old girl, yet she appeared nineteen. It struck him as bizarre, as though time had wronged her personally.

The old man grinned, his wrinkles creasing further. "Truly, hard times make boys men. You have a temperament beyond your age. Thank you for this."

Godfrey shot him a sidelong glance from his left eye but stayed silent. What words were even needed?

The old man gazed at Sarah, smiled warmly, then gradually raised his gaze to the heavens.

"Do you know I’ve lived before this world became what it is now? Back then, people were — how will I put it... normal. Then, money commanded all, and everything people wanted for status was wealth."

Godfrey arched an eyebrow. "I did hear about it being peaceful. This confirms it."

The old man chuckled softly. "Peaceful? Was it truly? Different times, different conflicts. Illnesses such as cancer, and some which weren’t that known, killed a great number of people. There were also accidents, but now people rarely die from being hit by a car; most get saved by their summons. Illnesses have lost their power over humanity. The world simply adapted. Illnesses and the other causes of death were replaced with dungeons, which take nearly as much, if not more, annually."

He lightly tapped his cane against the floor.

"Back then, a good ratio of people disliked politicians and criticised the super wealthy, until you became one yourself. Be poor, and you’ll always be seen as inferior. Be rich, and you’ll be admired. But become something more than a casually rich man? Simply wealthy? Well... thousands have a say in your life. The only advice for people at that stage is one thing... just don’t fall."

Godfrey narrowed his eyes.

The old man pivoted toward him.

"Well, that’s just this old man’s perspective. At least, on average, you don’t have to worry about beasts showing up to eat you alive or worry about your life being dependent on something you can’t control, like a summon. But then again, for a hundred years no country has fought another. The overall trust the public has toward the government is high. The average man is more taken care of because of dungeon businesses. It brought a lot of jobs. Yet... vile people still exist, good people still exist. Time changed, but humans didn’t. We just adapted on the surface, but our core remains the same."

"How old are you exactly?" Godfrey turned to confront the old man.

The old man let out a feeble laugh. "Me? Just a hundred and forty-two."

Godfrey’s eyes widened gradually. This individual was a living fossil from the era preceding the apocalypse.

The old man spun around and started walking away.

"Why did you tell me all that?" Godfrey inquired.

The old man halted, then released a deep sigh.

"You see, by this world’s standards, I’m below mediocre. Back in the old world, I was just a storyteller who couldn’t make it to being an author. So I was still mediocre, but I’m quite perceptive. You’ve grown strong, too strong, like a young multi-billionaire in the old world’s terms of being amongst the best. I can feel that I stand in the presence of a supreme existence."

He fixed his gaze on Godfrey.

"This can only mean you have enemies. You know the rich and the poor experience pain, but one experiences more over the same situation. Guess who?"

Godfrey offered no response. The old man hadn’t expected one anyway.

Yet Godfrey knew the truth. It was the rich.

Despite possessing everything... Why? Why must they endure such agony? Why couldn't their fortune resolve it?

The poor would simply attribute it to their poverty. One side held hope for improvement, while the other grasped at nothing, since all was already within reach, yet the issue persisted unsolved.

He had just endured this torment.

However, his aspiration, his drive, his ultimate aim was to ascend as an unstoppable force, a pinnacle even among supreme beings, the final pinnacle.

That was his desire. But why?

To escape this weakness, to shatter this dominance, to end the suffering.

For at that transcendent height, true peace lay in wait.

There, killing would become unnecessary. His mere name would terrify deities, regardless of their power level.

Absolute power is essential for total tranquility and security.

This was mere logic to him.

Was he imperfect? Most likely.

But was this world imperfect? Without a doubt.

Godfrey understood perfectly. Simple strength wasn't sufficient in this cosmos. Overwhelming might achieved nothing; it just made you another member of that level across the myriad realms.

To ascend to that position, he'd need to surpass every existing rank and claim one that truly embodied his essence.

A rank bearing the title King Godfrey.

Not until then... would he be finished.

But honestly... couldn't this girl stop clinging to his summon? And why was Mountain tolerating it?! The sheer ridiculousness nearly shattered the depth of his reflections.

Godfrey moved from the window toward the orphanage's entrance, where the old man had headed.

Right upon reaching it, his gaze locked onto the woman who had just appeared at the gate.

She was Miquella, the judge summoner, and the very woman who had falsely accused him worldwide of slaying her fiancé.