Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights Chapter 358: Still Outnumbered

The Immortal Armour materialized, encasing him fully as he raised his longsword, gently settling its tip with a soft clink onto his shoulder, a crimson pauldron offering protection.

Upon observing Godfrey and his assembled noble knights, the boss's eyes narrowed, unleashing a ferocious roar. "Still outnumbered!"

He snarled as his horde surged forward; some advanced on their digitigrade legs, while others moved on all fours, their claws gouging deep into the sand, kicking up so much of it that the boss vanished behind a curtain of red dust.

"Ballista." Godfrey's gaze flickered to his second knight. Ballista responded with a nod and summoned his own incarnation.

A colossal Goliath, nineteen feet tall and clad entirely in golden armour, complete with tassets accentuating his waist and chainmail forming a battle skirt, materialized.

Sand and dust swirled as he appeared behind them, a mountainous figure sculpted into a man. He wore a Corinthian-style helmet, though his eyes remained concealed by shadows. From his crown cascaded an unruly white plume, reminiscent of Dirge's but significantly grander.

Goliath's armour shifted to a crimson hue as he entered his Black-Out State, his immense cloak billowing dramatically.

Drawing a deep breath, he hefted a massive warbow, its height surpassing all of Godfrey's knights. As Goliath nocked an arrow and began to draw it, a grunt escaped him.

'A giant grunts to draw such a bow? What devastation will it unleash?' Godfrey mused internally as Goliath aimed skyward and released the arrow.

He instinctively shielded his eyes as a blast of sand erupted. The arrow ascended into the heavens, tracing a graceful arc before descending, not as a single projectile, but as a torrent of arrows. Each resembled a spear in length, with arrowheads akin to short sword blades.

Numerous arrows impacted, impaling the werewolves. By the time the onslaught ceased, five hundred werewolves lay dead or grievously wounded.

Yet, the remaining werewolves pressed their assault, emitting furious growls.

"Your turn, Mountain." Godfrey's words had barely been uttered before Mountain launched himself from the dune's crest. He plummeted through the air, two more arrows from Goliath whistling past, felling more foes as he descended like a meteor.

With a resounding impact, Mountain landed on the sand, his shield plunging deep into its surface. Already, thousands of werewolves swarmed him. Ballista, aware of Mountain's intent, summoned five Archers.

Mountain's eyes flashed with purpose; he offered a subtle nod, not looking back, yet Ballista understood it was directed at him.

In the ensuing moments, over two thousand Heavy Infantry, armed with shields and spears, formed an impenetrable wall, with Mountain positioned at its core.

Fifteen hundred soldiers formed the primary shield wall, while the other five hundred, freeing their shields and equipping their spears, began a meticulous assembly. Runes flared to life as two or three spears were expertly fused end-to-end.

These assembled spears then formed a formidable line behind the shield bearers. As the werewolves attacked, the elongated spears struck with viper-like speed, piercing their tough, sword-deflecting fur, tearing through flesh and emerging from their backs.

Two Knights gripped a single spear, their combined strength amplifying its power. They would expertly retract the spear and deliver another devastating strike.

The werewolves struggled to breach the shield wall, falling in droves, slaughtered by a meticulously disciplined army wielding rune-enhanced technology and military prowess refined over centuries.

The defense was not impenetrable for long, as some werewolves scaled the spears with alarming swiftness, while others adeptly dodged. However, as the vanguard attempted to leap over the wall, a knight adorned with golden tendrils of lightning, crackling and thick, soared past them.

His wings enveloped the charging werewolves, electrocuting them until only skeletal remains were left, before he crashed back onto the sand before the shield wall.

Tempest unleashed his double-bladed greatsword, its spin resembling a Beyblade as the Pull rune activated. Werewolves were irresistibly drawn towards it, succumbing to its slicing fury despite their struggles.

Retrieving his greatsword, Tempest slammed it into the ground, channeling a significant amount of mana, and reactivated the Pull rune.

The crimson sand quivered. Both sand and the summoned werewolves were violently drawn towards the blade, hundreds of them!

Toria ascended above Tempest, her immense wings spread wide. Flames erupted, consuming the werewolves, their cries abruptly silenced as they burned to incomplete skeletal remains.

Smoke billowed from the charred bones, drifting upward like sacred incense, heralding Toria's descent. Her wings gusted a massive amount of sand as her reinforced boots met the ground.

A hulking werewolf lunged at her, its claws glinting as it launched itself through the air. Toria firmly planted her boots in the sand, drew her rapier, and assumed a defensive stance.

The werewolf met the rapier's point. It proved to be Toria's moment; the rapier pierced straight through its chest, and she effortlessly lifted the massive wolf into the air.

It dangled above her, blood trickling down the length of her rapier.

Toria observed the growing number of wolves encircling her in a crescent formation. She tossed the fallen werewolf aside, and her rapier underwent a transformation, becoming a whip.

As she raised her hand, her stance widened, preparing for action. A memory surfaced: being in a snow-covered forest, surrounded by vicious hounds.

It was in that harrowing experience she mastered this technique.

Without a sound, not a grunt nor a cry—just pure awareness and instinctual reaction. This was the embodiment of the knight she had been forged to be.

She could keenly feel her shoulder joint adjusting swiftly to the motion as mystical Qi surged through her. A sharp, though bearable, ache resonated as her arm extended to its absolute limit, but the outcome justified the strain.

For this specific technique… was known as the Beheader!

With a fluid swing, she unleashed the whip, its passage silent, as if nothing had occurred. The werewolves continued their charge, but even as they advanced, their heads detached, rolling across the sands as crimson blood erupted from their severed necks.

Ultimately, they crumbled, their forms consumed by roaring flames.

However, this was a battlefield, and the assaults were far from over. A colossal werewolf, standing twelve feet tall and likely a Paragon, seized the opportune moment.

Precisely as the whip completed its deadly arc, the towering werewolf closed the distance, moving on all fours before launching itself forward, reminiscent of a predator finally outmaneuvering its prey.

A blur of motion whooshed past Toria, and a spear impaled the charging werewolf. It was Tempest’s spear.

The weapon pierced directly through the werewolf’s skull.

Toria pivoted, witnessing Tempest hurtling towards her with immense velocity. She extended her hand, which he grasped, executing several mid-air spins before launching her.

She moved like a projectile, incinerating everything in her destructive path before smashing into a denser cluster of wolves. The instant of impact saw blue, fiery petals unfurl around her, blooming like a magnificent rose.

It was a breathtaking spectacle, centered around a crimson knight adorned with enormous wings, yet this mesmerizing vision on the vast, unending red desert scoured the werewolves into mere dust.