Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights Chapter 368 Trident Of The Sea World

RUMBLE!

A thunderous roar echoed across the vast expanse of the ocean sky. Though swathed in dark, gloomy clouds, the heavens were intermittently illuminated by the crackling thunderbolts, momentarily brightening the world with each earth-shattering discharge of lightning.

Water droplets, heavy and dense, plummeted from the sky, striking the ocean's surface with forceful impacts. Yet, amidst this terrifying tempest, a colossal ship navigated the tumultuous waters, remarkably undisturbed.

Curiously, a kilometer-wide circumference around this majestic vessel remained eerily calm, allowing its passage through the storm unimpeded.

'The rain persists. It has been days now. Ever since these orcs breached this world through that crimson gate, the sun has been a forgotten entity, the clouds constantly rumble with discontent. The ocean itself churns with unease, typhoons rage even in its deepest trenches, and colossal waves crash upon its surface; nowhere offers respite.'

A man, his skin pale and almost translucent, crouched on a rock positioned slightly above the ocean's tumultuous surface. Waves crashed against him, yet he remained steadfast, his grip tightening on a gleaming golden trident.

His short, blue hair, thoroughly soaked, clung to his scalp. With each forceful wave that struck, stray strands would shift, occasionally obscuring his vision.

'I have dispatched four ships. This one shall be the final target for tonight. The objective: annihilate the orcs and liberate the sea people,' Percival declared silently to himself, his eyes closing as he drew a deep, steadying breath.

Upon his initial arrival in this world, a profound sense of liberation had washed over him. He could swim for unparalleled distances without fatigue, exploring countless islands across a realm composed of ninety-five percent water. The sheer exhilaration of propelling himself through the water like a torpedo, with his hair streaming behind him, was intoxicating.

Evading perilous monsters had also been a thrilling endeavor. While dungeons and formidable beasts were abundant, he initially saw no compelling reason to engage in combat, opting instead to pursue his passions.

Alas, conflict, as it invariably did, found him.

Percival harbored no fondness for fighting, nor did he relish anger. However, what alternatives presented themselves?

'Levi. Let us commence,' he commanded, his eyes blazing with fierce determination before he plunged into the sea. A colossal leviathan, stretching nearly a kilometer in length—or perhaps even more, Percival couldn't ascertain precisely—responded with a guttural growl.

Together, they surged through the ocean's depths like accelerated projectiles. By the time the orcs manning the decks managed to ready their crossbows, Percival had already erupted from the water's surface, his trident's swift arc shattering their weapons into splinters.

'Levi. Let us commence,' he commanded, his eyes blazing with fierce determination before he plunged into the sea. A colossal leviathan, stretching nearly a kilometer in length—or perhaps even more, Percival couldn't ascertain precisely—responded with a guttural growl.

Together, they surged through the ocean's depths like accelerated projectiles. By the time the orcs manning the decks managed to ready their crossbows, Percival had already erupted from the water's surface, his trident's swift arc shattering their weapons into splinters.

Levi gracefully encircled the ship, maintaining a strategic distance, anticipating any unfortunate souls who might be cast overboard.

Twelve hulking orcs, their skin a rugged brown and clad in heavy armor, brandished massive, curved swords designed for brutal hacking and slashing, aiming them at the blue-haired man whose form was encased in shimmering, light-blue and golden scale-like armor.

His eyes burned with an intense light. Some of the orcs cast wary glances towards the leviathan. At that precise moment, a bolt of lightning struck, illuminating the world in a blinding flash.

This was the signal.

Percival lunged forward, effortlessly closing the distance between himself and the first two orcs. All his accumulated momentum flowed into his trident as he executed a circular sweep. The weapon spun with lethal velocity, bisecting the orcs and rending their armor.

As their blood sprayed forth, it mingled with the raindrops and the water droplets stirred by Percival's trident. Following this initial flourish, he swiftly impaled another orc through the throat with a direct thrust before the blood of the first two had even touched the ground.

'One, two, three. Nine remaining.'

'Baka vu zishki!' one of the orcs roared, as the remaining eight charged at him in unison, converging in a semi-circular formation.

These were distinctly not the typical, bloodthirsty green-skinned orcs, but this distinction held no weight for Percival.

He expertly twirled his trident, driving its base firmly against the wooden deck. Instantly, nine tendrils of water erupted from the ocean, ensnared the orcs' heads, and hoisted them into the air.

Their struggles were futile. The leviathan was already drawing near. Percival then boarded the ship, discovering several dozen more orcs within—True Orcs, identical to those he had faced on deck, though these were equipped with shields.

Despite their unintelligible language, Percival understood their recognition of him.

They were aware of his past actions, how he had systematically thwarted their progress.

These orcs swiftly organized themselves, forming an imposing shield wall and advancing with measured, deliberate steps. Rather than engaging in a reckless charge, they moved as a unified entity, maintaining an unshakeable formation. This disciplined approach was the very reason True Orcs commanded such fear; they possessed strategic intellect, unclouded by a primal bloodlust. Yet, they retained the formidable strength and imposing size characteristic of other orc races, even as they continued their invasive and plundering ways.

They represented one of the most dangerous species encountered, particularly when confronting an entire horde.

Percival lowered the tip of his trident towards the wooden deck as the orcs advanced. "You've picked the wrong battleground. Try fighting on land next time."

With a mighty upward swing, he unleashed a torrent of water that erupted through the deck, sending some orcs careening through the ceiling while the rest plunged into the ocean.

As the ship began to founder, Percival moved swiftly towards the massive door situated behind the orcs, surmising it must lead to where the sea people were held captive.

With a slight exertion, he breached the door, only to discover a small chamber containing a single orc seated cross-legged on the floor.

This was the incorrect room. Yet, this orc…

It possessed a full beard of gray and long, unbound hair that cascaded onto the floorboards.

Despite the deluge of water flooding the chamber, the orc remained placid, its eyes shut. It exuded a calm – an unnerving calm for an orc.

Percival's gaze fixated on the trident resting upon the orc's lap.

The orc bore four rings adorning each of its tusks, signifying it was a Titled god. Its power far surpassed his own; he had only recently attained the Progenitor Tier, having endured immense trials.

Nevertheless, Percival felt no fear. The ocean spirit, the very mana system of this realm, was aligned with him.

At that precise moment, the orc's eyes snapped open, and the ship disintegrated. Percival found himself propelled several hundred meters away, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

He shook his head and looked up.

'What in the world?'

Percival's brow furrowed as he observed the orc suspended in the sea, its long hair drifting languidly. It let out a soft scoff, tightened its grasp on the trident, and before Percival's astonished eyes, the ambient sea people were assaulted by the water.

They were inflated to bursting, disintegrating into clouds of crimson mist.

His expression hardened. He clutched his trident with renewed firmness.

"Levi, stay back!" Percival roared, launching himself towards the orc as his leviathan had already approached.

Reluctantly, Percival knew he had no choice but to retrieve the leviathan. He narrowly dodged a singular strike that caused colossal waves, reaching hundreds of feet high, to surge from the ocean's surface.

'This is not right.'

"Indeed, it is not." The orc's resonant voice echoed as it suddenly materialized before him, aiming that very trident directly at him.

Percival responded with a thrust of his own. Within this ocean, he commanded the favor of the spirit, the entity that dictated the laws of power. Victory should have been assured—!

The orc's trident shattered his, piercing deep into his chest. With an impassive gaze, the orc deliberately drove the trident further and further until it exited the other side.

Blood began to seep out.

Percival stared, wide-eyed, clutching the trident. He groaned, crimson spilling from his mouth to mingle with the surrounding water.

'With the correct sacred artifact, even the ocean can be wrested from its rightful masters,' the orc mused as it withdrew the trident, then drove its iron-clad boot into Percival's chest.

The sickening crack of his ribcage echoed, followed by shockwaves from the impact that rippled outward for kilometers.

Percival was flung through the ocean's depths, crashing into the very seabed he had once stood upon, shattering it!

His form slowly descended into the abyssal darkness, mirroring the fate of countless other fallen beings.

'I… I…'