Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights Chapter 403 Winged Order

A return blow was struck by Godfrey. Their fists connected, and then again, and again, a relentless barrage. The very earth quaked, and the winds howled in response as the two demigods violently exchanged blows without any reservation.

Saul was consumed by rage. All his efforts and struggles had been in vain. Godfrey, too, seethed with fury, his mother having nearly perished while he was present. The fact that Saul could not accept defeat and disengage peacefully only further inflamed Godfrey's anger.

Why had Saul targeted his family?

Why prey on those who were defenseless?

Godfrey could not fathom such actions.

It was the definition of cowardice.

A craven act intended to inflict suffering upon him.

As their intense battle raged, the surrounding hills bore the brunt of attacks from Ronald and the Spatial Spartan.

"I personally trained Arian. Do you truly believe you can best me in close-quarters combat?!" Saul taunted, a sneer twisting his lips.

"You are deceived," Godfrey retorted. He deftly sidestepped a haymaker, countering with a powerful uppercut that sent a fresh torrent of blood gushing from Saul's nose and mouth.

Saul stumbled backward, his body swaying precariously. He gazed at Godfrey, and for the first time, he truly perceived it… the young man stood completely unharmed. His armor… it had to be an ancient relic.

Gasping for air, Saul's gaze darted around. He considered summoning his only remaining ally, but a deafening sound abruptly split the atmosphere.

Ronald released the summon, its neck having just been snapped, and dropped to one knee amidst the seventy-foot-tall boulder they had inadvertently created during their fierce engagement.

Disbelief etched itself onto Saul's features.

"Release her, and… and I shall spare your life…," Godfrey stated, restraining his overwhelming urge to kill.

Saul's expression contorted into a mask of ugliness. Within his soul, Apollyon observed the unfolding events. The king she had anticipated was the epitome of her desires, a cold, aloof monarch, yet this man, who displayed genuine concern, might not be so undesirable after all.

While this internal revelation occurred within his mindscape, Saul continued to stagger, eventually reaching the shattered remnants of the Soul Piercing Rod.

Godfrey summoned a formidable longsword, but Saul erupted into maniacal laughter.

"At least I achieved one victory," he declared. With a piercing yell, he plunged the rod directly into his own chest. "Your so-called noble knight dies with me!"

His very soul disintegrated. His body remained upright for a fleeting moment before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

Godfrey stared at the lifeless form. He wasn't sure what to feel, but his father placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You fought valiantly," he grunted, surveying the devastation.

"It is time we departed." With a flash, he teleported both of them back to Paradise.

***

Apollyon found herself engulfed in an abyss of darkness. The oppressive void surged towards her, violently contorting her very being.

This was the Afterlife, a realm of judgment. While her soul had not been shattered, her suppressed cultivation tier underwent a tremendous surge here. However, the price for a true god who was deemed fit for this particular segment of the Afterlife was to be transformed into a Harrowing Omen!

She conjured a barrier of ice to shield herself, but it steadily began to darken, turning a sinister black.

Initially, Apollyon believed the external darkness was breaching her defenses. But upon observing her distorted hands, her fingers unnaturally elongated, she realized with dawning horror that she herself was the architect of the ice's corruption.

This metamorphosis was not merely physical; it was the burgeoning darkness within her that resonated with and attracted the external void.

"My eyes…"

As she perceived her fading sight, Apollyon let the ice cocoon shatter. Resisting destiny felt futile. Yet, at that moment, she noticed something remarkable.

Upon the distant horizon.

It gradually coalesced into a discernible form as it drew nearer.

Within this desolate, dark realm, a beacon of pure white light, impossibly stark, commanded attention.

Her eyes widened in astonishment as she recognized the figure: a knight astride a magnificent white unicorn. Clad in gleaming white armor, bearing a winged helmet, he wielded a colossal lance.

His flowing cloak billowed dramatically in the wind as he galloped towards her. The unicorn reared, letting out a sonorous neigh as they reached Apollyon's position.

"It has been some time, Sister," his deep voice resonated through the oppressive silence.

His mere presence was enough to quell the encroaching darkness that had been tormenting her.

Before her stood not just any warrior, but a Chief General, a being of stature comparable to Solstice herself. She was in the presence of the Dawn of the Morning.

He represented the dawn, while Lament embodied the night.

"I witnessed your descent from the heavens, and I come in peace," the white knight declared as he dismounted his steed.

Having clashed in the past, he understood Apollyon's capacity for holding a grudge.

"I encountered him."

The knight tilted his head slightly. "Him who?"

"The King."

***

Within the opulent halls of the Pendragon Mansion, Rick found himself entering a chamber that had remained untouched for a considerable period.

This was Isolde's sanctuary, the place where she meticulously kept her artistic creations, a room that had been sealed away for months.

But now, the imposing doors to this grand chamber stood ajar.

As he stepped inside, his gaze was immediately drawn to Isolde, who stood clad in a simple nightgown, her attention captivated by a painting he had never seen before.

The artwork depicted a figure composed entirely of shadows, his helmet's eye sockets exuding golden irises that pierced the darkness. He clutched a gleaming longsword, seemingly fixated on something unseen in the air.

"What is that?" Rick queried, an unbidden question escaping his lips without even the customary greeting. There was something profoundly commanding about the painting, an aura that seemed to disregard any semblance of authority within the room.

It was as if the painted visage possessed a life of its own.

"That is the unknown king," Isolde declared, her hands covered in black ink. A life-sized, colossal painting was before her, brought into existence without the aid of a pencil.

From the crack of dawn, while the world still slumbered, she had entered this chamber as if under a spell, drawing relentlessly until this very moment.

"An entity dwelling within Godfrey. Only now have I grasped Godfrey's true nature as king. That title signifies a being, a living entity." She paused, her breathing ragged.

"And it shall manifest the instant he meets his end."

"What?!" Rick's brow furrowed in disbelief.

"I witnessed Frey perish amidst the Ruination. I foresaw that the Ruination draws near. Its arrival will be swift, for the established order has been shattered. An ancient deity has awakened upon the Earth."

Rick gazed at Isolde. This revelation implied an imminent surge in his own power. Many others would experience a similar ascent. Godfrey, with his elevated cultivation, might even spare the world from the Ruination. However...

Isolde's grim expression conveyed a starkly different implication. "I will ensure he does not die," she stated, fully aware that such a resolution would necessitate the sacrifice of millions, perhaps even hundreds of millions.

The burden of her sins, the consequence of glimpsing the future, was immense, yet she resolved to bear it in solitude.

*****

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