Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights Chapter 412 Terror Of The Old Civilization

"You've finally arrived." A man with a cascade of white hair and three prominent horns—two emerging from the front of his head and a third from the back—addressed the newcomer. The faint lines etched by his eyes and his dense, short beard offered no clear indication of his true age. Although he appeared to be in his fifties, his actual lifespan exceeded two centuries. His hands, covered in scales and tipped with long claws, bore a distinctly bestial rather than human appearance.

He stood upon a circular platform, a wall adorned with the carved figures of armored warriors stretching out behind him. Before him lay a fractured staircase, which a young man, also bearing horns—though his were uneven in size, one larger than the other—ascended reluctantly to meet the elder.

"Don't tell me you summoned me here just to lecture me about these fallen warriors again," the younger man grumbled, his frustration palpable in the glare he directed at the older man. He clenched his jaw, his irritation evident.

The older man turned his gaze toward the wall. "Do you comprehend the significance of the third horn blast?"

"The third blast?" The younger man's brow furrowed. He surveyed their surroundings. The fog lay thick above them, and a considerable portion of the ancient castle remained intact. It was a complex, labyrinthine structure, one that had taken them years to fully traverse and chart.

"I trust this is important," the young man stated, crossing his arms.

"We possess three distinct horn blasts. You are familiar with the first two: the initial signifies the return of our hunters, while the second warns of an approaching monster. The third, however, denotes their imminent arrival," the elder explained, his expression grim as he continued to study the carved figures. He frowned deeply.

"Fallen warriors?" The younger man brought a hand to his forehead in exasperation.

"Consider this: why would we designate a specific signal for the golden knights if they were merely the deceased? I've pondered this extensively and concluded that not all of them perished. We are the Pathans, those who embraced the dragon's blessing to transform into monstrous beings. It was we who assisted in the downfall of the old civilization, the one governed by the Golden Order. Given your own horns, you would find them among the most detestable adversaries imaginable."

The elder redirected his attention back to the wall.

"They decimated our lords, the dragons themselves. They extinguished the sun and plunged the world into prolonged darkness. With a mere three thousand elite cavalry, they annihilated an army of nearly half a million undead colossal beings—"

"All they managed was to eliminate the commander, not the entire host," the younger man interjected with a scowl.

"It is clear that you have no grasp of our history. Three thousand warriors charged headlong into a force numbering close to half a million undead, penetrating to the very core of their formation to dispatch the dark lich, who was shielded against archer attacks. Simply three thousand men. Though they have been extinct for centuries, we maintain our vigilance."

Having absorbed this account, the younger man approached the wall and struck it with his fist, creating a cavity in the head of the first armored figure. He proceeded to do the same to the other two figures.

"Past glories hold no sway. Your fear is unfounded. These supposed terrors, the slayers of monsters, ultimately fell victim to the very monsters they hunted, their vaunted order reduced to ruins, leaving only remnants for us to claim. We may have once trembled before them, but their fiery prowess eventually sputtered out. A rather pathetic end, if you ask me."

He turned and began his descent down the crumbling staircase. As he reached the halfway point, the elder's voice resonated after him.

"We still endure. Therefore, they too can rise again. They will obliterate us without hesitation. Should you ever hear the third blast, you must flee. Run with all your might and implore survival."

The younger man kicked out, striking the remnants of the stone railing. It disintegrated into dust. "Can you even hear yourself speak? You're utterly unhinged. You must have consulted that sorceress again. The third horn blast, always the third horn blast. She's been uttering that nonsense for fifty years. You're ancient, yet so foolish." He spat on the ground and then stormed away.

Approaching a broad opening not far off, the young man climbed down a ladder. At its base, numerous other mutated Pathans stood assembled before a colossal golden doorway. They had finally succeeded, after an unquantifiable duration of excavation.

These denizens of the Golden Order possessed an uncanny skill for concealment.

"We have arrived," declared their leader, a woman who appeared youthful despite her evident age. She was clad in golden armor, crudely fashioned, consisting of a single pauldron, a breastplate, and arm guards.

Similar attire was worn by most of the assembled group, including him.

The young woman sported two sharp, flattened horns extending from the sides of her head, resembling hardened wings sprouting from her skull.

"After a full decade, we have finally located the entrance to the Rune of Golden Light," she announced, a smile gracing her lips.

A shared sense of triumph spread among everyone present, their faces alight with anticipation.

"It is yours to command," the woman said, gesturing to a burly man whose cheeks were sunken and whose thick dreadlocks were adorned with a crown of jutting horns. He hefted his hammer and moved towards the door with powerful, deliberate strides.

As the young woman stepped back, her gaze fell upon the young man. "Did he summon you to discuss those fallen warriors again?" she inquired, her voice echoing within the cavernous space.

"What else would it be?" the young man’s reply elicited bursts of laughter from the assembled group.

The woman’s head shook. “We’ll always have someone with dreams, I suppose. Just try not to end up like him. The Men of Gold are nothing but a legend now. We melted down the remains of their armor long ago, after taking it from their dead bodies.”

The young man’s head slowly nodded. “But… Why did we hear a third horn blast?”

“What are you talking about? There’s no such thing.”

Just as the large man raised his hammer, preparing to smash the door, a loud horn blast echoed.

All heads turned.

“I suppose the hunters have returned. We’ll certainly be feasting tonight once we secure that rune,” the young woman said with a laugh, which was followed by loud cheers.

However, their cheers could not drown out the second horn blast. It was incredibly loud, signifying that whatever was approaching posed a significant threat.

“This sounds serious,” the young woman’s brow furrowed. There were many people present, hundreds in fact. Around seven hundred were gathered here, forming a small colony. Their numbers were sufficient to handle any threat that emerged.

“Still a feast. An even greater one,” the young man exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. Large-scale attacks always resulted in an abundance of extra meat.

At that precise moment, as their faces brightened, a third horn blast sounded. It was louder than any sound they had ever experienced.

It was as if the one blowing it was shouting a single word with all his might… RUN.