Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights Chapter 6: King Tier Summoner in Manhattan High

Godfrey signaled his knight to pull back, giving Sam the chance to withdraw his summon. Mountain had just been awakened not long ago, and the strain was becoming apparent.

The Black-Out State had propelled Mountain from 3.0 to an astonishing 4.0, with the heavy cost evident—Godfrey's face drained of color, his frame quivering. Weakness gripped his body more than before, breaths coming unevenly.

This was to be expected. New summoners usually took a week, or even a full month, for their link to firm up enough to hold a summon beyond a handful of minutes. As time passed, companions could be kept for hours or days. Elite summoners maintained theirs year-round, 365 days straight without pause, looping the effort endlessly without weariness.

Still, the soul space acted as a innate haven, where summons rested and evolved. That's precisely why they got recalled following fights.

"Cherish the mercy I’ve shown you today," Godfrey stated coldly while passing by Sam. The senior stood rigid, his expression etched with stunned shame from the crushing loss.

"I was wondering when you’d leave Isolde."

A sneering, familiar voice halted Godfrey. He whirled around. His eyes sharpened on Siegfried and Maldred ambling together, Snow trailing wordlessly behind, phone clutched in hand.

Maldred thrust his palm out. Quills erupted from it, bridging the gap in a blink. Godfrey hardly crossed his arms to block before they stabbed into his forearms.

He attempted to call Mountain, but a surge of vertigo overwhelmed him. Before balance returned, Siegfried flashed before him in a green streak. His hands shifted into jade claws, huge and sparkling in the sunlight.

Those claws seized Godfrey’s face.

With blistering speed, Siegfried smashed his head into the wall. Stone splintered like brittle glass, fissures radiating out as Godfrey crumpled lifelessly to the floor.

"Oops. Used too much strength," Siegfried chuckled, pulling back his claws like it was no big deal.

He dropped to a knee next to the senseless youth, cocking his head with a smug grin. "I wonder what that Pendragon girl sees in you. Is she into weak boys?"

Maldred wandered by Sam, who remained frozen and staring. His look lingered on Snow, the serene silent giant whose aura overshadowed all around.

Sam's throat clenched. A third-year at 4.0, yet Snow hit 6.5 already, untouchable even a year behind. Siegfried beside him, whispered at 4.6 with defenses matching top 5.0s, served only as Snow’s underling.

Seeing them smash Godfrey so effortlessly sparked a vile feeling in Sam's core. His fresh humiliation dimmed, overtaken by warped glee. ’That’s right. He’s nothing before true talents.

Snow, quiet as always, shot a contemptuous look at Godfrey’s limp body. A hard kick propped him against the wall like worthless garbage, then he moved on, swiping at his phone.

Godfrey’s blue eyes blinked open to find the school nurse bent over him.

"You’re awake. I was getting worried," she said, her voice warming with relief as he sat up groaning, clutching his throbbing head.

"Don’t worry. I’ve healed your wounds. After awakening your summon, your body has already grown tougher, so it wasn’t life-threatening. But the shock knocked you unconscious."

Though she spoke kindly, Godfrey caught the hidden pity in her tone. His jaw locked tight.

"Can you apologize to your classmates?" she pleaded, seeking to persuade. "You’re supposed to be friends. Why are you—"

"Apologize? To people who want me as their lap dog?!" Godfrey shot back, biting his lip while balling his fists.

He took several deep breaths to calm down, then dipped his head. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell."

Snapping at the nurse would fix anything? No way. He knew better. Others enjoyed years to train, nurturing bonds with summons. Sophomores had a solid year under their belts. He hadn't even hit day one.

His blue eyes gleamed as memories of his knowledge surfaced. Summons advanced gradually within the soul space. Fights hastened the process, but dungeon cores—exclusive to green gates—served as the ultimate driver.

Mountain remained at low tier for now. But reaching elite 4.0 would let Black-Out State take him to 5.0 levels. Mountain’s special weapons enabled strikes against sturdier enemies, even 0.5 tiers higher.

That boiled down to one key point: Mountain at 4.0 meant Godfrey could challenge even a 5.5 summon.

The next day, Mr. Edwin strode into the classroom, thumping his book onto the desk before turning to the students. His keen eyes locked onto the empty seat next to Isolde.

"Yesterday, Mr. Godfrey Daniels sustained severe injuries," he declared. "He requires a few weeks to heal. Yet he’ll return prior to the Ranking Competition concluding this month. Bear in mind, reaching the top three improves your odds of graduating as Valedictorians, while also enhancing your summons’ potential. Train diligently."

Whispers instantly exploded across the classroom.

"The coward fled from just a minor head bump," Siegfried mocked loudly. Maldred bent closer, murmuring the tale to a nearby student, who chuckled slyly.

’He’s finally gone...’ Isolde mused inwardly, her golden-orange gaze flashing with icy chill as it scanned toward Dale and Snow.

"With such a humanoid summon, his downfall was inevitable," jeered the girl whom Godfrey had bested in combat class. "Manhattan belongs to the elite, not scum parading his father’s reputation."

"Trash ridiculing trash," Dale snapped with a glare. "Your brother targeted him solely because you got thrashed by a basic humanoid summon."

Her complexion drained of color, mouth clamping tight. She had the nerve to insult Godfrey, but confronting Dale was beyond her.

"Perhaps Isolde’s to blame," someone murmured. "The elite guys rage that she favors Godfrey over them."

Chatter filled the room until Mr. Edwin’s command sliced through like a lash.

"Not another peep." He slammed his notes onto the lectern, his harsh stare raking over everyone. "We’re covering today the two summon classifications: Chimera and Primal. These represent the sole varieties of—"

A few classes afterward, Cecil exited the girls’ restroom and neared the teachers’ hallway when a voice halted her in her tracks.

"King tier!" a man’s voice burst out.

"Indeed, a king tier appeared yesterday," the woman answered, voice quivering. "Initially, the Headmaster and I dismissed it as an error. However, this morning authorities reached out—their devices confirmed it as well. Still, the student’s summon bears no likeness to known King-tier summons."

"Which student?"

"Godfrey Daniels. That sophomore transfer."

"...What?!"

The man’s stunned cry mirrored Cecil’s inner shock. Trembling fingers pressed over her lips.

’Godfrey... possessing a King-tier summon?! Unthinkable.’

Her pulse thundered. King-tiers embodied horrors from myths and tales. One once proclaimed godhood, nearly conquering the world.

How could a boy unable to protect himself hold such a fearsome tier?

Back in the cafeteria at last, her gaze automatically hunted for Siegfried, the one who had shamed Godfrey.

’No... impossible.’ Fists balled tight. ’King-tier? Ridiculous. Everyone witnessed Godfrey summon that idiotic knight. These rumormongers are deranged.’

Despite her inner denial, that apparently foolish knight had crushed her classmate and older brother the very day it emerged from a novice summoner!

Something felt off.