Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights novel Chapter 343

Chapter 343: Legends Of The Golden Order Knights (2)

The earth trembled, quaking as if unable to withstand the Cyclops’ weight, but it wasn’t the earth but the policemen who felt the tremors and their minds exaggerated its weight.

As if that wasn’t enough, another Cyclops was pulled out by goblins. This time around, the policemen were paralyzed with fear as the Cyclop roared at them.

Several goblins on its shoulders chuckled maliciously, brought out their long tongues, and coated their short swords with saliva.

Liam staggered back, tightening his grip around his pistol as he switched to the last magazine. Unfortunately, his bullet bounced off the skin of the cyclops.

Was fighting an option at this point?

At the top of the building, Lysander tightened his grip around his axe as the Cyclops dug its fingers into the wall with the intention to climb and get to him.

Cement crumbled as its massive fingers dug deep.

"We never wanted to make an elf a Pathan knight," Lysander recalled the conversation he had with one of the Alchemists.

"Because of the king’s will, we thought of you as a replacement to the rebel who once wielded the axe for this order, but you, Knight Commander, are special. You’re what happens when compassion and sacrifice collide. You’re not stuck up in the traditions of the elven kind."

The voice rang in Lysander’s mind as he watched the Cyclops fall under its own weight. It roared, spittle flying through the air as its crimson eyes were fixed on him.

All that rage did nothing as Lysander stood there, his grip tightening with each passing second.

"You genuinely want to become a Pathan. To do so, create your legacy, Commander. It will accompany you for a long time."

As those words rang in his head once more, Lysander suddenly leaped, his cloak fluttering upward, revealing his crimson armour. Only his long ears, eyebrows, and moon-like eyes were visible; the other parts were behind crimson plates and black chainmail.

Lysander spun his axe twice, grabbed it with both hands, and swung down. It bit deep into the Cyclops’ back, and as he fell, the axe blade tore open the monster’s back.

No blood could leave the wound as Lysander, with a white mist, froze it. The Cyclops roared, swinging its hand with all its might, so much that the force pulled its body along.

Lysander flickered, evading the blow. The sheer gale caused by that move made his cloak flutter so hard it threatened to be ripped off.

"My legacy?"

"You drank from the water of life by accident, so even at a thousand years, when elves of your type grow weary and old, you stand, young and vibrant. You have carried the pain of countless deaths because their lives were too short. A curse you lived in knowing you would also bury your daughter."

The Alchemist’s voice rang in his mind. That conversation he had with those mysterious beings stuck with him. It went too deep.

With a yell, Lysander swung his axe upward. His arm ached as he swung with all his might. This was a battlefield; a mistake meant death. Why hold back?

That slash unleashed a sharp wave of ice that divided not just the Cyclops but also the three-storey office building!

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify