Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights novel Chapter 464

Chapter 464: In Between The Mandibles Of The Centipede

Mrs. Fukushima strolled into her mansion, tossed her phone and bag on the couch, and collapsed on it.

Her housekeeper walked in, took the bag and shoes, then left with them.

Mrs. Fukushima’s phone rang, and she picked it up. "Mr. London," she said.

"Is Godfrey in that dungeon?" he asked.

"He’s not. I still believe we can deal with it. We’ve dealt with several others before he came."

"Not this one. You’re stubborn, Mrs. Fukushima. Too stubborn and proud about your country’s capabilities that you can’t see a free meal even when it’s served on your table."

Mr. London’s voice made her frown. "We tend to trivialize what we didn’t witness. It’s the same for almost every human on Earth. I just saw what they faced in that dungeon in Scotland..." Mr. London squinted.

He sat cross-legged in the same room he met Godfrey, staring at the scenes that came to life on his table. It had golden intricate threads that formed everything.

This was Ronald’s doing. After showing him what the House Of Order went through in the dungeon, Isolde told him that they would not be taking 700 million straight up, then she took the price straight to 3 billion.

They eventually settled for 2.4 billion. Mr. London had not felt a presence like Isolde in a while. She was a political menace, and Ronald...

The world was truly vast.

"What happened in Scotland?" Mrs. Fukushima sat up, her eyes sharp.

"Let me say, if I sent in an army and ten demigods, there’s an eighty-five-percent chance none of them would make it back alive."

"What?!" Mr. London’s statement made her gasp.

"I know we’ve seen gates that brought out powerful monsters, but whatever that boy Godfrey saw is different. Those dungeons don’t just have powerful monsters. It’s best you leave it to him. Best-case scenario, he dies with whatever is in there...."

Mr. London paused for a moment.

"I have to give it to him. If he didn’t intervene, Scotland might be a mess."

Mrs. Fukushima gritted her teeth. She ended the call and slowly dropped the phone before grabbing the hair close to her scalp tightly.

She clenched her teeth as her eyes widened to the limit. Her face looked horrible just because she couldn’t allow herself to scream.

It was all spiralling out of control. Even if she had managed to pin the blame on Godfrey, it was her fault.

Mrs. Fukushima scratched her head with such ferocity one would think there were a hundred head lice in there.

’Damn you!’

***

Meanwhile, in London, Isolde walked back into the Crimson Drawing Room with Ronald. She sat down and crossed one leg over the other. Her golden ornaments, which complemented her dress and perfected her skin, gleamed under the light.

She moved a good part of her hair behind her ear, then her lips lifted into a charming smile. "How did it go, Mr. London?"

Mr. London chuckled. "I spoke to her."

"Thank you. I don’t want my husband to work with scraps. He’s alone there, so the Japanese government should do well to aid him. Especially after the joke of a headline they pulled off a few hours ago," she responded with a calm yet sharp tone.

Mr. London looked at Ronald, who had a little smile.

"Mr. Takeshi... is that you?" an agent asked, but his summon, a giant dog, began to growl aggressively while baring its fangs at Takeshi.

Seeing this, the agent lifted his gun. The other four followed suit.

"Don’t shoot... it’s me," Takeshi whispered. But then a soft flute rang and the agents’ eyes went down, and they saw centipedes falling off his trousers and scuttling toward them and the barricade.

In an instant, over a dozen centipedes were out, and more kept falling.

Gunshots rang. The bullets tore holes through Takeshi’s body and then, there was a loud screech.

Takeshi, whose upper body had tilted back like he was about to fall, suddenly stood up once more and screamed. Centipedes poured out of his mouth.

Shibuya Scramble Crossing became chaotic in an instant. People scattered as they screamed.

Right at that moment, the sound of a flute rang in the containment center far away, and suddenly about two thousand people began to vomit.

Some people held their throats, their eyes bulging out. Some jumped on those attending to them, vomiting centipedes on them. Some medical attendants were pinned down as centipedes found their way into their bodies.

Screams tore through the containment center as countless centipedes scuttled out. Gunshots rang. Beasts roared. An agent used Echo to manifest claws, and he dismembered those coming for him, but to his shock, they came back together.

His eyes widened. A woman held his head as others dragged him. She pried his mouth open, and a centipede jumped out of her mouth into his own.

They left him, but the agent stabbed his own head, killing himself before the infection could take root in his body.

In some homes, doctors began vomiting. It was the same for their families and those they and their families had met. In one night, at the sound of a soothing bamboo flute, thousands fell to the plague.

Shibuya was already in between the mandibles of the centipede.