Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights novel Chapter 510

Chapter 510: Andormedius Mortis

This man seated on the throne was supposed to be a lie, a story invented by ten men. He was never meant to be real.

They had created this great being in words. They gave him impossible strength, unbeatable nobility, impossible virtues, and fed those lies to millions until the fiction became legend.

So how was that same being now sitting before them? Anticipating it didn’t make seeing him any less shocking.

Zaun was far more intrigued than he was afraid. Perhaps it wasn’t fear quickening his heartbeat, but excitement at what this could mean. This overturned all they knew.

If the mana tree had indeed brought exactly what they made. Then—

"It is unfortunate, but I already foresee myself bringing war," the Unknown King said.

Zaun took a firm step forward. "Your Majesty." He bent his head.

"There is no need to bow, Alchemist."

Zaun squinted at that comment. ’He’s not pleased. So, he has seen them. I couldn’t have shown that to Godfrey. He had not overcome his guilt over the death of his generals. That boy. He has a good heart but lacks fine control over it.’

"You have seen what they’re going through," Zaun said.

"I have. Their hearts are far from me. They can’t hear me."

Zaun’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Beneath that terrible coldness, he had heard something painfully human.

"We are not afraid of war, Your Majesty. If it will lead to the resurrection of our Order, we shall lay down our lives with honour. But the plight of the Wielder of the Lance isn’t Apollyon’s doing. Do not rest your rage on her."

The Unknown King’s eyes went to Apollyon. "I would never. Lift up your head, general."

Apollyon lifted her head. Jaws clamped shut, eyes hard with hidden emotions she couldn’t name.

She didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, she rose back because of Godfrey, the golden-haired king. The Known One.

However, centuries before this, her faith had belonged to the Unknown King. She believed him so completely that she began to have visions. The King’s Beloved, they called her back then, but when the Sword of the King fell and their lies were exposed beneath the sun, she went mad.

Her madness—

"You maintained balance amongst the five kingdoms. I know of that. I know of your guilt. I know you."

Apollyon collapsed to her knees. Her teeth clenched until her jaw trembled. The others were astonished. This was the Champion; a master of duels, feared in battle and renowned for her wit. Yet a single sentence had brought her to her knees.

"Rise." At his word, Apollyon rose back up.

"Your Majesty, I plead that you do not go to the Afterlife. You will not return. That world is governed by laws beyond ancient gods."

"I know. But much has gone wrong in that realm. I might not be able to change it, but I won’t abandon a general. It doesn’t matter if he refuses to serve. His past service is enough," the Unknown King said.

"You may send your Lament, your Chief General." Zaun didn’t speak alone this time, but all ten of them spoke as one. "Let him serve. Once he rescues the other, he can return."

Dirge watched as Lament stood before them all, then fell on one knee. "I have been useless."

"You were mourning. Though it lasted a little too long," the Unknown King said. "Why should I send you to another mission, one possibly worse than the former?"

Lament exhaled. "Give me this grace. I will bring you the Wielder of the Lance." He paused, and the hall descended into silence. Could this fallen Chief still rise?

"I... will lament no more!" He said, desperate, bold. Perhaps both. But it echoed with the power of a man who had risen up from a curse that should have kept him down.

Lament stared right at the Unknown King. He saw the darkness of a man resting his elbows on his lap and leaning forward. Those golden eyes watched him.

"You will die. You will lose your men again and again. What makes you think you will survive this, general?" the Unknown King asked softly.

"Not all generals will bask in the light. Not all generals will bear that which they loathe. I do. And if I do not, I wish it on another. I am chief amongst other generals; it is my responsibility. I have been blinded by my grief. I seek the light no more. Let me serve as the rider of chaos that brings order, as the fear in the shadows. Let me be that which I have become."

Dirge folded her arms. The clawed edge of her gauntlets scraped her breastplate. ’The visitation of the Alchemists changed him. What did they do?’

"You grieved until you realized that, in your lament, you might lose the last thing you had. You have woken up, general," the Unknown King said, rising to his feet.

A sudden stir passed through the hall. Candle flames flickered as though disturbed by an unseen wind, yet the air remained still. Something was about to happen. A declaration that would change everything.

Lament’s verdict.

"Your weapon, general."

Hearing that, Lament stretched out his hand, and a heartbeat later, his halberd manifested. He held it, butt pressed to the floor, the tip pointing at the lofty ceiling.

"Your state became your name. A knight lost in the turmoil of his own heart. You were losing a battle for centuries, but now, against the odds, you have risen once more. Your honour has been reclaimed, your status as Chief General never more firm. Men and beasts shall no more know of Lament the fallen. No..."

The Unknown King walked around the small platform around his throne as he spoke. His hand slid through the contours and carvings on the throne.

"No..." He repeated. "I hereby strip you of skills learned in rebellion." The moment the king said that, Lament felt something being ripped from within him.

His fire-related skills. Powerful ones. Sun Annihilation, Inferno State. Ripped out of him. Those skills were great, but they suppressed what he truly was. Mentally and he knew this. That was why he learnt the skill in the first place... to be like the others, to shut out what he had become.

To have the warmth and brightness of life rather than the desolate chill and shrouding darkness of death.

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