I Can Summon Legendary Figuress

"Servos, long time no see."

Standing atop a massive, human-sized turtle, Davos’s voice resounded across the gathering as he slowly floated toward the group of older men and women from the Maqaue clan.

The enormous turtle beneath him moved with surprising steadiness, its thick limbs suspended beneath its shell as it carried its master through the air.

Despite its intimidating size, Davos appeared completely relaxed, one hand resting against the creature’s shell as his eyes swept across the people waiting for him.

Everyone present knew of the relationship between these two.

Although Davos belonged to the Whip Training Ground while Servos had once commanded the Sword Training Ground, their relationship stretched back much further than their respective positions within the clan.

They had fought together, trained together, suffered together, and on more than one occasion, run away from danger together.

There were few people in the Maqaue clan who understood Davos as well as Servos did.

It was also one of the reasons Davos had been particularly enraged when Servos was captured by the White Tower.

At the time, Servos had disappeared behind enemy lines and was presumed dead or permanently lost.

Davos had refused to accept it, personally leading several attacks against the human kingdom of Bark in an attempt to find him.

Some of those attacks had been authorized, while others had not.

There had even been occasions where Davos had joined raids he had no business participating in simply because he heard a rumor Servos might have been involved.

Now, after two years, the two old warriors finally stood before each other again.

"It has." Servos smiled bitterly. "Two years behind enemy lines."

His gaze slowly traveled across the gathering.

At first, he had assumed the people surrounding Davos were simply senior members of the clan.

But after looking more carefully, he noticed something strange—these were people from his generation, several faces he had not seen in decades.

Some had already retired from their respective positions, while others had long since handed authority over to younger members.

Servos’s eyes narrowed.

"Heheh..." A faint smile appeared on his face as his gaze returned to Davos. "Half-Grace."

The title carried weight.

Davos had only recently become a Demi-God, and because of that, there were still certain old habits within the clan that refused to disappear.

Servos raised his hand slightly, indicating the people surrounding him. "You must have noticed the trend among the people standing before you."

Davos frowned, looking around once again.

Indeed, something was wrong.

The current chiefs of the training grounds were conspicuously absent. Instead, the people standing before him were mostly former chiefs, retired heirs, and powerful elders who had already stepped away from the center of the clan’s affairs.

One might have assumed this was simply a natural transfer of authority—perhaps the younger generation had been given command while the older generation prepared for retirement.

But Davos knew Servos too well. There was something beneath this.

"Hmm." Davos narrowed his eyes. "Say what you want to say."

Servos smiled. "I’ll be straight with it then."

The smile disappeared from his face. "I’m sure you’re aware of the casualty rate for the Bamboo Mirage Dungeon."

Davos remained silent.

"Seventy percent." Servos’s voice echoed through the hall. "Seven out of every ten people who enter are expected to die."

A heavy silence followed as even the younger members standing behind the elders seemed to tense up.

The Bamboo Mirage Dungeon was not an ordinary dungeon—it was one of the most dangerous locations connected to the Maqaue clan.

For generations, the clan had sent warriors into it in search of opportunities, treasures, and the means to awaken their ancient ancestor.

But the dungeon did not care about bloodlines, status, or whether someone was a genius or a weakling.

Once someone entered, survival depended on ability, preparation, and an enormous amount of luck.

Servos slowly looked toward Davos. "What if I tell you..."

His voice lowered.

"...that of the three times we entered that dungeon with a Demi-God leading the expedition..." He paused. "...we came back without a single one of those Demi-Gods."

The atmosphere instantly became heavier.

Several people lowered their heads, while others clenched their fists.

They already knew—everyone who had been part of the older generation knew.

But Davos was young compared to them. He had only recently crossed into the realm of Demi-Gods.

He had spent most of his life believing that reaching that level meant finally gaining the strength to protect himself from the dangers of the world.

Now, he was being reminded that there were places where even Demi-Gods could die like ordinary warriors.

"Ah..." Davos’s expression changed slightly.

For several seconds, he simply stared at Servos as the meaning behind those words sank in.

The older generation had not gathered here to congratulate him—they had gathered because they wanted to make sure their own heirs survived.

Davos slowly turned his head toward the people behind Servos.

He saw their expressions—some looked uncomfortable, some looked guilty, and others avoided his gaze entirely.

It was almost insulting. They had pushed the responsibility onto him while protecting their own descendants.

But Davos had already accepted the mission. There was no turning back now.

"It is fine." His voice was surprisingly calm.

Without saying anything else, Davos turned around and walked toward the large throne-like chair positioned at the end of the hall.

He sat down, rested his arm against the side of the chair, and looked at the elders. "Bring forth your candidates."

The elders exchanged glances, and for a moment, none of them moved before one of them finally stepped forward.

The truth was that Davos had been schemed against countless times throughout his life.

He understood hypocrisy, politics, and that the people in front of him were not necessarily trying to kill him personally—they simply wanted their own people to survive.

From their perspective, Davos was the perfect shield: a newly ascended Demi-God, powerful enough to lead the expedition, yet young enough to be expendable.

Davos understood all of it. But what could he realistically do? He had already accepted the mission.

Eventually, the first group was brought forward.

The directive had been simple—twenty warriors from each training ground, with four training grounds providing eighty Maqaue warriors in total.

One after another, the candidates stepped forward as their achievements were announced, their bloodlines examined, and their classes displayed.

Some possessed tremendous physical strength, others had cultivated powerful weapon techniques, some were exceptionally fast, and others specialized in defense.

The candidates came from every corner of the Maqaue clan.

Davos listened quietly without interrupting or questioning every decision, trusting the people of the clan to select their strongest warriors.

But his mind remained elsewhere: the Bamboo Mirage Dungeon, the Twelve-Eared Maqaue Devil, the previous expeditions, and the three Demi-Gods who had entered before him and never returned.

There was clearly something about that dungeon that the clan was still hiding.

After some time, the final Maqaue warrior stepped forward.

"Eighty." Davos finally spoke, slowly looking across the gathered warriors. "That’s eighty Maqaue clansmen."

A faint smile appeared on his face before his eyes shifted to another group standing off to the side of the hall.

The smile disappeared.

"Three hundred human slaves." The words carried a completely different weight.

A group of humans stood there, some bound with robes and others restrained with chains.

The stronger ones had heavier restraints placed around their bodies to prevent them from resisting.

Ethan stood beside Servos, his eyes immediately narrowing.

He had seen this before. The Demi-Human territories were filled with human slaves—some captured from Bark, others taken from scattered human settlements throughout the Great Wasteland and border regions.

Many had been slaves for generations. Their bodies carried scars, and their expressions were hollow.

Years of cruelty had slowly eroded their minds until some could barely remember what freedom felt like.

Ethan’s gaze moved across them—two hundred people, two hundred lives being treated as expendable resources.

And now they were being sent into the Bamboo Mirage Dungeon.

His expression remained calm, but something inside him tightened.

Servos noticed the change in his expression, but said nothing. There were certain things that could not be explained openly, especially here.

Davos slowly looked over the human slaves. "These are the ones we’ll take."

One of the elders nodded. "Yes. They have enough combat ability to be useful, and their deaths will not affect the clan."

Davos’s eyes briefly hardened, but he didn’t argue. He had spent enough time in this world to understand how things worked: power decided value, bloodline decided status, and humans were at the bottom of the hierarchy in most Demi-Human territories.

Davos rose from his seat. "We leave tomorrow."

His voice carried across the hall. "I want everyone prepared before dawn."

The warriors immediately began preparing themselves—some looked excited, others were nervous, and a few had expressions of determination.

They knew the dangers and that many of them would not return, yet the opportunity to enter the Bamboo Mirage Dungeon was still too valuable to ignore.

Davos’s gaze continued moving across the crowd until, eventually, it stopped on Ethan.

For a brief moment, something strange stirred inside Davos’s chest: a faint trace of hostility, a sensation he could not immediately explain.

Those eyes, that presence—something about the young man standing beside Servos felt strangely familiar.

Davos’s brows furrowed as he stared at Ethan for several seconds, but then the feeling disappeared.

He had never seen this person before, at least as far as he knew.

Davos slowly looked away, his mind still filled with too many things: the mission, the dungeon, the Maqaue Devil, the Dragon God Clan, the Blood Serpent God Clan, and the countless problems currently surrounding his clan.

There was no room in his mind for a random human slave he had never met.

Beside him, Ethan remained completely still. He had noticed that brief moment of recognition, but he didn’t react.

His disguise was holding. Bark’s blessing had done exactly what it was supposed to do, and Davos did not recognize him—at least not yet.

Ethan quietly lowered his gaze.

Tomorrow, they would enter the Bamboo Mirage Dungeon, and unlike the others, he knew exactly why he was going there.

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