I Can Summon Legendary Figuress

"You killed Maqaue clansmen?"

Davos sat atop the massive rock overlooking the gathering area, his eyes fixed on Ethan below. A faint trace of killing intent seeped from his body—subtle enough that most of the younger warriors failed to notice it, but powerful enough for Ethan to immediately feel the pressure.

The atmosphere around them turned razor-sharp.

The Maqaue clan had never been particularly large. Unlike some of the great Demi-human clans that could afford to lose hundreds or even thousands of warriors without immediately feeling the impact, every experienced Maqaue warrior was valuable to their survival.

That was why sending eighty members into the Bamboo Mirage Dungeon was already a massive gamble. They knew the dungeon’s high casualty rate. They knew how many people had entered before and never returned. Yet, they had still decided to send their best.

And now, some of those very people were dead.

Ethan had killed several of them himself.

From Davos’ perspective, that alone was more than enough reason to demand an immediate explanation.

"No, I didn’t."

Ethan’s response was completely calm. He didn’t even flinch beneath Davos’ heavy gaze.

There were only four people standing behind him who had directly witnessed him kill one of the Maqaue clansmen, and those four were bound to silence or completely under his influence. Everyone else had seen nothing.

More importantly, Ethan had been methodical. Whenever he encountered Maqaue members he wanted to eliminate, he had initiated his attacks from a safe distance using heavy environmental cover or proxy forces. The natural chaos of the dungeon had done the rest.

Besides, there was another reason he wasn’t particularly bothered by the accusation. The Maqaue members weren’t contributing anything to his Blood Tyrant advancement mission anyway. He had no logical reason to systematically hunt them down.

At least, that was the narrative he presented.

Davos narrowed his eyes, the irises slitting like those of a hunting reptile.

"Then let me see your summons." He extended one hand toward Ethan. "Show me everything you brought into this dungeon."

His tone wasn’t quite an outright order, but it was closer to an unyielding demand for proof.

The entire accusation against Ethan had been built around his nature as a summoner. Nobody had actually witnessed Ethan killing the Maqaue warriors with his own hands. Instead, survivors had encountered strange drakes throughout the bamboo thickets—drakes that shouldn’t have been present in this environment, appearing whenever Maqaue groups were attacked.

Since there was only one summoner among the entire expedition, suspicion naturally fell upon Ethan.

But suspicion wasn’t proof. If none of Ethan’s active summons resembled the drakes responsible for those ambushes, then the accusation against him would collapse entirely.

Ethan smiled faintly. "I’ll do you one better."

He stepped to the side, his demeanor devoid of panic.

The dense bamboo behind him suddenly began to shake violently.

*Crack!*

Several massive green stalks snapped apart as a formidable figure pushed its way through the foliage.

The creature stood more than two meters tall. Its body possessed a disturbing combination of broad humanoid muscle and bat-like nocturnal features, with enormous leather wings folded tightly against its spine.

In one hand, it casually dragged the heavy, lifeless carcass of a wild drake across the forest floor. The beast dropped the dead creature with a dull impact.

*THUD!*

Ethan gestured toward the hulking figure. "This is one of my summons."

Vlad stood silently beside him, his glowing eyes scanning the surrounding Maqaue warriors. His current appearance was drastically different from the first time Davos had encountered him. Back then, Ethan had only been a Tier 9 summoner, and Vlad had been his sole companion.

Even after Ethan eventually obtained Morgana, Davos had never truly registered her presence. His attention had always been focused on the dangerous aura Vlad carried.

And now, the shift in Vlad’s authority was stark.

Davos stared at Vlad, his expression becoming increasingly guarded. "This creature..." He paused, assessing the oppressive wave of aura rolling off the summon. "It’s only Tier 7."

Ethan continued in a measured tone. "I’m a Tier 6 summoner." He then pointed down toward the drake lying motionless on the stone. "And as you can see, it hasn’t dissipated."

Davos’ eyes narrowed further.

"I don’t know whether Half-Grace is aware of this, but that isn’t how contract summons work." Ethan spoke without the slightest hint of arrogance, merely stating factual logic.

If those rogue drakes attacking the Maqaue warriors had been summoned creatures whose master had abandoned or lost control of them, they would have dissolved into raw mana upon death. Yet the carcass beside Vlad remained fully physical, bleeding real blood into the soil.

Vlad had hunted a wild, native beast.

Davos stared at the dead drake. For a long moment, nobody in the clearing uttered a word.

The initial drakes Ethan had encountered near the borderlands had mostly been Tier 8. While a few stronger specimens had been mixed among them, most were relatively weak compared to the current dangers of this dungeon. Those beasts had once been useful, but now they were becoming obsolete.

Furthermore, something remarkable had been occurring within Ethan’s summon space. Recently, several far stronger entities had begun to manifest and stabilize—Tier 6 and Tier 7 beasts that completely surpassed the original Tier 8 summons. The old models were quickly becoming irrelevant to his personal arsenal.

Davos eventually released a long, heavy sigh.

"I know how summon logic works." His eyes lingered on Vlad for a few seconds longer.

Having spent enough time dealing with various high-tier summoners throughout his military career, Davos understood the fundamental mechanics. Seeing the physical proof before his eyes, the conclusion seemed straightforward.

Not only had Ethan not been responsible for butchering his clansmen, but he also appeared to have actively slain one of the very wild beasts plaguing their ranks.

Davos raised a hand to rub his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "This entire confrontation was unnecessary."

The oppressive killing intent hovering in the air slowly dissipated. Ethan stood his ground in silence, his expression unreadable.

Davos finally looked toward Servos, then back toward Ethan. "You can go." He waved his hand dismissively. "I don’t want to cause trouble for my old friend any longer."

Servos’ tense posture relaxed slightly. Ethan simply gave a polite nod before stepping back toward the old Maqaue.

Davos wasn’t happy about the losses his clan had suffered during the initial dispersion, but he was a pragmatist. He understood the brutal reality of entering a high-risk dungeon. They had known people would die; they had simply hoped those deaths wouldn’t come from internal conflict or mysterious ambushes.

His sharp gaze swept across the surviving Maqaue warriors gathered around the clearing.

"From now on, every Maqaue clansman must have at least three human auxiliaries beside them at all times."

The younger warriors immediately straightened their spines, listening attentively.

"And at least one of those humans must be a Tudor."

Several clansmen exchanged subtle glances, but no one dared object.

Davos continued, his voice ringing with cold command. "Also, stick strictly to your assigned training-ground units. Do not wander off alone under any circumstances."

The order was simple and practical. The Bamboo Mirage Dungeon was already treacherous enough on its own; there was no reason to invite further casualties by allowing isolated warriors to become easy prey for hidden predators.

Davos had far too many complex matters occupying his mind: the political tension with the Dragon God Clan, the cold distance of the Blood Serpent God Clan, the labyrinthine layout of the dungeon, the awakening ritual for the Twelve-Eared Maqaue Devil, and the sheer survival of his lineage.

Above everything else, the survival of the Maqaue clan was non-negotiable. He would not allow internal paranoia or reckless isolation to destroy them before they even reached their true objective.

The expedition waited near the signal point for several hours as more survivors gradually emerged from the bamboo thickets. Some arrived badly wounded, others carried unconscious companions on improvised litters, and a few blood-soaked warriors stumbled into camp alone.

Eventually, the group reached an acceptable threshold of numbers.

Davos stood up from his perch. "Move out."

The reorganized expedition gathered its forces. Hundreds of warriors, human auxiliaries, and servants began marching in tight formation. The structure of their lines was considerably tighter than before, as no one wanted to risk becoming separated in the mist again.

The deeper they penetrated into the dungeon, the heavier the surrounding atmosphere became. The bamboo stalks grew impossibly tall, blocking out what little sky remained, while the ambient light took on an eerie, pale-green hue.

Somewhere beyond the visible forest, an ancient presence quietly waited.

Elsewhere within the same vast dungeon, far from the main Maqaue expedition...

A separate group of young men and women stood motionless within a quiet bamboo grove.

They wore dark, high-collared cloaks that completely concealed their figures and gear. Their exposed skin was unusually pale, their frames tall and slender, and their movements possessed an unnaturally silent grace.

They did not resemble the Maqaue warriors, nor did they look like any human tribe from the borderlands. They belonged to a far more dangerous faction operating in the shadows.

A younger member of the group stepped forward, addressing their leader in a hushed, nervous tone. "Are you certain we shouldn’t strike them while they are still regrouping?"

The leader slowly turned his head, his cold eyes gleaming from beneath his dark hood. "Don’t be impatient. You aren’t being sent there to engage their main force in open combat."

His voice was calm, yet laced with absolute malice. "Your only objective is to ensure that their primary ritual fails."

The younger operatives listened intently, not daring to interrupt.

"We cannot allow that troublemaking monkey to return to the living world," the leader’s expression darkened as he spoke. "Not at this critical juncture."

The group remained dead silent. They understood precisely who he was referring to: the Twelve-Eared Maqaue Devil.

Even though that ancient entity had historically been subordinate to the Blood Serpent God, he had repeatedly caused severe diplomatic and military problems for their superiors. His martial power was simply too disruptive, his combat history too bloody, and his deep-seated hatred toward rival bloodlines far too explosive.

They had all read the historical records detailing what occurred whenever that entity was given an opportunity to act freely. If the Maqaue clan succeeded in reviving his spirit now—especially while their own faction was still recovering from recent conflicts—the balance of power in the region would be shattered.

The leader surveyed his subordinates once more. "You don’t need to confront the old devil’s spirit head-on. Just disrupt the ritual focus and ensure the summoning fails."

He paused, a cruel smile curling his lips beneath the shade of his cloak.

"And if you happen to encounter their human slaves along the way... you are free to slaughter as many as you wish."

The young operatives exchanged glances. A few grinned sadistically, while others silently tightened their grips on their weapons.

Only the higher-ranking bloodlines understood just how troublesome the Twelve-Eared Devil truly was. Even while bound to the Blood Serpent God, the ancient beast had repeatedly lashed out at surrounding clans. He had never been obedient, and he had never been easy to control.

Allowing the Maqaue to restore such a dangerous figure would create an unmanageable threat.

The leader turned his gaze toward the endless expanse of bamboo stretching into the distance. Somewhere beyond those fog-covered stalks, the Maqaue expedition was marching toward the central altar.

If everything went according to their hidden plan, the expedition would never see the completion of their grand ritual.

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