I Can Summon Legendary Figuress

Several silhouettes flashed through the sky, their shadows cutting long across the streets below.

The scene was chaos in motion.

An elderly man atop a dire wolf ran for his life, four rock drakes viciously chasing him through the narrow avenues, occasionally pouncing and forcing him to either dodge or lash out with his sword. The wolf’s paws tore up cobblestone with every stride, sparks scattering behind them, market stalls overturned in their wake.

However, whenever he attacked, dragon fire rained down from above, forcing him to draw back and keep running. The heat scorched the walls of nearby buildings, leaving black streaks where his blade should have found flesh. Twice he nearly cleared a strike clean through a drake’s wing, and twice the fire drove him back before the blow could land.

’This is bad. I can’t let the city guard catch wind of this. It’ll be a disaster.’

The old man gritted his teeth, pulling hard at the fur of his fire wolf, urging more speed out of it. He was tier 6. Standing to fight the two who pursued him wasn’t beyond his ability. He had survived worse odds than this in his years serving the clan.

Aside from the pair of flying dragons above, no one here could truly match him.

The problem wasn’t the fight itself. It was the attention it would bring, not just to him, but to every Algar clansman hiding in Blackwater. Their presence in the city had never been announced.

They had built their network quietly, slipping beneath the notice of the guard for the sake of the mission. If the guard so much as suspected they’d snuck in, suspicion would spread like rot through the entire operation, and years of careful positioning would collapse in a single night.

"The only option is to leave the city."

The old man muttered it to himself, jaw tight, eyes already scanning ahead for the nearest gate.

Whatever happened outside the walls wasn’t the guard’s concern. Out there he could turn and face these two properly, try his best to kill them before they became a bigger problem. That was the only path that made sense, the only one that didn’t end with his face known to every checkpoint in the city.

So at the next intersection he cut hard toward the gate, breaking past the checkpoint and slipping through the guardhouse in a blur, robes snapping behind him.

Before the guards could even react, he was already through, moving at a speed that made pursuit not worth the effort. The shouting behind him faded fast, swallowed by distance and wind.

At the same time.

"This is going to be hard." A flying insect drifted up beside Ethan and Hela’s dragons, Ella and Fin seated atop its carapace, their expressions tense.

"Yes, it will," Ethan said, giving them a quiet nod. "But we aren’t trying to kill him. Remember that."

He drew his blade as the old man came to a slow stop in the middle of a long, barren stretch of land beyond the walls, dust settling around the dire wolf’s paws.

The moment he did, Morgana descended below alongside Vlad, wings folding as she touched down.

For this mission, Ethan had purchased a special set of armor for Vlad, called the Blood Burn set.

[Blood Burn: This enchantment allows the user to soak in blood and burn it, creating marks of power that can be released at any time to boost the armor’s strength. At 5 marks of power, the armor’s strength can deliver 5 attacks at tier 6.]

Vlad moved first.

His figure burst into a swarm of bats, reforming instantly before the old man with his spear already cocked back, the motion too fast for a normal eye to track.

Without hesitation, all five marks on the armor ignited at once, blood-red light crawling along the plating as he thrust the spear forward, catching the old man off guard a fraction of a second before he could dodge.

Vlad didn’t stop there.

Using the impact as leverage, he pushed off the dire wolf’s back and drove the spear down into it, the beast letting out a pained whine as both riders were thrown clear, dust and fur scattering.

Vlad landed cleanly on two feet.

Beside him, the dire wolf shuddered once and dissolved into spirit dust, scattering across the barren ground like ash caught in wind.

"You think that’s my only summon?" The old man rose from where he’d fallen, glaring skyward at the ring of enemies surrounding him, robes torn at the shoulder. "It’s my weakest!"

Three shrouded figures appeared around him in answer, each radiating the presence of a tier 6 summon, their outlines shifting like smoke that hadn’t decided on a shape yet.

Ethan turned to Fin and Ella.

"Give the summons support. We’ll handle the old man."

As he spoke, Hela leapt from her own summon and landed smoothly on the back of the mind dragon, taking control as Ethan guided it in a slow approach toward the man at the center of the field.

"You’re going to lose," the old man said, watching them close the distance, his voice steadier than his footing.

Aside from the flying dragon above, every other summon here sat at tier 7. They could hold out, drag the fight long through sheer numbers, but sooner or later he would win. That was the math, and he trusted it the way he trusted little else in this fight.

"We’ll see about that."

Ethan drew his blade and dropped from the dragon’s back while Hela took the reins above him.

Landing beside the old man, he shifted into a stance that felt unfamiliar even to his own body, weight settling low, blade angled with a precision he hadn’t consciously chosen, muscle memory from Kang’s training surfacing without invitation.

This was the first move of the Judgment style of Tyrant Blade.

Ethan didn’t know it, but the instant he took that pose, dread spread through the old man like ice water in his veins, not from the innate pressure of Fear Monger or Blood Pact.

But because the old man had seen this stance before, and he knew exactly what it meant.

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