Awakening with two legendary Summons
Chapter 122: Caged in Summoner

Chapter 122: Caged in Summoner

The crackles of flames danced through the air, their embers dying slowly like flickering stars in the void of smoke. The ground quivered under the intensity. Heat radiated outward in waves, a scorching furnace of blistering air that clung to the skin like a burning shroud. Thick, leather-like smoke curled and rose, darkening the skies above.

From within that suffocating haze, a figure began to emerge.

A simple glue man—at least in form—stepped forward. Shirtless, his torso glistened with heat, and he wore only a pair of loose white pants. His physique contradicted every assumption about his age. Muscles coiled beneath his skin like dormant serpents. His shoulders were broad, his chest sculpted like iron. Yet what drew the eye most were the four arms protruding from his back—two additional limbs, each alive with energy and tension, making it six in total.

This was Goldric’s second integration form.

The Dancing Buddha.

From a distance, three figures watched as he stepped forward, each movement causing the ground to tremble with a pressure that made the air feel thinner, tighter. It was as though the world itself struggled to breathe beneath the weight of his presence.

Lloyd’s skin prickled with discomfort, an acidic itch crawling along his body like venom. He clenched his jaw. His flaw was flaring again. Had this been years ago, he would have collapsed under such suffocating heat—but not now. Not after years of relentless training. His endurance had reached its peak. Even so, the oppressive air left his lungs burning.

Beside him, Silver remained calm. More attuned to heat than either of the boys, she took a step forward, her long hair trailing behind her like a flowing banner. Without a word, she walked ahead and positioned herself between Goldric and her companions.

Her gaze narrowed. She took in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut as she reached inward—past the pain, past the fatigue—into the core of her being. There, in her heart, it waited. A flicker of warmth, familiar and alive. Her integration. Her summon.

The warmth surged, burning brighter, spreading. It consumed her blood, her bones, her very soul—until it began to overflow.

In a heartbeat, her back erupted.

Two magnificent wings of flame burst forth, blazing against the smoke-filled sky. Her arms shimmered, scales crawling up her skin like a second armor. Her fingers elongated, twisting into sharp, obsidian claws. Her eyes glowed, a golden radiance piercing the dark, like twin suns.

This was her highest form of integration.

Fex and Lloyd remained still. Their time would come. Now wasn’t it. They waited—for the perfect opening, the right distraction.

Goldric grinned as he looked upon Silver’s transformation.

"So... you choose to battle me at the pinnacle," he said, his voice deep and calm, yet filled with a foreboding edge.

Silver didn’t respond. The heat burned inside her, but so did the pain of the wound she’d taken earlier. Maintaining this form was harder than ever. Her body screamed, but her mind stayed sharp.

I need to rush in. I’m the only one who can endure this heat long enough to make an opening.

Bending her knees, Silver crouched low, her wings tightening behind her. With a burst of force, she launched into the air—her wings flapping once, twice—sending her soaring skyward like a rocket.

High above the battlefield, she hovered, then twisted into a downward dive. Her claws readied. Her eyes locked on Goldric.

But the attack was too direct. Too telegraphed. Goldric smirked.

She’s never been good at strategy, he thought. Powerful... but with poor battle IQ.

Casually, he raised one of his many arms, palm extended.

A bolt of lightning burst forth, arcing toward her.

Yet—something shifted.

A prickle ran down Goldric’s spine. Instinct.

He stepped back—just in time.

A flash of silver streaked across his vision.

A blade.

It slashed across his throat, not deep enough to kill, but enough to make blood explode in a thick spray. He staggered backward, one of his hands instantly pressing against the open wound, his face twisting in shock.

His gaze snapped to the side.

Lloyd.

Already standing in his full integration.

An armor of pure obsidian covered him from head to toe, its design ancient and brutal. Power radiated from him. Speed. Strength. Deadly precision.

Silver’s attack had been a feint.

Lloyd had been the true strike.

But Goldric wasn’t easy prey.

Even while staggering, he called forth another bolt of lightning. In his palm, the energy coiled, shaped, transformed—into a crackling scythe.

With a swift arc, he slashed the blade toward Lloyd.

But Lloyd moved faster. He ducked, the blade humming inches above his head, then twisted low, ready to strike again.

Silver had closed the distance.

She dove at Goldric from above, claws bared, aiming to tear off his additional arms.

But Goldric wasn’t finished.

A dome of lightning burst upward from the ground, encasing his body in a crackling shield. Energy rippled across its surface—pulsing with lethal force.

Inside, he clutched his throat, focusing on regeneration.

Still, Silver dove downward, her body wreathed in flame, determined to shatter the dome.

But it wasn’t just a shield.

It was a trap.

From the dome’s surface, a tendril of lightning lashed out—formed into a spear-like arm. It launched toward her with unerring precision.

She couldn’t dodge.

The lightning struck her side and sent her spiraling downward. The world spun around her. The searing pain tore through her abdomen. She hit the ground hard, dust and ash exploding outward from the impact.

Silver groaned, hand grasping her gut.

Her side was burnt open. Charred flesh surrounded a gaping wound where her inner organs glistened faintly in the light.

Death flickered in her mind.

Had she not been so attuned to heat, the bolt would’ve killed her.

Move... I have to move...

Lifting her head, she spotted Lloyd—still close to the dome, unaware of what was coming.

"Lloyd! Run—!!!" she screamed, blood in her throat.

But it was too late.

Lloyd stood frozen, sword gripped tightly, eyes locked on the dome.

Three lightning-formed arms circled him like predators. They moved too quickly. Too unpredictably.

He was surrounded.

Caged in.