Awakening with two legendary Summons
Chapter 123: The Beginning of what determines choice

Chapter 123: The Beginning of what determines choice

In the uppermost compartment of what appeared to be a battlefield—one carved into jagged cliffs that stretched higher than the tallest mountains of Earth—the ground itself looked worn and wounded. The sky above was thick with ash and smoke, curling in long tendrils that resembled worms squirming upward, choking the air and dimming the light of the sun.

Below, the terrain was stained with the memory of blood. The stench of rotting flesh mingled with the acrid tang of dried blood, creating a miasma that made it almost unbearable to breathe. Corpses—some human, some beast, and others monstrous, as if summoned from dark dimensions—were strewn across the field like discarded dolls, limbs bent unnaturally and eyes frozen in their final moment of terror.

And amidst this chaos... one man still stood.

He was alone now. The silence was eerie, haunting even. His hands dripped crimson, but the blood smeared across his face was thicker, darker—tainted with a green hue that was not of any regular man. It was the blood of otherworldly creatures, enemies not born of Earth.

He stood motionless, his frame slightly hunched, his gaze locked on the lifeless ground. He looked as if he could collapse at any moment—not from exhaustion alone, but from the crushing weight of what he had done, of what he had become. The battle had ended, but its scars clung to him like shadows.

"After battles... countless ones... after killing thousands of beasts, humans, summons..." the man muttered under his breath, his voice low and hoarse as he slowly lowered himself to his knees.

His eyes sharpened, revealing that even though he crouched, he had not yielded to weakness. He was focused—torn inside perhaps—but not broken.

"I can’t seem to pull myself to kill you."

His words trembled with complexity, not fear.

Before him, a woman lay lifeless, dressed in once-immaculate white robes now soaked in blood. Emblazoned on her uniform was a golden emblem belonging to one of the great noble families. But even her lineage hadn’t spared her from death.

Clutched in her arms, her body curled protectively, was a child—a young boy who had buried his face in his mother’s cold chest, desperately trying to disappear into the last embrace she’d given him.

The man reached out with a bloodstained hand, touching the boy’s arm gently.

Goldrics.

His name was whispered through battlefields. A killer, a warrior, a savior... and a monster to some.

Goldrics gently wrapped his palm around the boy’s arm. The child trembled violently, his small frame wracked with fear, and the warmth of life was faint against the man’s touch.

"It’s safe," Goldrics said softly, his voice carrying an unexpected warmth.

The boy, shivering and terrified, slowly turned his gaze from his mother’s still face to the stranger who had taken the battlefield but not taken his life.

The blood on Goldrics’ face didn’t make him look friendly. If anything, it made him seem more inhuman, more frightening—like a demon risen from the ashes.

Yet something in his presence told the boy not to run.

"What’s your name?" Goldrics asked, his tone gentler now, but steady.

The boy hesitated, his lips trembling before he finally replied, "i’m Elteth—Elteth Veyna."

---

Elsewhere, in the heart of the battlefield, chaos had not yet ended.

Dark, lightning-like tendrils curled around Lloyd, rising like snakes ready to strike. By the time he noticed their presence, it was already too late for a clean dodge or a fully charged counterattack. The air itself burned with heat, intense enough to feel like it was peeling the skin off his body from a distance. To be hit directly... would be agony beyond imagination.

Lloyd’s heart pounded. Sweat poured from his skin in torrents. His thoughts raced.

’I just can’t block it—damn!’

With no time left to plan, Lloyd braced himself for the incoming strike.

But then, something strange happened.

In a blink, two of the tendrils dispersed into nothingness—flickering out in sparks and light as though their energy had been disrupted. Only one remained, and it launched forward with a screeching hiss, aiming straight for his gut.

Lloyd didn’t pause to question it. Instinct took over. He swung his sword upward, slicing through the burning tendril with a sharp gust of wind created from the blade’s energy. The force blew back his hair and scattered ash and dust into the sky.

Without wasting a second, he jumped back, flipping in a swift somersault to gain distance from the dome-like enemy construct that had attacked him. But the danger wasn’t over.

From his side, Fex appeared, dashing in, his body beginning to shift.

He had entered his highest integration form—a transformation that enhanced power beyond limits. But his form was incomplete. Fex had always been the slowest to reach full integration, and this delay was why he had initially held back from joining the battle against Goldrics.

Now, with Lloyd under attack, he had no choice but to push forward half-formed.

"Are you okay?" Fex asked, his voice not directed toward Lloyd, but to someone else.

Silver.

She was crouched nearby, clutching a searing hole in her abdomen. Her white skin had cracked and blackened from the heat of the earlier attack.

Worrying about a man like Lloyd, who’d survived worse, was pointless. But Silver was different.

She gave a stiff nod, her eyes narrowing as she turned her attention to Lloyd. His breathing was heavy, even outside his armor. The heat had not touched him directly, but it had come close enough to nearly kill.

"That’s new... I never knew he had something like that up his sleeve," Lloyd said, each word ragged from exertion.

Fex nodded. "I can try to absorb it, but I’m not sure if the dome will let me close enough before it takes off my head."

"That’s what we need to do then." Lloyd’s grip tightened on his sword. He spread his feet and took a stance. "I’ll take the left flank, Silver will take your right, and you will break the dome. We strike him while he’s still injured."

There was a moment of silence between them. The plan was madness. But it was their only chance.

Fex’s brow furrowed. "Didn’t you just barely escape those things? This is insane. I’m not even as fast as you. Those lightning tendrils will strike me down if you miss once."

His voice was filled with dread, and for good reason.

Lloyd turned to him. Though his face was hidden behind his helmet, the smug grin in his voice was unmistakable.

"Then hope I don’t miss."

Fex swallowed hard.

’Hope...’

Silver’s wound had already begun to mend, her regeneration restoring her flesh quickly. The skin was still pale, but she could move again.

Without warning, she leapt into the air, her wings unfurling in a flash. At the same time, Lloyd crouched slightly, then turned to Fex.

"I’ll lead the way. Follow."

Echo walk...!

He vanished from sight.

To Fex, it was as if Lloyd had disappeared into thin air. But in truth, he had raced across the battlefield faster than the eye could track.

Within a breath, Lloyd was in front of the dome.

Three massive tendrils erupted from its surface, writhing and twisting like monstrous serpents before lashing toward him.

This time, Lloyd was ready.

He channeled his integration energy through his sword. The blade glowed with power, humming violently. With a fluid motion, he slashed through the air.

A gust of wind erupted, massive and violent. It collided with two tendrils, exploding them into streaks of lightning and fading lights. But two more tendrils slipped through the gust, coiling toward Lloyd’s sides.

He flipped sideways, dodging both, and spun as another tendril shot toward him. He parried, launching another wind burst to keep them at bay.

Silver joined in from above, wings flapping hard. Fireballs cascaded down like meteors, colliding with the remaining tendrils and nullifying them in bursts of flame and sparks.

This was the opening.

Amid the blinding explosions and twisting lightning, Fex ran. His heart pounded so loud he could barely hear the battle anymore. His legs shook—not from exhaustion, but from fear. He was stepping into the jaws of death, and the only thing shielding him were his companions.

His breathing quickened.

His mind screamed at him to stop.

But he didn’t.

He clenched his fists and roared.

"ARRRGHHHH!!!"

This was it.

Do or die.

Victory or oblivion.