Online Game: I Returned From Death With An Unbeatable Summon Class! Chapter 5: THE SURPRISE

The air tore open.

Not violently. More like sothing that had been held closed for a very long ti finally being allowed to open. A seam split in the space between Marcus and the fallen creature and from it ca shadow and pressure and the sll of old iron and sothing that had no na but made every instinct in every living thing nearby scream the sa ssage.

Old. Dangerous. Do not run.

Seven feet of armored presence stepped through the gap and the air around him changed the mont he arrived.

He was massive in a way that took a mont to fully process.

Seven feet tall, built like sothing that had stopped caring about human proportions a long ti ago. Shoulders wide enough to block a doorway without trying. Arms and legs that looked less like limbs and more like structural supports that had grown tired of holding up a building and decided to go to war instead.

The armor stopped you cold.

Deep black across every plate but not a flat black. The kind that had depth to it, like staring into dark water. And running through every edge, every seam, every groove carved into the breastplate and gauntlets was crimson that did not sit still. It pulsed. Faint and slow, like a second heartbeat living inside the tal, bleeding through the black the way embers bled through ash. The overall effect was simple and unmistakable.

This thing had co from sowhere still burning.

The sword in his right hand was longer than most n were tall, dark grey and heavy looking, with green blood running slowly down the flat of the blade from a kill nobody had seen him make.

His helt had no visor. No eye slit. No opening anywhere. Just smooth black and crimson tal sealed completely shut across his face. And yet every person standing in that village felt, without being able to explain why, that whatever was behind that helt was looking directly at them.

He stood in the silence he had created simply by existing in the space.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

The creatures. The survivors. The people mid-run who had frozen with one foot still in the air. All of them looking at the sa thing and none of them having a word for what they were looking at.

Then he turned.

Found Marcus in the crowd the way a compass found north, no hesitation, no searching, just a direct and imdiate recognition. He crossed the distance in two steps that shook the ground slightly and went down on one knee.

The impact of it sent a small tremor through the dirt.

His head bowed. Both hands rested on the poml of the sword he had planted before him like an offering. The posture of absolute and unconditional service.

The voice from behind the sealed visor was low and certain and sounded like the mont before sothing very old and very heavy finally ca to rest.

"You summoned , my liege."

"Ehhh"?.

Marcus looked at the armored giant kneeling in the dirt in front of him and tilted his head slightly to the side. He had seen a lot of things in his ti..

He had watched n get torn apart by things that shouldn’t exist.

So a seven foot armored entity stepping out of a tear in reality and kneeling at his feet was unusual, yes.

Worth losing his composure over, no.

Whatever this is, he thought, it answered my call. Which ans it’s mine. And right now I have bigger problems than being impressed by my own power.

He straightened up and rolled his shoulders once.

"Alright then," he said quietly, more to himself than the kneeling figure. "Let’s see what you can do."​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Marcus stood over the headless goblin and looked down at the knight kneeling in the dirt before him.

The crimson in the armor pulsed slowly in the afternoon light. Up close it was even more unsettling than it had been from a distance, that steady faint glow bleeding through the black plating like sothing alive was sitting just underneath the tal.

"What’s your na," Marcus said.

Silence for a mont.

Then the voice ca.

It didn’t start at full volu. It built, like the first vibration of a bell before the sound fully arrived, low and resonant and carrying the particular weight of sothing that had not spoken in a very long ti and was rembering how.

"Malachar." A pause, heavy and deliberate. "The Crimson Tyrant." Another beat, slower, like the words were being lifted from sowhere deep and dusty. "He who conquered seven realms. And was cast aside by the eighth."

The visor turned upward and found Marcus’s face with the certainty of sothing that didn’t need eyes to see.

"Your command is my duty. My liege."

Marcus looked at him for a mont. At the sword still dripping green in his gauntleted fist. At the sealed visor that gave nothing away and sohow still managed to communicate absolute and unconditional readiness.

"Good." He turned toward the field where three of the four remaining creatures were still tearing through what was left of the defenders. The fourth had already spotted Marcus and was moving toward him, unhurried, grinning with too many teeth, the kind of grin that ca from sothing that had never once encountered a situation it couldn’t handle. "Help take care of our friends here."

Malachar rose.

Every survivors in that village stopped.

The mage with the fireball building in his palms let it die without noticing he was doing it. Two fighters back to back against a creature turned at the sa mont without coordinating it, drawn by sothing that bypassed decision making entirely and went straight to instinct.

Even the creatures paused, heads swinging toward the thing that had just stood up and was now rolling its neck with the patience of sothing that had fought larger wars than this on mornings it considered slow.

One word moved through the crowd in a breath

"A Summoner".