Chapter 112: Summoners War 11 The White dragon

Words : 1116 Updated : Oct 4th, 2025

Chapter 112: Summoners War 11 The White dragon As soon as Lloyd had finished dealing with the Nyxaris, a strange sensation pricked at his senses. It wasn’t just the fading presence of the enemy, but something else—something alive. Another presence. A person. Not far from him. And they radiated a peculiar aura, one that twisted the air like a soft hum of dread and familiarity. Suspicious. Lloyd narrowed his eyes and moved forward cautiously. He didn’t rush. Every step was deliberate, controlled. His fingers hovered near the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at the first sign of danger. The aura... it was getting closer. Whoever it was, they weren’t hiding themselves. They approached with ease, as if knowing Lloyd would sense them. That alone was troubling. He exhaled softly through his nose and kept moving. Soon, the feeling became too familiar—it was heading into a room. That room. The one where he had taken Silver. His heart skipped. A cold wave of urgency washed through him. He broke into a run. They’re after her. Whoever it was, if they had any connection to the Nyxaris, their mission was obvious: eliminate the healer. Eliminate Silver. Lloyd couldn’t allow that. He sprinted through the dim corridor, shadows chasing his feet, until he reached the doorway. Pushing it open, he prepared for a fight. But then— He froze. His body stilled on instinct, as if his own soul slammed the brakes. There, just a few feet from the bed where Silver lay, stood an all-too-familiar figure. "Goldrics," Lloyd exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly. "It’s nice to see you here." The elderly man stood with a wooden cane, leaning on it with a soft but steady grace. His face was blank, unreadable. The cane clicked once on the floor as he shifted. "I see you already got rid of the threat," Goldrics said, his voice calm, unreadable. "That’s good." He made his way to one of the chairs and sat down without another word. Lloyd nodded, sparing no more time. He walked to Silver’s side on the bed. Her breathing was shallow, and visible wounds marked her skin. He placed a hand on her forehead and began the process—an integration technique he had learned during the old war. Focusing his energy, he passed his integration through her body, channeling warmth and recovery. Slowly, the wounds began to close. The blood faded. Her trembling stopped. Eventually, she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open. When she looked at Lloyd, her gaze wasn’t one of confusion or fear. It was full of gratitude. He smiled gently. Then realized the condition she was in—naked, vulnerable. His cheeks grew warm, and he immediately took off his military jacket. He draped it carefully over her body, ensuring it covered every bare inch. "You’ll recover in no time," he said softly, then turned his attention back to the man seated in the corner. Goldrics hadn’t moved an inch. His stare was fixed. Silent. Unshaken. "So," Lloyd began, his voice sharpening, "when are you going to attack?" The air shifted. "I don’t know why you’ve aligned with the side attacking the academy," Lloyd continued, "but I’d like to know why." Goldrics blinked once. Then, his eyes widened—not in surprise, but in a calm admittance. "I knew there was no fooling you," he said. "Sorry for betraying you, actually." Lloyd gave a slow nod, processing. "You were always a mentor," he said. "I’m sure you have your reasons. But I’d like to hear them." Goldrics folded his arms, resting the cane against his leg. "Well, let’s see," he murmured. "I found a better path. One that doesn’t involve the lies we’ve built this institution on. And for that path to become reality—she must die." Lloyd inhaled sharply but kept his composure. He understood. But that didn’t mean he accepted it. "You know I can’t let you do that," Lloyd said. Goldrics chuckled—soft at first, then louder, amused. "You do know you can’t stop me," he said, his eyes flashing. "After all... you are nothing but my student." "Still," Lloyd said, stepping forward, "I will protect her with my life." The words came out firm, like stone. To Lloyd, it was a statement of responsibility. But to Silver, still awake and watching, the words carried something deeper. Something personal. "She’s needed," Lloyd added. "She can heal the injured. Without her, dozens will die from this attack. If you want to kill her, you’ll have to go through me. She’s my friend." "Friend?" Goldrics laughed—loud, echoing through the room. The old man leaned forward, madness glinting in his eyes. "What has this academy done to you, void swordsman? You... have a heart? What happened to the man who once killed innocents in the name of peace?" Lloyd’s jaw clenched. "Now you speak of friendships? You contradict yourself. You’re senile, boy!" The insult cut deeper than it should have. But Lloyd steadied himself. He could feel Silver’s eyes on him. He couldn’t afford to fall apart—not now. "I stand by what I said," Lloyd said, his voice low and resolute. "Some bonds aren’t worth the sacrifice. But this one..." He rose to his feet fully, gaze locked onto the old man. "...is." Then his voice thundered with unshakable certainty. "Bring a thousand men. A million beasts. A billion summoners. Or even a fleet of aliens. I’ll prove to you—my resilience is far beyond the power of the world." His tone dropped. "You won’t lay a finger on her." Silence. Then the room changed. The very air trembled. The floor creaked. A strange pressure began to weigh down on everything—the chairs, the bed, even Lloyd himself. Gravity thickened. The atmosphere pulsed. This was no normal power. Goldrics’ summoning aura had been released. "You dare speak so boldly to me?" the old man bellowed, his voice deeper now, darker, like a dying star exploding. "To the man even the generals fear?!" His cane snapped against the floor as if thunder cracked through the walls. "I am the White Dragon! The one who cursed the alien race to retreat their second invasion attempt!" The very mention of that battle made Lloyd swallow hard. Goldrics was a name feared across the globe. One of the top twenty strongest Summoners. And even then... his strength had never been fully recorded. He was an unknown storm. An unmeasured disaster. But Lloyd couldn’t back down. Not now. Not when Silver was behind him, still weak. Still healing. He clenched his fists and took a stance. Even if it was suicide, he would fight. ’At times like this,’ Lloyd thought bitterly, ’I really wish that idiot Fex was here to back me up.’

Chapter 112: Summoners War 11 The White dragon

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