Online Game: Starting With SSS-Ranked Summons-Chapter 289: Legendary Summon!

Instead of cleaving directly through the core as intended, Arthur's blade slashed across its surface. The crystal didn't shatter, but deep cracks spiderwebbed across its glowing form. Golden light spilt from the fractures like bleeding wounds.

The plant convulsed in obvious agony, its entire form spasming. The mental scream it projected was so powerful that Arthur actually staggered back, momentarily disoriented.

"Master!" Aether called, moving to intervene.

"Stay back!" Arthur ordered, regaining his footing. "I've got this."

The pollen bloom was hurt badly, but not defeated. Its movements had become erratic, less coordinated. The crystal at its core flickered like a dying lightbulb, power surging and fading unpredictably.

Arthur circled warily, katana held ready. His mana was depleted, but he still had his spatial abilities and physical skills. The plant tracked his movement, petals closing further to shield its damaged core.

"You're persistent," Arthur acknowledged. "I'll give you that."

Without warning, the plant lunged—not at Arthur, but at Aether. It had recognized the void dragon as the greater threat after witnessing the singularity.

"Aether!" Arthur shouted.

The dragon reacted instantly, void energy gathering around his claws as he prepared to use his dimensional slash skill. But before either of them could act, the plant abruptly changed direction.

It wasn't attacking. It was fleeing.

Root-legs scrabbling frantically, the Pollen Bloom bolted for the edge of the clearing, moving with surprising speed for a creature so damaged.

"Oh no, you don't," Arthur growled.

Space bent around him as he activated his teleportation, instantly appearing directly beside the fleeing plant. He materialised with his katana already swinging in a deadly arc—but something was wrong.

Instead of catching the Pollen Bloom by surprise, Arthur found himself face-to-face with a writhing mass of thorned tendrils, already mid-strike and mere inches from his face.

Time seemed to slow as realization struck.

'It set me up,' he thought, watching the barbed appendages close the impossible distance. The plant hadn't been fleeing in panic—it had been baiting him, anticipating his teleportation with an intelligence no plant should possess.

The nearest tendril was so close Arthur could see individual barbs glistening with golden sap, each thorn the length of his finger and curved like a surgeon's hook. At this range, even with his reflexes, physical dodging was impossible.

"Shit—"

Without conscious thought, his body reacted on pure survival instinct.

"Iron Fortress!"

<Iron Fortress>

<Rank: Rare>

<Active>

<Details: A defensive skill that increases resistance to physical attacks.>

Mana wrapped around his body, increasing his physical resistance just as the first tendril slammed into his chest with bone-crushing force. Three more struck simultaneously—one raking across his shoulder, another lashing his thigh, the third piercing straight toward his abdomen. The tendrils were aimed at his vitals, but he was able to divert them.

Even with Iron Fortress active, the impact drove the air from his lungs and sent him skidding backward. He felt his skin holding where normally it would tear, but his very rare armour buckled under the pressure, slightly cracking.

The tendril striking his abdomen unfortunately landed on his solar plexus, punching through with terrifying force. Arthur felt a white-hot lance of pain as the barbed appendage penetrated the outer layer of his defence.

He teleported again before it could drive deeper, reappearing twenty meters away, one hand clutched to his damaged midsection.

Blood seeped between his fingers, but not as much as there should have been. Iron Fortress had absorbed most of the damage, converting what would have been a serious wound into something less.

Arthur glanced down at his stomach where his armor had shattered completely, revealing torn fabric and a shallow but vicious puncture.

The wound already burned with unnatural fire—poison, most likely.

'That was close,' he thought, applying pressure to the injury. 'Too close.'

The Pollen Bloom swiveled to track him, its damaged crystal core pulsing with malicious intent. The plant hadn't just attacked blindly—it had deliberately targeted the seams in his armor, the vulnerable points in his defense.

This was a predator at its finest, intelligent, crude and calculating.

"Master!" Aether called out, alarm evident in his voice. "You're injured!"

Arthur straightened, ignoring the pain radiating from his wound. "It's nothing," he lied, eyes locked on the plant creature. "But our friend here is smarter than it looks."

The Pollen Bloom twisted its bulb in an almost mocking gesture, tendrils waving languidly as if inviting him to try again.

Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"And for that... it dies now."

Blood dripped steadily from the puncture in his abdomen, but Arthur showed no sign of pain as he reached into his inventory. His fingers closed around two potions

He uncorked the crimson vial first. Which was a rare rank health potion, downing it in one swift motion. Warmth spread through his body, damaged tissue knitting together with visible speed.

Next came the emerald liquid, a very rare rank antidote.

This one he drank more slowly, feeling the burning sensation in his wound subside as the anti-toxin neutralised the poison. ƒreewebɳovel.com

The plant swayed in place, its damaged crystal core pulsing with what Arthur could only interpret as mockery. Its tendrils waved in an almost taunting manner.

'It's trying to bait me,' Arthur realized. 'It doesn't want me to use Aether because it knows the dragon would obliterate it. Instead, it's playing on my ego, making this personal.'

A cold smile touched Arthur's lips. 'I'll play along.'

He teleported again, reappearing precisely ten meters from the Pollen Bloom. Instead of drawing his katana, Arthur began pulling weapons from his inventory and dropping them on the ground around him.

First came a greatsword. Then, twin curved daggers. A battle-axe with a crystalline edge. Weapons of all sorts and shapes.

One by one, Arthur produced twenty weapons.

All the weapons were of the very rare rank, each radiating power in its own unique way. The collection represented a small fortune in equipment, casually arranged in a circle around him.

The Pollen Bloom's movements stilled, its petal face tilting in what could only be confusion. The plant clearly hadn't expected this response, its intelligence trying to calculate this new development.

Arthur smiled—a predator's expression devoid of warmth—and whispered a single word.

"Orbit."