BANG!
"Damn it! Where do these bastards get this kind of monstrous strength?!" Giac gritted his teeth, his greatshield vibrating as he was forced to slide backward under the weight of an adult Omen's strike.
"Quit your whining and find us a way out of here! If their kin show up, none of us are making it out alive!" Rama shouted. He ducked under a heavy overhead swing, delivering a sharp kick to the Omen's wrist. In the same motion, his rapier flashed out, piercing a bloody hole through the creature's forearm.
WHOOSH—
Suddenly, the air was torn apart by a sound like a swinging sledgehammer.
BOOM!
A warrior in Rama's crew, caught off balance, was struck squarely by a massive dark blur. The terrifying force of the impact pulverized the nearby stone wall, revealing the jagged bedrock beneath and kicking up a thick cloud of dust that obscured everyone's vision.
As the dust settled, the source of the attack was revealed: a Royal Omen wielding a colossal hammer. The weapon was primitive—nothing more than a massive boulder lashed to a thick iron pillar—but in the hands of a creature with such raw power, it was a tool of absolute carnage. Their teammate had been flattened into a bloody pulp by that single blow.
Giac's pupils constricted in terror. "Do something! I can't take a single hit from that damn thing!" he roared.
"I know! Shut up!!" Rama's heart hammered against his ribs. They could manage standard Omens, but this one was different. It was a head taller than the others and radiated an aura of pure, concentrated malice. He frantically scanned their surroundings, his mind racing to recall the map he had studied.
"Get ready," Mohg whispered, his eyes narrowed as he watched the fray from the shadows. "If any of them come this way, we're going to give them a nasty surprise." He had a hunch the grave robbers would make a break for their narrow corridor.
Rama was in dire straits. Balancing the Omen's relentless assault with the need to find an escape route had cost him the upper hand. The only thing keeping him alive was the deep wound he had managed to inflict on the Omen's wrist earlier.
SHING—
Giac shoved the Omen in front of him back with his shield and swung his battle-axe, carving a deep gash into its side. With a violent twist of his hips, his shield and axe seemed to merge into a single, fluid motion. He spun in a rhythmic, dance-like pattern—a self-developed combat art he called the "Shield-Axe Dance"—landing a flurry of blows on the creature.
SQUELCH—
Suddenly, Giac lunged. His shield bashed aside the creature's guard, and his axe swept through the air. A headless body collapsed, blood geysering into the air like a fountain. Giac's face was deathly pale, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Killing even a juvenile Omen had taken every ounce of his strength.
ROAR!
A terrifying howl erupted from the adult Royal Omen, enraged by the death of its subordinate.
BANG!
Giac tried to retreat, but the Royal Omen lunged with explosive speed. It leapt into the air, its body arching like a drawn bow before slamming the stone hammer down with the force of a falling mountain.
"NO!!!"
CRASH!
It was a display of pure, unadulterated violence. Giac was crushed—man and gear alike—into a mangled, unrecognizable heap.
Mohg winced at the sight. The Omens of this era were far more brutal than he remembered. He wondered if it was simply the nature of the times; it felt as though powerful Omen variants were far more common in this period.
Rama didn't have the luxury of Mohg's detached observation. Terrified by Giac's fate, his mind raced as his two remaining companions screamed for a way out. Finally, he remembered the corridor where Mohg and Morgott were hiding.
"Quick! Follow me! I know a way up!!" Rama bolted toward the passage.
The moment Rama ducked into the narrow space, a look of relief crossed his face; the entrance was too small for the larger Omens to follow. But then, a flash of golden light and a flare of blood-red erupted from the corner ahead. Caught off guard by his sudden "safety," Rama was completely defenseless. His relief turned to pure horror.
"NO!!!"
FLASH—BOOM!
A beam of golden light pierced through Rama's chest. Simultaneously, a streak of blood-red energy slashed across his body, using his own flesh as fuel to ignite a spreading fire. Before Rama could even process the pain, the blood-red flames engulfed him.
"AAAAARGH!"
The agony of the flames sent Rama rolling across the floor. This "Bloodflame" was far more devastating than ordinary fire, as it fed on the victim's very blood to sustain its burn. Mohg watched the writhing man with cold indifference, waiting. Once Rama's struggles weakened, Mohg reached into the man's tunic and snatched the structural diagram.
"What kind of power is that?" Morgott asked, looking at his brother with a mix of surprise and wariness, as if seeing him for the first time.
"It's our inherent power—the power of Cursed Blood," Mohg explained. In reality, he had drawn directly upon the Mother of Truth. "You should be able to awaken it as well."
"You... you bastards... you Omen... filth..." Rama wheezed.
Before he could finish his insult, Mohg picked up the man's fallen rapier and drove it through his skull, ending his life. If you're going to die anyway, don't waste your breath on insults, Mohg thought.
"I think we've seen enough. It's time to head back," Mohg said.
"Yes. This map is the greatest prize we could have hoped for," Morgott agreed.
Mohg nodded, ignoring the horrific screams echoing from the battlefield outside. They had made their choice; this was simply the price of their failure.
────────────────────────────────────────
🔥 Want more chapters & early access?
Support me here:
👉 https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
✨ Get:
• Early access chapters
• Full access to all released chapters
• Support the story you love ❤️
📖Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (142 Chapters – Ongoing)
Join the journey and become part of the story!
────────────────────────────────────────