Splash!
A tall figure emerged from the water with a heavy wake. Gray skin, demonic horns... this was Mohg, who had been lying low in the sewers for over a year. His physique was now immensely sturdy, with granite-like muscles rippling across his frame.
Fangs had already begun to sprout, though they had not yet fully protruded from his mouth. Fortunately, the horns on his head had not yet grown as wildly as those of the "Lord of Blood" in his memories—not yet to the point of obscuring his eyes.
He possessed a certain wicked, striking charm. With his black hair still intact, he looked more like a demon from Western fantasy than a monster. It had to be said that both Mohg and Morgott were, in their own right, the "idols" among the Omen.
Mohg looked down at his six-fingered hands, which had sprouted sharp claws, a look of helplessness in his eyes. Though he hadn't wanted to grow this way, his development clearly didn't care about his personal preferences.
Over the past year, ever since their last descent, he and Morgott had remained in a relatively safe area, absorbing the resources Godwyn had left for them. By now, their internal power was enough to rival an average, healthy adult Omen—specifically, the ones that had developed normally.
Their rate of growth was, quite frankly, beyond imagination. Mohg had never seen anything like it in his previous life. To put it simply: This is supposed to be an eight-year-old?!
Now, they planned to return to their original territory for a look-see, before venturing even deeper into the lower levels of the sewers. With the structural map in hand, the task would be straightforward.
The daggers Godwyn had left them hadn't been used once this year. As for whether there were any ill-intentioned individuals lurking in the pipes... Mohg couldn't be sure, but he assumed there were. The group of grave robbers they had encountered earlier proved that much.
Cut off from communication with the outside world, they had no idea of the specific situation above. Godwyn hadn't visited the sewers a single time during the year. Mohg suspected the situation in the Royal Capital wasn't particularly optimistic; the Golden Prince was likely too busy to spare a moment.
As for their size, they now stood at nearly two meters tall. Mohg was slightly larger, reaching 2.2 meters, while Morgott was just over two meters—still a bit shorter than a full-grown adult Omen. They chose to set out now partly because of these physical changes.
THUD!
A sudden boom echoed as a gust of wind swept through the area. Mohg turned his head to look at the black wings on his back, his expression a mix of satisfaction and slight regret. Satisfaction because they looked incredibly cool—flight had always been a human dream, and he was thrilled to realize it. Regret, however, because he couldn't actually fly in these cramped sewers. It was quite a frustrating predicament.
The only place he could think to use them was the high tower they had found. Once they scouted that area, he might be able to fly up or down to explore. After admiring them for a moment, Mohg retracted the wings. They shrank back into two small winglets pressed against his back, looking almost... cute.
"Are you ready?" Mohg asked, returning to the room where Morgott sat cross-legged. Since gaining the strength to rival ordinary Omens, the two had joined forces to seize a small private room for themselves.
"Yes. Let's go," Morgott replied, standing up. A furry tail trailed behind him.
The past year had unfolded much as Mohg had anticipated. After Godfrey led the main army away from Leyndell, Royal Capital, to the frozen mountains, some of the conquered forces on the Altus Plateau began to grow restless. Certain nobles, who had always possessed a measure of power, were no longer bothering to hide their true natures during this period.
Godwyn had to deal with these restless factions while maintaining the defense and internal security of the Capital. He truly had no time to check on the two brothers in the sewers—especially after receiving battle reports from the front.
Godfrey's advancement into the Mountaintops of the Giants had met with severe obstacles. Unpredictable and terrifying blizzards, visibility so low it was frightening, and an endless, unchanging landscape of white. Add to that the occasional mountain trolls and Fire Giants, as well as the Zamor tribe who viewed them as enemies. All of this significantly hampered Godfrey's march.
The greatest threats were the Zamor tribe and the Fire Giants who appeared sporadically. It seemed the Giants had been prepared for a long time. The hostility of the Zamor tribe was particularly puzzling. Logically, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend," yet before they could even speak, these potential allies had attacked.
Consequently, Godfrey dispatched a troop to find the Zamor settlements, hoping to form an alliance to jointly oppose the Fire Giants above. Among those on the campaign was Wenger, who noticed the internal conflict among the Giants. The relationship between the mountain trolls and the Fire Giants didn't seem particularly friendly.
He had some alternative ideas, but they were still in the experimental stage. Dealing with the Zamor tribe was simpler than navigating the internal politics of the giants. By allying with the Zamor, they could obtain maps of the snowfields, secure safe marching routes, and even identify the weaknesses of the Fire Giants.
Godfrey craved the thrill of direct combat, but he didn't shy away from such strategic maneuvers. After all... war was a dirty game.
"The place we explored before is just ahead," Mohg said, crossing his arms and looking down with a haughty air.
Morgott immediately gave him a smack. "Stop playing around. Find the entrance we used and compare it with the map so we don't get lost later."
"Fine, fine," Mohg muttered. He began searching for the opening in the pipes. Soon, a familiar spot came into view. "Found it. Right there."
"Let's move, then."
"Move where? We can't act effectively if we go in there. We need to change our route," Mohg said, shaking his head.
Morgott blinked, then remembered the pipe opening they had used before. He looked at their current physiques. Given their size, they'd be lucky to squeeze in, unless they widened the hole significantly.
"What do you have in mind?" Morgott asked, frowning.
Mohg didn't say a word. He simply pointed his finger toward the massive, rumbling hole at the very bottom they had seen before. It was a sewage waterfall leading to the lower levels. The opening was large enough for both of them to pass through—provided they broke an iron pipe in the way.
But that wasn't the main issue. The main issue was what lay below...
Morgott's face went dark as he stared at Mohg. "You want to go fight those crayfish down there?!"
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