Clack!
"Whew, we're out. Let's get moving; there's no telling if that lobster has made its way down here yet."
"Be careful. Make sure the way ahead is safe first."
Morgott nodded at Mohg's words, adding a sharp word of caution. Mohg, meanwhile, cast a wary glance back at the pipes behind them, half-expecting a giant crayfish to come bursting out at any moment.
He had no idea what had possessed the damn thing to smash through the exit like that. As for whether it was actually pursuing them... he couldn't be sure.
If it truly insisted on a chase, they would simply have to break out the Golden Punishment and throw every trick they had at it to put the beast down. Mohg wouldn't necessarily mind that outcome; after all, killing it meant harvesting its blood. When the time came, he'd be more than happy to offer blood for the Blood God and skulls for the Skull Throne!
Wait... the Formless Mother's power is centered on blood, right? So calling her a Blood God isn't technically wrong.
And I'm the Lord of the Blood Dynasty, so offering skulls to my own throne makes sense too, doesn't it?
Wait, does that make me a heretic?
Mohg scratched his head, temporarily banishing these eccentric whims. As for why he only banished them "temporarily"—well, if he actually succeeded in building the Mohgwyn Dynasty, he wouldn't mind using those lines for real.
He certainly wouldn't let his dynasty turn into a den of backstabbing snakes like Varre. He wanted men like Ansbach. In his future dynasty, everyone would be a powerhouse in their own right, not a bunch of "campers" and manipulators.
After all, heavy-armored warriors were the only ultimate truth!
"I don't smell anything threatening. We can head out," Mohg said, turning back to Morgott.
Hearing this, Morgott wasted no time emerging from the pipe. The thought of a giant lobster crawling out behind them was enough to keep anyone from feeling at ease.
"Where do you plan to go next?"
"Hmm... we're a fair distance from where we used to stay. Let's take care of something else first."
Mohg checked the structural map. Their goals for this trip were twofold: one was to head back and check on things, and the other was to continue downward in hopes of encountering some average-strength Omens. For now, those were their best "nutrients" for growing stronger.
Morgott didn't harbor any resentment toward the idea of killing other Omens. In fact, Mohg suspected that if he weren't there to guide his brother's thoughts, Morgott might have actually enjoyed hunting them.
If I remember correctly, Mohg thought, the 'Omenkillers' seemed to have cropped up during Morgott's reign...
"This way. The exit leads to Sewage Boulevard. If we head straight and take a few turns, we can use the pipes to reach the high tower we saw before."
"Is this area deeper than where we were previously?"
"Not just a little deeper—a lot. We might even be able to reach the entrance of the catacombs those grave robbers were looking for."
Mohg tucked the map back into his tunic as they walked.
"A catacomb..." Morgott murmured. He remembered that these large-scale burial grounds were usually built to commemorate the honored dead. Naturally, they held all the typical functions of a cemetery, guarded by beings known as Burial Watchdogs.
"I wonder if people like us... will ever be worthy of entering such high-status tombs after we die."
The moment he heard that, Mohg knew his "cheap" older brother had fallen back into one of his melancholy funks. He immediately reached out and delivered a sharp smack to Morgott's back.
"Ouch!"
"Don't overthink it. If we die, I'm sure the Erdtree will be more than happy to take us back—if only to spit us back out and resurrect us immediately," Mohg said, drawing the rapier from his waist.
The weapon had been "gifted" by a certain "kind soul" they had encountered earlier. Morgott had no interest in such weapons since he could conjure his own from the Golden Order's power, so he had simply handed it over to Mohg. Mohg was quite satisfied with the blade; after "blessing" it with his own power, its blood-letting capabilities had increased significantly.
Without waiting for Morgott's reaction, Mohg marched toward the exit.
Morgott was puzzled by Mohg's absolute certainty, but since Mohg offered no further explanation, he took it as a clumsy attempt at comfort. He shook off his gloom and followed close behind.
"Humans?"
"A talking Omen?"
As soon as they stepped out, Morgott saw Mohg facing off against three men armed with weapons. Mohg tightened his grip on his rapier, narrowing his eyes at the man in the lead.
The leader gave off the strongest sense of threat, though he was still within Mohg's ability to handle. The other two, however, were nothing special.
"How did you get in? The sewers should have been sealed off," Mohg demanded, taking the initiative.
The trio clearly had no intention of answering. The two men in the rear wordlessly stepped back, fanning out to the left and right in an aggressive flanking maneuver.
"This is the first time I've ever seen an Omen-child that could talk," the leader said, a chilling, raspy laugh escaping his lips. "Even if we can't find the tomb, I bet we could fetch a mountain of Runes if we drag you two back and sell you as slaves."
"Villains like you usually don't survive a single episode," Mohg remarked. "But I'll be merciful and leave you alive—I still need information from you."
With that, Mohg lunged at the man on the right.
His massive frame erupted with a speed that defied his bulk. His rapier, wreathed in a faint glow of Bloodflame, turned into a streak of light aimed straight for the man's waist.
The leader's eyes narrowed. He moved quickly, raising a silver shield to intercept Mohg's strike.
However, Morgott was even faster. With a short hop and a powerful spring off the ground, he closed the distance to the leader instantly. His hand gripped a longsword formed from the power of the Golden Order, and he brought it crashing down against the man's shield.
"An Omen who can use incantations?!"
The leader momentarily lost his focus, stunned by the sight. It was something unheard of, a phenomenon never before seen.
The third man saw his opening and lunged toward Morgott's back, swinging his longsword in a wide arc. He aimed for the waist, specifically the kidneys—a strike that would normally leave any target incapacitated.
However, he had forgotten about the thing behind Morgott.
Whoosh—Thwack!
"Gah!"
Accompanied by a dull explosion of impact, a dark shadow slammed into the man's side. The sheer force of the blow sent him flying through the air, the sickening sound of ribs shattering echoing through the corridor.
The weapon that had struck him was none other than the tail behind Morgott's back.
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