Aspects of the Crucible: Feathers!
Mohg thrust his hand forward, fingers splaying wide toward the approaching swarm of rats. A familiar golden light erupted as countless feathers, forged from primordial energy, streaked through the air like gilded arrows.
"Squeak! Squeak!"
In an instant, the sewer echoed with the agonized shrieks of the rodents. The golden feathers sliced into their bodies like razor-sharp scalpels. Each quill was as rigid as a needle; to endure such a barrage was nothing short of a literal execution by a thousand cuts.
This was an Aspect of the Crucible incantation Mohg had never encountered in his previous life. While it shared similarities with the combat style of the Divine Bird Warriors he remembered, this particular manifestation was significantly more lethal.
"Your mastery over the Crucible incantations is growing," Morgott observed.
"Mm. The more I use them, the more natural they feel," Mohg replied, glancing at his brother as the golden light faded. On the ground before them lay dozens of rats, pinned and bristling like golden hedgehogs.
"The pipe ends here. Is this the path we're supposed to take?" Morgott asked, turning his head to scan their surroundings.
Mohg shook his head silently and looked upward.
Following his gaze, Morgott looked through the iron grating above them. Beyond the mesh lay a vast, cavernous expanse—the Underground Roadside, a place mirrors the scale of the world they once knew.
"So, we've arrived..."
"I can sense the presence of several Royal Omens up there," Mohg said, stepping beneath a section of the grating that looked loose. "Once we're up, we should gauge their attitude before making a move."
Having lived in the squalor of the sewers for so long, Mohg had learned to distinguish Royal Omen children from common Omen-born by scent alone. The method was grimly simple: those with a heavy, metallic scent of blood were usually common Omens. Because their horns had been excised at birth, the wounds rarely healed completely, and the constant physical trauma became the catalyst for the Cursed Blood within them.
Of course, this only applied to those whose Grace was insufficient. For those blessed with a greater density of power—like Mohg and Morgott—there was no need to cut away their horns to stir the Cursed Blood. It simply required time to settle and mature. In Mohg's case, his power had awakened prematurely thanks to the influence of the Formless Mother.
Mohg tested the grate, then unfurled his wings. He gripped the iron bars and heaved with a violent burst of strength.
CLANG!
The heavy iron slammed against the stone floor above, the din immediately alerting the Omens slumbering nearby. One particularly massive Omen lunged for a cleaver resting beside him, creeping warily toward the newly opened hole.
Swish—
Before the creature could get close, a dark shadow soared out from the depths.
"Whew... finally made it."
Basking in the faint light filtering down from the surface, Mohg allowed a small smile to play on his lips as his wings beat steadily. Below, the Royal Omen caught Mohg's scent and let out a guttural roar.
Morgott followed close behind, leaping from the darkness and landing gracefully on the stone pavement.
The surrounding Omens, sensing the arrival of their own kind, began to converge on the area. Mohg surveyed the scene. Unlike the layout he remembered from the game, the paths and doors here were interconnected, save for the entrance to the Leyndell Catacombs.
In just a few moments, nearly six adult Omen-born had surrounded them.
Mohg's expression turned serious. Between the two of them, taking down even one of these brutes would be a struggle. Moreover, if his memory served him correctly, every one of these beings possessed the power of Wraith-calling...
With a quiet rustle, Mohg folded his wings and touched down on the ground.
"ROAR!"
Seeing that Mohg had landed and shown no intent to attack, one of the Omens barked a challenge. However, it wasn't a roar of pure hostility; there was a distinct note of confusion in the sound.
The twins began to communicate with the local Omens using the wordless language of their kind. To their surprise, these Omens were unexpectedly reasonable.
After a brief exchange of gestures and low growls, Mohg began to piece together the situation. This area was a frequent haunt for Perfumers, meaning these Omens had regular contact with humans. This interaction had made them notably more temperate and stable in temperament compared to their feral kin.
That wasn't to say they were weak. On the contrary, these Omens were formidable. Because of the intersection of various tunnels and the fact that they were all of similar strength, skirmishes were common—especially when "outsiders" from the lower levels tried to intrude.
As for the results of those battles... the intruders from the deeper levels usually limped back with their heads caved in.
Mohg suspected these Omens had been tacitly "selected" to serve as guardians for the Leyndell Catacombs, though they seemed blissfully unaware of their role as an unofficial security force. He also guessed they were being so civil because they viewed him and Morgott as mere "cubs"—adolescent Omens who posed no real threat.
Once the tension settled, Mohg and Morgott shared a look and began to explore the perimeter separately.
It didn't take long for Mohg to find something unexpected: people.
Why are there humans here? And why are they so badly injured? Mohg thought, frowning as he crouched before a small group of people dressed in commoner's garb.
Each of them was a ghastly sight, their faces and bodies wrapped in thick, white bandages.
One of them seemed to sense Mohg's gaze. With a slight tremor of the eyelids, she slowly opened her eyes. A faint golden shimmer lingered in her pupils—the mark of a citizen blessed by the Golden Order.
To Mohg's astonishment, the woman didn't look at him with the typical revulsion or terror reserved for "accursed" beings.
"Ah... a Mister Omen..." she whispered, her voice raspy but gentle. "But you're a face I haven't seen before..."
A woman? Mohg was momentarily stunned by the softness of her tone.
"I'm so sorry... for taking up your living space," she continued weakly. "But... it shouldn't be for much longer..."
"What happened to you all?" Mohg asked.
"Eh?"
The woman froze, her eyes widening in a daze. Confusion clouded her gaze.
"I really must be returning to the Erdtree's embrace..." she murmured. "I'm even starting to hallucinate voices..."
"You aren't hallucinating," Mohg said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "I am indeed the one asking you a question."
"EHHH?!!!"
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