Boom!
"Cough, cough... dammit, where did this Omen come from?"
Calot wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the hulking silhouette of an Omen slowly emerging from the swirling dust.
Beside him, Pohl raised his right hand high. In an instant, a brilliant golden light washed over the entire party.
Golden Vow!
"It must be another guardian of these catacombs. Don't worry about where it came from—just kill it!" Rip shouted. He raised his staff and began a relentless barrage of spells. A Great Glintstone Shard streaked forward, trailed by several Swift Glintstone Shards, whistling through the air toward the Omen at a staggering speed.
"Roar!"
Sensing the terrifying energy packed within those glintstone projectiles, the Omen let out a guttural roar. A swarm of mottled black-and-yellow cursed spirits erupted from its mouth, surging forward like a tide.
Flash!
The collision of magic and spirits triggered a massive explosion, blanketing the area in thick, acrid black smoke.
Swish—
Stamp! Upward Cut!
Calot's silhouette blurred as he charged through the smoke, appearing instantly before the Omen. He raised his greatsword with both hands, the blade wrapped in a sharp, white aura of concentrated force.
Slash—
"What?!"
Just as Calot thought his strike would land, a terrifying whistling sound tore through the air from his left.
His attack was already in motion; there was no way to change direction. Calot gritted his teeth, forcing his body to a dead stop before twisting violently. The sudden cancellation of momentum sent a backlash of force rippling through his internal organs.
The next second, he tasted iron in the back of his throat.
The source of the whistling sound finally revealed itself: a massive, golden tail.
Thud!
"Gah!"
Calot felt a crushing weight hit his chest. The blood he had been trying to swallow sprayed out uncontrollably.
"Roar!"
Before he could even catch his breath, the Omen was upon him again.
Whiz— Boom—
"Cough... you alright?"
Edwin coughed violently as he looked at Calot. At the very moment the Omen's follow-up strike was about to land, Edwin had lunged out of the smoke, grabbing Calot and hauling him to safety.
"Not dead yet," Calot wheezed. He took a long, shaky breath, but his expression suddenly went pale. He realized the enemy that had just attacked him wasn't pursuing them! "Quick! Get to Rip and the others!"
Meanwhile, Rip was waving his hand in annoyance, trying to clear the dust in front of him.
"Tch, what a mess... Hm?"
Sensing something approaching from behind, Rip narrowed his eyes and spun around.
Five Imps, wielding a variety of jagged weapons, slowly crept into view before him and Pohl.
"...This is not good news for us," Pohl muttered. He stepped back, one hand gripping his Sacred Seal and the other drawing the mace at his hip.
Rip tightened his grip on his staff. Imps might not have high magic resistance, but they were mindless, felt no pain, and fought with a suicidal ferocity.
Within seconds, two Imps lunged, their curved swords raised high as they closed the distance with terrifying speed. Just as they were about to reach Rip, Pohl stepped forward.
Rejection!
Boom!
A powerful shockwave radiated from Pohl, blasting the two lunging Imps backward through the air. Rip seized the opening and unleashed his magic.
Glintstone Stars!
Boom!
Three bolts of teal light slammed into one of the Imps, shattering its stone body into fragments. However, the remaining Imps were already launching their counterattack.
Golden Shield!
Clang!
Pohl frowned as he parried an Imp's strike, twisting his body to smash his mace into the head of another Imp charging from the side. These two would take time to deal with, but as for the other two...
Crystal Burst!
Shatter— Boom—
Rip swung his staff forward. A spray of teal crystals erupted like a shotgun blast, riddling the nearest Imp with holes and turning its chest into a sieve. Having depleted his immediate mana for the spell, Rip scrambled to the side in a desperate roll.
Thud!
The other Imp's blade slammed into the floor where he had been standing a second ago. Scrambling to his feet, Rip pulled a smaller, backup staff from his robes.
Swift Glintstone Shard!
The Imp took two shards directly to the face, its momentum faltering. However, it quickly resumed its charge, looking even more grotesque with half its stone face shattered.
On the other side of the chamber, Calot and Edwin were trying to rush to their aid, but they were intercepted by the adult Omen and a fresh pack of Imps. They were pinned down, unable to break through.
Swish—
The Imp seized a gap in Rip's casting rhythm, leaping into the air and swinging its scimitar toward his head.
"Dammit! I won't be pushed to the brink by a mere Imp!!" Rip roared. In a fit of desperate rage, he crushed the glintstone at the tip of his small staff.
Boom!
A violent surge of raw magic exploded. The resulting shockwave sent both the Imp and Rip flying in opposite directions. Rip's hand was left a bloody, mangled mess from the feedback.
Glintstone Arc!
As the Imp struggled to its feet to lung once more, Rip used his one good hand to point his main staff forward. A crescent of blue light flashed, slicing the Imp clean in half.
"Hah... hah..."
Rip let out a sigh of relief as the immediate threat was neutralized. A hand injury could be fixed with Incantations or replaced with a prosthetic, but you only got one life.
Crunch!
Pohl smashed the head of another Imp with his mace. He then gripped his Seal and pressed it directly against the skull of the last remaining Imp.
Boom!
Golden Blast!
Having finished his two opponents, Pohl turned back toward Rip. He was about to step forward to help tend to the sorcerer's wounds when he saw a tall, imposing figure materialize behind Rip's back.
"Don't just stand there gawking! Come help me with these wounds!" Rip snapped, frowning at Pohl's hesitation.
Pohl opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before a sound could escape, the wet, sickening sound of flesh being skewered echoed through the hall.
"GAHHH!!!"
An agonizing pain erupted in Rip's chest. He coughed up a massive spray of blood. Though Pohl couldn't see Rip's face under the hood, he could well imagine the expression of pure agony and helplessness.
For some reason, a strange sense of dark satisfaction rose in Pohl's heart.
"How... how is this possible... cough... I can't... die in a place like this..." Rip stammered, his hands clutching desperately at the object protruding from his chest.
The figure that had ended Rip's life finally stepped fully into the light. It was Morgott!
Morgott glanced coldly at Rip before whipping his tail out, sending Rip's body crashing into the stone wall. With the tail no longer plugging the wound, Rip's life faded almost instantly from massive blood loss.
Seeing Rip dead, Pohl was immediately seized by the urge to retreat. He hadn't forgotten that these two Omens usually worked as a pair.
Without a second thought, Pohl turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.
Mohg's figure stepped out from behind Morgott.
"I'll handle the runner. Brother, take that one's belongings and get out of here."
"Understood," Morgott nodded. As for the other two survivors... compared to these two "glass cannons," the warrior and the scout would be much more troublesome to finish off quickly.
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (211 Chapters – Ongoing)
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