"You have done well, Liana."
"It is only my duty. Without the new life you granted me, I would have likely rotted away in those sewers long ago," Liana replied, looking up into Mohg's eyes with utter sincerity.
"Even so, I shall reward you. But before that, tell me of your deeds over these years and the current state of affairs here."
"I understand."
Liana nodded and rose from Mohg's embrace, leading him into the "room" where she usually resided.
Upon entering, Mohg was immediately met with a heavy, metallic scent of blood, mingled with a strange, haunting fragrance. Scanning the room, he saw a massive pool of blood in the center. And standing in the middle of that pool was... a statue of himself.
Mohg froze for a moment, though he regained his composure quickly.
Surrounding the pool were blood-red stalks of Hepatica and Bloodroses. Closing his eyes to sense the atmosphere, he realized the spiritual density here was significantly higher than in the outside world.
Confused by the phenomenon, Mohg turned his gaze toward Liana, silently questioning the meaning of this setup.
"After I left your side, I followed your instructions to head south," Liana began, standing by the pool. "I searched for the path to the underground while gathering whatever strength I could find along the way."
"However, during that process, I began to lose myself... both in the task of bestowing the Mother's blessing and in trying to mitigate the side effects of the Cursed Blood for my followers."
"As time passed, my longing for you grew frantic and deep. Eventually, I carved this statue of you, consecrating it with the blood of the powerful. And then... something unexpected happened."
A trace of fanaticism flickered in Liana's eyes as she looked at him.
"Your statue truly gave me a response. It began to soothe the side effects of the Cursed Blood. Furthermore, under your influence, the surrounding Hepatica mutated into a new strain that began to coalesce a certain power from the environment."
Mohg narrowed his eyes. He looked at the statue in the center of the blood pool, his mind racing. He had no memory of ever responding to such a thing. If that were the case, then this statue was incredibly suspicious.
For some reason, he felt as if the statue was watching him back, sending a chill down his spine.
Yet, he did not retreat. He continued to observe until his spiritual intuition began to scream—a warning of a genuine threat emanating from the stone carving.
Ignoring Liana's continued explanation, Mohg stepped directly into the pool of blood. He waded to the center and reached out, pressing his hand against the cold surface of the statue.
Liana fell silent, her eyes fixed intently on him.
The moment Mohg's skin made contact, his consciousness was violently pulled deep within.
When he opened his eyes again, his surroundings had transformed completely. He stood upon a vast, blood-red plain. Light reached only a few meters around him; beyond that, everything was swallowed by an absolute, suffocating darkness.
"What is this place?"
Mohg squinted, his fists clenching. He was far from relaxed.
Suddenly, the sound of something breaking the surface of water echoed behind him. He spun around.
The darkness vanished as the area was illuminated. He was standing in the center of a gargantuan lake of blood. Emerging from the gore was a figure—a version of himself, rendered entirely in a visceral, translucent red.
Except for the color, the figure was an exact replica. The "Blood Mohg" walked slowly toward him.
Before Mohg could react, his vision blurred and spun. When he regained his focus and looked down at himself, he realized his perspective had drastically shifted.
He was much shorter.
A sense of dread pooled in his gut. He looked at his hands—they were the hands of an ordinary human.
"Ah, the power of blood, the Aspects of the Crucible, the lineage of a god, and the bloodline of the wilds... all gathered in a single vessel. What a magnificent body," the red Mohg hissed, leaning close with a grotesque, distorted expression. "And yet, you stole it. Do you feel no shame?"
The crimson doppelgänger loomed over him. "The Mother gave us everything. She treated us—the weak, the oppressed—with tenderness, never withholding her blessing. And yet, you treat Her like this? Truly... despicable!"
BOOM!
A massive impact sent Mohg flying. He felt a searing pain in his chest as he plummeted through the air, crashing heavily into the blood lake.
"Cough! Cough!"
Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Mohg struggled to his feet. He knit his brows, analyzing his opponent. From those words, it was clear this entity knew his secrets—it might even possess a portion of his memories.
I cannot let you exist.
Mohg's gaze turned cold and lethal. The fact that the previous strike had only caused a minor injury told him everything he needed to know about the entity's actual power level.
Wiping the blood from his lip, he calmed his mind and reached inward. He realized that his power hadn't actually vanished; only his "appearance" in this mental realm had changed. Once he grasped that reality, his confidence returned.
"A transaction based on mutual need is hardly a 'gift,'" Mohg said coolly. "She needs an agent to walk the world and spread the faith of blood, and I need greater power. It is a fair trade."
"Furthermore... I have never considered myself a thief. Since I have come to this world and inhabit this body, this is my life. You... you are the thief lusting after what is mine!"
Mohg let out a roar. He swept his hand out, and a blood-red trident coalesced instantly in his grip. His form shifted back to its true, towering stature, and great black wings unfurled from his back.
FWOOSH!
With a powerful thrust of his legs and a beat of his wings, the blood lake beneath him exploded. He transformed into a streak of dark-red light, a falling star aimed straight at the crimson figure.
CRASH!
The terrifying impact leveled the blood-red Mohg. Before it could recover, Mohg's trident pinned it ruthlessly to the ground.
Panic finally flared in the doppelgänger's eyes. It clearly hadn't expected Mohg to regain control and react so violently.
"From the first day I arrived in this world, I made my choice. I am no longer who I used to be," Mohg whispered, leaning over the entity. "If you think you can use these negative spiritual energies and my past to seize my body..."
He gripped the entity's head. "I will show you the true meaning of cruelty."
With a surge of strength, Mohg dragged the entity across the ground like a plow before lifting it by the skull.
"Now, tell me. What the hell are you?"
"You think I'll tell you?" the red figure sneered, despite its mangled state.
"Hmph. Even if you don't speak, I can guess. You're a soul-form born from the power of faith, the negative emotions of the Cursed Blood, and concentrated spiritual energy. And judging by your state, you still have a link to the Formless Mother."
Mohg's smile turned mocking. "But I didn't expect you to be so impatient. To strike when you've gathered so little power... you really aren't cautious enough, are you?"
The red figure's eyes widened as Mohg spoke the Formless Mother's name aloud.
"Based on what I know of Her, She didn't send you personally. You likely siphoned a fragment of Her power using my own prayers. In other words... compared to me, you are the thief stealing Her power."
"Bullshit!" the entity screamed, its mental composure shattering. It opened its mouth to hurl more abuse.
CRACK!
Mohg wasn't in the habit of listening to insults. He crushed the entity's head with a single thrust of his trident. He shook his hand clean as the dreamscape dissolved, and the world returned to reality.
The entity's remains turned into a puddle of blood that slowly merged into Mohg's body.
He didn't resist. Regardless of its origin, the entity had indeed stolen something from the Formless Mother; absorbing it would only benefit him. He was actually a bit surprised the creature had managed to steal anything at all, given how weak it was...
Unless, Mohg mused, stealing from Her isn't about raw strength, but about the essence of one's status.
As the red shadow fully integrated into him, Mohg's consciousness fully returned to the cave. He flexed his six fingers and made a fist, feeling a sudden surge of strength coursing through his veins.
"What a generous soul..." he sighed.
"Lord Mohg?"
To Liana, only a split second had passed. She looked at him with curiosity.
"It's nothing. However, I've found a way to resolve the side effects of the Cursed Blood. Use the statue as a medium. You will guide those negative spiritual energies into it."
"In the future, we can refine the process. For now, let's take it slow," Mohg said, patting the stone shoulder of the statue.
He intended to treat this statue like a garden—periodically "harvesting" the accumulated negative energy to bolster his own spiritual strength.
With the malevolent consciousness destroyed, the statue was no longer a threat; it was a perfect vessel. Furthermore, he realized he could use the statue to bestow blessings and even hear the prayers of his followers.
In essence, a task he previously couldn't perform was now possible thanks to that "generous" entity. As long as a believer carried a similar symbolic item, Mohg could actively contact them—or use the symbol to filter out things he didn't want to hear.
"Truly, a saint of a man," Mohg chuckled. His power had climbed another tier. He estimated that he was now strong enough to go toe-to-toe with a Tree Sentinel.
However, having spent so long in the sewers, he lacked a precise benchmark for his own limits. He would likely need a few real battles to truly gauge where he stood.
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (274 Chapters – Ongoing)
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