Accpanied by the rising of a scarlet gale, Niebla—wielding a greatsword in each hand—instantly appeared before Pilar.
Facing Niebla's storm-like assault, Pilar remained unfazed. He thrust his long spear into the ground, and in an instant, countless earthen spikes formed from a mixture of blood and mud erupted from the earth, breaking through its surface.
Niebla let out a fierce roar and swung his arms. The dual greatswords whipped up a whirlwind that shattered the spikes. Simultaneously, he stomped his foot hard against the ground.
With a heavy thud, a gust of wind caught Niebla's frame and propelled him into the air, his twin blades wreathed in a howling, blood-colored tempest.
Storm Assault!
Pilar's expression turned solemn, but facing such a massive, imposing strike, he made no move to dodge. He simply raised his left hand.
In the next second, bubbles shimmering with a blood-red light erupted from his palm. At the same time, his right hand gripped his spear—now connected to him by a scarlet cord of blood—and he hurled it violently toward the airborne Niebla.
BOOM!
Terrifying force exploded in an instant. A shockwave of white vapor burst forth the moment Pilar threw the spear, and the ground beneath his feet shattered under the recoil.
Niebla found himself in a precarious position. The sheer power behind the throw translated into incredible speed. In the blink of an eye, Pilar's spear crossed the twenty-meter gap between them.
"Lord Niebla!"
Though the exchange felt like it lasted an eternity, in reality, only ten seconds had passed. By the time Lang, watching from below, managed to shout out in alarm, the spear was already at Niebla's chest.
CLANG!
A sharp metallic ring echoed. In mid-air, Niebla executed a combination of Stormcaller and Spinning Slash. Empowered by his cursed blood, one sword severed the blood-thread connecting the spear, while the other deflected the weapon itself.
THUD!
Landing with a heavy impact, Niebla's figure instantly transformed into a streak of crimson light. Wreathed in a cyclone, he appeared before Pilar in a flash.
The scent of a stinking wind hit Pilar's face as the twin greatswords came to rest against his neck.
Whish—
The powerful gale whipped against Pilar's cheeks, the metallic tang of cursed blood lingering at the tip of his nose.
"You win, Lord Niebla. Your strength is worthy of my respect."
"I accept the win, Lord Pilar," Niebla replied with a slight nod, lowering his blades.
A fresh cord of blood shot from Pilar's body, reconnecting to the spear. With a sharp tug, he pulled the weapon back into his hand.
As they returned to the group, Lang glared at Pilar with undisguised fury. He was clearly incensed by that last spear throw. In his eyes, that strike had gone far beyond a simple spar; had he been the target, he would have been a cold corpse by now.
Pilar ignored Lang's glare entirely. He sheathed his spear on his back and walked over to Horouf.
Horouf was still reeling from the display of Niebla's power. He knew the general was stronger than him, but the gap was wider than he had anticipated.
"Lord Niebla's strength is truly astonishing..."
"It is all thanks to the Sovereign," Niebla said modestly, sheathing his swords. "Without his aid, regaining this power would have been impossible, let alone reaching new heights."
"I must also thank Lord Pilar for holding back," Niebla continued, looking at the priest. "Otherwise, I suspect that last move wouldn't have been so easy to parry."
Lang's face twisted in confusion. Holding back? He hadn't seen any of that.
"Say no more. We are both instruments of the Sovereign," Pilar said with a small shake of his head. "I have no wish to see a compatriot suffer a grievous injury."
The "holding back" Niebla referred to was Pilar's subtle manipulation of the blood-cord's length and the slight redirection of force mid-flight to slow the spear's velocity. Had Pilar not made those adjustments, Niebla might not have pinned him down so easily. In truth, Pilar had one more move he hadn't used—a technique for life-and-death combat—but there was no need for it in a friendly duel.
"Now that we have reached an understanding, let us begin executing the Sovereign's will."
"Mmm. Everything for the Sovereign and the Dynasty!"
"Let us drink to our newest member! Cheers!!"
"HOOOO!!!"
Mohg watched the crowd raising their cups and couldn't help but smile.
Among them was a figure wrapped in bandages—Muun. Despite his injuries, he had insisted on attending the celebration. The medics had strongly suggested he stay in bed and avoid alcohol, but Muun's philosophy was that a "strong suggestion" was still just a suggestion, and suggestions could be ignored. So, there he was.
After chatting with Shuster and Mingal for a while, Mohg joined his new squad. Earlier that day, Shuster had instructed Mingal to assign Mohg to a specific team.
A Guerrilla Unit squad wasn't quite like a typical adventurer party. Each member was a knight proficient in both sorcery and martial arts, though they still had specialized roles.
Mohg's squad consisted of five people, including himself. Two were dedicated front-line combatants, one focused on reconnaissance, and another provided long-range support. This ranged specialist was the only one of the original four who mastered the longbow, using mana-infused arrows that packed a massive punch—though they required custom-made ammunition to be truly effective.
Mohg's arrival completed the puzzle as the "Free Role." He was the flexible member who could fill any gap depending on the situation. Usually, this role was held by the squad leader, but since Mohg's strength had earned everyone's respect, he was given the position, while the former leader moved to the front line.
"Hey. About yesterday... my bad."
Suddenly, Muun leaned in, throwing an arm around Mohg's shoulder and pushing a mug of ale toward him.
"Heh. As long as you don't blame me for stabbing you," Mohg laughed, accepting the drink.
Muun grinned. In his mind, once the drink was accepted, the matter was settled.
"Hey, Gwen, give me some tips. How did you get so strong? You look younger than me, for Marika's sake."
"Uh... tips? Mmm... Does 'eat a lot and sleep a lot' count?" Mohg tried tentatively.
"Give me a break! I already do that. Come on, tell me. That raw strength of yours is insane. You must have some incredible training method."
Mohg's expression turned awkward. Incredible training method... He technically had two: one from the Golden Order and one from the legendary kings of the Badlands. Neither was something he could reveal without consequences.
"There's no secret method. I'm just a commoner. Maybe it's just talent," Mohg said, looking up at a forty-five-degree angle and letting out a deliberate sigh.
Muun's face was a mask of envy, but he quickly recovered and patted Mohg on the back. "Sorry, I've had a bit much to drink. I shouldn't have pried. Forget I said anything. I'll drink to that." He drained his mug in one go.
The banquet lasted until the early hours of the morning. Many soldiers simply passed out in the hall. Only a few, like Shuster, Mingal, and Mohg, remained sober.
"Commander Shuster... is it really okay for them to be this drunk?" Mohg asked, looking at the wreckage of the party. This was a military camp, after all. It felt... wrong.
"Don't worry. I chose today specifically because it's a rest day. Everyone here is off duty tomorrow. Mingal and I have to go watch the headquarters soon, which is why we didn't overindulge." Shuster waved him off with a laugh.
Mohg breathed a sigh of relief. He had been worried he'd get caught up in some disciplinary action right after arriving.
After saying his goodbyes, Mohg returned to his room and slept soundly until he was jolted awake by a frantic pounding on his door.
A groggy Mohg opened the door to see Brandon, his squad leader.
"Captain? Why the rush?" Mohg asked, suppressing a laugh as he noticed Brandon hadn't even buckled his armor correctly.
"Never mind me! Princess Rellana has assigned you a solo mission. She wants you in her quarters immediately. I just woke up and ran here—I didn't even have time to dress properly. Move, move!"
Mohg's eyes widened, and two massive question marks popped into his head. He had just arrived at Caria, and they were already giving him a solo mission? Wasn't this a bit reckless?
"What are you standing there for? Go! If you're late, Princess Rellana is going to give me 'extra training'!"
Before Mohg could fully wake up, Brandon slapped his shoulder and shoved him back into the room to get ready. After a frantic few minutes of putting on his armor, Mohg made his way toward Rellana's quarters.
Along the way, he finally regained his senses and began to wonder: Why a solo mission? And why me?
It suited his interests, but it didn't make logical sense. Surely Rellana didn't trust him that much already? The thought made him feel strangely guilty.
At the door, he saw a familiar face—Serena, the Silver Moon Knight who had given him the botched tour. She straightened her posture as he approached, staring straight ahead as if trying to pretend he didn't exist.
"Enter. Her Highness is waiting for you."
Thankfully, she didn't remain a mute. Mohg nodded to her and pushed the doors open.
The interior wasn't what he expected. Instead of a reception room, he found himself in a large training hall. Rellana herself stood in the center of the circular arena, wielding her two light greatswords. Her movements were elegant and fluid, like a beautiful dance—but it was a dance filled with lethal intent. One wrong step, and she would have his head.
Seeing Mohg arrive, Rellana stopped. She set her blades aside and looked at him.
"I assume your captain told you what this is about?"
"Yes. He said you have a special mission that requires me to go alone?"
"Correct. And you are the best candidate for it."
"But I've only just arrived at Caria. And my squad..."
"That isn't an issue. When you return, you can rejoin them on their next rotation. As for being new, that's precisely why it doesn't matter; your time here was just to let you get your bearings." Rellana waved her hand dismissively and sat in a luxurious chair facing the arena.
Mohg realized there was no room for negotiation. He was the designated operative. He couldn't help but be curious—what mission could possibly be "perfect" for him?
"I need you to enter the Altus Plateau," Rellana said. "I need you to gather intelligence on the Golden Order."
What?!
Mohg's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He had to clench his jaw to keep the word from escaping. Based on his expression alone, he wasn't just surprised—he was bordering on terrified.
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (459 Chapters – Full)
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