"The right, you say? Fine. Just so we're clear, I don't have much time to waste, so let's make this quick. I'm impressed you chose not to fall in with a man like Godrick. I've taken a liking to you, so don't take it personally if I hit a bit too hard."
"I won't take up much of your time. Prepare yourself."
The golden phantom flickering around the Crucible Knight solidified. This was the power of the Aspects of the Crucible—and not just the tail. Various parts of his body began to shift; a true Crucible warrior was a master of adaptation, utilizing every mutation with fluid grace rather than being limited to one or two forms.
A massive tail swept out in a wide arc. Gawain rolled beneath the strike, only to see a pair of great wings erupt from the knight's back. The giant leaped into the air, Greatsword leveled, and dove toward Gawain with bone-crushing momentum.
Seeing the speed of the descent, Gawain realized he couldn't dodge. Calculating the timing, he braced himself and unleashed Wrath of the Gods. The powerful shockwave erupted from his center, the sheer force of the impact knocking the knight slightly off-course, causing the dive to merely graze Gawain's shoulder.
The Crucible Knight didn't miss a beat. He immediately shifted his stance, preparing to follow up with another Aspect, but he was stunned to find his wings and tail suddenly dissolving. In their place, a shimmering, distorted wall of white light had appeared before him.
Having boosted his Intelligence with the Grafted Blade Greatsword, Gawain had cast the Oolacile sorcery, Twisted Wall of Light. By temporarily warping the fundamental laws of the world, he forced the knight's Crucible manifestations to dissipate.
Though the knight had never encountered such a technique, it didn't slow his blade. He raised his Greatsword and brought it down in a vertical cleave.
With a sharp clack, the heavy momentum of the Greatsword was swept aside by Gawain's buckler. The parry sent the knight staggering, leaving him wide open. In a flash, Gawain's blade was at the giant's throat.
"You've lost. Do you wish to continue?"
The Crucible Knight lowered his sword. He had indeed lost the duel. Though he hadn't expected such strange skills, he offered no excuses. In a real life-and-death struggle, that opening would have been fatal. Furthermore, that parry had been flawlessly executed.
"Well fought. Your martial prowess exceeds mine. However... I am sorry. I still cannot bring myself to join you in a rebellion against Godrick. Regardless of his character, he is a descendant of Lord Godwyn."
The knight sighed. "But since you seek his Great Rune, then go. Do what you must. Pay me no mind. Once it is all over, come back and release me. If you prove yourself worthy of my service, I will not break my word. This is best for everyone."
Gawain considered it. Since the man was stubborn, he didn't have the time to argue. He could just leave the key in the lock for now. A Crucible Knight wouldn't lie about something like this; otherwise, Godfrey would have purged their ranks long ago.
Just as he was about to leave, the voice of Lhutel, silent for so long, echoed in his mind.
"My Lord... please use the Spirit Calling Bell to summon me. I wish to speak with him."
Gawain suddenly remembered that Lhutel was the head of the Mausoleum Soldiers who had followed Godwyn even in death. If this Crucible Knight was only serving Godrick out of loyalty to Godwyn's lineage, there was a high chance the two knew each other.
Without hesitation, he rang the bell, summoning Lhutel's spirit.
The Crucible Knight stared at the familiar spirit before him, his shield slipping from his grasp in shock. "Lhutel? But I thought you were..."
Lhutel looked at her old comrade, a mix of familiarity and strangeness in her eyes. Time had changed so much in the Lands Between, and she had missed far too much. She turned to Gawain and requested, "Allow me to stay here and speak with him. My Lord, please continue toward your goal. Leave this to me."
"Then I'll leave it in your hands. Things are about to hit the breaking point outside; I can't stay."
As Gawain hurried out of the Evergaol, Lhutel turned back to the knight. Seeing him in his current state, her heart grew heavy. His strength was far greater than what he had just displayed, but he was a warrior without a cause. With his heart in turmoil, his combat prowess had naturally withered.
"It has been a long time, Kandane. I never expected our reunion to be here."
"And I never expected to see your head back on your shoulders," Kandane replied. "Did that man save you from your state of eternal death? You've chosen to follow him? That is... unexpected. But regardless, I will not raise a hand against Godrick. Even if it is you who asks, I cannot do it."
Lhutel didn't deny her choice. Recalling the miracles she had witnessed, her resolve only hardened. "Do not be so certain. Perhaps your mind will change once you hear what I have to say."
After leaving the gaol, Gawain remounted Agheel.
"Go. Fly straight for the main gate. Don't let them get too far ahead."
Agheel beat his wings and took to the sky, quickly catching up with Elza and the others. Gawain noted with surprise that their numbers had actually grown since the start of the raid. Seeing the uniforms of the soldiers following at the rear, he understood—the rebellion was spreading.
Inside the castle, Godrick's face was ashen as he listened to the sounds of battle approaching the walls. How had it come to this? He had made every preparation, yet control was slipping through his fingers.
Were the guards at the gate total incompetents? How could fortifications that took weeks to repair be breached so quickly? Even with a dragon, it shouldn't have been this easy. And now his own soldiers were turning coat and joining the assault.
He glared at the dragon corpse before him. He had never heard that dragons held such deep bonds with one another. Had capturing a small wyvern really provoked Agheel this much? He shook the thought away, turning to a Grafted Scion nearby.
"The commander is incompetent and has lost my lands. It seems I must focus my own brilliance on the military. Pass down the order: aim all flamethrowers at the sky. Prioritize the dragon. And tell the Night's Cavalry at the gate to fall back into the city and stand ready."
The Scion's lip twitched. Setting aside the flamethrowers, the Night's Cavalry weren't exactly under the "sovereign's" command. He didn't dare argue, however, and simply bowed, pretending to go and carry out the orders.
After making these "tactical adjustments," Godrick felt much better. Surely Stormveil was an impregnable fortress that no one could breach.
Gawain watched as the winds began to automatically converge around him. Behind him, a phantom of a Stormhawk emerged from his body and took to the skies—the Ancient King was making his move.
"The rest is up to you," the King said. "I will go into the city to rally the storms and assist your battle. The Stormhawks will coordinate with your moles to cause maximum chaos."
"Understood. I'll handle the ground. Just make sure Godrick doesn't slip away."
Gawain signaled Agheel to descend. He had spotted four Night's Cavalry blocking the passage leading to the main bridge.
As they reached the right height, Gawain leaped from the dragon's back. Coating his blade in fire, he slammed down toward a black-clad figure. The Night's Cavalry reacted quickly, parrying the blow, but the spreading flames still left the rider scorched and reeling.
Elza and the others arrived shortly after. Rogier, Nepheli, and several others engaged their chosen targets. Edgar, seeing they could handle the four riders, looked toward the true threat ahead and shouted:
"We'll handle things here! You and the girl go deal with the monster up front!"
Gauvain and Elza shared a look. He had no intention of wasting time here while the mercenaries and Nepheli's group ganked the riders. They didn't linger. The Night's Cavalry seemed preoccupied with their current opponents and made no move to stop them—almost as if they were being allowed to pass.
Traversing the long corridor, Gauvain and Elza arrived at the clearing where the Margit boss fight traditionally occurred. A burst of blue glintstone light erupted in the sky behind them—the signal from Rogier to the internal moles.
Instant turmoil broke out within Stormveil. As countless Stormhawks circled the sky, a massive phantom appeared in the air.
The entire city seemed to hit a "pause" button. Every soul looked up at the phantom in the sky. No one could fail to recognize that shadow.
The Ancient King's appearance meant that a warrior worthy of his recognition had finally arrived. Could it be the person causing all this chaos outside?
The Exile Soldiers and Banished Knights within the walls exchanged glances. Though they hadn't defected yet, they were clearly restless. With the saboteurs at work, the city was becoming a powder keg. A storm was brewing in the air, waiting for the moment of detonation.
Agheel's massive form also loomed over the inner city. The flamethrowers Godrick had ordered to point skyward were useless; a single swipe or blast from the dragon destroyed them instantly. Agheel circled the heights, raining fire upon anyone wearing Godrick's colors or possessing grafted limbs.
Gauvain walked toward the gate, watching the chaos in the sky. For a moment, he ignored the scent of Cursed Blood hidden deep beneath the earth until a familiar voice called out from above.
"Foul Tarnished... in search of the Elden Ring. Emboldened by the flame of ambition."
A cloaked figure leaped down from the heights. Dust billowed, obscuring the view until the figure stood before them. Margit, the Fell Omen, appeared exactly as expected.
In his right hand, he held his unsealed cane-sword; in his left, he conjured a great golden hammer. He was ready for war.
"Someone must extinguish thy flame. Let it be Margit the Fell!"
As Gauvain was about to speak, a wave of heat washed over his back. Without hesitation, he grabbed Elza and cast Twisted Wall of Light behind them. A glob of searing Bloodflame was deflected, melting the stone floor where it landed.
"Quick reactions. Truly, dying in ignorance wouldn't have been such a bad thing."
Mohg's silhouette appeared behind them before dissolving into a pool of blood and reappearing beside Margit. The two brothers now stood side-by-side, blocking the way to the gate. To pass, they would have to go through both.
"Don't say I'm being unfair," Mohg chuckled. "After all, it's a perfect two-on-two."
"Well, this is an unexpected development," Gauvain muttered.
He finally understood what the White Mask had been doing in the city. He had acted as a conduit for Mohg's projection. It seemed the Omen brothers shared a talent for being in two places at once; Morgott would eventually use similar projections at the Capital.
He glanced at Elza. Facing such legendary opponents, she was practically vibrating with excitement.
"Which one do you want? I'll take whichever is left."
"I want the red one," Elza replied, her eyes narrowing. "I want to see if his boiling blood can withstand my frost."
"Fine. You know what to do."
They locked eyes, their Soul Meld providing a link that rendered words unnecessary. Their coordination was already perfect.
Gauvain applied Fire Grease to his blade. Mohg's fire resistance was legendary, but Margit was a different story. He charged forward, dodging two golden daggers before launching a heavy, sweeping strike at the Fell Omen.
Beside him, Mohg vanished into a pool of blood, attempting to reappear for a backstab. But a silver blur intercepted him. Elza's foot slammed down onto the shaft of the Mohgwyn Sacred Spear, frost creeping from her step to freeze the bubbling Bloodflame.
"Forget the cheap tricks," she hissed. "I am your opponent!"
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (73 chapter - Ongoing)
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