Not long after Asimi had retreated back into him, Gawain turned his head to see Leda and Freyja approaching slowly. It was clear that both of them were in a rather disheveled state.
Leda's pristine white surcoat was now stained with strange, unsightly colors—likely splashed on as they passed the open sewers flowing throughout the city. The enemies there were essentially living suicide trucks; they didn't care if they died, as long as they made sure their opponents suffered for it.
Freyja was even worse off, her body covered in minor wounds. Bits of giant scorpion limbs were still snagged on her Redmane Knight armor, a clear indication that they had fought several grueling battles along the way.
Without enough Scadutree Fragments, their strength was being suppressed far too severely. In the Lands Between, they were top-tier heroes, but here, they were being treated like common roadkill.
"I thought I had cleared out most of those shadow-shades along the way, but it looks like you still ran into some trouble," Gawain remarked.
Leda massaged her temples, appearing to recall some rather unpleasant memories.
"We did encounter some difficulties. Once we reached the mid-level, we saw the Horned Warrior you had dealt with," she explained. "For the sake of efficiency, we decided to take an alternate route. It was filled with... Man-Flies."
She paused, then continued, "But that wasn't the main issue. The point was that after passing through the residential district to reach the second floor, there's a passage leading to the Spiral Rise at the summit. However, after clearing out a swarm of giant scorpions blocking the path, we found the way forward completely severed. The stairs leading upward have been destroyed. Even for the two of us, crossing such a gap would be difficult—especially with those annoying scorpions constantly lunging from the shadows to ambush us. So, I decided to come back and try our luck finding you. Fortunately, it seems the enemies of Belurat haven't caused you much trouble."
Gawain looked at Freyja. Despite being covered in wounds, she still looked high-spirited. He knew that the path she described did indeed lead to the Spiral Rise at the top of the settlement.
He could easily carry them up using his control over gravity and storms, but before that, there was a Miquella's Cross location near the Spiral Rise. It was worth checking out first.
"In that case, follow me. I can take you up," Gawain said. "According to the map Ansbach provided, the other cross Miquella left in Belurat isn't far from here. However, I can sense several enemies there—at least at the level of Curseblades—wandering the area. If you find yourselves overwhelmed, leave them to me."
Hearing this, Freyja instantly snapped out of her fatigue, bracing her greatsword and standing up.
"Nonsense! A lion is born for the fray. Now that you've mentioned them, I'm eager to see how I fare against these Horned Warriors," she declared.
Ignoring the battle-maniac's blustering, Gawain looked toward Leda. Seeing no objection, he began to lead the way, following the map upward.
Returning to where they had first encountered the Horned Warrior, the four of them moved through the ruins. They soon came upon a channel where a stream of sewage was rushing downward.
"Is this the source of the cesspool I saw when I first entered?" Gawain muttered.
He looked down and saw the filth rushing through the narrow channel. The source lay behind a set of iron bars. Much like the poison pools he had seen earlier, it was filled with vile impurities and teeming with countless Man-Flies.
By silent agreement, they ignored the creatures. Gawain kicked the sewage, freezing it solid with a burst of frost. He pulled Melina across before the next wave of filth could arrive, and they quickly ascended the stairs of a nearby house to reach the second level.
To the left was the path to the towering Spiral Rise Leda had mentioned; to the right lay a vast residential area. Countless shadow-shades wandered there, guarded by Gravebirds and greatsword-wielding Horned Warriors.
Leda was only interested in following Miquella's trail and had no desire to waste time in the residential district. She pointed toward the tower.
"That is the Spiral Rise I spoke of. On our way back, we discovered a shortcut. There is a lift there that leads directly back to where we first entered the settlement. We can leave through there when we're finished."
Gawain nodded. He had intended to check the poison pools in the sewers before leaving anyway, so this saved him from backtracking. The architecture of this city was quite ingenious; after all this wandering, they were circling back to the beginning.
"The map indicates Miquella's Cross should be deep within those ruins ahead. Stay sharp. I can already smell the stench."
Leda pinched her nose in agreement. Behind them, Freyja readied her weapon. Even she could tell that the ruins ahead were uncomfortably close to the fly-infested poison pool they had seen earlier. It wasn't just a possibility; something was definitely lurking inside.
Glancing at Leda's already stained robes, Gawain decided to take the lead. At the very least, he wasn't afraid of these things jumping him.
As expected, the moment they stepped through the narrow, rubble-choked entrance, several misshapen creatures with buzzing wings lunged at his face. Gawain instinctively gathered a storm, wrapping his Skill around them and slamming them against the wall, where they burst into a spray of disgusting ichor.
A faint Starlight Shard glow illuminated the dark space, revealing everything in the room. Several Man-Fly corpses were scattered across the floor, having died long before the group arrived.
Gawain knelt to examine their features. Beneath the tattered rags covering their faces, their heads still retained the distinct characteristics of the Hornsent.
It proved their former identity, but only the heads remained recognizable. The rest of their bodies had undergone horrific mutations. Their muscles had atrophied so severely that their ribs were clearly visible.
There was no muscle left on their shoulders at all—only a white, hardened substance. Because the mutation was so extreme, it was impossible to tell if it was original bone or some sort of grotesque overgrowth.
A pair of wings sprouted from their ribs, and a bloated, fly-like abdomen protruded from their rears. Their legs, caught in the middle, had withered into useless appendages. This was why the Man-Flies could only crawl; they no longer had the limbs required to stand.
Even Melina frowned at the sight. She seemed to have some memory of such mutations. These Man-Flies were kept like livestock, most left to rot in agony, while only a few received "better" care. Such twisted cultural practices were all too common among the Hornsent.
Leda looked conflicted. Why would Lord Miquella have ever visited such a place? She stepped carefully through the piles of corpses and came to a stop before the Cross.
The words inscribed there surfaced in their minds:
"I abandon here the flesh of my left arm."
Gawain walked up beside her. Looking at the Man-Flies clustered around the Cross—creatures who had maintained a posture of piety even in death—he couldn't help but ask, "The left arm this time? But why here?"
Leda patted her robes and rose from her kneeling position. Looking at the Man-Flies who had clearly suffered immense pain before death, she sighed.
"Lord Miquella wishes to usher in an age that embraces all living things—a gentle age. I believe that when he saw the suffering of these Hornsent, he felt their pain as his own. He left this mark to signify his resolve."
"A gentle age... let's hope so," Gawain said, his voice trailing off.
He remained skeptical of Miquella's methods. To him, the demigod seemed overly idealistic—or, to put it more bluntly, self-centered and delusional.
Yet, he couldn't help but admire the demigod's sheer willpower and decisiveness. Miquella was perhaps the most ruthless of the demigods when it came to himself, literally discarding pieces of his own soul and body across the land as he moved forward.
To achieve his goal, Miquella was willing to abandon everything. In this regard, he was perhaps even more committed than those who preached "discarding all" while still clinging to their lingering attachments.
"Alright, now that we've found the Cross, there's no reason to linger. Follow me, I'll take us to the top."
The three of them stepped out of the room filled with despair. Gawain noticed a small headstone outside with a bunch of withered flowers placed before it. A sense of profound sorrow emanated from the simple memorial. Who could have left this here?
Glancing down at the Man-Flies still crawling in the poison pools below, he didn't stay long. He turned and led his companions back to the Spiral Rise. Sensing intruders, countless scorpions began crawling out from the shadows of the tower.
Freyja charged in first. She leapt at the largest one, performing a series of mid-air somersaults followed by heavy vertical slashes—her signature move, Savage Lion's Claw.
However, the cost of such a reckless style was that she was easily hit by enemies from the side while mid-roll. Gawain finally understood why she was so covered in wounds. If no one had been there to draw aggro during the Radahn Festival, she likely would have been cleaved in half by the maddened General long ago.
"Hold on, I'll take you up directly. I can sense several Curseblades guarding the path ahead. Since your strength is suppressed, don't try to duel them. Work together, and I'll handle the rest."
Leda nodded in agreement, knowing this wasn't the time for pride. In the Lands Between, she was a warrior of legendary caliber, but here, she was currently not much stronger than a Misbegotten Warrior.
Gawain, however, was a different story. After witnessing his battle against Mohg, she knew that even with his strength suppressed, he was not someone anyone below the level of a demigod could challenge.
Gawain raised his greatsword, coating the blade in a layer of chilling, blue-tinted magic. With a forceful horizontal sweep, a wave of Dark Moon light—similar to the Golden Wave—spread across the floor, instantly freezing the charging scorpions into ice sculptures.
Then, with a casual flick of gravitational force, the frozen scorpions shattered into a thousand pieces.
Leda silently sheathed the weapon she had just begun to draw, feeling a slight chill down her spine. Is it really this easy for him?
If he could do this while suppressed, what would he be capable of once he gathered all the Scadutree Fragments? Regardless, having such an ally was immensely reassuring.
"Hold tight. We're going up."
Gawain led the three to the base of the tower. After calculating the distance to the nearest spiral staircase, a localized storm erupted from the ground.
Leda and Freyja felt their bodies become weightless. Caught in the gale, the four of them ascended to the upper levels of the Spiral Rise.
"Four Curseblades ahead. You two take the closest one; we'll handle the other three."
As soon as Leda found her footing, she saw four twisted figures perched on the stairs and walls, waiting for the right moment to strike. The nearest one lunged toward her.
The other three locked onto Gawain and Melina, clearly intending to divide and conquer.
There was no time to watch Gawain's fight. Leda and Freyja exchanged a look and moved in perfect sync.
Leda dodged a thrown circular blade at point-blank range. She raised her sword, and over a dozen golden needles manifested in the air, surrounding the Curseblade and piercing its joints to halt its agile movements.
In a flash of movement, Leda slammed her right foot onto the flat of the greatsword Freyja held out for her.
Using the momentum, she leapt like a hunting cat, performing a graceful mid-air roll to land behind the Curseblade.
She thrust her longsword with lightning speed, burying it deep into the creature's spine. The Curseblade shrieked in agony and instinctively spun around, swinging its circular blades in a desperate counterattack.
However, Leda was faster. The moment the enemy turned, she yanked her blade free.
With a nimble side-step, she evaded the strike. Her sword became a blur of cold steel, carving deep gashes into the Curseblade's body. Blood sprayed, staining the stone floor.
Sensing a opening, Freyja—standing right in front of the creature—seized the moment. Her eyes widened, and she let out a deafening roar.
A surge of violent, red energy erupted from her body—the power of a Roar-based Skill.
Enveloped in a crimson aura, Freyja's greatsword was suddenly wreathed in the flames of the Redmanes. She swung the massive blade with unstoppable force, cleaving through the Curseblade's arm.
There was a sickening crunch. The arm was severed instantly, the heat of the flames cauterizing the wound before the blood could even spurt. Without giving it a chance to breathe, Freyja delivered a precise kick to the creature's chest.
The Curseblade was sent flying like a broken kite, slamming into the hard stone wall.
A dull thud echoed as cracks spread across the wall. The Curseblade slumped, too broken to move. Leda coldly summoned a barrage of golden needles from the air, pinning it through the head and torso.
"That's one. Let's go help—"
She turned to offer assistance, only to see a severed arm clutching a circular blade roll to her feet.
Gawain was holding the head of the last living Curseblade. With a slight squeeze, the creature's hardened horns crumbled into dust.
He hoisted the Curseblade into the air and slammed it into the ground. Under the influence of gravity, the surrounding rubble from the shattered stairs converged, burying the Curseblade beneath a pile of stone. A spurt of blood erupted under the crushing pressure, and then, silence.
Melina followed closely behind him, casually layering various Golden Order incantations and buffs.
Freyja looked at her greatsword, then at the three Curseblades who had died in various "creative" ways. She was speechless. Well, that was fast. He didn't even leave one for me.
"Are we done? Good. Let's keep moving. I can feel a familiar power ahead. I suspect it's the 'Dancing Lion' Ansbach mentioned."
The battle had barely been a speed bump. Confirming his teammates were following, Gawain shouldered his greatsword and continued to lead. Curseblades really aren't as fun as Horned Warriors, he thought.
Leda sheathed her sword and stepped over the makeshift grave, the shattered ice, and the dismembered remains. She took a deep breath and followed.
As they left the Spiral Rise, the scenery changed. At the very least, the core area of Belurat showed no signs of being burned. Had the Crusade been forced to retreat before reaching this point?
Crossing the final step, Gawain pushed open the heavy stage doors. Fortunately, there was no mechanical lock this time; otherwise, he would have torn the doors off their hinges to get inside.
Before them lay a massive open plaza—or perhaps, a stage. A colossal presence lay quietly in the center. Its body was draped in ornate fabric, topped with a massive lion's head bristling with Omen horns.
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (339 chapter - Ongoing)
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