Inside Stormveil Castle, chaos reigned. Soldiers constantly plummeted from the ramparts; those falling inwards sometimes crushed their own comrades huddled near the gate below. A grim rain of flesh and steel added to the mounting death toll. Yet this attrition couldn't be stopped, because from somewhere outside, the terrifying magic continued unabated: Crystal Burst.
Thus far, they had been utterly helpless, forced to watch as Frieren single-handedly suppressed the entire main wall. The Fell Omen, the one capable of stopping her, had been driven back, leaving a sorcerer skilled in large-scale warfare completely unopposed. The defenders had prepared various defenses against aerial units – dragon-slaying ballistae, elevated ballistae, longbow squads – all now rendered useless. They could never have guessed the enemy would use magic to dominate the ramparts themselves.
The power gap between the truly strong in The Lands Between was indeed immense. Unchecked by any capable opposition, the 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress' continued to wreak havoc.
"ROAR!"
Suddenly, one of the Flying Dragons scrambled onto the battlements, spewing flames from its maw, engulfing dozens of soldiers in screaming agony. What the officers had feared had come to pass; they'd guessed the relentless magical barrage was meant to create an opening for the dragons, but they were powerless to prevent it. Most of the anti-dragon ballistae had been destroyed. Now, they could only watch as one behemoth after another rampaged onto the walls. The wide ramparts, ironically, became ideal terrain for the creatures. Scrabbling forward on all fours while breathing fire, they cleared obstacles with flame and simply shoved soldiers aside with their bulk. The unlucky defenders were pushed back, crowded together, until they tumbled off the edge.
Winged Misbegotten also joined the fray, dropping pots of flaming oil from above. A single spark afterwards was enough to engulf a ten-meter radius in fire.
"Hold the line!" The defenders fought back desperately, deploying burly, heavily armored Omen wielding massive battleaxes to counter the dragons.
The area around Stormveil's main gate had transformed into the most ferocious battlefield. Both sides poured their main forces into the meat grinder, fighting relentlessly for every inch of the walls. To pause was to die. Reinforcements were continuously funneled up to the ramparts from within the castle, while other units hastily erected barricades along the inner pathways, preparing for the inevitable close-quarters fighting in the castle's narrow confines.
Gatekeeper Gostoc was among the few lucky enough to retreat down from the walls unscathed. He was just a grunt with no real combat skills anyway; let the proper soldiers do the fighting. He and a group of others showing mild signs of undeath were tasked with hauling supplies, ferrying as many weapons and pieces of equipment as possible up to the walls. Yes, the situation had become so dire that they needed to establish supply lines even within the castle itself.
"Why isn't Lord Godrick fighting?" someone muttered nearby.
"Idiot," another retorted. "It's not time yet. Can't let these rebels wear down His Highness's strength. The real target is their leader."
"But isn't a demigod supposed to be able to turn the tide of battle single-handedly? Even that 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress' managed it..." Gostoc overheard.
Doubts were doubts; the often-confused Living Dead couldn't spare the mental energy for them anyway. Numbly following orders was all they could manage. But even within the castle walls, safety was proving elusive.
Flame Breath!
Suddenly, a Flying Dragon launched itself over the inner wall, opened its massive maw, and unleashed a torrent of fire into the courtyard below. Numerous soldiers were instantly incinerated, becoming fuel that ignited a rapidly spreading inferno.
Immediately following, a great spear slammed into the colossal beast with astonishing speed. The unadorned weapon, propelled by sheer force, knocked the Flying Dragon clean off the inner wall and back towards the outer ramparts. A cacophony of panicked shouts indicated momentary chaos among the Southern Army soldiers below. Looking towards the source of the spear, the defenders saw a Crucible Knight, still holding the throwing stance, winds swirling around his imposing figure.
"He knocked down the dragon in a single blow!" someone exclaimed in awe.
"Don't just stand there gaping!" an officer barked. "Use this time to reinforce the line! Our objective is to intercept them in stages, buying time for Lord Godrick to ultimately slay the rebel leader!"
"As you command!"
The Crucible Knight's prowess was a powerful boost to morale. Many soldiers redoubled their efforts, remembering they were protected by warriors who had followed the first Elden Lord during the Golden Conquest, sweeping across the lands. Surely, dealing with a mere Tarnished wouldn't be a problem for such legendary figures.
Gostoc, however, kept his head down and continued hauling supplies, his face impassive, though his efforts grew increasingly sluggish. What's the point of all this fuss? he thought bitterly. Whether Godrick wins or Frieren wins, my life is my own. Best to just keep my head down. He even secretly wished the arrogant, high-and-mighty demigod would be pulled down. What would happen if the rebels gave him a good stomping? It wasn't about personal gain; he simply wanted to witness the defilement of the Golden Lineage.
Stormveil Castle probably won't hold. As a gatekeeper, Gostoc knew it well. Once breached, those sturdy walls were incredibly difficult to repair, and the rebels, fighting as a unified force, wouldn't give them the chance.
The other Crucible Knight commanding the defense clearly understood this as well. "Relay my command!" he ordered sharply. "Send a thousand men to garrison the inner strongpoints! Prepare to meet the enemy's charge!" He had followed the first Elden Lord in conquering countless cities, destroying innumerable fortresses, sometimes razing them to the ground. Experience told him Stormveil's main gate wouldn't hold for long, especially after Frieren's devastating assault.
Screeech!
With a teeth-grinding groan of twisting metal, the makeshift iron barricade buckled and fractured. Seeing this, dozens of soldiers, including one of the burly Omen, threw their bodies against it in a desperate attempt to hold. The next instant, a battering ram slammed into the weakened structure. The first impact sent several smaller soldiers flying. The second blow landed... then another— The rhythmic thuds, accompanied by increasingly frenzied battle cries, signaled the Southern Army's ravenous desire to conquer Limgrave's greatest stronghold.
"Everyone, push! Open it up! Three, two, one... HEAVE!" came shouts from the attackers.
"We'll never let you in! Die!" the defenders screamed back.
The close-quarters fighting devolved into a brutal brawl around the failing gate, practically grappling through the bars. Long weapons were useless; soldiers resorted to daggers, rocks, even teeth, driven by the single-minded desire for victory. One man grabbed an enemy's head and smashed it repeatedly against the doorframe; another had his arm seized and twisted until it snapped...
The turning point came first atop Stormveil's walls. Impressively, the Undead Legion of Farron gained the ramparts, swiftly dispatching the defending Omen before leaping down into the castle interior, cutting a path of destruction. Their sudden appearance shattered the morale of many defenders, who turned and fled, the panic spreading like wildfire.
The walls were lost.
The remaining Crucible Knight raised his shield and drew his sword, his focus locking onto the Undead Legion. He could faintly sense the unsettling resonance of their shared consciousness. The Legionnaires strode forward, leaping down from the walls to the inner courtyard. The life-or-death struggle between these elite forces was about to erupt.
With the walls breached, no more logs and stones rained down from above to hinder the battering ram team. Now, they could push forward without restraint, coordinating their efforts.
"Everyone, on the count of three—"
Before the leading officer could finish, a massive, frenzied Troll charged forward.
BOOM!
The overburdened gate finally shattered completely. For the Southern Army soldiers pushing the ram, it meant being thrown violently, left dizzy but mostly alive. For the defenders crushed against the gate from the other side, it meant instant obliteration, turned into meat paste. Wiped out.
The first wave of Southern Army soldiers pouring through the breach was immediately met with a hail of arrows from within. They had no time to celebrate before becoming stepping stones for the troops following behind them.
"All units, advance! Engage inside the castle!"
Both sides understood: the most brutal phase of the battle, close-quarters fighting in the narrow confines of the castle, had begun.
To be honest, Frieren, who had spent centuries as a relative homebody in the Elf Village, had never witnessed the chaotic fall of a major city on this scale. Even including her 'game' experiences, the typically decaying worlds of the 'Souls-like' genre rarely featured such intense fortress assaults. Did Ashina Castle count? She'd arrived quite late in that conflict anyway.
Regardless, she had personally orchestrated this entire spectacle.
Bwooom—
Amidst the sound of rallying horns, the Southern Army surged through the broken gate in a single, determined wave. They charged headlong into the arrow fire, fearless and resolute, while friendly forces occupying the walls above provided covering fire, allowing the advance units to gain a precarious foothold inside.
"Milady, we have fulfilled our duty! The city walls are breached!" Edgar reported, breathless but triumphant.
"Then it's time we set out as well," Frieren stated. The comment was directed more towards Melina than Edgar. The witch was about to witness this Tarnished wage war against a demigod for the first time, stirring great waves in the world after so many years of stagnation.
"Wait, milady," Edgar interjected hesitantly. "Have you fully recovered your strength? With our current preparations, victory against Godrick himself is not assured." After the duel with Margit, Frieren's large-scale magical bombardment hadn't ceased until the moment the walls fell, granting her only a brief respite. Rushing her into another major battle now felt deeply unsettling.
The silver-haired girl, however, simply began reapplying a series of buffs on the spot, preparing herself.
"We cannot delay any longer," Frieren stated firmly. "We are on an expedition deep in enemy territory. At any moment, Godrick could rally forces behind us. We must resolve this quickly."
"I support your judgment, milady. Very well, then let the main force from Castle Morne clear the path for you."
"No," Frieren countered. "Have them join the main siege group to minimize casualties. Also, my personal retinue will be under your command for now."
"As you wish, milady."
Frieren glanced towards the Black Knife Assassin and the Ancient Hero of Zamor, who both nodded in agreement. Sending those two against the demigod himself seemed unwise; assigning them to the main siege force to bolster the regular troops was a more suitable role. Besides, intelligence indicated the presence of Crucible Knights. And indeed, they had appeared – the Undead Legion was currently locked in a fierce, inseparable battle against two of them. The pressure was significant; Frieren suspected the Legion might soon need to activate their 'Lord of Cinder' state, which would certainly make things interesting.
She instructed Edgar: "Inside the castle, be especially mindful of collateral damage. Just hold the main lines securely; that will allow me to act without restraint."
Instructions given, Frieren and her small group quickly entered Stormveil Castle proper.
The scene was one of utter devastation. The majestic castle that Frieren had once gazed up at in awe now seemed to weep beneath her feet. Blood stained the flagstones, the wind carried faint cries of agony, and the main steps were obscured, buried beneath a road paved with piled corpses. She had witnessed similar scenes of destruction countless times, but rarely had she been the direct architect. It was indeed a sobering realization.
Within the castle walls, there was no semblance of organized combat. Coordination was non-existent, formations had dissolved; regardless of meticulous pre-battle plans, all that remained were scattered skirmishes between small groups.
The most intense fighting was undoubtedly between the Undead Legion and the two Crucible Knights. Each exchange of blows unleashed fierce gusts of wind, cracked the very earth, and made the castle walls tremble. It was difficult to fathom the terrifying power contained within those armored forms. In the Crucible Knights' eyes, their opponents were agile, their greatsword techniques sweeping yet infinitely precise, and possessed the troublesome trait of immortality. The power of the Crucible Aspects clashed fiercely against the strength of the Wolf Blood. Their confrontation had clearly reached the realm of divine beings, surpassing ordinary heroes, powerful enough to sway even a demigod's battle.
BOOM!
The sheer force of their struggle accounted for most of the surrounding destruction, leaving only shattered walls and rubble in its wake.
It was precisely this destructive power that alarmed the Crucible Knights. They had initially assumed the two of them would be sufficient to hold back the bulk of the rebel army. Instead, they found themselves locked in an even match with the Undead Legion – a truly tough opponent, difficult to overcome. They hadn't anticipated the Tarnished commanding warriors of this caliber, strong enough to be considered regional hegemons in their own right. Godrick might truly be in danger.
One of the Crucible Knights suddenly broke away, making a direct dash towards the silver-haired girl. However, with a sharp clang, an agile Farron warrior intercepted him, sword flashing, forcing the Knight to raise his shield defensively. The sharp gust of wind from their clash brushed Frieren's cheek, but she remained completely unfazed, continuing up the nearby steps.
"I trust you," Frieren murmured to the Legionnaire. "Deal with him."
Protected by the Undead Legion's escort, the Crucible Knight could only watch helplessly as his primary target walked away. This is bad. Seeing is believing. Truly witnessing the 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress' up close, they could sense the vast, profound power contained within that frame – exaggeratedly strong. That imposing aura was reminiscent of the first Elden Lord himself during his campaigns across the lands... How could Godrick possibly contend with such strength?
However, developments didn't allow time for further contemplation. At that moment, the power of the Undead Legion began to converge upon their leader, his aura becoming even more terrifying.
"Must we truly witness the fall of a Golden Scion today?" one Knight muttered grimly.
"Let us first focus on doing all we can," the other replied.
The ferocious assault from the Legion leader left them no time for further thought. The greatsword whistling through the air conjured fiery vortexes, wielded with seemingly infinite strength. It was like facing an ancient dragon; they had to proceed with utmost caution. It had been ages... They hadn't expected to be forced to exert their full strength here, in Limgrave, supposedly the weakest of the regions. The three-way clash silenced all other sounds on the battlefield, leaving only the pure contest of strength and skill. Blades flashed like lightning amidst the gloom, the sky itself seeming to darken. This battle would determine who could push past this frontline and delve deeper into the castle.
Passing through the chaos unscathed were Frieren's group and the other Tarnished who had accompanied her. Now, Banished Knights, Trolls, Omens, Misbegotten, and more Godrick Soldiers surged forth, flooding the pathway ahead. This was the final layer of defense before the main courtyard.
"This is as far as I go," the Ancient Hero of Zamor declared, stepping forward. "We cannot allow these reinforcements to reach the main gate battle. Rest assured, Lady Frieren, no one will interfere with your duel."
The taciturn Black Knife Assassin simply took a ready stance in response.
"And the rest of you?" Frieren asked, turning to the other Tarnished. They had fought their way this far, proving their skill. Rogier and Nepheli Loux, at least, were formidable knight-level combatants.
"According to intelligence from the Roundtable, there should still be some of Godrick's personal retainers ahead," Nepheli said eagerly. "For safety's sake, perhaps we should all proceed, but personally, I mainly want to witness the power of a demigod up close!"
Rogier added, "Your magic is full of ingenious applications, Your Excellency. Please allow me to observe for a while longer."
"Very well," Frieren agreed. "Then you can all follow me." Bringing fellow Tarnished along required little effort on her part, so she was happy to oblige. Besides, she wasn't guaranteeing their safety; they would have to rely on their own skills. There was no room for complacency when facing a demigod.
This feeling of advancing step-by-step through layers of defense truly felt like progressing towards a 'game boss.' Frieren didn't even have time to check for new player messages now.
Immediately, the Black Knife Assassin and the Ancient Hero of Zamor leaped forward, charging directly into the line of defenders. The enemy ranks shattered on contact. They were no match at all. The sounds of slaughter filled the entrance to the courtyard, a clear message of deterrence meant to reach the Shardbearer himself, showing him the power arrayed against him.
A moment later.
As Frieren reached the main entrance to the inner courtyard, her brow furrowed. Strange... why do I sense an Abyssal presence? Could it be something left over from Fort Haight wasn't fully cleansed? Theoretically, the Abyss from the Dark Souls world tended towards the darkness within humanity itself. Perhaps it could indeed take root in The Lands Between? Did I inadvertently bring this trouble here myself? This world was already plagued enough; it didn't need new horrors added to the mix. Whether it was part of the 'game's plot' or not, she felt responsible for eliminating it.
Mulling this over, she focused on the large doors ahead. Beyond them lay the inner sanctum, the small room where, according to intelligence, Godrick often performed his Grafting procedures. But Frieren sensed another presence besides Godrick's.
Thump!
Suddenly, a Troll dropped down from above, blocking the path forward, flanked by several elite knights who sealed the passage. Though few in number, they radiated the unyielding courage of those prepared to hold the line against impossible odds.
"Looks like this is the final obstacle. Leave them to us!" the ever-boisterous Nepheli declared, hefting her twin battleaxes and charging forward. Rogier provided magical support from the rear, and the other Tarnished joined the fray, gradually gaining the upper hand. They too were battle-hardened warriors.
These Tarnished have clearly invested significantly in their attributes. As a fellow Tarnished, Frieren could roughly estimate their capabilities. It almost made her forget she needed to prepare herself as well.
"Melina," she called, "help me allocate all the Runes I've gathered so far. Put everything into Intelligence and Faith."
"As you wish." Melina gently took her hand. Immediately, a vast amount of stored Runes transformed into raw power, flowing into Frieren's 'Astrologer account.' She reached an unprecedented state of completion, a world away from her condition back at the Chapel of Anticipation. It could truly be called a significant accomplishment. The silver-haired girl's robes billowed as radiant light emanated from her. Innumerable points of light, like tiny stars representing the countless Runes, seemed to orbit her as her power resonated and amplified.
I'm becoming more and more integrated with the rules of The Lands Between.
Both sides engaged in the nearby combat couldn't help but glance over, startled. How was the 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress' still getting stronger at this stage? Had she been holding back, using only her base abilities until now? Was she only just now beginning her Tarnished 'leveling'? They couldn't begin to imagine the terrifying number of Runes she must have harvested throughout this campaign. It was simply incredible.
ROAR!
The Troll drew its massive sword and charged forward with renewed ferocity.
Frieren seemed to respond in kind, unleashing an even greater wave of pressure, her power now at its absolute peak. (In reality, regardless of which 'game account' she chose as primary, her auxiliary strength was always a projection of her true self's power into the game world. How much of that power manifested depended on the projection, while the account determined the upper limit. Therefore, enhancing the 'Astrologer' effectively allowed more of her true self's power to manifest, offering better 'cost-performance' than switching to a different primary 'game account.' Her true self, after all, was vast and all-encompassing.)
"Are you ready?" As the one who facilitated the enhancement, Melina best understood Frieren's current stats, yet she still felt compelled to caution her. "You could afford to draw this out a while longer, you know."
"Time waits for no one. I must end this as quickly as possible."
"With the Rune of Death still sealed, the demigods possess a form of immortality. Do you truly have a way to utterly defeat Godrick?"
"Don't worry," Frieren replied calmly. "I acquired one just now." (A large influx of Runes often triggered a 'Mod refresh,' sometimes allowing for a degree of customization – such as letting Frieren 'draw' a weapon ideally suited for the current situation. An essential weapon...)
Acquired [Mortal Blade (Gracious Gift of Tears)] weapon via Equipment Interchange Mod.
[An ōdachi capable of slaying the undying.]
[Its crimson blade spells death for any who draw it unprepared.]
[Without the power of Resurrection, one cannot master the Mortal Blade.]
[The Mortal Blade can inflict a mortal Deathblow upon the Infested.]
[This blade was long hidden away within Senpou Temple.]
[The blade bears the inscription "Gracious Gift of Tears."]
[That is the blade's true name.]
Grasping the blade, pulsating with a malevolent aura, felt both nostalgic and deeply unnerving. Although now added to her current 'account's' equipment, the world's rejection of it was palpable. Its true usability would likely be brief, but enough to handle one battle. Time to fight alongside you again, Mortal Blade. How do you compare to the Rune of Death itself? Regardless, I will use this blade to bring a true end to the demigod.
"You possess such a thing..." Melina murmured, awestruck. "Perhaps you truly can grant definitive death even to divine beings." Though unaware of the specifics, Melina felt an intense threat emanating from the blade, putting her deeply on edge. Even her own bloodline seemed wary of it. Its effect on a demigod would likely be profound.
Blade sheathed. It wasn't time for Frieren to wield it yet. First, she seized the moment to gather intelligence. Through her magical senses, she perceived Godrick within, constantly augmenting himself with new grafts, activating the power of his Great Rune. There was also that faint, lingering trace of the Abyssal presence mixed in. He wasn't just waiting idly; he was actively stacking enhancements, preparing himself.
He'll likely hit me with a full-power attack the moment I enter. Gathering intel and understanding the situation fully is crucial. She carefully read the player messages left near the entrance:
[Just go, fight's easy. Lil' Godrick is basically tutorial boss tier, beat him first try]
[Gotta mention, two phases. Phase 1 mostly just rampages, dodge and keep distance. Phase 2 grafts dragon head, breathes fire. Both phases ugly af tbh]
[Grafting a dragon head? What's the point? I've killed countless dragons lol]
[TBH, first time I didn't see clearly, thought he grafted an Ancient Dragon head. Took me a while fighting to realize the power level was way off]
[Yeah definitely lacks power]
[Lore-wise he's the demigod gatekeeper, shouldn't be weak. Still Golden Lineage blood, way stronger than normal heroes at least]
[Canonically a Shardbearer, just doesn't show the Great Rune power-up much. It's the best main shard effect too. If lil' Godrick really used it properly, fight would be more spectacular]
[Is it possible... that is him using it?]
[Demigod's Disgrace. Against this guy I recommend stacking every buff outside the door, do the whole pre-fight ritual, go in and nuke him instantly]
[Won't waste much of your time.jpg]
[For non-skill players, I suggest using everything you got. Spirit Ashes, Physick, buffs, even shield poking. Just use it all. Humiliate lil' Godrick hard.]
...So the general consensus is he lacks strength? Could Godrick actually be... not that formidable? Still, Frieren planned to prepare generously. Experience had shown her time and again that her reality often differed from the 'players'.' She would likely face the 'story version' – a fully prepared Shardbearer. He was probably applying buffs right now, just as she should. Me too.
She activated Golden Vow, Oath of Vengeance, Scholar's Shield, and checked her equipped Talismans. All preparations complete. Condition: one hundred twenty percent.
At that moment, Rogier and the others finished off the last of the guards. The path to the inner sanctum was clear. They stood there now, hearts pounding with anticipation. It was finally time. The battle against the demigod.
There was no time for delay. The fighting within Stormveil Castle was escalating towards its peak; losses were mounting on both sides. If one of the commanders wasn't slain soon to force an end, the result would inevitably be a Pyrrhic victory, leaving neither side with enough strength to effectively rule Limgrave. They had to hurry.
The other Tarnished looked towards the silver-haired girl. As a fellow Tarnished, she had shown clear goodwill towards the Roundtable Hold. In the best-case scenario, her victory could establish a legitimate, safe area of operation for them all. They looked forward to the day they could move freely in the southern Lands Between without constant hostile interference.
Frieren glanced left and right, then ascended the final steps to the large doors.
"Let's go."
With a heavy creak, the doors swung open, revealing a small garden area beyond. There stood the imposing figure of Godrick, clad in rich robes and adorned with golden rings.
____________
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