Chapter 20: Not a Defeat
Margit—or rather, Morgott—had gotten serious.
And yet, just as Loran thought he was dead for certain this time, that terrifying pressure receded like the tide.
The UI returned to normal.
[Name: Margit]
[Identity: The Fell Omen]
[Affection: +15 → +30]
[Status: Reassessing / Shocked and Doubtful / Appreciative]
“...Who are you, exactly?”
Loran had won the gamble.
That seemingly suicidal provocation had instead made Morgott take an unprecedented interest in him.
To Morgott, hiding his identity and guarding the Erdtree under the name of “Margit” was his deepest secret, as well as the sorrowful fate of being an Omen child.
Before this, no one had ever seen through that disguise.
And yet, this Tarnished before him, who claimed to be “lost,” had spoken his true identity in a single breath.
“I told you. I’m just someone who is lost and wants to go home.”
Loran repeated his explanation.
But this time, those words carried an entirely different weight in Morgott’s ears.
“Your ‘home’... lies beyond the stars?” Morgott asked, throwing out a question Loran had not expected at all.
Loran did not answer immediately.
He thought of the “Creator” he had met in his dream.
He thought of the “cosmic parameter theory” he had proposed to Sellen.
He thought of his Intelligence, which had reached 99 and far surpassed the limits of ordinary understanding.
Perhaps...
In this world, there truly were people who could understand where he came from.
“Yes.”
This time, Loran chose to tell the truth.
“Then you are not to be tolerated by the Golden Order.”
Morgott let out a long sigh.
“This has nothing to do with personal grudges, lost Tarnished. But my duty is to sweep away all dust that may stain the radiance of the Golden Order. And you are precisely the most dangerous speck of dust.”
The moment his words fell, the wind stopped.
[Affection: +30]
[Status: Bound by Duty / Eliminating Threat / Regretful]
The affection value did not change at all.
But the words in the status bar had already sentenced Loran to death.
Margit moved.
He did not throw a light dagger the way he did in the game, with an obvious wind-up.
In the next instant, the sharp whistle of a blade cutting through the air rang out from Loran’s left.
The wooden staff, carrying the force of a thousand pounds, smashed straight toward his temple.
No warning.
No extra movement.
Only an efficient killing blow.
Loran’s body reacted one step faster than his mind.
With all his strength, he threw himself hard to the back right.
Boom!
The staff brushed past the tip of his nose and smashed into the ground. The hard stone slabs shattered like tofu, and a spiderweb of cracks spread instantly. Broken stone mixed with the force of the impact struck his face like shrapnel, cutting open thin lines of blood.
He had barely dodged that fatal blow.
But the danger was far from over.
After missing the first strike, Margit showed not the slightest pause.
The end of his staff struck the ground, and using the recoil, he twisted his body around.
Golden light gathered in his hand, and a blade of light appeared from nothing.
Swish!
It was not the wide, exaggerated slash from the game.
The light blade stabbed straight toward Loran’s abdomen before he could adjust his posture after falling.
Fast.
Precise.
Ruthless.
This was more like a skilled assassin than a warrior wielding a giant staff.
Loran forcibly twisted his waist and abdomen, trying to minimize the damage.
Pshk—
The light blade failed to pierce his vitals, but still sank deep into his thigh.
Scalding pain instantly spread through his entire body, and blood gushed out, staining his pant leg red.
“Ugh...”
Loran let out a suppressed groan.
He wanted to roll away and get back on his feet immediately to create distance, but the serious injury to his leg made his movements slow and clumsy.
Margit caught that opening with perfect precision.
Loran saw Margit raise his other hand.
Golden light gathered once more, forming a giant hammer.
Memorized attack patterns...
Those attack sequences in his memory, those roll timings, those openings between strikes...
In the face of Margit’s seamless combo, all of them became laughably useless.
So this was the true strength of the Fell Omen.
The one in the game was merely an “examiner” whose hands and feet had been bound by rules, deliberately leaving countless openings for the player.
The one before him now was a true “executioner.”
The giant hammer continued to grow larger in Loran’s vision, descending toward his head with the majesty of judgment.
Then, the world was swallowed by pure darkness.
[YOU DIED]
Immediately afterward, an irresistible pulling sensation came over him.
His consciousness seemed to be seized by an invisible hand and dragged by force out of the darkness that represented death.
The scene before his eyes turned into a familiar golden glow.
He had returned to the Site of Grace inside the tunnel.
Loran violently shook his head, as if trying to throw away the lingering sensation of bone and flesh being crushed by the giant hammer.
The phantom pain in his thigh where the light blade had pierced him was still vivid, making him shiver instinctively.
“Negotiation failed.”
His summary was brief.
“Failed? Then we fight him!”
As soon as Kiro heard that, she became excited instead.
“Perfect. Let this queen test out the Frenzied Flame incantations I just got. I’ll burn him to ash!”
[Status: Battle-Hungry / Reckless / Fearless Through Ignorance]
“We can’t beat that thing.”
Loran poured cold water on her.
“Huh?”
Kiro’s movements froze.
“Can’t beat him? How is that possible? There are two of us, plus Rogier. Three against one, and we still can’t win?”
“He’s different from every enemy we’ve fought before.”
Loran recalled that flawless, lightning-fast chain of attacks, and a lingering fear rose in his heart.
“His attack patterns are alive. We can’t predict them by relying on memorized game knowledge. And...”
He paused, then added,
“I don’t think he used his full strength.”
Kiro stopped talking.
She was battle-hungry, but she was not stupid.
“Then... what do you think we should do?”
Her tone was full of frustration.
“We just give up? Stop trying? Go around Stormveil Castle and run away with our tails between our legs?”
“Not yet.”
Loran shook his head.
After the shock of death, his mind had already begun operating again, rapidly searching through every clue in his memory that might break the situation open.
“We still have another option.”
“What option?”
Loran looked at her and smiled faintly.
“First, we go find someone.”