Execution!
The colossal Grafted Blade Greatsword in Frieren's hands plunged deep into Margit's chest, driven with the deadly precision of a shinobi technique to maximize the devastating impact. However, unused to wielding a weapon practically as large as herself, she dismissed it the next instant, switching back to her staff.
Carian Slicer followed by Glintblade Phalanx—
But Margit dodged. The critical hit seemed to stagger him only for a fraction of a second before he leaped back, creating distance. Aside from a slight weakening of his aura, he seemed largely unfazed, clearly still capable of fighting.
Is this the vitality of demigods and divine beings? Frieren wondered.
"I once impaled Starscourge Radahn through the chest with a blade much like that," Margit stated, his voice steady despite the blow. "He simply stood up and continued fighting. You would do well to remain cautious."
Despite his words, he was clearly weakening. The grievous wound was steadily draining his remaining stamina. His calm exterior was a façade; he was struggling to maintain his form. An avatar, after all, lacked the immense vitality of the original body. Frankly, Frieren's relentless assault had pushed him into a countdown; his projection might dissipate at any moment.
Frieren, too, hadn't emerged unscathed from the high-speed exchange, having accumulated her own injuries. But she still had options.
The silver-haired girl raised her Wondrous Physick flask and drank. A crimson aura instantly enveloped her as vitality surged, rapidly mending her wounds. Health restored. She rarely resorted to using the Physick's restorative power in The Lands Between, but since they insisted on dishonorable tactics like ganging up on her, she wouldn't hold back either. As the concoction flowed through her, immense vitality spread through her limbs, sealing wounds and replenishing her energy.
Admittedly, her body, based on the fragile 'Astrologer' build, was vulnerable. But Frieren could easily replenish her condition using the Wondrous Physick. Seeing the Tarnished return to peak condition in the blink of an eye sent a wave of unease through the defending soldiers. They'd almost forgotten – wasn't this just like a boss entering its second phase? The enemy leader was healing! If the rumors were true, this was the first time the 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress' had been seen using any kind of healing draught.
Instantly, every defender fixed their aim on Frieren's lone figure, concentrating intently, daring not miss a single movement. With Margit as the spearhead, they tightened the encirclement further; even the Night's Cavalry prepared for close combat. Frieren had been right; as fellow battle mages locked in combat amidst a siege... this was indeed becoming the 'Stormveil Castle version of the Siege of Radahn,' a true fight to the death.
This is bad.
In the eyes of many veteran soldiers present, Frieren's current display was disturbingly reminiscent of Radahn's own terrifying power during past sieges – a level of combat utterly beyond their comprehension, seemingly invincible. How could one Tarnished be so difficult to deal with?
"Do not fear!" Margit roared, gripping his staff tightly and pointing it towards the silver-haired girl. "Today, victory will still be ours!"
The surrounding Night's Cavalry advanced a step, forming a protective phalanx around their commander. When these numerous hero-killers coordinated their efforts alongside the Fell Omen, they were truly a force comparable to a legion. The interwoven pressure emanating from them felt almost tangible.
Yet, throughout it all, Frieren remained unnervingly calm. Whether this was her natural emotional detachment or genuine confidence born of a hidden plan, it was equally unsettling. The next moment, she rang her Spirit Calling Bell, summoning her Spirit Ashes to form a protective circle around her.
She hadn't intended to use them, but the Royal Capital forces coordinated too perfectly; their layered pincer tactics prevented her from focusing solely on Margit. She had to let the Ashes draw some of the pressure. Another reason was to end this confrontation on the main approach quickly – the sounds of battle from her own advancing army were growing closer.
End this quickly.
As if by telepathy, both Frieren and Margit charged simultaneously. From the towering walls of Stormveil, arrows rained down once more. While the ordinary soldiers had struggled to hit the swift Frieren earlier, the numerous Spirit Ashes now presented perfect targets. Instantly, whistling volleys descended, while the Night's Cavalry charged forward, easily cutting down swathes of the spectral warriors.
"These summons are worthless!" one of the knights sneered.
But as they watched the Spirit Ashes fall one by one, revealing the silver-haired girl standing amidst them, they saw her staff raised, gathering an immense amount of magical energy. Then, Comet Azur unleashed—
WHOOM!
The front rank of Night's Cavalry was instantly vaporized. The wall of soldiers collapsed as the terrifying beam of energy slammed into Margit. Though he raised his staff to block, he couldn't possibly stop the overwhelming torrent. He felt as if hurled into raging rapids, with no sense of direction, no shore in sight. The high-power output of Comet Azur bathed the entire castle facade in its pale blue light, sending out concussive shockwaves. Stones crumbled, men and horses were thrown aside, and dust choked the air, obscuring the sun. No one could assess the exact damage, but the ground itself trembled violently.
With a single spell, Frieren declared that Leyndell's reinforcements were not only failing to salvage the situation but would pay a heavy price for their intervention.
Near the outer wall.
Feeling the increasingly powerful shockwaves from the battle ahead, the Southern Army pressed their attack with renewed urgency, growing impatient. No one could mistake the brilliant light of Comet Azur. Frieren had demonstrated several of her primary combat spells over the past few days, leaving a deep impression on her troops. That overwhelming, unstoppable power belonged only to her. It was clear: the death duel between the 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress' and the Fell Omen had reached its climax.
"All forces, break through the tunnel! We must reach Lady Frieren quickly! We cannot let her fight alone!" Edgar roared, ordering the final push. "Your Excellency," he added, turning pleadingly towards the Undead Legion of Farron, "please prepare as well."
The Legion commander gave a silent nod. Immediately, the contingent of elite warriors in distinctive pointed helms, wielding greatswords, moved to the very front of the assault. Even without being asked, they would have moved to aid their 'Ashen friend.'
"After all these years," one of them murmured, "let's see what Stormveil Castle is truly made of."
The curious Ancient Hero of Zamor hefted his Curved Greatsword and strode purposefully forward. Elsewhere, the Black Knife Assassin was already weaving through the chaos, silently eliminating ballista operators. The assault by Frieren's high-tier allies was beginning. Together, they effortlessly broke through the final barricades in the tunnel. Without defenders capable of matching them, their advance became a whirlwind of death, rapidly approaching the main gate of Stormveil Castle itself.
Though unable to see each other yet, the heightened senses of the combatants reached out, detecting the presence of approaching forces.
Before the castle gate.
Most of the Night's Cavalry and Godrick Soldiers lay fallen. Only the lone, sackcloth-clad figure of Margit remained standing, leaning heavily on his staff. Behind him huddled a few terrified survivors, their will to fight completely broken. Across from him, the silver-haired girl slowly relaxed her stance, choosing not to press the attack. She was using the brief respite to drink another flask, replenishing her magic. The next exchange might be even more intense.
This was no longer the time for a direct confrontation. If he delayed further, his remaining elite guard would be wiped out. Margit spoke quietly, his voice carrying to the survivors behind him, "Notify the Crucible Knights within the castle. Tell them to mobilize. The final battle must be fought by Godrick. The most I can do now is weaken Frieren. Prepare to withdraw." He spoke openly, perhaps hoping the statement might lull his opponent into a false sense of security.
An ordinary person, hearing their opponent planned to leave, might let their guard down. For Frieren, it made no difference. While not a battle maniac herself, opportunities to test her skills against top-tier opponents were rare.
"Since you intend to leave," she stated coolly, "then you should leave all your techniques behind first."
"Tarnished, your boasts are shameless! This flame of ambition must be extinguished!" Margit roared.
Round two began!
Again, they moved as one, lunging forward. Arrows instantly peppered the spot where Frieren had just been standing. Her most effective long-range options as a sorcerer were being denied, leaving mid-range combat as the only viable choice.
Clang! Carian Slicer grazed Margit's robes as his staff scraped sparks across Frieren's armor. This time, both fighters prioritized evasion over blocking or parrying. Having gauged each other's defenses, they knew they needed to find the right opening for a decisive blow to significantly weaken their opponent.
Suddenly, the remaining Night's Cavalry closed in, surrounding an area tens of meters across. With the sorcerer's ranged threat effectively neutralized by the constant arrow/bolt fire, they could now safely enter the heart of the fray. The pincer attack began!
In that instant, Margit's staff descended while halberds from several Night's Cavalry thrust towards her simultaneously. At the critical moment, the silver-haired girl rolled, dodging the initial wave, but the next followed immediately. A direct hit would impale anyone, turning them into a pincushion.
Suddenly, the attackers witnessed a flash of white light. Frieren had produced yet another weapon: a long-handled great hammer radiating an icy chill. With astonishing force, she swung the massive hammer, its sheer weight batting aside several incoming weapons. The few blows that landed glanced harmlessly off her. Vordt's Great Hammer, obtained from a previous 'draw,' bought her a precious moment, preventing her actions from being interrupted. Its unique skill: Endure.
Bathed in the white light of the Endure skill, Frieren slammed the great hammer down, releasing a wave of frost that briefly slowed her attackers. But instead of using the moment to escape the encirclement, she simultaneously produced two staves, aiming one forward and one backward, and began charging power: Comet Azur!
Twin torrents of blue energy erupted, firing in opposite directions. Simultaneously, Frieren spun in place, sweeping the beams in two devastating semi-circles. Her mastery of Comet Azur had reached a level where, although unable to move while casting, she could pivot the beam's trajectory, allowing her to savagely punish the surrounding Night's Cavalry.
Even these battle-hardened elite warriors were instantly obliterated.
"Damn it!" Margit cursed, gritting his teeth at the unexpectedly heavy losses. He was forced to dodge the sweeping beams. Without him to draw fire, the twin Comet Azur streams blasted towards the main castle gate and the tunnel entrance behind Frieren—
With a tremendous crash, Stormveil's iron-barred main gate buckled and twisted, collapsing along with its stone frame. Correspondingly, the defenders in the tunnel suffered grievous losses, their line completely broken. The Southern Army burst out just in time to see Frieren cease channeling the spell while simultaneously resuming her pursuit of Margit, seamlessly switching between vastly different combat styles once more.
The dazzling spectacle of her magic combined with the intricate skill of a warrior proved overwhelming. The sheer variety of weapons and tactics she employed left the Fell Omen struggling to cope.
Dong!
Vordt's Great Hammer struck again, knocking Margit back. He was clearly faltering. His accumulated wounds were taking their toll, yet the silver-haired girl's assault only intensified, her methods endlessly creative, almost never repeating, utterly unpredictable.
Furthermore, the losses among the Night's Cavalry were becoming significant. Further attrition could potentially undermine the Royal Capital's authority. He would have to place his hopes on Godrick and his remaining forces holding out within Stormveil Castle itself. The fortress's defensive advantages were still considerable, provided the damage to the main gate wasn't allowed to worsen...
At that moment, the Undead Legion of Farron filed out from the tunnel exit, forming a solid wall of bodies protecting Frieren. The remaining Night's Cavalry and Godrick Soldiers, who had been attempting to re-engage, hesitated, wary of attacking such a formidable force – they were undeniably a legion of hero-level warriors in their own right.
How could a mere newcomer Tarnished command so many powerful warriors?
While the defenders hesitated, Frieren, now shielded by her legion, raised her staff high, gathering power once more. Astonishing amounts of magic converged. Everyone knew something terrifying was about to be unleashed. The remaining defenders reacted instinctively – some dove for cover, some charged recklessly, others simply turned and ran.
Those bold enough to attack were swiftly cut down by the Farron warriors. Within moments, the spell, infused with maximum power, took shape: Crystal Burst!
Quantity becomes quality. In the hands of the versatile Frieren, the Crystal Burst spell underwent a transformation: an enormous sphere of white crystal materialized high in the air, immediately covered in a network of fine cracks. Then, it deliberately shattered, exploding into innumerable crystal shards. Each fragment struck with the force of a heavy crossbow bolt.
Descending in a wide, fan-shaped barrage from above, the crystal shards washed over the defenders before the main gate. Ordinary armor offered no protection; the crystals pierced shields and bodies alike, killing instantly, leaving no chance for resistance. If it had been a single burst of damage, the elite soldiers might have endured it. The terrifying aspect was that Frieren's modified version of the spell boasted drastically enhanced fire rate, coverage area, penetration power, and duration.
It hadn't stopped!
A lethal curtain of white crystal rain blanketed the area before the gate, falling relentlessly. Even the heavily armored Night's Cavalry suffered grievous wounds, their bodies riddled with irregular crystal shards, dripping blood. Margit was forced to shield his remaining men, blocking a portion of the deadly barrage himself. The surviving Godrick Soldiers weren't so fortunate. Weak and poorly protected, they fell like scythed wheat under the magical bombardment, losing their lives in droves. It was nothing short of a one-sided slaughter.
Was this the battlefield dominance of a master sorcerer? With the iron defense of the Undead Legion of Farron protecting her, she could unleash her full power without restraint. More accurately, this was the dominance of the 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress,' reminiscent of how the Full Moon Queen had once held back the armies of the Golden Order – magical destructive power displayed at its absolute zenith.
BOOM!
Amidst the final explosions, barely anyone remained standing before the gate. The Southern Army, just emerging from the tunnel, quickly established a minimal shield wall. Even without explicit orders, they understood their commander had created this hard-won opportunity for them. Truly worthy of Lady Frieren. At this moment, they had officially breached Stormveil's outer defenses and joined forces with their leader.
But the assault wasn't over. The silver-haired girl raised her staff once more. Countless onlookers, both friend and foe, stared dumbfounded, unable to believe their eyes.
"What is she doing?"
"No, that angle... it's impossible—"
But actions spoke louder than words. The power of Crystal Burst was now directed towards the castle walls themselves, arcing gracefully through the air to rain down upon the high ramparts, providing suppressing fire.
They had never imagined that the towering walls, comparable to small hills, could be effectively targeted by attacks launched from the ground below. Previously, it had always been the defenders raining death upon the attackers. Caught completely off guard now, the soldiers on the ramparts suffered horrific casualties. Many weren't even wearing proper armor, multiplying the effectiveness of the crystal shards. Blood flowed freely. Countless defenders plummeted from the walls, smashing onto the ground below, creating gaps in the rampart defenses.
No!
Margit's resolve wavered. He couldn't allow Stormveil to suffer further losses like this. Coincidentally, Frieren seemed to ease her suppressive fire on the area before the gate. Seizing the moment, he charged towards the silver-haired girl. Unexpectedly, two Farron warriors stepped forward, blocking his staff. To withstand my blow... they possess some skill, he conceded, but it's not enough. He conjured a spectral blade in his other hand to cut them down, but they stood their ground, their wounds healing rapidly.
"So, the Undead Legion is real." Margit had heard reports of the battle at Fort Haight before – the battle that had truly established the reputation of both the Undead Legion and the 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress,' where both had demonstrated power exceeding that of mere heroes. It seemed the intelligence was accurate. Both were formidable threats.
"I advise you to leave, Margit," Frieren called out, her voice steady even as she maintained the legion-devastating spell with one hand. She even had the spare focus to draw her Uchigatana again, returning to her initial combat stance. It was a clear, determined order for him to withdraw. She couldn't let the Southern Army face both the Fell Omen and the Shardbearer simultaneously.
If necessary, she would unleash even stronger offensive magic to settle things here and now, even if the cost was being unable to access the power of her other 'accounts' for a time.
Thud-thud-thud!
The heavy, rapid footsteps of the main Southern Army force echoed as they poured through the breached outer defenses, quickly spreading out along the main approach, forming an encirclement. The roles of attacker and defender had reversed; the initiative now belonged to them. Moments ago, this area had been firmly held by Godrick's soldiers, only to be thoroughly cleansed by Frieren and reclaimed.
The way out has been offered. Will you take it?
She stared directly at Margit. Despite her small stature, she radiated immense pressure, flanked by the assembled might of the Undead Legion of Farron, the Ancient Hero of Zamor, the Black Knife Assassin, and the thousands of soldiers comprising her army.
"...Tarnished," Margit finally said, his voice strained. "Do not assume this is the full extent of the Golden Dynasty's power. If you possess true strength... then we shall meet again in the Royal Capital."
Without another word, he turned, leaning on his staff, and strode away. His remaining Night's Cavalry followed closely. He had chosen to withdraw, to avoid confronting the Tarnished while her momentum was peaking. Now was not the time for a life-or-death struggle. Even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, the facts were plain: Frieren possessed the qualifications to become a Lord.
Once she reached the Roundtable Hold, the Two Fingers would surely guide her further down this path. A final confrontation between them was inevitable, likely within Leyndell, the Royal Capital itself. He needed to return. For one purpose only: to prepare for war. Margit would gladly orchestrate another defensive victory, thwarting the enemy's ambitions. He could only hope Godrick managed to withstand this onslaught. His own projected form was spent, unable to fight further; retreat was the only option.
They departed in silence, their retreating figures carrying an air of weary solitude. The Lands Between were once again embroiled in rebellion. How could the Golden Dynasty be protected? The future was fraught with peril, obscured, uncertain. Could an even greater catastrophe be looming, ready to scour the world clean?
Frieren ceased casting the spell.
She then tilted her head back and drank from a flask, restoring her magical energy. The continuous use of skills and powerful sorceries had been draining – not that she lacked the reserves, but she needed to maintain peak condition, ensuring a margin for error when challenging a Great Rune-bearing demigod.
Unfortunately, Margit's prolonged stand had bought the castle's engineers precious time. The area where the main gate had collapsed was now blocked by an even larger, hastily erected iron barricade...
"Your Excellency, I recommend we press the attack and begin the main siege at once!" Edgar proposed eagerly.
It wasn't just him; the entire army was fired up, impatient for battle. How could they not be exhilarated after witnessing the duel between the Fell Omen and the 'Magic-Slaying Swordstress'? They wanted to be part of this fight too.
"Begin the assault!"
At Frieren's command, the soldiers surged forward like a tidal wave, orderly forming into assault teams. Here and now, they would take Stormveil Castle – succeed or die trying. Having already provoked the forces of Leyndell, the Royal Capital, there was truly no turning back. They had to conquer Limgrave in one fell swoop, demonstrating the same tenacity as the Storm Lord of old.
At that moment, a few soldiers appeared atop the walls, peering down, preparing to drop logs and stones. But the relentless Crystal Burst resumed, pinning them down under suppressive fire. It was becoming traumatic. Why wasn't that spell ending?! How much magical energy could she possibly have to squander? Godrick's soldiers were filled with a growing terror of Frieren, barely daring to look directly at the figure standing poised before their besieged castle.
"Leave the walls to me," Frieren commanded. "Focus on breaching the gate as quickly as possible. But don't rush straight in – use the opening I created earlier to completely destroy the gate frame."
Feeling reassured by her covering fire, the main assault began in earnest. Separated only by the makeshift barricade, the two forces clashed furiously, their battle cries echoing relentlessly.
"Charge—!"
More than any battering ram, it seemed likely that the sheer weight of bodies, the piling up of flesh and blood, would be the first thing to break down the final barrier.
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