No one knew the result of fully unleashing a world-creating power. Frieren had no intention of trying. Since her power was always in a restricted state, adding another layer of sealing from the Shadow of the Erdtree wouldn't have a major impact.
The silver-haired girl performed a few practice moves on the spot, her movements already becoming a bit lighter. It wouldn't hold her back.
The greatest effects were the insufficient mobilization of a sorcerer's magic and a reduction in physical strength. But she had never been a pure sorcerer, and she didn't tank damage head-on, relying primarily on evasion and negation.
A while later, ready to depart, Frieren pointed at the map.
"To the north is the direction Leda mentioned. Not far to the south, we'll reach a cliff, which marks the end of the region. Let's take care of Chidang Church first, then regroup."
"I'll follow your lead." Melina sat sideways on the rear half of Torrent's saddle.
Following the map's rough guidance, they crossed the plains of gravesites. However, there seemed to be movement ahead, atop a ruined doorframe.
Clang!
The precise parry of the Moonlight Greatsword sent sparks flying from two ringed blades as both sides crossed paths at high speed. The figure was tall and slender, wearing a mask covered in hideous sharp horns, its emotionless eyes sending a chill down the spine.
"It's one of the Horned Folk."
"Yes, the local residents have come to welcome us." Frieren held her greatsword horizontally, ready to attack.
Her refusal to dismount enraged the attacker. Her riding, charging, and turning were all a complete mess. She had absolutely no experience in mounted combat, a total amateur, yet she dared to fight him like this.
The Spellblade leaped, sending a spinning ringed blade flying, its sword aura slicing through the air, aimed at the vital nape of the silver-haired girl's neck.
But she simply ducked flat against the horse's back to avoid it, seamlessly transitioning into a Storm Stomp.
Her foot solidly struck the body of the ringed blade. He reacted just in the nick of time to block, but a Blade of Calling pierced through his chest.
A Golden Blade.
Because Frieren drew so much aggro and was so formidable, the Spellblade couldn't pay attention to Melina's attack, which proved to be a fatal mistake. The holy damage passed through his body, splattering blood.
Even so, he endured the pain and rolled away.
"He feels very tough, and his resistances are quite good. Is this the difference the Shadow of the Erdtree's protection makes?" Melina murmured.
"Now I understand why Miquella isn't afraid of the Southern Army entering on a large scale. Setting aside the spatial isolation, this place is simply unsuitable for any contemporary army from the Lands Between."
As they spoke, the Spellblade bent low, his arms holding the ringed blades up like wings.
A strange posture—
Swoosh!
He suddenly unleashed a low sweep, swinging from bottom to top, targeting Torrent and the riders on its back.
But the Spellblade missed, watching as the spirit steed leaped in place. He pursued, only for his target to leap again, reaching an even greater height. It could perform a consecutive double jump, which instantly created a lethal firing distance.
A Star-Seeking blue light exploded on the attacker, precisely hitting the wound left by the Blade of Calling, blasting him into a daze.
His poise completely broken, he fell, unconscious.
But the next moment, a Carian Piercer impaled his body, lifting it high into the air, followed by a cold, interrogating voice:
"You seem to be one of the Horned Folk, so you must know of the Witch Village, right? Look at the person behind me. They should look quite similar, tall and with pure faces…"
"Go to hell."
Before the words faded, a searing pain shot through his soul, heart-wrenching and agonizing.
Due to the Horned Folk's sensitivity to souls, soul magic was particularly effective, making it perfect for interrogation. For such a minor character, Frieren wouldn't even stop her advance, instead administering the soul torture while riding.
"I've already told you my question. When you answer is up to you. I won't waste any more words. I have patience."
Hiss!
Despite her words, the Soul Scorch showed no signs of stopping, utterly merciless.
Across the plains of gravesites, a swift horse galloped, an impaled Spellblade screaming incessantly. The surrounding monsters saw this and scattered, not daring to look directly. That soul-rending aura was too terrifying; in this land sensitive to souls, it was undoubtedly a super-effective attribute.
Best to stay far away and not get involved.
However, a red phantom named Logue, the Beast Claw, locked onto the target and began to trail them cautiously. For some reason, this group had a strange allure.
Sitting behind, Melina incidentally healed the Spellblade, preventing him from dying too quickly and losing the information.
She was desperate to hear news of her kin.
After a long while, the Horned Folk stammered, "Stop… I'll talk…"
"I won't stop. What if you're tricking me and you just curse or spit at me the moment I do? Wouldn't that just embolden you? Say it of your own free will, and be quick about it."
"To the northeast!"
Having spoken with all his might, he was on the verge of death. The next moment, a wave of soul healing washed over him, and combined with an Erdtree Heal, his life was forcibly pulled back from the brink. No wonder they had the confidence to torture him; they had the means.
These two were practically demons. He had thought they were accidental intruders, but it turned out they were hunters.
Frieren took out the map and gestured, "Mark it for me in the blank area that my fragment hasn't explored. An outline will do, but the Witch Village must be detailed. Don't lie, I can tell."
Melina pressed further, "Why aren't there many Horned Folk seen in the Lands Between? Are they living well here?"
"Very well."
Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, Frieren beside her quipped, "Why don't you ask him what the Horned Folk's definition of 'well' is? Our values aren't necessarily the same."
Hearing this, Melina's heart tightened.
If they were truly benevolent, Leda wouldn't have warned her, and there wouldn't have been a Holy War.
The Spellblade had already begun to speak: "We capture the 'witchers,' whip them with sharp lashes until their skin is torn and flesh exposed, then stuff them into jars. Hung up like that over time, they merge with the flesh inside and become a good person…"
He spoke with no small amount of pride, revealing everything. With every word he uttered, the faces of the two women grew colder.
After learning everything, Melina lowered her head, clenched her fists, and remained silent.
"Enough."
Frieren cut off the Spellblade, saying solemnly, "As long as there's a breath left in them, I can save them. And I will save them just as they were."
"Don't, then they won't be able to become good people—"
He didn't finish his sentence before a swarm of bloodflies enveloped him, rapidly draining his blood, devouring even his flesh and bones until nothing was left. To think the first time she used blood magic would be in such a situation; it did little to quell the hatred in her heart.
Pure torture, an evil unaware of itself, a completely heretical value system. It reminded her of the Demon Race.
Birds of a feather should be exterminated.
"It's alright, Melina. We have time." Frieren promised, "They can hold on. They won't have to wait too long."
"The Land of Shadow is a perilous place. Don't rush for my sake. The plan remains the same; explore step by step. Life and death cannot be changed by this little bit of rescue time. We must be steady. For now, let's pretend this information doesn't exist."
Although she was deeply sympathetic, she could only set it aside for now. Matters had to be prioritized.
Besides, a red phantom had appeared with menacing intent.
"The Land of Shadow is truly hospitable. It reminds me of… many places."
Recalling carefully, Frieren felt there were few times she wasn't treated like a rat in the street that everyone wanted to beat. Things were only a bit better in the Lands Between when she was a Shardbearer Lord.
The Land of Shadow didn't play by those rules, giving its guests authentic, special treatment that guaranteed a beating.
Beast Pounce!
Logue suddenly dashed forward, unleashing a sharp attack.
However, the silver-haired girl had her steed leap, easily avoiding it. Only then did she get a clear look at the newcomer: a burly, bare-chested man wielding beast claw weapons in both hands, his peculiar attack patterns making him unpredictable.
"A fine weapon, very rare." Frieren proactively generated a Glintstone Sword and met him head-on.
The instant they clashed, he stumbled back several steps, his face filled with shock.
Why did someone clearly equipped as a sorcerer have so much strength? And it had changed in an instant, as if her stats had suddenly been poured into strength, inconsistent with her earlier performance.
Before Logue could figure it out, the silver-haired girl was already charging on horseback, swinging her sword.
Schlick!
A gash appeared in the grass beside him, the ground cracking from the astonishing power, but the aim was so far off that it created a moment of extreme awkwardness for them both.
Frieren wasn't skilled in mounted combat; in fact, she was quite clumsy on horseback. But she didn't want to trouble Melina with getting on and off, especially since the latter was currently lost in somber thought, and she really didn't want to disturb her.
To hell with mounted combat techniques, she'd just make up for it with brute force.
The next moment, she swapped her staff for Collapsing Stars, and a massive gravitational pull was generated in a hundred-mile radius, uprooting even the grass and trees.
Caught off guard, Logue was captured by the gravity, the distance between them shrinking relentlessly. He dug his legs deep into the soil but still couldn't resist being pulled toward the sharp blade.
Rock Sling.
Suddenly, his posture dropped, and his feet moved like the wind, narrowly dodging with a bizarre movement technique.
Even Frieren couldn't help but glance over, intrigued. Wasn't this a new weapon skill with a built-in movement technique? Similar to the Great Hunt skill. Mobility skills were precious for a sorcerer and not to be missed.
She immediately switched to attacking with Night Comet.
The sudden change in tactics caught Logue off guard, and several bloody holes appeared on his sturdy torso.
If not for his warrior's tenacity and the protection of the Land of Shadow, he likely would have been killed on the spot. He had run into a tough one. What a damn shame, why did she have to hide her magic? If the silver-haired girl's aura hadn't seemed so mediocre, he wouldn't have taken the risk.
A misjudgment.
He thought the Spellblade would have worn her down, but her power was bottomless. He absolutely could not fight her head-on. Retreat.
He turned and used the mobility of his beast claw attack to quickly create distance.
"He's actually running away!"
Frieren was used to stubborn enemies; practically every stray dog on the roadside would bare its teeth and pounce, fighting to the death. This guy, though reckless, knew when to advance and when to retreat. He was likely very experienced.
All the more reason not to let him live. What if he continued to roam here and harmed her companions? With that thought, she raised her staff and unleashed a wave of gray-black magic.
The wailing spirits of Ancient Death Rancor gave chase, making Logue's scalp tingle.
Magic that directly attacks the soul?
In a panic, he desperately dodged but could never escape the pursuit, his stamina draining instead. He watched helplessly as the ever-tracking skulls gradually closed in, with a swift horse hot on his heels from behind.
To think that he, who usually hunted passersby, had become the prey, even being chased all over the place.
"Who's there?"
Suddenly, he saw a small squad of knights in black armor appear ahead. It was an outpost and camp of Messmer's army, guarding the road to Nayao Church.
The squad had also noticed the battle over here and stood ready.
Logue's heart leaped with joy. He'd found his chance. He could absolutely escape the battle during the ensuing chaos—
However, the next moment, a blade of night magic pierced his throat—a fast, precise, and ruthless fatal blow that gave him no time to react.
The Mimic Tear lowered its staff.
"Mother, what is this situation? Is this the Land of Shadow?" She had been asleep before entering and was only now awakened by the magic. "It seems they don't understand hospitality, showing no courtesy to a monarch."
At the same time, the pale elf handed the beast claw weapon to Frieren to extract its Ash of War.
The two were of one mind. She got what she wanted; although it wasn't some incredible ability, in the hands of the strong, it would be another matter entirely.
[Weapon Skill: Beast's Claw]
[A skill where one crouches low like a beast, then leaps and slashes ferociously with the claws of both hands to tear at the enemy.]
The silver-haired girl then turned her gaze to the warriors.
Even a complete amateur, after campaigning for so long, should understand a bit about military matters. At the very least, she had the eye to see that the squad was well-trained, well-equipped, and highly organized, possessing iron discipline. They had quickly assembled and awaited their captain's command even in an encounter battle.
They were more perceptive than the red phantom, knowing the newcomer was quite strong, yet they still drew their weapons.
"Mother, let me handle this. It's a good chance to test my condition under the Shadow's seal. You and Lady Melina can rest for now."
"Go easy on them. I need them alive for information."
Boom!
The words had barely left her mouth when the Mimic Tear unleashed a gravitational shockwave, forcefully flipping the front rank of soldiers, sending them flying into the air to land in a heap. It then charged into the enemy formation, swinging the Gavel of Haima wildly.
She knew how to pull her punches, at most causing broken bones without life-threatening injuries. Only a demigod-level combatant could afford to be so relaxed and effortless when facing such an elite force.
The Black Knights fought hard but were ultimately no match, being sent flying one after another.
They couldn't understand the reason.
Why did a sorcerer possess such powerful martial prowess? It was clear her spells were all geared toward a battlemage's role.
Little did they know, the Mimic Tear had also inherited a great deal of experience.
It could replicate Frieren's style with considerable flair, more than enough to handle ordinary soldiers.
During this time, she observed the strength of the legendary Holy War Army. It was extraordinary. They were able to form a rough formation even against the King of Night, holding her off for a moment with just the numbers of a single camp.
It would be good if they could be recruited.
It would definitely narrow the quality gap with the capital's army. But then again, in their era, they had pledged allegiance to Godfrey and marched with him, and the First Lord would return sooner or later.
If they joined her, their position would be even more awkward than that of the Carian Knights or the Stormveil Knights.
Frieren didn't stop the Mimic Tear's increasingly heavy-handed attacks. Once that child got immersed, she would start using all sorts of strange magic to give the enemy a thorough beating, a dazzling array of spells. Who knows where she learned it from.
A short while later, Messmer's soldiers lay scattered about the camp, unconscious, but they still couldn't help but shout:
"Grace-deprived wretch, you will be punished!"
"You'd better cooperate when I ask for information in a moment." She turned her head and instructed, "Melina, heal the seriously wounded. I'll take care of those showing signs of zombification."
"Alright, leave it to me."
After replying, she held a phantom of the Erdtree in her hands, while the silver-haired girl used a Great Rune in combination with soul magic to perform the healing.
The aura of Marika's bloodline, a visage similar to hers, a supreme faith, and a monarch who held half of the Elden Ring…
"Who in the world are you?"
Having not left the Land of Shadow for so long, had the Lands Between gone mad?
Watching Melina and Frieren's performance, the Holy War Army was dumbfounded, not knowing how to react. How had they encountered such a thing? Could it be the guidance of fate? Some kind of revelation?
The one-eyed girl possessed an incredibly pure strain of Marika's bloodline, with no signs of any curse, just like Godwyn.
And she had the aura of the Gloam-Eyed and Destined Death, which could only be bestowed by the goddess. She must be entrusted with a great mission and have her trust. Why?
They had never heard of this scion's existence.
The other monarch who revealed her aura was also incredible, actually holding half of the Ring.
Wait! After being away for some time, how had the Elden Ring been shattered? This was clearly pieced together from several Great Runes.
Of course, this person had achieved such an aura without the enhancement of any Great Rune, making her far more powerful than the average demigod.
Although she was a Tarnished, power is the reason for kingship. Moreover, she herself was unaware that frequently bestowing grace would leave traces.
The silver-haired girl must be a gentle yet powerful king. As for that little trait of pointed ears, they'd just ignore it.
Commander Messmer's appearance was far more excessive than any Demi-Human feature.
"So, are we still fighting or not?"
The Mimic Tear held its staff, looking left and right, finally seeing Frieren shake her head and say, "I no longer sense any hostility. If you agree to a peaceful exchange with me, then I will heal all of you."
"Since we raised our blades against an enemy, it is only natural to be slain, regardless of any misunderstanding. You have shown us mercy, and we trust you."
"Good."
Both sides nodded. Subsequently, Melina and Frieren healed them—one healing the body, the other the soul. Even those suffering from the pains of zombification were restored to a healthy state.
Immediately, the two groups stood apart, as if separated by a clear boundary line.
"May I ask what has happened in the Lands Between?"
"You must answer my questions first." Frieren asked, "Where is the Witch Village? What has befallen them? And why was the Holy War launched… In short, tell us the entire story."
The question itself revealed her level of intelligence on the matter, which could basically be summarized as completely uninformed.
Likewise, the Holy War Army knew nothing of the changes in the Lands Between. It seemed the two lands had been isolated for too long, with no communication between them.
They could only suppress their unease and recount the past:
One day.
Marika suddenly ordered the extermination of the Horned Folk. Messmer, the scion of the serpent flame, was appointed commander and formed the Holy War Army, gathering the elites of the Golden Army at the time and the forces belonging to the Twin Moon Knight Rellana, who admired him. Together, they marched to this land.
This was an ignominious war that should not be known, one that had to be buried, but they still went without hesitation.
As low-ranking soldiers, they didn't fully know why they were killing the Horned Folk.
But they offered a clue: Marika was a witch, and the Horned Folk persecuted witches. To say she held no hatred would be a lie, but there must have been deeper considerations.
The two listeners looked at each other and nodded. Agreed.
This perfectly matched the information they had tortured out of the Spellblade; otherwise, they wouldn't have understood what was meant by the witches' hatred. From a simple moral standpoint, the Horned Folk were to blame for their inhuman actions, and they deserved to be sought out for revenge. Unfortunately, they didn't know the fundamental reason that surely existed, so that would be set aside for now.
"…The war went very smoothly. Those wicked folk were no match for us.
"Go north, and you will see the Fire-Kissed Ruins and the dilapidated Town of the Tower. They are a testament to the might of the Holy War Army and their own doing."
"But late in the war, this land was suddenly shrouded by a divine power—the veil you saw on the Shadow of the Erdtree. It's a spatial barrier of absolute separation, completely cutting off all contact with the Lands Between."
"No one knows the reason, and we don't wish to speculate. We have just been waiting, and that is all."
They heaved a long sigh, full of melancholy.
Being abandoned was a fact, and no one would be happy about it. The Golden Dynasty they once served had utterly betrayed them. How much morale and organization could an army with a shattered faith have left?
In other words.
Marika's motive was definitely not simple revenge; otherwise, she would have let the Horned Folk be completely exterminated before making her move to isolate the land. It's likely that some specific point in time prompted her action. What was it? It was unknown, but in any case, the extermination order was not yet complete.
"My lords, the conflict in the Land of Shadow is not just between the Holy War Army and the Horned Folk. There were even more ancient events here before we arrived."
Frieren's interest was immediately piqued. "For example?"
"I've only heard that the Spiked Mountain to the south is related to the Ancient Dragons and that Finger Ruins exist there, but I don't know the specifics."
"I will investigate."
The vast amount of information did not shake her resolve in the slightest; in fact, she was brimming with enthusiasm. This feeling of arriving in a new place filled with many secrets was truly exhilarating.
The information from the camp's inhabitants was just right, pointing the way without revealing too much. Ultimately, she would have to find things out for herself.
"Speaking of which, you haven't introduced yourselves yet."
As an exchange, the pair took the initiative to explain the events of the Lands Between, with Melina, a direct witness, recounting the banishment of Godefroy, the Night of the Black Knives, Marika's shattering of the Ring, the Shattering war, and the summoning of the Tarnished.
She knew the recitations of enemy communiques, admonitions, and scriptures by heart, able to reproduce even their unique ancient flavor.
When it came to the present day, Frieren took over the introduction: their first meeting, Ranni and the Princess of the Full Moon, the battle of Stormveil Castle, and the series of wars that followed…
Looking back on the past, she couldn't help but feel emotional.
Life is measured by its depth. Although she had lived for hundreds of years in reality, in just a few years in the Lands Between, she had experienced so much, changing herself, changing those around her, and changing the world.
Now that she had heard about it, she would not ignore the Land of Shadow.
"So I should address you as Your Majesty. Please allow us to pay our respects to the Lord of Cinder. Thank you for your generosity."
"You are too kind."
The captain advised, "Will you two be investigating the Town of the Tower next? Forgive my bluntness, but in all my years in the Land of Shadow, I have never heard of Miquella making any major moves. Either he has no plan at all, or it is extremely covert. I hope you will be very careful."
"Thank you for the warning. Farewell for now."
Frieren was about to leave when she was called to a halt. "Wait, we've had a question for a while now. Why is Melina's aura so similar to Messmer's? Could it be?"
"Yes, he is my brother. I was only certain after stepping into the Land of Shadow and sensing that aura."
"That's good. We hope you can persuade Lord Messmer to restrain his serpent flame, otherwise, another punishment may descend…"
"Let's not."
Just as Melina was about to retort, Frieren cut in first:
"You refuse to blame the Marika who abandoned you, is it because you don't dare? You always feel it was Messmer's profane flame that cut short an age of plenty? Let me tell you clearly, I sense no aura of corruption. We have much to discuss with him, but it is not to blame him."
"If anyone is to be blamed, it should be him for not being thorough enough and leaving so many of the Horned Folk alive."
"They are the true culprits, as wicked as the Demon Race."
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