The silver-haired girl was sent flying backward through the air, but she twisted her body mid-flight to disperse the force, landing steadily on the ground.
A close call, but she was completely unharmed.
Hearing the commotion, Frieren and Melina rushed out of the room to witness the Mimic Tear charging forward again.
By itself, it faced two phantom Omen Warrior, yet it still held the upper hand.
Two of them?
Apparently, another Horned Warrior had burst through the wall, drawn by the sounds of battle. It had just entered the fray with a powerful charge that sent the Mimic Tear flying.
However, the Mimic Tear, having inherited a significant portion of its creator's attributes, was no simple foe. Even in a sneak attack, it found an opportunity to negate the force.
Now, with a brass shield in one hand and a magic sword in the other, it left the two Omen Warrior either staggered and off-balance from parries or suffering deep gashes. Their thick armor offered no resistance to the highly refined, sharp glintstone edge.
Their movements grew sluggish, their reactions delayed, and their panic mounted. The surprise attack had failed to regain them the advantage.
Now, in a direct confrontation, they were even more outmatched. The Mimic Tear, boasting the stats of a Demigod and solid fundamentals, was completely overwhelming these powerful, battle-rusty heroes.
Sensing the gazes of the two observing from behind, it gave a derisive smile.
CLANG!
A precise parry brought one Horned Warrior to its knees.
Without rushing the execution, it swung the Gavel of Haima with its other hand, sending the warrior's would-be rescuer flying.
It then brutally pierced the downed warrior's body with its glintstone blade. The force was so great it lifted the body into the air.
Then, with the corpse still impaled, the magic extending from its staff targeted the one that had been knocked away. The target hadn't even had time to get up before it was met with a surge of Night Sorcery.
With a final cry, the auras of the two Omen Warrior vanished completely, their clamor silenced.
"I won!"
The Mimic Tear struck a pose that flexed its bicep, then raised its hands and shouted, eager to declare its victory to the entire mansion.
Seeing this, the two elders applauded in approval, providing the necessary emotional validation.
Unfortunately, the Omen Warrior dropped nothing. The mansion itself only yielded some Shabriri Grapes, making it feel quite destitute. It had probably been looted clean by the Omen who came to carry out the execution.
Though the victory was decisive, it had sustained some damage and expended energy, so Melina suggested they rest while she used a Golden Order incantation to heal.
This place was extremely dangerous; it was best to ensure every member was in peak condition, at least until they met the Lord of Frenzied Flame.
During the break, Frieren released tracking Rancorcall spirits to sweep the mansion's first floor.
The black skulls made the place even more grim and terrifying, but their main purpose was to eliminate threats. Many of the Omen trying to hide were cleaned out one by one, leaving none behind, carrying out the extermination of these great sinners.
While one side healed and rested, the other side efficiently harvested souls.
They stood no chance against a soul-targeting sorcery invented by a top-tier Demigod. Rancorcall inherently targeted life, and under Frieren's modification, it gained soul-tracking properties, relentlessly hunting them through the complex environment.
She was done with the exploration experience; she would just clear it all in one go.
The current level of danger left no room for carelessness.
"Why have we been met with such a disaster? Why?!"
"Who is it? Spare me, please."
"You're finally here. I foresaw it. The Lord of Frenzied Flame will be fully born, creating chaos!"
A chorus of screams and curses rose from the Omen. With Frieren's mental perception, she didn't even need to see them; she just sent the Rancorcall spirits to reap, not even sparing those in the corners, annihilating them all.
Even setting aside her grudge against the Omen, the Frenzied Flame threat had to be eliminated.
Everyone in the mansion was considered infected. If an Outer God were to descend, it would be troublesome, so she would not let a single threat remain.
Bang, crash!
The continuous dull thuds indicated that the rancor skulls were even crashing through doors, windows, and bookshelves, adding more chaos to the already ravaged rooms.
As far as the eye could see, only wreckage remained.
The silver-haired girl pointed in a direction and said, "There's a White Phantom hidden upstairs, probably has some information. I've cleared the way, let's go."
Climbing a ladder through a gap in the floor, they indeed reached the second story of the mansion.
It proved that its structure wasn't complex. The reason it felt like a winding maze was because of the destruction it had suffered; the terrible damage made it easy to lose one's bearings.
Once on the second floor, its layout became straightforward.
After clearing the danger, the three approached a white spirit kneeling on the ground with its hands over its head. Was it begging for mercy?
"...Stop, I've had enough... Aren't we of the same kind? Then why be so cruel? What did Lord Midra do to deserve this?"
Because of the Frenzied Flame. The answer formed in their minds simultaneously.
It seemed the Omen were well aware of the Frenzied Flame's threat, even to the point of killing their own to stop its spread. So they probably didn't summon the Three Fingers on purpose; perhaps an accident forced them to take such drastic measures.
And that accident was closely related to Midra.
"The master of the mansion doesn't seem like a madman who would seek out the Frenzied Flame." Melina speculated, "It's more likely the Frenzied Flame sought him out."
"The Frenzied Flame's motive has always been to return to chaos; it's not hard to understand why it would corrupt the Omen back then. Its burning power can even destroy souls, just like my magic. They must have hated it to their core."
"Also, I just discovered something else: a door that couldn't be opened before was knocked open by the rancor spirits. There's a painting inside."
A painting.
Frieren used a magical projection to recreate the view seen by the skulls: Delicate brushstrokes depicted a seated old man with a robed woman standing in attendance beside him. Though the paint was faded, one could still feel the warmth and affection between them.
The composition was that of a standard husband-and-wife portrait.
"So he's Midra? He seemed to have a happy life," the Mimic Tear quipped.
Melina suggested, "We should continue searching the upper floors for clues. With the birth of the Lord of Frenzied Flame at stake, no piece of information can be missed. If we don't find it now, it could easily be destroyed in the coming battle, and many things would remain a mystery forever."
"Right, Nanaya's body should be on the upper floor... along with some of the Omen executioners. Let's make this quick."
Frieren snapped her fingers, and broken pieces of wood assembled themselves into a stairway. Leading straight to the upper floor.
The Omen who had been guarding the only path, preparing an ambush, were stunned to see three powerful figures emerge and attack simultaneously. Magic flew through the air, followed by a continuous series of explosions.
Against mere grunts, there was no need for strategy; every member of the squad was a damage dealer, unleashing lethal attacks.
They didn't even pause on this floor, but continued fighting their way to the next level, the battle becoming easier and easier as the Rancorcall spirits caught up, some of which were now formed from the guided souls of the Omen themselves.
At this moment, Frieren was completing the eradication that the Omen executioners had failed to achieve.
Instead, it was the executioners who were panicking, never expecting a group of god-killers to barge in, apparently intent on purifying the entire mansion.
More extreme than the cleansing of the royal capital back in the day.
The executioners who remained in Midra's mansion were all hardened individuals, long prepared to face the Frenzied Flame, but the uninvited guests who arrived today were even more ruthless.
ROAR!
The rancor skulls, having caused mass death on the first and second floors, now ascended with a howl, not missing a single trace of life.
Once they locked on, they would swarm and bite, inflicting a soul-crushing blow on contact.
They didn't just strike the body, but sought to annihilate the spirit as well.
Unforgivable.
To the Omen, this was an unforgivable act.
The enraged executioners swarmed forward, yet their strength didn't even match that of the Omen Warrior who had blocked the entrance on the first floor.
The most reckless of them all was the Mimic Tear. Wielding its staff, it switched between its magic sword and casting Night Comet, clearing out any of the Omen who dared to charge, treating them as nothing more than a nuisance.
"There's a fat one over there!"
Suddenly, it pointed towards a newly discovered, oversized executioner, wrapped entirely in yellow cloth.
Noticing the provocation, he let out a roar, his body surging with spirit-calling magic—
THWACK!
The next moment, a stream of golden flame descended from the sky, striking him directly in the head.
It was Melina, who had leaped up and stabbed down into the crown of his skull. The sharpness of the Blade of Calling easily parted flesh and bone, and his layer of magical protection was utterly useless.
This strike carried the Numen's hatred for the Omen, a clean and fatal blow to a vital point.
She twisted the blade while planting her feet on the giant executioner's shoulders, causing him to stumble and knock over several unfortunate companions.
Too weak. His movements were clumsy and stiff.
With that thought, Melina exerted a slight force and finished him off.
She had to admit, the vitality of the powerful Omen was impressive; he could still move for a few moments even with his head pierced through. But this was the end.
THUD!
With a final, forceful slash of the Blade of Calling, the massive body fell, its life signs gone.
The long vigil was finally over. In its final moments, the Omen's soul even conveyed a sense of relieved release.
His companions met a similar fate.
They stood no chance against the Mimic Tear's magical assassination tactics and Frieren's tracking, all-encompassing lockdown.
Unless they were at the hero level of a Horned Warrior, they didn't even qualify to trade blows.
Within a few breaths, the upper floor of the mansion was completely cleared.
The team now stood atop a series of tall bookshelves, which formed a rare foothold. One of them even had a mechanism.
Frieren lightly pulled a lever, and a bookshelf rumbled, moving to form a bridge or open a new path.
A network of paths opened up.
This also exposed some hidden executioners and Omen. They looked bewildered, never having imagined their opponents would be so thorough, clearly intending to stop at nothing short of total annihilation—a terror no less than the Frenzied Flame itself.
"Why? What's happening? Did they come all this way to Valleybottom Forest just to kill us?"
"Is the Spiral Tower abandoning this place and silencing us for good?"
"So the executioners, too, will one day be executed..."
"Since when did the Land of Shadow have people like this? A Demi-Human, Spirit Ashes, and a Numen..."
They had been isolated for so long they didn't even know what was happening in the outside world.
They didn't know that the Omen civilization had already been destroyed at the hands of Messmer's crusade army, and the struggling survivors were no longer a threat. The Tower Town, which they had barely managed to preserve, then suffered another blow, turned to rubble by Frieren's Gravity Magic.
Theoretically, the Spiral Tower under the shadow's seal preserved a glimmer of hope, but a reckoning would come sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.
"Your civilization is a thing of the past."
When Frieren said this, all fell silent. The panicked Omen froze.
Really?
The speaker had no reason to lie, and her earnest expression didn't look like a joke. This was a fact acknowledged by three Demigod-level powerhouses; it was undeniable.
When did The Lands Between gain such powerful beings? And they had clearly been through numerous wars, forged in turmoil.
What had happened? Time had passed, and the world had become a strange place.
"You don't need to know why. You are beyond redemption. Only total annihilation can cure you."
As she spoke, the light of scattering crystals began to rise.
Sharp crystal fragments whizzed through the air, their piercing sound tearing through flesh. The fragile Omen died on the spot.
In truth, their morale was already broken. Facing an unbeatable enemy, they had gradually lost heart. Learning of the Omen's destruction had demoralized them further; they practically offered their necks to the blade.
Their mission was finally over.
The lingering remnants of their souls dissipated into the air, not a trace left behind. For the Omen, this was the most terrifying way to die.
Frieren hadn't acted. Instead, she observed as the free-roaming Frenzied Flame energy actively sought out the souls, burning them to cinders before it was satisfied.
The entire mansion was like an oven, sparing no soul. Even powerful lifeforms would inevitably be twisted and mutated after staying too long.
The fact that the Omen Warrior' souls could be preserved was indeed extraordinary.
The party watched as the last of the Omen were consumed. Many more were found by the Rancorcall spirits, meeting their end ignominiously in some corner of the mansion.
Silence fell upon the mansion, making it even more terrifying.
Everyone knew this was the harbinger of an even greater disaster.
"Let's go."
Frieren pointed in a direction, and the Mimic Tear understood, taking a few quick steps and leaping onto a broken wooden plank walkway. Ahead, it found a platform where a woman in a yellow robe seemed to be sitting.
No wonder Mother wanted it to scout ahead; there was no guarantee this person wouldn't suddenly reanimate and release the Frenzied Flame.
The silver-haired girl cautiously circled the corpse, observing it for a while, but found nothing unusual. The death seemed peaceful... at least there was no sign of a violent struggle beforehand. It was either a natural death or a silent killing.
In Valleybottom Forest, a normal death could be considered a good ending.
It gestured that it was safe.
Melina followed, while Frieren remained at the rear of the group.
The current formation was 'two protecting one.' It was especially important to prevent their strongest damage dealer from being tainted by the Frenzied Flame, as it was a situation that could be easily exploited.
Fortunately, the body before them showed no abnormalities, just sitting quietly in the chair with its head bowed, as if in a deep slumber.
[Sorrow ahead]
It was the first time she had seen so many messages since entering the mansion.
Frieren took one look and basically confirmed the general situation.
She didn't rush to touch the body, but instead started picking up books from the floor with her two companions. Although most were burnt, the fragmented information was still enough to confirm the robed woman's identity.
The lady of the mansion, Nanaya, wife of Midra.
The body seemed to be holding a staff in its arms. Since she embraced it even in death, it must have been a crucial keepsake.
"Can we touch this thing?" the Mimic Tear asked, crouching down to inspect it carefully.
"The atmosphere keeps getting creepier. This person isn't going to suddenly reach out and grab me, are they?"
"Then I will grant the one with the Frenzied Flame a definitive end with Destined Death."
"If you get infected and go crazy, I can help suppress it," Frieren added.
"I get it."
______
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