Melina clearly intended to stop Bernahl from intervening in the battle.
She gave Frieren a firm look, and the latter nodded before striding past.
Ranni followed closely behind.
The strength of a quasi-king could not be underestimated, but with Destined Death in hand, Melina could hold him off for a short time without issue. The two were not far apart in reality, effectively on the same battlefield, with support always possible.
Moreover, Bernahl was holding back.
He had not used his truly renowned weapon, the Devourer of Worlds staff, relying only on pure swordsmanship.
For purely warrior-type enemies, Frieren was not keen on a life-or-death fight either—the feel was off, not suited to her style. Better to let Melina drag it out first.
What truly decided the outcome of this delaying battle was the clash of kings within the lava cavern.
It was a bit of tacit understanding between her and Bernahl.
The gods and kings stepped together into the Audience Pathway, greeted by a wave of heat that scorched their faces and sent their long hair dancing. The ground rumbled with a low boom, bubbles rising ceaselessly from the lava, steam billowing.
They had arrived.
Before them stood a continuous limestone pillar supporting the ceiling, pitch-black with flames flickering crimson within.
The ornate crystal chandelier above hinted at the former splendor of lavish decorations. This room had once not been a hellscape but a place where Rykard received guests. Now, it had become that inferno.
In the center coiled a massive serpent, pieced together from countless flesh and blood.
The snake head lifted, revealing an ugly human face that even squeezed out an unsightly smile.
"Ranni, you've changed so much."
The blue-haired doll first showed reluctance, then sighed deeply.
"Not as much as you, Rykard. Now, you're no longer human—not even with the dignity to die as a king. What a pity."
Mentioning this ignited fury in the Lord of Blasphemy, who roared harshly.
"What do you know? It's all that ugly Fell Omen's fault. He ruined our plan, forcing me to fuse with the Great Serpent as a last resort."
"I understand. I'm sorry. We'll kill Margit to avenge you, but you must be freed too."
"You understand nothing!"
Rykard's roar interrupted Ranni's lament.
He then turned to Frieren, gnashing his teeth.
"This one is guilty too."
"Me?"
The silver-haired girl blinked in wide-eyed confusion, her face full of bewilderment. She had tried to minimize her presence to let the family reunite, yet the topic suddenly turned to her—an undeserved disaster.
In truth, she had been pondering if it was possible to separate the serpent and save Rykard, but the more she looked, the madder he seemed.
The former Chief Justice of the Golden Dynasty was long dead.
Anyway, she was prepared for subjugation. The key was Ranni's attitude; as his betrothed, she needed to accommodate that. Even if her partner hesitated, sealing was a backup. Solutions always outnumbered problems.
But Ranni was decisive.
As she pondered, the soul visage on the blue-haired doll's face stared straight at Frieren.
"Let's kill Rykard together, Your Majesty. What exists here is only the God-Devouring Serpent—those voices are mere echoes from its belly. End it quickly."
"Understood."
Frieren drew her staff, poised to strike.
Suddenly, her eyes flicked to a nearby spear embedded in the ground, accompanied by numerous player reminders...
Boom!
At that moment, a mass of sludge dropped from the ceiling—it was Aldrich, who had been clinging above, with half-devoured Gwyndolin at the top. The familiar face wielded a longsword aggressively, magic swirling around, already aimed at his old foe.
"You still have soul shards with me, Gwyndolin. I'll save you."
Hearing Frieren's words, the Godslayer seemed to nod in understanding, while the sludge monster below emitted a shrill roar, furious.
The two devourers of gods had locked onto them.
Ranni pulled out a small doll and said,
"Your Majesty, I can sit on your shoulder and fight together anytime."
"No need."
Frieren's refusal stunned the blue-haired girl, who felt a twinge of disappointment.
"Last time, it was Miquella and Radahn fused, so we matched that way. Now that they're not fused, why use that posture? Let's fight normally."
"What logic is that... but it makes sense. So, Your Majesty wants two-on-two?"
"I want one against two."
With that, Frieren stepped forward and yanked out the Serpent-Hunter with force. For the first time in battle, she held the illegal staff-weapon with both hands—it was clearly heavy and hard to wield.
The instant she gripped it, she understood. No need for player reminders; it was ingrained, just like the others.
Ranni grew more puzzled and muttered,
"Why?"
"Because only a storm can topple a great tree!"
Before the words finished, a terrifying windstorm vortex gathered on Frieren's weapon, condensing into a conical shape.
Witnessing this, Aldrich seemed to understand and rushed to interrupt.
But the silver-haired girl stomped with Lion's Claw, forcing it back.
Did a mage need a staff or hands to cast? Magic was not so inconvenient.
Storm Assault!
The vast whirlwind vortex surged past Aldrich, slamming into Rykard. As expected, the God-Devouring Serpent wailed, its movements slowing. Without pause, Frieren swept horizontally again, stiffening the coiled serpent ball.
Next, she leaped and executed with the Serpent-Hunter, blood splattering amid the crash of the giant falling.
Almost simultaneously, Gwyndolin's longsword struck—
Frieren parried back-to-back, the Serpent-Hunter instantly switching to staff as a soul torrent blasted, making the foe wail.
In just one exchange, she suppressed two demigods single-handedly.
Ranni now understood her king's bold claim of "one against two" was no bluff—she was serious. Since the last Rune reinforcement, her attributes had reached powerful demigod levels, further unleashing her strength.
So fast.
Her impression of Frieren's movements was sheer speed: gravity pulls alternating with teleport strikes, fluid footwork and uninterrupted magic keeping enemies down, frequent staggers.
The silver-haired girl danced at the storm's eye, wielding the unfamiliar Serpent-Hunter, yet dominating.
But Aldrich and Rykard resisted with their massive bodies.
She couldn't just watch; Frieren hadn't forbidden helping.
Ranni's Dark Moon!
Her attack exploded from above at the perfect moment.
Freeze and magic-shatter properties hit solidly, stunning the giants—an ideal opening for Frieren. A fully charged Serpent-Hunter hurled forth, winds crashing from the sky, destructive blows echoing through the lava cavern.
Rykard and Aldrich were blasted away, tumbling wretchedly together.
Pure brute force worked miracles.
Frieren's momentary mana output amplified the Serpent-Hunter's special effect, yielding exaggerated damage.
Pity the feel was poor, requiring two hands.
Even so, it humbled the behemoths, leaving them battered and humbled after the exchange, no longer arrogant.
She slowly stowed the Serpent-Hunter.
Decent damage, but her style suited better.
Moreover, the enemies weren't mindless punching bags—their auras surged, about to erupt.
Crack!
Rykard's scales shed and molted, sprouting countless clawing flesh hands amid wails and cries. Simultaneously, he drew a long straight greatsword wreathed in countless curse hands—human, serpentine, fused curses.
His form truly befitted Lord of Blasphemy.
Countless flesh nourished it, all fueling his weapon—flame-lava and flesh-curse power combined, murderous.
"I'll kill you, then you'll become flesh on my blade."
Frieren remained unmoved, opting for her standard Dark Moon Greatsword and Lusat's Glintstone Staff setup. She retreated into standoff while facing Aldrich's pursuing magic.
"Brother..."
The gruesome sight drew a deep sigh from Ranni—more horrifying than Radahn.
The familiar Rykard was gone; the mad Chief Justice too deep, inseparable from Mt. Gelmir's serpent. Irredeemably seeing it as strength, heart-wrenching and enraging—must subjugate.
He cared not for his little sister's reaction, mind fixed: kill the Soul of Cinder.
Whoosh!
The Blasphemous Blade swept horizontally, carrying molten lava flow.
Before the edge arrived, the surging sword qi evaporated Frieren's skin moisture. She backstepped to dodge; he pursued with another slash.
The hall split with a gash.
The strike rent the ceiling, but no cool air flowed in—only escalating terror-heat. Aldrich's magic bombardment followed, targeting the silver-haired girl's path.
Yet all missed; pursuits deflected.
Even mad powerhouses should realize: Frieren's gravity magic was exquisite, paired with Miriam's Vanishing for mana deflection—ordinary attacks futile.
Suddenly, she planted her staff firmly, killing intent surging.
Rejection Pierce!
Black thorns erupted from lava and ash, unscathed by scorching flames, filling space and ensnaring both.
They slammed into the wall, shaking the cavern.
The outer tremors reached the ongoing Melina-Bernahl duel, forcing stances reset amid unsteadiness. Yet this quasi-king seemed restrained?
"Overconfident, holding back? Time to show greater power."
"Facing Destined Death, how dare I?" Bernahl twitched. "Battle's this fierce, yet Frieren keeps mana locked on me."
"What!"
"She's the arrogant one dominating the entire field."
Realizing, Melina gripped her Destined Death dagger tighter, accepting the care.
Simultaneously, Aldrich's mana exploded, body igniting, mana rays raining.
"Ashen One, die!"
Cross-world grudge unleashed, settling old scores.
But met superior new king: Ancient Dragons' Lightning Strike rained from above, shattering mana bolts, even charring Aldrich.
Frieren glanced coldly.
"You're insufficient now. I just sent off Lothric's princes; time for you too."
"Who'd stay in that hopeless world?"
"I'll reignite the First Flame, but first, a lesson."
"Boastful."
Mockery met cold soul torrent, blasting him back.
Unable to grasp her Fire Keeper bond or world-saving resolve—Londor, painted world ties... Worlds must shine anew.
Her fusion progress accelerated, ever stronger—achievable.
Beyond these madmen's ken.
Blasting Aldrich, Frieren rewarded Rykard with a meteor—crashing his face, dazing the serpent head.
They admitted: Soul of Cinder had reached new heights.
Tactic shift needed.
Rykard unleashed flame-cloud death wraiths, crimson skulls drifting toward the silver-haired girl.
Aldrich's magic too.
"Careful, Frieren—they want to blow this place."
Ranni warned, releasing moon mana to absorb and deflect while Frieren stood unmoved, shaking her head.
"Fragile anyway; can't stop. Prepare to shift battlefield."
Next instant, she scooped the petite doll and soared skyward—prophecy right. Below, lava boiled, no foothold left.
And more.
Gurgling brewed below rock, massive energy imminent.
Directly beneath their aim.
Aldrich and Rykard prepared, mana resonating with the volcano—pre-planned for strong foes.
Frieren calmly struck upward first.
Boom!
Audience chamber ceiling blasted open to light—no, ancient death wraiths billowed with soul crystal spears.
She knew prior damage insufficient; soul magic for true kill.
Clashing massive magics.
Souls vs. flames, exploding skyward with shockwaves.
Boom!
Blast echoed by Frieren's ear; spreading flames breached magic to her side, but her barrier shrugged it—slight warmth.
Foes suffered: soul magic blanketed from above.
Rykard and Aldrich's sizes unavoidable, wailing retreats.
"They hid!"
Ranni pointed from Frieren's arms.
Though knowing Frieren's keener senses, worry persisted. Latter nodded calmly, scanning—no trace.
"Not hiding—seeking cover. Calling volcano power."
Ignoring foes, gravity blade sliced gate: Melina and Bernahl fiercely clashing, evenly matched.
Lightning Spear!
Thunder repelled Bernahl as gravity pulled Melina.
"To crater. Advise you flee soon too, Bernahl—or all ruins."
She whisked them skyward through the hole. All understood: pre-arranged, anticipating madmen's moves.
Attacking lava pool unwise.
Better wait their strike, avoiding greater destruction.
Bernahl fled swiftly too, glancing deeply before hastening. Pity no true duel; Mt. Gelmir's fate clear.
Time to seek Destined Death.
"Roar!"
Lava pool roared with boiling mana; surroundings rumbled, rocks collapsing.
Kill intent locked Frieren; next, flames erupted vertically skyward, flooding chamber toward peak.
Nearing silver-haired girl, but she flashed light-like.
King of Promise's teleport—trivial.
Pursuers mindless in rage, urging eruption; red heatwave surged.
Outside, initial smoke dismissed.
Then quakes intensified.
Finally, massive roar: lava surged beyond capacity, smoke with crimson molten raining as meteors.
Bang, bang!
Deadlier than catapults, indiscriminate bombardment. Summit buildings razed, mid-mountain collapsed, lava mudflow to base.
Lava afar, boiling breath charred snake guards to bones.
Unstoppable, disaster expanding.
Distant Royal Capital noted rival's change—demigod battle—but held.
"Rykard erupted the volcano!"
Morgott clenched fists, gnashing. Such rampage wouldn't confine to Mt. Gelmir—might spread Altus Plateau.
"Prepare withdraw to outer posts, minimize losses, evacuate guards."
"Understood."
Done what could; rest to battle's result. Frieren win: true Altus foothold, political ripples immense. But countermeasures: First Elden Lord near...
Distant eruption escalated, smoke billowing, massive destruction imminent.
Still targeting airborne trio.
Melina frowned.
"This burns half Altus Plateau—can't let scorched earth."
Ranni agreed.
"I'm blocking; moon mana ready."
"Block one wave for me."
No questions, Ranni unleashed Dark Moon; chalk moon's frost froze edge-lava, halting surge.
Opportunity seized, Frieren focused volcano interior—deep in lava pool base.
Troublesome, determined to hide.
Pity futile.
Frieren spread hands, summoning crimson chaos—ultimate Chaos Flame refined from within, laced with demon power. Not just Izalith witch, but ancient beast demon—perfect fit.
Tiny flame, yet pressure silenced crater—fearing what followed.
Fire with fire!
Chaos Flame plunged in, assimilating dispersed flames, devouring all.
Perception maxed, Frieren located targets—now.
Chaos Fireball detonated base.
Blast rivaled prior; spherical shockwave from core, flames everywhere.
Pressure vented, no more bursts.
Erupting with: Rykard and Aldrich, aflame and wretched.
No initial arrogance—fatigued, charred. Fire-based, yet outmatched Frieren's enhanced Chaos Flame.
"Ashes!"
Ignoring sludge's yell, gravity ball hurled it aside—battlefield shift.
"Wait, what are you—"
Aldrich panicked as Frieren drew soul remnant.
Gwyndolin's soul lingered, not fully dispersed.
He understood: from start, not total annihilation—Gwyndolin to supplant via soul fusion, true subjugation.
"Rykard, what wait—"
No Lord of Blasphemy above—instead, massive meteor on serpent; self-occupied.
Next, Frieren placed Gwyndolin's remnant on staff, powering.
Soul Torrent!
_____
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