A single sword pierced through the charging rat. Before Lucian could shake the corpse off his blade, a Frenzied swung a rusted longsword at him.
He twisted his body to evade and thrust his weapon into the attacker's chest. With a spin and a mighty fling, he hurled the corpse—still impaled with the rat—into two more infected that were readying their assault, knocking them to the ground.
Lucian stepped forward to finish them off, but another enemy had already begun channeling Frenzied Flame. A jet of searing madness erupted toward him.
Rolling hard across the ground, he narrowly escaped the blaze. Just as he tried to stand, another rat lunged at him, jaws open wide.
Snatching the rat's head with his left hand, he slammed it into the dirt—once, twice—until it was nothing but pulp coating his palm. Before he could rise again, the sound of something massive crashing down behind him forced another evasive roll.
Boom!
A massive rat—easily larger than a man—slammed into the spot where he'd just been.
Springing to his feet, Lucian lunged forward, gripping his greatsword with both hands. A shimmer of gray energy pulsed across his body as he swung the blade upward in a brutal arc.
Weapon Skill: Stamp (Upward Cut)
The giant rat leapt to the side, but its bulk worked against it. Lucian's strike tore open half its abdomen, spilling entrails and blood onto the grass.
It wasn't a killing blow, but it was more than enough to drive the creature into retreat.
He turned, plunging his sword into the underside of another frenzied jaws. The blade erupted through the top of its skull. With a flick, the body crumpled, jaw and half its face flung aside.
But more enemies closed in.
Two frenzied came from either side, blades raised. Another, a short distance away, approached with hands gripping its head—preparing to release Frenzied Flame.
Behind him, he could hear rats skittering toward him again. Overhead, the Winged Misbegotten, seeing Lucian overwhelmed, found renewed courage and began drawing their shortbows.
Lucian charged forward to meet the closest threats. His greatsword swept horizontally—cleaving one frenzied in half at the waist—but the follow-through lost momentum, lodging deep into the second attacker's ribs.
The frenzied clutched at the blade, holding it fast. Meanwhile, a rat lunged at Lucian's ankle.
He kicked it away, hard.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flame bearer reach optimal range. Madness burned in its eyes as the FrenziedFlame gathered, seconds from unleashing hell.
Lucian yanked his sword free, ready to retreat.
But at that moment, an arrow from above struck precisely between the armor plates at his side. Pain exploded through him. He staggered.
Damn it.
That one moment's hesitation… it was enough for the flame to consume him—
But it never came.
Thunk!
A crossbow bolt embedded cleanly in the flame bearer's forehead. The frenzied collapsed, Frenzied Flame never released.
Lucian turned. Near the bonfire, the wandering merchant sat atop his bony donkey, calmly reloading his hand crossbow.
"We Nomadic Merchants double as mercenaries when needed," the merchant said with a grin. "And I figured you could use the help."
Lucian exhaled sharply through a smile. Strange as they were, the nomads always seemed to show up when it mattered.
No time to offer thanks yet—there were still enemies alive.
He ripped the arrow from his side and steadied his breath. For the first time in this long series of battles, fatigue crept in. He had been pushing himself, using the full force of the Lordsworn's Greatsword to dispatch enemies quickly and avoid being overwhelmed by the madness-inducing flame.
He surveyed the battlefield; The Misbegotten overhead could wait—they didn't wield Frenzied Flame. He could take injuries, just not from that cursed fire.
The remaining real threats were three frenzied, a giant rat, and four or five smaller ones.
As they encircled him again, Lucian steadied his stance. "Only this many left?" he muttered. "Then let's end it."
The final infected fell with Lucian's sword buried deep in its chest. He pulled the blade free, letting the corpse slump.
But the man wasn't quite dead—he clawed at the ground, trying to rise.
Without a word, Lucian drove his greatsword down diagonally, edge pressed to the frenzied's neck. Then he stomped his boot on the man's head.
Crack.
The sword did the rest.
The enemy's head rolled to the side. At last, the battlefield was still.
He dropped to the ground, chest heaving, and took out both Crimson and CeruleanFlask of Tears. He gulped them down in one go.
Wounds closed, breath steadied, clarity returned.
He'd taken a few hits near the end—couldn't dodge everything in his fatigued state—but none from Frenzied Flame. That was the only thing that mattered.
The merchant approached atop his donkey.
"Damn. That was... brutal."
Lucian didn't deny it. The carnage had been extreme—thank the ErdtreeIrina hadn't 'seen' it, or her impression of him might've shattered completely.
"Thanks for the support," he said at last.
The merchant smiled. "Don't mention it. Just doing my job. Though I'll be honest—I charge a lot. Not many folks willing to pay just to sit by a fire. I'd consider you a VIP. Be a shame if you died."
Lucian gestured at the field of corpses. "Take all the loot. Consider it your fee."
"Now that's generous. I won't say no."
Lucian didn't feel the slightest regret. That bolt had saved his life. And the merchant's continuing barrage had kept the Winged Misbegotten busy. He'd earned his pay.
After a short rest, Lucian cleaned the worst of the gore from his armor and stood up.
With a sharp whistle, Torrent came galloping in, Irina seated calmly on his back.
The spectral steed had run smoothly the whole way—despite Irina's blindness, she had never seemed in danger of falling.
"Is it over?" she asked, worry in her voice. "Are you hurt?"
Lucian slapped his armor with exaggerated bravado. "Not a scratch. Handled them all without breaking a sweat."
Irina smiled in relief. "I am glad..."
But her expression quickly dimmed. "No... this is my fault again. I dragged you into another fight... made you take risks you did not have to... I am truly sorry."
"Wha—ah! What are you—?!"
Before she could finish, Lucian's arms swept beneath her knees and around her shoulders. In one smooth motion, he lifted her from the saddle in a princess carry and began walking toward the bonfire.
"This isn't your fault," he said gently. "And besides—protecting a princess is a knight's duty."
A blush rose on Irina's cheeks. She smiled bashfully, her voice playful. "The daughter of a castle commander is not exactly a princess, you know..."
Lucian chuckled. "Well, if a Vagabond like me counts as a knight, then you certainly count as royalty."
She didn't reply—only nestled her head against his shoulder.
His armor still reeked of blood, but somehow, the scent wasn't off-putting. It made her feel safe.
She'd been about to say she could walk. But now, she didn't want to.
If this path could stretch on forever, she thought, I would not mind walking it like this for the rest of my life.
Out of their sight, Melina quietly combed Torrent's mane, her face blank.
Torrent winced slightly as a few tufts were tugged free... but dared not make a sound.