The aura radiating from the Ancient Hero of Zamor swelled like an oncoming blizzard. Lucian's blood surged in answer, banishing the cold that clung to his bones. Battle fervor roared in his veins.
This—this was the finest battle he had fought since his arrival in the Lands Between. No, not just finest… the most comfortable. A duel, pure and unbroken—no interruptions, no allies or stray blades to interfere. His opponent's mastery was unlike anything he had witnessed here.
He was no longer the fledgling who could be wounded by a few of Godrick's lowly soldiers. The techniques of the Banished Knights had long since been drilled into his muscles. And yet, the skill before him was dazzling—terrifying in its precision and grace.
It was less a clash of arms and more… a dance. Every step, every slash, every evasive leap carried the fluidity of a performance. The hero spun and whirled with unnatural poise; each turn lent power to the next strike. Even the impact of their weapons was used to rebound, creating space or closing it in a blink.
For all her towering height—over three meters—she moved with the weightless elegance of a butterfly caught in the storm.
Lucian downed both a crimson and cerulean flask, restoring himself to near-perfect condition. Across from him, the Ancient Hero staunched her bleeding, encasing herself in thick, crystalline frost-armor.
The second round was about to begin.
She struck first, she had no time to waste. Her captivity had left her weakened, her wounds yet unhealed. The frost was a stopgap, not salvation.
She lunged. In a heartbeat, she closed the gap. Her curved blade tore a deep scar into the frost-covered ground, jagged icicles sprouting in its wake.
Lucian crossed his two blades, catching the thrust—but the ice burst upward, shards striking his armor with bone-numbing force.
Before he could reset, she loosed a blast of frigid magic, sending him skidding backward. The battlefield was already hers; snow and wind bent to her will, and soon the ground would be a frozen wasteland.
He thought quickly. If the frost deepened, his movement would falter, and the cold alone might sap his strength. But her wounds… those could be exploited. Holding them frozen would drain both her focus and her sorcery.
Or perhaps… there was no need for tactics so intricate. He smiled. End it quickly, and there's no time for the storm to claim me.
As she charged again, Lucian summoned a swirl of wind beneath his feet, sweeping the snow away to keep his footing sure. One sword caught her downward slash; the other stabbed into her frost-armor, spiderweb cracks spreading from the impact.
The armor shattered—only to burst into a cloud of freezing mist, blinding him.
Damn!
He shoved her blade aside and backed out of the fog, but she was gone. Cold sweat prickled his neck. Instinct took over—he spun, blades sweeping behind him.
Steel met steel, her curved sword slashed into his side even as both his blades sank into her waist.
The Banished Knight's armor split, his blood freezing the instant it spilled. Icy numbness raced through his veins. He unleashed a storm to force her back—lest that cold creep into his core.
She too broke away, unwilling to let the swords remain lodged in her. Another blast of frost hurled them apart.
Lucian rose, probing the injury—deep, but frozen solid, stanching the blood. Pain was dulled by the cold.
Snow thickened to hail, rattling against his armor, piling white upon the ground. The duel neared its end.
The Ancient Hero staggered to her feet; her wounds hindered her grace, the frost-bound flesh refusing to bend like living muscle. Her magic, too, waned—barely enough to hold the storm at its current pitch.
She drew a deep breath and stilled the wind and hail. Seeing Lucian rush forward, she raised her left hand.
He recognized the gesture—a breath attack. He sidestepped to flank her.
But… she didn't turn her head to track him. Something was wrong.
He retreated a pace—too late. She dropped to one knee, palm to the ground. Snow and ice erupted in a spiraling gale, swallowing him whole.
She poured the last of her magic into the blizzard. All her earlier shaping of the arena had been for this moment—to turn the storm into a grave.
For over half a minute, the gale raged. In such a cramped space, there was nowhere to run. Surely, he was frozen solid.
It's over.
But then—
"It's over!"
The shout rang like a war drum. Lucian burst through the dying winds, twin swords whirling—a hurricane of steel. He struck high, low, and everywhere between—sweeping, stabbing, leaping, cleaving.
Her desperate guards shattered; the two blades tore through her frost-armor piece by piece.
At last, with a final Lion's Claw strike that split both shoulders, the armor fell away entirely.
She collapsed to her knees beneath the weight of his swords.
Lucian sheathed his weapons. In this battle, at last, he had unleashed one of the Commander Knight's most fearsome technique— Storm Kick.