Watching the scene unfold, a faint smirk curled onto Mohg's lips.
Though he had originally intended to wait for the first large-scale clash between the two powers before letting his subordinates reveal themselves, this opportunity was simply too good to pass up. Since they were going to appear sooner or later to scavenge for "spoils," he decided this would serve as their grand debut. As long as he didn't personally show his face, the risk remained manageable.
The moment the Golden General hit the ground, nearly everyone on the battlefield froze for an instant. Nibla's declaration echoed in their ears like a thunderclap.
"HERESY!!!"
With the Tree Sentinel's roar, the Golden Order's troops exploded into a frenzy.
The Vice-General of the unit bit the bullet and issued the order to charge and recover their commander. In this situation, he had no choice but to fight for the faith, regardless of his own internal reluctance.
Meanwhile, the Scarlilan forces and the Carian reinforcements had officially merged. At this moment, the numbers were roughly equal, but the Carian side held a distinct advantage in high-tier combatants.
Harold, leading the relief force, turned to look at his colleagues. Indeed, this reinforcement unit was the very same one previously stationed at the Ainsel River Well in Toriland. After the previous incident, the defense there had been bolstered; combined with additional troops sent by the Carian royals after hearing the news, they had assembled a formidable group: three Carian Knights, a Royal Knight, and a Magic Professor.
"Well? Shall we meet them head-on?"
"Charge. We have no reason to retreat. We hold the advantage now. Even if that Golden General isn't dead, he's crippled. He won't be causing any more trouble under the watch of that mysterious fellow."
"Agreed."
Harold nodded, raised his longsword, and tightened his reins to move to the front of the ranks. He leveled his blade at the Golden Order's army.
"For the glory of Caria! Everyone, CHARGE!!"
"FOR THE GLORY OF CARIA!!!"
Nibla let his two greatswords hang loosely at his sides. He glanced down at the fallen Golden General. The man remained motionless; he didn't even seem to be breathing. With the pool of blood spreading beneath him, he looked for all the world like a man who had met his end.
However, in Nibla's eyes, the man only appeared to be dead.
Without a word, Nibla's arm blurred. One of his greatswords, wreathed in thick crimson energy, whistled through the air toward the General's heart.
BANG!
The blade-wind slammed into the ground, creating a violent explosion. Dust billowed as a terrifying crater was carved into the earth.
But the most important person was no longer there.
"How did you find out?"
The Golden General stood several meters away, face pale as he clutched the horrific wound at his waist. He couldn't help but ask the question.
" I didn't 'find' out. It was simply habit. My past experiences have taught me some painful lessons," Nibla replied. He studied the man with curiosity. He was genuinely impressed that the General could survive that last strike and still have the energy to dodge. After all, that was no minor injury.
"Is that so? Then I must say, that is a very fine habit to have."
The Golden General slowly pulled his hand away, revealing his shattered armor and the mangled flesh beneath. To Nibla's surprise, the wound was already knitting itself back together; fresh tissue was visibly growing.
"...Is that the blessing of your Erdtree?"
"Heh. You could call it that." The General let out a dry laugh and tightened his grip on his weapon. "Come. I've been ambushed by you twice now; it's about time I traded blows with a warrior like you in a proper duel."
Nibla looked at him deeply. A whirlwind of crimson air began to swirl around him, gradually obscuring his silhouette.
"There will be an opportunity, but not today..."
As Nibla's voice drifted away, the bloody gale began to subside. By the time the air cleared, Nibla had vanished from the battlefield.
The Golden General let out a long, heavy breath. He coughed up another mouthful of blood, his face turning a shade paler, as he forcibly squeezed the last of his strength to retreat toward his own lines.
The moment the Tree Sentinels moved to shield him, he collapsed.
When he was facing Nibla, he had been running on pure bluff. As for the wound, the moment he was struck, he had managed to down a Flask of Crimson Tears in a single gulp. That was the only reason he hadn't died on the spot, but the Tears took time to fully manifest their healing properties. The blood he had lost in the interim wasn't so easily recovered, hence his extreme weakness.
As for his ability to hide his presence, it came from a talisman—a gift given to him by a dying assassin friend. It could dampen his aura to a near-vanishing point.
His parting words to Nibla were merely bravado. Though the man had "ambushed" him twice, the sheer power and speed of those strikes had already shown him the chasm between their levels. In a true head-on fight, he likely wouldn't be the man's match.
Still, he considered himself lucky. A bit less luck, and he would have rotted on that field. Now... not only was he alive, but his heavy injuries would serve to significantly mitigate the punishment for his defeat.
"Quickly! Cover the Commander's retreat!!!"
The last thing the Golden General heard before losing consciousness was his Vice-General's command. He had done his best. Too many variables had plagued this battle; he only hoped the reprimand from above would be light.
"A defeat? Truly?"
Radagon's brow furrowed as he read the dispatch from the front. The report was meticulous, detailing every unexpected variable: the "Carian Knight" who appeared from nowhere to slay Rock, the Carian reinforcements from Toriland and the forest ambushes, and the unknown "Outer God" worshippers who possessed Hero-class combat power.
While others might be confused, Radagon knew exactly which Outer God they served.
The power belonged to the Formless Mother, the Mother of Truth—the Blood God who governed wounds and agony. Many of the ancient colosseums had been built specifically to appease her.
By all rights, worshippers of that entity should have been extinct on this continent. How could such a group emerge now? And they weren't mindless wretches like the Bloodfiends; this was an organized, intelligent faction.
This was outside his calculations. In his understanding, those who worshipped that Mother were doomed to descend into madness due to the side effects of the Cursed Blood. Such an inherent weakness meant they could never pose a significant threat.
And yet... they had just slapped him in the face with reality.
"Go. Notify the Church. Have them scour all records for information regarding the Mother of Truth—any faith involving blood. They must be swift. Inform them that a new Outer God faction has risen, possessing Hero-class warriors and, potentially, their own King!"
"Understood!"
As his personal guard retreated, Radagon massaged his temples. He felt as though the situation was slowly veering away from the path he had set. Especially this group of "Mother of Truth" worshippers who had appeared out of thin air.
"What punishment do you intend for that General?"
Suddenly, the voice of Messmer drifted from a cluster of flames to Radagon's side.
"I'm not entirely sure yet. As the commander, he bears the responsibility for the defeat and the death of Rock. He is at fault, yet it was not entirely his failure alone. There was a catastrophic lack of intelligence regarding both the blood faction and the Carian reinforcements..."
"Hmph. So you intend to go easy on him." Messmer's tone remained as flat and indifferent as ever.
"Perhaps. But this failure requires a scapegoat."
"...Talking to someone like you is exhausting. Fine. The Carian city-states are making their move. I need to handle the battlefield on that end."
"Heh, very well. Go. If any crisis arises, inform me immediately. I will arrive as fast as I can."
Radagon shook his head with a small smile. Messmer didn't bother to reply; he simply cut the connection.
"Was the harvest good?"
"I suppose so. The body of a powerful warrior... though I don't intend to offer it as a sacrifice just yet."
"Oh? Why not?" Lansseax looked at Mohg with confusion.
"Hmm... because he was a respectable opponent, I suppose?"
"I can understand that. Mutual respect between warriors?"
"Not quite. Just an appreciation for a fighter's spirit. I can't say I liked his personality much, though." Mohg shook his head. "What's your next move? Caria seems to be mobilizing for their first clash with Messmer."
"I've received word about the reinforcements as well. I'll be returning to my unit shortly. If the timing is right, I'll notify you."
"Alright then. I'll await the good news." Lansseax waved a hand at Mohg, then turned and departed, leaving him with only her back.
"Hmm... even though Scarlilan held out, the situation in the lake district is looking grim..."
Mohg looked at the map in his hand and shook his head. This was the intelligence gathered by his guerrilla units during their travels.
The reason there were few Golden Order troops at Scarlilan was because the main forces were split between the Carian city-states and the Grand Lift. The remaining detachments were pushing aggressively toward the center of Liurnia.
Caria's decision to plant a force in the east had been a wise move that saved Scarlilan, but the cost was high: much of the central lake district had been swallowed up by the Erdtree's forces. Only about three towns remained as a buffer before the Academy's territory. It was only there, facing fierce resistance, that the Golden Order had slowed its advance.
Now, it seemed they wanted to use Messmer to put even more pressure on the Carian cities, forcing Caria to pull troops from the lake district and allowing the main army to swallow more territory.
"Forget it... it's none of my business anyway. Rennala likely planned to cede those central regions to the Golden Order from the start..." Mohg rested his chin in his hand, lost in thought. By occupying the center, the Golden Order could better propagate their faith.
"My Lord."
"Ah, you're back, Nibla. How was it on your end?"
"Reasonably well. We've eliminated three Golden Order scouting parties. However, they are alert now and have begun actively investigating us."
"That's to be expected. Since we showed ourselves, we were bound to be noticed. Even if we hadn't appeared, it was only a matter of time; there's far too much intel regarding us floating around the lake district." Mohg wasn't surprised.
"Pause your activities for now. Switch to a different sector to draw more attention away from our base."
"Understood... By the way, My Lord, I have a question."
"Hmm? What is it?" Mohg looked at Nibla with curiosity; it was rare for the man to ask a question.
Nibla recounted the incident with the Golden General, expressing his interest in the man's ability to heal and the source of his survival. If that truly was the power of "Blessing," did they actually stand a chance?
Mohg rubbed his chin, narrowing his eyes.
"I think I know what happened. It is indeed the blessing of the Erdtree. You know the Erdtree sheds Crystal Tears, don't you?"
"Tears?" Nibla was stunned.
"Well, I suppose you wouldn't know. After all, your factions have historically kept to your own business." Mohg nodded and explained the functions of Crimson and Cerulean Crystal Tears to Nibla.
Nibla listened and nodded slowly. "Is there... no way to counter it?"
"Hmm... that is an excellent question. I will think of something."
Mohg was momentarily stumped. He hadn't given this aspect much thought before, but meeting it now was a good thing; better to solve it now than to scramble for a solution later.
"This is a valuable observation, Nibla. Is there anything you desire as a reward?"
"I have no immediate desires, My Lord. Simply record this as a merit for me."
"Very well." Mohg nodded, agreeing to the request.
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (Full)
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