The armies on both sides of the battle saw the iconic figure of the Fell Omen sent flying. Two azure torrents tore through the sky, parallel lines sketching a scroll of heaven and earth, vying to stand as tall as the Erdtree. Even as the magic dissipated, its power left a lingering fear.
Who had won?
Demigods weren't so easily defeated, but undoubtedly, Margit was in a sorrier state. It was the new Shardbearer King, Frieren, who had broken through the encirclement, achieving absolute dominance in two consecutive grueling battles. He quickly rose from the dust and shouted, "Quick, support!"
It was too late. He could only watch helplessly as his elite squad, without his cover, faltered and showed signs of collapse. The demigod sorcerer at the center provided magical cover, a deluge of Ancient Death Rancor overwhelming the enemy, creating an excellent opportunity. Immediately after, the Farron Undead Legion's flaming greatswords, the Dragon Communion adherents' dragon prayers, and the Carian Knights' magic swords descended upon these enemies. Even elites like the Tree Sentinels, Night's Cavalry, Ancient Dragon Knights, and Leyndell Knights were annihilated.
They crumbled in an instant. After all, they had endured the full force of two Lords of Cinder in a short period; their defeat was not unjust. The only solace for Margit was that at least they hadn't died by his side; these souls proceeded safely to the Erdtree.
As Frieren and her contingent pursued the elite squad, the battlefield suddenly changed: The Royal Capital Army's rear guard gradually caught up, clashing head-on with the high-spirited allied forces. The battle escalated, moving from the ground to the skies above. Wyverns spewed flames to counter Gargoyles, while Stormhawks provided support and harassment from the flanks. The warring factions stirred up a gale of magic that tore banners.
Boom!
Figures fell from time to time; in such circumstances, falling into the battlefield likely meant death. Because the ground combat was even more intense, the most elite troops of Stormveil Castle and the Royal Capital Army clashed, flesh and blood flying.
"For our great Majesty, for Limgrave!"
"A mere bunch of trash from a remote place, I'll slaughter all you rebels!"
"The Golden Dynasty shall remain eternal!"
The battle cries of both sides resounded through the heavens, causing the lake waters to boil. Even the nearby Church of Vows, once a symbol of reconciliation, collapsed slightly, today witnessing the resurgence of conflict. The old tortoise residing within sighed at the endless disasters, closed its eyes, and went into hibernation. It was simply too much to bear. Only blood could end this turmoil. Now, with bloodshot eyes, neither side was likely to hold back, almost aiming for mutual destruction.
For the Royal Capital Army, having paid such a price, how could they stop midway? At the very least, they had to teach these rebels a lesson, or else their Leyndell homeland would surely be engulfed in the flames of war again. For the Southern Army, a confrontation with Leyndell was inevitable sooner or later. Wasn't fighting the world's strongest army now exhilarating? They could feel Runes flowing into their bodies.
Fight to the end.
Margit still ordered them to hold their ground as much as possible and not rush too far forward. Despite his calm demeanor, he was enduring great sorrow, because he was about to lose several top warriors—
Crack!
Frieren pulled the Grafted Blade Greatsword from a Tree Sentinel's chest; he turned into Runes. She casually flicked off a speck of blood, gave a signal to those beside her, and then a loud horn sounded: All units, regroup. The well-trained Southern Army quickly withdrew from the Golden Army's formation. In an instant, hooves thundered, the earth shook, and plumes of dust converged into formations, organized in an orderly manner under Edgar's command. The Liurnian nobles also obeyed the order to withdraw. After this battle, they were completely convinced by the legendary Soul of Cinder. She had the power to mobilize the entire South, the wisdom to strategize for the Academy of Magic, and the boldness to fight demigods back-to-back... She was undoubtedly a reliable monarch. They would advance and retreat together from now on, especially since they had made an enemy of the Grace-Given King and had no path of retreat.
Both armies stabilized their formations, warhorses neighed, and iron hooves scraped the ground, poised for a second charge.
Fight again?
Truthfully, both sides were at their limit, especially Margit and Frieren, the commanders, who were not in good condition. Their respective hero-level powerhouses had also returned; the Royal Capital's elite units rejoined their ranks, while on the allied side, Moongrum, the ancient hero Samir, Black Knife Assassins, and others smoothly regrouped. The two armies faced each other menacingly.
A moment later, the silver-haired girl spoke first: "Are you very unwilling? Still not planning to stop?"
"Of course. You killed many of our comrades, weakening the Royal Capital's strength. We shouldn't let you continue to grow stronger; otherwise, we'll just have to fight another defensive war."
"I hear the Royal Capital still has numerous forces, such as the Draconic Tree Sentinel with its divine-level power. Wouldn't it be more advantageous for you to defend the city walls?"
Margit shook his head and sighed, "That would be too cruel. The two sieges of Leyndell were torment for both attackers and defenders. War trampled all civilized achievements. At that point, only savagery remained. I don't want to see the Golden Dynasty's most prosperous land descend into madness."
"It's good that you're not just refusing to retreat out of pure unwillingness to accept defeat."
"What do you mean?"
"If you still have your wits about you, Margit, listen to me. Take your men and go home. Otherwise, I'll release it." Frieren removed the hair ornament from her ponytail—a vibrant Flower of Aeonia? Although people recognized it, no one would believe someone would wear it on their head all day. Are you trying to die? Is it real? What normal person uses an Aeonian bloom as decoration?
The next moment, the scarlet flower slowly bloomed. The tens of thousands of soldiers present felt a chill run down their backs, as if plunged into an ice cave. It was too terrifying. It was alive, a genuine flower, and it could bloom at any moment. This simple demonstration illustrated two things: First, Frieren actually maintained the Flower of Aeonia with her magic power daily; if her condition worsened and she couldn't stabilize it, it would be disastrous. Second, she could freely control the flower's evolution, indicating an extremely high mastery of Scarlet Rot magic.
In short, the threat of releasing the Flower of Aeonia was by no means an empty bluff. At the very least, it could be thrown into the enemy formation like the Sunlight Spear earlier. At that point, the painstakingly assembled offensive power of the Leyndell army would be wiped out.
What to do? The silver-haired girl didn't press further but openly controlled the flower, its petals gradually unfurling, a wisp of Scarlet Rot power slowly drifting. At this moment, all was silent.
No, are you serious? Are you going to release it now?
"Rest assured, I've researched the reverse control of Scarlet Rot. I can ensure it won't spread uncontrollably." This bold declaration of her achievement did nothing to lessen the deterrent, because Frieren's underlying message was: my reservations are fewer than you imagine. The allied army was also reassured; they had committed to her, ready to go mad together if necessary. What mattered was driving out the foreign enemy; today was a gamble.
Margit's face showed his difficulty. He had never faced such a difficult choice in his life, not even when he decided to step forward as an Omen to protect the Royal Capital. He wasn't even given time for much internal struggle; people beside him were already starting to persuade him:
"Fighting far from the Royal Capital is disadvantageous for us."
"Who knows if the Soul of Cinder, having subdued the Academy of Magic, will mobilize more reinforcements? It would be troublesome if we were surrounded."
"I bet she won't release the Scarlet Rot, but the battle is already lost."
In truth, the Flower of Aeonia Frieren presented wasn't the only large-scale destructive magic she possessed. Its main advantage was the infamous reputation of Scarlet Rot, its deterrent power immense, always evoking the apocalyptic scenes of Caelid.
How to choose? No one would choose mutual destruction. Even knowing it was a bluff, they wouldn't risk it, especially since being deterred by Scarlet Rot was a convenient way out. The opportunity was offered; would he take it or not?
She further stimulated her magic power. Scarlet, ribbon-like energy spread towards the Royal Capital Army, drifting with the wind. No need for further verbal threats; facts spoke louder than words. The magical control displayed at this moment indicated she could completely hurl it at the Royal Capital Army. Perhaps the claim of being able to control its spread wasn't a boast; there was indeed intelligence to that effect... But no one dared to gamble, because the power of the Sunlight Spear still lingered, a testament to the caster's strength, terrifying all armies.
The allied army, however, remained steadfast. The people of Stormveil Castle knew their leader's personality well; she was never ambiguous when it came to magic. If she dared to use such a dangerous technique, she must have prepared a contingency plan beforehand. Even if she released it, it would be fine. As for the Liurnian nobles, though worried, they remained calm after seeing their allies' composed demeanor.
"My patience is limited." Frieren flicked her finger. The Flower of Aeonia, previously the size of a hair ornament, flew into the air and rapidly expanded, ready to bloom. The polluting magic power was genuine; if released, the consequences would be unpredictable.
"It seems you're determined to drive us away." Margit took a deep breath. "You've already become a force to be reckoned with, Frieren. The next time we meet will be at the Royal Capital, won't it?" With that, he turned and strode away, his back appearing even more solitary. Even if his condition were better and his army stronger, the opponent's fighting spirit was equally intense. The losses from fighting would be too great, not to mention the threat of Scarlet Rot... It was always like this; even with an advantage, he couldn't save the situation.
Again.
Ultimately, he had failed to eliminate the Golden Dynasty's great enemy and had even watched them grow to an uncontrollable extent. Instead of regret, he should return to Leyndell, Royal Capital, to organize defenses and prepare to protect his homeland. After the battle, Margit was certain: someone who did not revere the Erdtree must not be allowed to become king. His departure meant the Royal Capital Army had to accept the current outcome of the battle. Fighting head-on was impossible; they had to retreat first.
The vast Golden Army turned around on the spot. A portion formed a rearguard, slowly retreating, fearing the enemy might make a sudden move. Compared to their imposing arrival, they indeed looked more tired, the atmosphere heavy, their steps listless. Not winning was a failure. They would have to retreat to the Grand Lift, return to the Royal Capital, and prepare for the inevitable Siege of Leyndell.
Would that hellish war have to be fought again? Just the thought was terrifying, draining all their energy.
"We won!" Cheers erupted from the allied forces. Many even embraced, weeping with joy, having narrowly escaped with their lives. After all, they still wanted to witness Her Majesty ascend the throne of the Elden Lord. Few in Limgrave had experienced the cruelest parts of the Shattering War, so they maintained many beautiful illusions, their morale high, anticipating another battle to decide the fate of the world more than anyone. During the Storm King's era, they had been a remote corner. Later, in the Shattering War, they were mere insignificant pawns, lacking much experience. Today, the new Shardbearer King had brought them to the pinnacle stage.
They had followed the right person; they would occupy the Royal Capital.
In the sight of all, Frieren put away the Flower of Aeonia, placing it back on her head. Then, raising her staff high, she announced loudly: "The Battle of the Church of Vows is our victory! It is we who, working together, protected the South!"
"Praise Her Majesty!" The cheers were even louder, weapons clashed with crisp sounds, war drums rumbled, and this song of victory spread across the lake, creating ripples. The exhausted elite Southern Army soldiers simply sat down, panting. Some Dragon Communion adherents' dragonification had intensified, but everyone knew Her Majesty had ways to suppress it. Choosing this path was correct; they had personally participated in a demigod battlefield. Their Stormveil Castle army had survived the calamity and even absorbed many Runes and equipment from the Golden Army. Leyndell was truly rich; this time, they would definitely level up.
The Carian faction also rested with relief and satisfaction. Many who hadn't seen each other for years began to greet one another:
"I never thought I'd see the glory of the magic knights again."
"How could the Southern Army be without Liurnia?"
"Since both Princess Ranni and Her Majesty Frieren have decided, then let's go to the Royal Capital." Everyone serving the Carian Royal Family naturally hoped their master would occupy Leyndell. That way, they would become new Golden Nobles and receive blessings—a win-win situation. Never mind the Golden Dynasty; Caria also had its own proud heritage. The two should be merged.
Legitimacy? Nothing was more legitimate than this. It was practically a reenactment of Radagon and Rennala's union back then. Coincidentally, this battle took place around the Church of Vows; it felt inexplicably full of historical significance.
"Your Majesty, thankfully, we fulfilled our mission and managed to preserve this army." Edgar wiped his sweat, still feeling a lingering fear.
"As long as everyone is alright." At this moment, Frieren leaned on her staff like a crutch to stand firm. The fatigue was something potions couldn't remedy; after all, it had been a back-to-back battle against two demigods. Her Astrologer account's stats had long reached their limit. She had mobilized a portion of her main body's power to hold on, paying more energy to compensate for the differences in magical rules, adding to the pressure. Now that the mobilization state was lifted, she was even more tired, but the result was what mattered most.
She looked around at the Black Knife Assassins, the ancient hero Samir, and the recently replenished Farron Undead Legion. Not a single one was missing. In such a high-intensity conflict, this was incredibly fortunate.
"What are your plans for the future? Lord Moongrum, would you be willing to join us?"
"Thank you for your invitation. Actually, I suppose I've already joined. However, I will usually be stationed at the Academy of Magic. Please rest assured, if you ever need to go to other battlefields, feel free to use the Carian Knights. We are always ready."
"It's alright. I respect your choices and won't force you." Frieren nodded. With his introduction, she also greeted the Liurnian nobles, who immediately performed the audience ceremony. These people made no secret of their desire for advancement. Both sides hit it off immediately; after all, their common goal was Leyndell, Royal Capital, and they shared common interests.
"We hereby pledge our loyalty to Her Majesty Frieren." The Liurnian nobles all knelt on one knee. Amidst the burning battlefield ruins, they made their solemn vow, believing in the renowned new Shardbearer King's character, deeming her worthy of their allegiance. Bringing victory was the best audience ceremony.
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