Chapter 114: Familiar

The instant the gunshot rang out, the Black Coat froze mid-dodge!

An invisible hammer seemed to slam into his body, wrenching him violently sideways. The blazing heat carried by the Farron Greatsword struck him without mercy, swatting him through the air! This was no artful maneuver, just pure brute force that tore him from the ground and hurled him skyward.

“Roar!!”

A thunderous war cry shook the battlefield as the Forbidden Lord of Cinder swept his blood-red pupils across the field with imperious disdain.

Everyone caught beneath that gaze felt a chill rise from the depths of their soul. It was a suffocating mix of savagery, killing intent, and the cruel virtues of war.

Behind the rising haze of blood mist, it felt as though some dreadful being sat enthroned upon a skull seat high above, silently watching the blood-soaked duel offered up in its name. Instinct screamed not to look—survival itself demanded you avert your eyes, even as you knew it was there!

‘You are enveloped by the oppressive aura of a higher lifeform… Willpower check initiated… Failure results in Stagger, Fear, or Unconscious status… Cainhurst royal blood detected, suppression scaled according to life level difference…’

‘Check passed!’

Maria blinked hard, easing the stabbing ache in her eyes.

Everywhere the Forbidden Lord’s gaze swept, mortals collapsed—some screaming, some fleeing in terror, some dropping insensate to the ground.

Even the thick steam smoke was blown aside by the bloody gale of his presence, his majesty blazing overhead like the burning sun itself. This was a Lord of Cinder—bearer of the flame, whose might endured even after being dragged back from time!

“Die!”

The Forbidden Lord didn’t pursue the Black Coat to finish him. Instead, as the smoke dispersed, his first act was to lock onto the Black-clad Nun exposed under the sunlight. Whether driven by the First Flame’s instinct to burn away Chaos, or by the Chaos’s own murderous corruption, it was impossible to tell—the hunger to tear Maria’s pale throat and spill her crimson blood was undeniable.

With a wolf’s howl he leapt, blood wind surging, darting in jagged arcs with uncanny momentum. His dagger scraped along the ground, steering his course as he swung the flaming greatsword at Maria.

Maria exhaled deeply, setting herself against the oncoming killer in a posture that was all too familiar. Her right-hand longsword leveled at the foe, her left-hand shortsword reversed and braced against her arm.

The defiant salute of the Wolf!

The Forbidden Lord halted for a heartbeat at the sight. The salute of the Undead Legion of Farron. Though his memories were charred away by fire, some instinct stirred—an echo of the moment he had once faced the first and final Farron Wolf…

‘Farron Swordsmanship… it’s been a long time.’

Maria’s dodge was almost prescient, slipping past the fiery blade by the thinnest margin, silver hair sliced loose by the swing. Her blood surged, suppressing both the flame and the choking mist around them.

Twist, close in, circle behind.

‘Against Abyss-corrupted husks, one clean strike prevents them from bursting at death. Weak points: skull, lower back, heart.’ Farron’s art, from basic drills to its pinnacle, was forged to slay creatures of the Abyss.

Maria knew Farron Swordsmanship would not end this foe.

Backstab!

“Gh—!!”

In the flash of crossing blades, both read the other’s move. Dagger and shortsword locked, longsword and greatsword clashed, sparks showering.

This wasn’t battle—it was a wild, primal dance.

They fought like dueling direwolves, twin weapons their claws and fangs. Swords tore like talons through soft bellies, blades bit like jaws to crush throats.

“Who are you?”

The Forbidden Lord’s relentless strikes, steeped in wolf swordsmanship, carried bewilderment.

“Just a nun.” Maria smiled, driving her blade forward with lethal precision.

As a woman, her wrist strength was weaker, so she favored lethal thrusts over brute cleaves. Even within a shared lineage, style bent to one’s own nature.

“Just a nun? That… is remarkable.” His burned, half-draconic face twisted into a fleeting, wistful smile. For a moment, the tormented Lord seemed to remember the pure man he once was.

“I’m flattered.” Maria’s blades danced against the overpowering weight of his flaming steel, her defiance answering his smile.

Their clashing swords rang out like peals of thunder. Maria’s palms split and bled, crimson dripping from her hilts, as the very air shrieked and recoiled from their duel.

Though she was Iron rank, the gap was merciless—he was at the pinnacle of the tier, she pressed down in every attribute save charm. Each impact wrecked her body a little further.

‘So unfair… it feels like all my foes have always been cheating.’

Still, she thought with bitter humor, even as she struggled.

Then, suddenly, his strikes weakened, his swings slowing. His lips moved in a faint whisper, words Maria alone was close enough to hear.

“If it’s you… then so be it.”

And sparks began to spill from his mouth.