Chapter 108: Shield Parry

At this moment, no sound was more beautiful than the ringing of the bell.

The Forbidden Lord of Cinder, who had only pushed open the coffin lid and thrown out a greatsword, still lingered within the smoke and dust, his figure unclear, flickering like a ghost.

Amid the solemn, ancient tolling of the bell, it seemed as if everything had been brought under control.

The Presiding Priest held an aged yellow scroll in his hands. The special bell’s toll that echoed through the heavens spread outward from layer upon layer of white halos radiating from the unfurled scroll. Yet, in this disaster, the sound of the bell only carried an inexplicable unease. The smoke concealed the Forbidden Lord of Cinder’s form, and none could glimpse his figure; this unknown only deepened the fear in people’s hearts.

“Hm?”

As the bell tolled, Maria finally dared to glance at the greatsword stabbed into the ground.

One look, and she immediately sensed something was wrong. The blade was straight, pleasing in its proportions, thinning elegantly toward the tip. Near the guard, the blade curved inward on both sides, creating a recessed slot. This special design increased the weapon’s strength and, in close combat, could easily catch and bind an enemy’s weapon with clever force.

Savage, like a wolf.

This is… a Farron Greatsword!?

From her memories of her previous life, Maria recalled its origins. Such a distinctive weapon was often paired with a sharp dagger, used together as training equipment for the Farron Basic Swordsmanship style. The Farron Swordsman class specialized in dual-wielding.

Could it be… that this Forbidden Lord of Cinder, cast out of Lordran, was—

“Disperse the smoke! Quickly, disperse the smoke!” The Presiding Priest, relieved that the Lord of Cinder hadn’t acted again, hastily ordered the shaken priests to find a way to clear away the cursed haze.

Because of the smoke, visibility was appallingly poor. Step five meters away, and sight was swallowed by the rolling dust. Even transcendent senses could not pierce the murk with clarity.

“Careful! He’s moving again!”

Maria heard the Presiding Priest’s command from afar. Risking drawing the Lord of Cinder’s ire, she shouted a warning. He was holding the Bell, which made him the first target for the Lord of Cinder. The second target was obvious—Maria herself, bearing Chaos within her blood.

Almost the same instant she cried out, the smoke before the Presiding Priest surged violently. A black shadow burst forth with a lethal, ferocious charge! The killing intent it exuded condensed into a thin, bloody mist.

The Presiding Priest, upon inhaling it, stiffened mid-dodge. His eyes turned red as he gripped his octagonal mace and charged straight ahead like a mindless beast.

It’s over.

Maria sighed inwardly. He was already dead.

Crack!!

The sickening snap of bones. The shadow rammed its fist like a battering ram into the priest’s chest, then drew a savage fang-blade down toward his skull. The scene was a brutal reminder of life’s fragility.

Arthur, who had rushed in a heartbeat too late, could only fling two gunblades as his steps carried him toward the Bell. The Presiding Priest was gone, but the Bell had to be saved—or the Forbidden Lord of Cinder would break completely free.

“So much to kill, kill…”

Muttering low, the Lord of Cinder’s half-draconic face twisted with overflowing malice. His killing intent instantly locked onto the nearest life—Arthur, lunging toward the Bell.

“Where are you looking?”

A sharp, clear shout split the air, carried by the hiss of steel.

As the second frontline fighter of the Special Squad, Maria dashed forward, her movements light after receiving several buffs from Liline. She kicked up the Farron Greatsword and charged. Her judgment was instant: Arthur would inevitably be attacked if he tried to seize the Bell.

Given the ruthless combat skill the Lord of Cinder had already shown, even Arthur might not endure long.

“You… damn it!”

Struck from behind, and sensing on Maria the stench of the power he hated most, the Lord of Cinder abandoned Arthur without hesitation. His armored left arm met Maria’s blade, sparking a clash of iron that showered fire.

Such overwhelming strength!

Even in that first exchange, Maria felt the immense force hidden beneath his wiry frame. She, a duelist built on agility and finesse, dreaded nothing more than an enemy who crushed her with sheer power.

Their clash erupted like lightning.

At the same moment sparks burst, Maria’s left hand thrust the Farron Greatsword upward in a sly, vicious stab aimed at his unguarded abdomen. One strike to wound deeply!

But the Lord of Cinder responded with something utterly unexpected.

He barely glanced at the blade. With a deft touch, his right hand flicked the weakest node of force along the weapon’s arc. His mastery of battle techniques—tempered through endless slaughter—unfolded flawlessly.

A barehanded shield parry.

Maria’s heart lurched. She was instantly reminded of duels in her previous life, fighting those shameless shield users in PvP. They would carry a small red buckler, waiting for the opponent to expose the tiniest flaw—then strike with a clean, ruthless parry that spelled certain doom.

And after a parry always came an execution, or a devastating follow-up!

Her crimson pupils shrank to pinpoints. Instinctively, her gaze flicked right—where a special dagger, jagged like a wolf’s fang, was already poised to strike her in the aftermath of the parry.

A veteran who has survived a hundred battles…

The thought crystallized in her mind even as she released the greatsword with her left hand, sacrificing the weapon rather than her balance. Yet the brutal force had already thrown her off-center.

And in that moment, the wolf-fang dagger slid silently in.

Shhhk!

The blade plunged deep into her shoulder. Pain seared through her body, dragging a muffled groan from her lips. She had avoided a fatal imbalance, but the dagger had still pierced her flesh.

One exchange—just a single heartbeat—and Maria had brushed the scent of death.

At such close quarters, each second decided victory or defeat, life or death.