"In any case, I will continue my research into Soul Magic. If any of you wish to learn, I don't mind teaching you."
Frieren's generous offer left everyone looking at each other, scarcely believing their ears.
Truly?
Whether it was mere politeness or not, just her willingness to say it put her leagues above many others. After all, the world-renowned magic academies were actually quite insular. Academic factions were no different from feuding noble houses, often filled with arrogant individuals who wouldn't give others the time of day.
Hearing her words, they suddenly felt inadequate. How difficult could Soul Magic, something entirely new to the Lands Between, possibly be? It was immeasurable. Many likely didn't even meet the intelligence requirements.
"Apologies, my lady, but my intelligence attribute isn't sufficient. Such things are beyond my reach."
"We do have battlefield mages, but their craft is quite crude."
Not everyone could be like the Tarnished, freely allocating points with Runes. Often, one's innate attributes determined their path. Even among the Tarnished, few could harvest Runes and strengthen themselves as prolifically as Frieren. The basic conditions she possessed were worlds apart for most, like gazing up at an insurmountable peak.
"It doesn't matter. I will try to refine and simplify it. Magic is ultimately just a technique; the barrier to entry should be lowered."
Frieren didn't delve further into the topic of Soul Magic. From an academic standpoint, it was far from complete. Saying more would be like promising castles in the air—not rigorous enough. So, she stopped there without going into detail. She needed to absorb more structured, local knowledge, preferably aided by a Great Rune.
Gradually, the crowd dispersed, returning to their own tasks.
However, this didn't stop Rogier the sorcerer from approaching, his face full of admiration.
"Your philosophy is truly respectable, Lady Frieren. I have also researched death-related magic myself. Perhaps we could exchange some insights?"
"Of course."
They discussed the foundational magical structures of the Lands Between, various hypotheses, research topics, legendary spells, and more. Both benefited greatly from the exchange.
Since arriving in this new game world, Frieren had been absorbing different knowledge with insatiable hunger. She gained a fuller understanding of various abilities. Her experience and talent, unbound by the world itself, allowed her to take a massive leap forward.
To others, her claim that her magic was "incomplete" seemed far too modest. After all, she openly healed the Living Corpses encountered along the way, integrating them directly into her ranks. Even the most severely afflicted could have a sliver of consciousness awakened to perform simple tasks, significantly alleviating logistical pressure. Assigning menial chores to the heavily afflicted Living Corpses was feasible; they were useful.
The Southern Army's secret was laid bare for all the spies from various factions to see.
It was straightforward.
Yet, it was also highly confidential because, ultimately, only Frieren could use it. No one else understood how. It was truly unique knowledge. Although she claimed it was unfinished, her current achievements already marked her as a founding master.
"Before long, your magical prowess will be renowned far and wide," Rogier congratulated her, adding a crucial reminder, "Of course, that assumes we achieve victory."
"Indeed. I believe a Great Rune will accelerate the completion of my magic."
"It's said that the effects of the same Ring fragment can differ slightly depending on the bearer. For instance, Godrick excels at grafting. More accurately, perhaps it enhances the user's inherent power? I look forward to seeing the power of your Great Rune."
"Can I interpret that as: the process of accommodating the Elden Ring makes one progressively stronger?"
"Exactly correct."
"Truly worthy of being the most precious treasure in the world."
"To unleash its full might requires a god to contain the Ring and then enact its Law. A king blessed by such a god would be even more invincible. That would be the ultimate power." Rogier's heart surged with excitement at the thought. If this fellow Tarnished could reach the throne, perhaps he would witness a legend unfold.
Frieren wasn't concerned with the distant future; the immediate task was the march.
While the Tarnished conversed, the main army gathered at both ends of the Bridge of Sacrifice. Supplemented by reinforcements along the way, their numbers swelled to 22,000, a vast, unbroken host.
Edgar reported: "Lady Frieren, I believe our current numbers are the limit of our organizational capacity. Expanding further would make it difficult to control the non-human soldiers."
"Understood."
"Can this many people truly surround a castle?" Kenneth asked, skeptical.
"The difficulty with Stormveil Castle lies in its construction atop high cliffs. Only one wall allows for a large-scale assault. Therefore, our tactic must be successive, concentrated attacks in waves, focusing on a single point to breach it."
"I trust your judgment. Proceed as planned. If necessary, I will open a path."
Having carefully observed Limgrave's primary fortress before, Frieren understood Edgar's decision was sound. The target offered only one viable front. Furthermore, the castle walls were thick and hard to break. The volatile battlefield wouldn't allow them to leisurely charge up a devastating attack within range. Charging through the main gate was the more practical approach, even knowing it was heavily guarded. This remained the only option.
The purpose of a fortress was never to block every single approach but to channel the enemy onto a specific path, forcing a decisive battle on terrain advantageous to the defenders. This overt strategy was the hardest to counter.
Many lives would be lost, but for some, it was also a grand opportunity to display their prowess, and they were eager for the fight. The inhabitants of the Lands Between, having endured years of suffering, had long since disregarded life and death. They would return to the Erdtree cycle anyway; what mattered was dying for a worthy cause.
Once assembled, the grand army officially began its march.
Dusk began to fall.
But the army pressed onward tirelessly, nightfall doing nothing to impede their progress. Beasts and monsters kept their distance, avoiding the main path of the advancing host. Their side made no attempt to conceal their movements—nor could they. This procession was tantamount to a declaration of war against the Shardbearer King.
They didn't necessarily bear a great grudge against Godrick; it was simply that following Frieren offered a better future. It was the way things were heading, nothing more. Soul Magic was crucial, more effective than any reward. Everyone hoped for a chance at its healing touch. Even dying in the Southern Army, having experienced the healing magic, reduced the chance of complications when their souls returned to the Erdtree—an invaluable boon in the current age. This prospect spurred them on, making them even more eager to fight and prove their worth.
"Long live Frieren! You are the ruler of the Weeping Peninsula!"
"Victory is assured!"
"The south of the Lands Between will be unified once more under the great Soul Cinder King!"
The army seemed even more enthusiastic than their leader, filled with the exhilarating release of finally being able to engage in battle after holding back for so long. Morale was soaring, and their marching speed was even faster than anticipated. Moreover, they knew their side boasted powerful figures like the Black Knife Assassins and Zamor Ancient Heroes—renowned names needing no introduction—supported by the Farron Undead Legion (Translator's Note: Likely referring to the Abyss Watchers). This force was comparable to one of the major factions during the Shattering.
Meanwhile, the silver-haired girl raised her staff. Enhancement magic, accompanied by the crisp chime of a bell, summoned forth Spirit Ash warriors. The refined Soul Magic, combined with enhancements, gave them a significantly stronger aura. They surrounded Frieren like a personal guard. Though few in number, their presence was imposing.
Since the troops were cheering, she decided to respond in kind. Unsurprisingly, the shouts grew even louder. Over time, the Spirit Ash legion had become one of her signature abilities, like a banner proclaiming her presence. Even the spies, who had only heard rumors, watched with wide eyes.
Is it real?
They had assumed it was just boastful propaganda, but seeing was believing. Spirit Ashes could be summoned in multiples? And not just summoned, but as a small squad? Judging by Frieren's relaxed demeanor, the only limit seemed to be the variety of different ashes, not the burden of summoning them.
Truly the progenitor of Soul Magic.
This display of power reached at least the level of a top-tier hero, enough to incite a war. Many began to feel uncertain about the outcome of the Battle for Stormveil Castle; predicting a winner became difficult. Regardless, the stagnant Lands Between were about to liven up.
On a distant hillside, two Night's Cavalry riders observed the scene, also noting the magical senses constantly scanning the surroundings. They were elite soldiers led by the Fell Omen, regarded as Grim Reapers by countless warriors, knights, and heroes, their deeds legendary. Yet, even at this distance, they felt a faint threat to their lives?
This was highly unfavorable. They had completely misjudged her strength from the start!
One whispered, "Look closely, aren't those long, pointed ears a characteristic of demi-humans?"
"Yes. While not quite on the level of the Misbegotten, she's at least a half-blood... Disgusting. I can't imagine any normal human mixing with demi-human bloodlines. We should spread this, let people know how base Frieren truly is."
"I'd advise against it. After all, haven't some Omen children been released from the Capital? They're even worse off than demi-humans. Spreading such propaganda would just be embarrassing."
The few warriors exchanged glances and fell silent.
"We must report this situation to Lord Margit. The enemy is strong."
Just as his comrade spoke, a brilliant surge of magic shot into the sky, its powerful energy illuminating the area for kilometers around. The small reconnaissance unit led by the two Night's Cavalry was exposed before the army, and thus, within Frieren's perception. The silver-haired girl's emerald eyes swept towards them.
They had spotted each other. The previously noisy army fell deathly silent, assuming battle formations. Tens of thousands of murderous gazes locked onto the targets.
In the next moment, she raised her staff, charging a large Glintstone Pebble.
No, we must retreat immediately!
Damn it!
Even warriors as formidable as the Night's Cavalry could see at a glance that Frieren was beyond their ability to fight. They needed to report back quickly, but it was too late.
The massive Glintstone Pebble hurtled towards them. With a deafening boom, stone fragments flew everywhere. Aiming for the horse first, the spell struck the ground deliberately—not a miss. The key was the shockwave, stunning the warhorses and throwing them into disarray. The mounts they relied on for chasing down targets now hindered their escape.
The Night's Cavalry lost their prized mobility. Their accompanying elite soldiers quickly formed a wall, trying to buy time for their commanders.
"See?" Frieren's expression was smug as she spurred Torrent forward, closing the distance. "Your horse isn't as good as mine."
Recovering from their shock, the Southern Army immediately drew their bows. With a series of 嗖嗖 sounds, a rain of arrows covered the targets.
Show no mercy.
They all knew the fearsome reputation of the Night's Cavalry. Serving under the Fell Omen, they had caused rivers of blood among heroes and hunted down countless powerful individuals. Representing the will of the Altus Plateau, they could still project force outwards and were not to be underestimated. If these riders escaped to report back, they might attract Margit himself, which would be troublesome. Better to eliminate them here and now.
Unfortunately, even without their horses, their movement speed was impressive, and they evaded the brunt of the attack. The arrow rain struggled to reach them, especially while they were fleeing. The gap between ordinary soldiers and a top-tier mage was immense. At this moment, only Frieren, riding Torrent swiftly, could pursue. Alone, she faced the Night's Cavalry and their detachment. Combat was imminent.
Perfumer's Bottle!
Suddenly, a cloud of powder erupted before her, momentarily dulling even her magic senses. Dense smoke obscured the enemy's figures, muffling sounds. Ever cautious, Frieren immediately halted her advance, wary of hidden traps.
Of course, her spellcasting didn't stop. A sweeping Glintstone Arc cut down a few slower-moving soldiers. However, the Night's Cavalry split up, taking different routes, the Perfumer's powder still interfering with any traces they left behind.
Melina explained, "That's the power of the Perfumers. They aren't known for direct combat prowess. Just be wary of tricks."
"Understood."
"Actually, you could have pressed the pursuit just now, but caution is your style, which is fine too. See, their magical aura hasn't vanished completely. Trust in Torrent's speed."
As a Finger Maiden, she naturally knew the Tarnished would choose to give chase. This was, after all, the first encounter with forces potentially linked to the Royal Capital; a clash was necessary.
A lone rider galloped off in pursuit.
Behind, the main army also quickened its pace. The appearance of the Night's Cavalry meant they had been spotted. If the enemy resorted to harassment tactics along the route, it would be extremely troublesome. They needed to reach their destination quickly. As for their commander chasing off alone, there was no need to worry. With the power of the Slayer Frieren, even hero-killers were no real threat.
The Limgrave region was vast, and finding the target didn't take long. Frieren spotted a figure in black robes and armor ahead. Seeing escape was impossible, the opponent stopped and took a stance.
Glintstone Pebble!
She launched a probing attack while dismounting. The pebble was shattered.
"How many warriors of your caliber does the Royal Capital have?"
"We have nothing to say to a Tarnished. You are destined enemies of the Golden Tree, lawless beings who dare challenge the entire Golden Dynasty after being left unchecked for a moment."
The Night's Cavalry seemed quite incensed, filled with righteous fury at Frieren's perceived villainy. He menacingly swung his flail, the chain rattling as his aura surged. With a sudden dash, he lunged forward—fast, stealthy, like the wind, attacking from a blind spot.
Clang!
The silver-haired girl drew her blade with lightning speed, parrying the weapon. The impact sent the Night's Cavalry stumbling back in shock. In the next instant, a Glintstone Arc was upon him. Caught off guard, the Night's Cavalry was struck. His sturdy armor shattered instantly, blood splattering.
So sharp?
The effectiveness of simpler magic depended heavily on the user's power. To effortlessly pierce his armor likely meant her strength reached a near-divine level.
"You cannot escape. So don't hold back energy for retreat. Come at me with everything you have."
This statement, delivered as if observing an experiment, was even more infuriating. Although Frieren meant no insult and showed her opponent due respect, the vast difference in their power made the Night's Cavalry's heart clench. Escape was impossible. Today, he would return to the Golden Tree with honor.
The flail spun menacingly in his hand, carrying a bloody aura. He swung it fiercely. As expected, the Tarnished leaped to evade, but the weapon changed its trajectory mid-air.
Parry!
Once again, a deflection caused the attack to miss. Then, a magic greatsword (Translator's Note: Referring to a spell like Carian Greatsword) slashed across his body, drawing a spray of blood. Warmth faded, life force drained away; the Night's Cavalry was dying.
"...We weren't fleeing... The message has already been sent... This is just the beginning of the harassment campaign."
Before he could finish, Frieren's blade plunged into his chest, followed by a swift execution. Finally, not forgetting her thoroughness, Frieren took out her staff, cast Glintstone Arc to dismember the body, and added a dose of Holy damage for good measure, preventing any unexpected revival.
"—Margit..."
The Night's Cavalry worried even in his final moments, as the silver-haired girl's oppressive power was beyond anything he had anticipated, more terrifying than any challenger the Golden Dynasty had faced in millennia. But ultimately, consciousness faded, and his body dissolved into particles of light.
Runes flowed into her, a considerable amount—a small profit. Worthy of an elite warrior of hero-level status, he had indeed forced Frieren to exert a bit more effort, but he was far from posing a real threat.
"I'll need to be careful if they come in greater numbers."
Melina commented, "The Golden Dynasty retains many soldiers of comparable strength. Often, they prevail through the sheer number of these powerful mid-tier warriors. These strong pillars uphold the defenses of Leyndell, the Royal Capital."
"In that case, the Night's Cavalry can likely be replaced. I almost underestimated Godrick."
"To be precise, they aren't Godrick's men. This signifies the intervention of forces under the Fell Omen in the Limgrave conflict. He won't allow an outsider to rule this land."
"Then we'll just fight him too."
Having raised the banner of challenge, Frieren was already prepared. It was merely one more enemy. The logic of Souls-like worlds had always been to fight through everything. She had seen countless renowned powerhouses, each more imposing than the last; ultimately, they all had to be defeated.
"Don't be too pessimistic. Once we occupy the Limgrave region, Liurnia of the Lakes, which isn't part of the Capital's sphere of influence, will become a natural barrier. It's equivalent to pushing the Altus Plateau forces back two regions. We'll be safer."
"Conversely, the Grace-Given King, who cannot allow this to happen, will make a desperate stand in Limgrave."
"You must be extremely careful, Tarnished. He might come himself. He is the powerhouse who caused rivers of hero blood to flow during the Shattering, likely possessing demigod-level strength."
To this day, Melina, like the demigods themselves, wondered: where did such a powerful being emerge from? He was too mysterious, and the unknown meant danger. Currently, their side was exposed, while the ruler sitting in the Royal Capital remained hidden. How many trump cards could he possess? If he caught them off guard and launched a major assault, it would be disastrous.
Frieren nodded solemnly, casually wiping down her two staves. If necessary, this time she would resort to dual-casting. Although it would rapidly consume her stacked stat buffs, it was a viable trump card...
Chirping?
A sudden commotion in the sky drew attention. The other Night's Cavalry had returned with a small squad, accompanied by dozens of Stormhawks. These majestic creatures had wingspans exceeding five meters, capable of conjuring fierce winds. Their feathers were light yet strong, impervious to ordinary arrows, let alone capable of injuring their powerful muscles. Combined with the ground troops, they targeted the Southern Army's formation, charging with suicidal determination.
The first encounter had begun, utterly without warning.
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