The storm winds and the pull of gravity swept away the surrounding warriors, leaving only Lucian and Radahn to clash without restraint.
Radahn lifted his twin greatswords in a sudden heave, knocking Lucian's Dragon Slayer Swordspear back just as it came slicing down from above.
Around the general, one by one, spheres of gravity flickered into being, all locking onto Lucian in the skies.
It was the same technique once used in his feat of shattering the stars. Now, to summon such countless orbs against Lucian was proof of how strongly Radahn recognized him as an opponent.
The orbs flew, merging into a deep, flowing river of violet across the heavens, a starry torrent rushing straight for Lucian.
Radahn was swift, but Lucian was swifter still.
He raised his Swordspear toward the skies and invoked the Lightning Slash.
Thunder roared. Unparalleled lightning coiled about the weapon, blazing golden as though the spear itself had become a solid bolt of lightning.
This lightning slash differed from the Dragon Slayer Swordspear's innate lightning, which would have canceled against black flame.
And so Lucian chose not to call on the black flame. Instead, he hurled the storm-and-thunder-forged Swordspear with all his might.
At the same time, he summoned the storm beneath him, letting it hurl him downward in a sudden dive to slip past the rain of gravity orbs.
The spear tore across Caelid's crimson skies with a scream, so blinding in its brilliance that it stabbed pain into the eyes of the watching warriors.
This thrust was less lightning—more like the sun itself.
The weapon plunged into Radahn's right chest and burst through his left waist, impaling his body clean through.
Lucian landed. Using the storm's momentum, he dashed forward at near-teleporting speed, closing the distance in a blink.
Several of the gravity orbs struck him, but after enlarging his body, the pull of one or two was no longer enough to slow him down.
His hand clamped around the Swordspear's haft where it jutted from Radahn's back, and he drove forward, heedless even as Radahn's right blade hacked across his waist and belly.
Using the embedded Swordspear like a guillotine, Lucian ripped through as they passed one another, the weapon tearing Radahn's collarbone, shoulder, and back to pieces.
Now only the front half of Radahn's body was supporting him, his abdominal cavity laid bare through the ghastly wound.
But it was not yet finished. Lucian halted, spun, and brought his spear around in a sweeping slash.
The blade carved precisely along the gaping wound from before, severing Radahn's spine once more.
Even the mighty general could not help but roar in agony at such grievous injuries.
Lucian did not press further. Instead, he snatched up his crimson flask and drank twice, knitting together the wounds left by Radahn's earlier strike.
The Starscourge Greatswords were not only unimaginably heavy but also absurdly sharp. Lucian suspected they had been strengthened at least to +9.
That counter just now had nearly cleaved him in two.
If not for his last-moment twist to spare his heart, he might well have died then and there.
The open wounds, however, could not be ignored. Left untreated, they would soon spell disaster.
Radahn reconnected his spine and shoulder with gravity's power, ignoring the rest of his injuries. His twin blades swung again, cutting toward Lucian.
Lucian laughed aloud, exhilarated. It was dangerous, tense—like dancing on the edge of a blade.
But this—this was how battle was meant to feel, wasn't it?
Raising his Swordspear, he met Radahn in close-quarters combat once more.
The Dragon Slayer Swordspear stabbed again and again, driving bloody holes into Radahn's body.
Radahn's twin greatswords whirled in reply, parrying Lucian's attacks even as they sought openings for a counterstrike.
Even with his mind eroded, Radahn's mastery of battle was still unmatched.
Lucian swept his Swordspear in a broad arc—but Radahn's left hand flicked his sword into a sudden, flowing flourish that deflected the strike wide.
The force of it dragged Lucian's stance off balance for the briefest instant.
Lucian was stunned. That flourish was a dagger-parry technique, yet Radahn had pulled it off with a colossal greatsword.
But this was no time for surprise. In battle, even the smallest misstep could be fatal.
Radahn's other blade was already cleaving toward his head—
This was a duel no ordinary warrior could take part in.
All they could do was watch from afar as Lucian and Radahn clashed, strike for strike.
A few tried to rush closer, eager to join—but they were reduced to bloody pulp by the roaming gravity orbs before they ever approached.
Blaidd was crouched over the cracked body of Iron Fist Alexander, freezing shut the rent seams with his Royal Greatsword. Even he could not hide his astonishment at Lucian's performance.
Blaidd knew Radahn well. He understood how terrifying the general's strength truly was.
Though his mind was gone and many of his arts and spells lost to him, Radahn was still absurdly powerful.
Those forgotten were simply those he had not mastered.
The gravity sorceries carved into his very flesh already accounted for eight-tenths of his might.
And yet Lucian could stand against him one-on-one, even seeming to suppress him at times.
If not for the sheer absurd resilience granted by the Great Rune, the damage Lucian had inflicted would have slain Radahn countless times over already.
The stars that had begun to glitter again in the heavens were proof—the Great Rune of the Starscourge was nearing its breaking point.
It would not hold much longer.
But no one knew how much time remained before it shattered.
Until then, Radahn could err countless times. All it would take was a single fatal wound inflicted on Lucian, and the entire battle would turn.
Alexander raised a fist as he watched the fight, unable to help himself.
"Magnificent! That's it! Well struck!"
"Ah—! Pain! Pain!"
Overexcited, the shards of ice sealing his cracked body broke apart, sending him groaning in agony.
Blaidd only shook his head.
That last spinning slash from Radahn had smashed half of Alexander's jar-body into fractures. Where sword had struck, his clay was cleaved open, his innards spilling out in heaps.
If not for Blaidd's freezing seal holding both contents and cracks together, it would have been over for him.
Even so, a shattered vessel was better than being slain outright.
Bernahl had drained a flask and healed, then folded his arms, silently watching the clash.
Behind him, the Tarnished known as the Great Horned, Old Knight, and the Lionhearted peered at his back.
They had recognized him. Each harbored their own thoughts.
"Lord Bernahl… has he truly turned to the path of blasphemy?"
"That man… is it really him? He seems familiar, and yet somehow… different."
The Old Knight's eyes fixed on Lucian, silently contemplating how he might one day cut him down.
Elsewhere, the three from Miquella's Retinue stood together, Dane and Freya flanking Leda.
As always, Dane said nothing. But Leda could see the heat burning in his eyes.
He disliked speaking to others, yet lived for the thrill of sparring.
It never clouded his judgment, though—he was still a dependable companion.
Freya, by contrast, was reliable only in matters of battle. Outside of combat, she was… far too pure.
Watching Radahn and Lucian, she gasped aloud again and again.
"Wow! He even dodged that move from the general!"
"That one is strong indeed, to wound the general so gravely is a rare thing."
"Still, General Radahn… such a battle is exactly where he belongs."
"An endless battle, a burning, blazing battle!"
"This—this is the true General Radahn, the true Red Lion!"
Leda said nothing in reply.
Perhaps Radahn did indeed crave endless battle.
But not now.
This festival, with heroes gathered from across the Lands Between, was meant to deliver him to his rest.
And for Leda, this was not merely about honoring the general.
Her purpose here was also to select those worthy to one day serve Lord Miquella.
To achieve Miquella's designs, she herself would one day have to face Mohg, the Lord of Blood.
But alone, she lacked the strength.
Thus, she sought warriors of proven might, fighters whose performance in the Festival of Combat could not be denied.
One who could slay Radahn would surely be of use against the Blood Lord as well.
In the two days leading up to the festival, she had gathered intelligence.
She had learned that Lucian was the one who had already defeated a demigod—the Storm King who once ruled over Limgrave.
Now, seeing his battle with Radahn, his strength was undeniable.
Even now, the Storm King seemed to fight with room to spare.
His power was beyond question.
Suddenly, Leda spoke, turning to Freya.
"Freya. Tell me, if that Storm King faced General Radahn at his full strength… what would happen?"
Freya tilted her head, puzzled why Leda would ask, but soon the question itself enthralled her.
She thought carefully, then gave her view;
"There is no doubt the Storm King is strong. I don't know what other powers he may hold, but even against the General in his prime, he would be able to escape unharmed. Few could inflict mortal wounds on the general, sane or no."
Leda nodded.
If even Freya, who knew Radahn best, said as much… then it was time to stoke the fire.
She raised her sword. The sigil of Miquella's Unalloyed Gold Tree shimmered into being.
Around Radahn, ten golden needles appeared out of thin air, driving themselves into his flesh from every angle.
Leda had not wished to use this art.
For the purpose of defeating General Radahn, this move could only hinder.
This was her unique skill, the Needle Piercer.
From long years at Miquella's side, she had come to understand Unalloyed Gold well.
For a brief time, the golden needles could be treated as if they were the Unalloyed Gold Needle.
And so they could, for a moment, suppress the scarlet rot within Radahn.
The part of his mind already lost could never be restored. But what remained, not yet consumed, could be freed.
His sanity had not been destroyed beyond trace. If it had, he could never fight as he did even now.
As the golden needles sank into him, the rot receded. For an instant, Unalloyed Gold bound the corruption down.
His flesh, freed from its erosion, let the Great Rune turn fully toward restoring him in battle.
Even his skill… might return somewhat.
Leda watched with eager eyes.
Radahn still fought Lucian ferociously—
But suddenly, confused, half-formed thoughts began to ripple through his blank mind.
'Battle…?'
'Who…?'
'Malenia. The Battle of Aeonia…'
'Miquella…'
Names rose unbidden, yet their meaning was lost.
Then, in Lucian, he saw something.
'Ranni's mark…'
'Blaidd? Is it Blaidd…?'
'Who is Blaidd? Who… is he?'
'Great Rune… demigod?'
'Ranni's mark…'
His weakened mind spiraled, thoughts straying to things that mattered nothing now.
'Ranni.'
'Rykard…'
'A vow unfulfilled…'
'Mother… Father, he…'
But there was no time to wander.
Lucian's Swordspear drove into his chest in the moment of his lapse, jolting him back.
Yes—this was battle.
And so he gathered the shreds of his sanity, focusing them all upon the fight.
As a warrior, he must think of nothing else.
To give his all in defeating his foe—this was his greatest respect.
And for one who bore Ranni's mark… he must strike with all his might.
—
Lucian, too, noticed at once that something had changed.
He did not know what the golden needles were, but he could guess they came from Miquella's followers.
Whatever their nature, Radahn's assault was suddenly fiercer.
His twin blades moved with a flow unseen before, his strikes threading together with growing clarity.
'Is he recalling his skills in the midst of battle? Or is it the work of those needles?'
Radahn's swords clashed—one deflecting Lucian's Swordspear, the other forcing him back.
Then, for the first time in their duel, Radahn stepped away.
Far behind him, atop a distant dune, he summoned an immense gravity orb.
The sphere and the violet aura around his body pulled upon each other—
In an instant, Radahn was hurled across the desert, faster than any flight of gravity, as if he had teleported.
Only a body like his could endure such force.
Lucian did not give chase. Not yet. He would see what the general prepared.
He watched as Radahn drove his greatswords into the ground. Stones began to crawl upward, clinging to their blades.
The Cragblade.
A war skill that sheathed weapons in heavy stone, increasing their weight and their power.