Gawain stared at the figure before him—the Lord of Frenzied Flame that had once been Midra. He didn't dare underestimate his opponent for a single second. While he personally held no fear of the Frenzied Flame's power, that didn't mean the fire wouldn't inflict catastrophic damage.
Midra had been willing to suffer for the sake of his wife for a duration that likely surpassed the Shattering itself. When the despair accumulated over countless years finally bloomed, combined with the Hornsent's innate talent for divine invocation, Midra stood as a Lord of Frenzied Flame second only to a Tarnished who had embraced the flame at the journey's end.
Gawain shifted his stance, the Coiled Sword manifesting from a burst of intense heat. The tip of the blade pointed directly at the Frenzied Lord. His Ember state erupted to its limit, boosting every facet of his power to a new tier.
Gawain watched as his Madness meter began to skyrocket. Taking a deep breath, he struck first. With a single step that shattered the floor, his figure vanished, reappearing as he lunged straight for the Lord of Frenzied Flame. Accelerated by a storm of wind, he aimed directly at that emaciated, withered body.
As long as the physical vessel was destroyed, the will of the Frenzied Flame—no matter how potent—could not manifest out of thin air, just like the Formless Mother he had dealt with before.
Facing Gawain's domineering charge, the Lord of Frenzied Flame finally moved. The sun of flame atop his neck flared violently, expanding several times in an instant.
He slowly spread his hands, and a dense barrage of Frenzied Flame surged from the maddened sun, blanketing the sky as it lunged toward the attacker.
Gawain did not dodge. Instead, he accelerated further. The roaring Ember on the Coiled Sword transformed into a blade of pure reality-warping heat, cleaving right through the concentrated despair before him.
The Lord of Frenzied Flame was forced to rapidly swing the broken golden barbs in his left hand, using them like a dagger to parry the unexpected strike.
But how could a hurried defense stand against the manifestation of the First Flame?
The moment the golden barbs met the weight of the Coiled Sword, they shattered and melted into shards of liquid metal that sprayed in every direction.
Gawain's Coiled Sword pierced straight into the Lord's body. The violent power within the blade was unleashed without reservation. Driving the sword into the Lord's abdomen, Gawain followed up with a ruthless, upward slash of incomparable force.
The Lord of Frenzied Flame's withered body offered no resistance. It was like a hot knife through butter. With a flash of sword-light, his upper torso was split clean down the middle, the two halves falling away from each other.
However, just as the Coiled Sword was about to cleave the sun of flame atop his neck, the Lord's counterattack finally arrived. The sun erupted in a violent explosion. Although Gawain absorbed the vast majority of the flame, the sheer physical shockwave of the blast forced the two of them apart.
Without a moment's pause, the Lord's divided body began to pull back toward the center. The Frenzied Flame burned fiercely across the wounds.
The gashes sealed, instantly cauterized by the flame until the flesh fused like corpse wax. A horrific scar remained on his torso, where the power of the flame continued to writhe, forcing him back onto his feet in an utterly illogical display of resilience.
Having endured the initial shock, the Lord of Frenzied Flame finally gathered his chaotic will. He launched an offensive rather than merely defending.
He raised the Greatsword of Damnation, now fully integrated with the power of the flame, and lunged forward with a thrust to repay the previous strike.
In the next moment, however, the Lord's body was sent flying backward like a tattered rag. The flaming footprint on his chest was a testament to the absolute disparity in raw strength between the two. At the end of the day, it was still an old man's body—who gave you the courage to engage in melee?
Before he could even hit the wall, Gawain's figure was already on him. He impaled the Lord, pinning him to the sword.
The roaring flames of the Ember erupted from the blade, physically incinerating the Lord's flesh into charcoal from the inside out.
Yet, that sun of Frenzied Flame was not so easily snuffed. Even while impaled, the Lord swung the Greatsword of Damnation at Gawain.
Gawain gave him no opening. Before the strike could land, he slammed the Lord into the ground. A strange breath escaped Gawain's lips—the crystal breath derived from Seath the Scaleless. Countless crystals erupted from the burning floor, locking the Lord's body in place.
The Coiled Sword transformed into a staff. A violent Soul Stream erupted from its tip, obliterating both the crystals and the Lord of Frenzied Flame.
Suffering such a devastating blow, the Lord appeared wretched. Most of his body had been eroded by the relentless succession of attacks. Even the sun atop his neck, once burning so fiercely, began to dim. The crystal magic's damage to the soul was successfully severing the link between the will of the Frenzied Flame and this vessel.
The flame spread, chaotic and warped, as it attempted to repair the broken body. Yet, despite being heavily wounded, the Lord's aura grew even more refined and lethal.
On the surface, Gawain held the advantage, but this anomaly gave him a bad feeling.
Unlike any enemy he had faced before, the battle with the Lord of Frenzied Flame felt devoid of emotion. No matter how much damage he took, the Lord simply stood back up in the next second with the same posture. He was the embodiment of calmly burning chaos and despair.
The Lord slowly drifted into the air. The sun above his neck expanded once more, far larger than before. Countless enhanced "Frenzied Bursts" fired in rapid succession from that sun, sniping with lethal precision at the soul below that refused to submit to despair.
The dense barrage was not just fast; its power was beyond ordinary defense. Every cluster of flame that touched the ground triggered a violent explosion. Within moments, the second floor of the manse collapsed entirely under the relentless bombardment.
The Lord didn't stop. His body transformed into a blazing star, crashing toward the ground with world-ending momentum. Taking advantage of his opponent's momentary instability from the shockwave, he condensed the power of his weapon into a single, devastating point and lunged forward.
The Greatsword of Damnation pierced Gawain's body. Inside the abdominal cavity, the bundled barbs of the sword suddenly flared open. The golden spikes tore through his torso, but no blood spilled from the wound.
"How much despair do you have left to burn, Midra? I can feel it! I understand your ambition!"
Gawain let out a couple of soft coughs and gripped the Greatsword of Damnation tight. The Darksign manifested once more on his chest. Before the Frenzied Flame that sought to melt all souls, he would show Midra just how laughable that idea was. Piles of dark matter began to flow back along the blade toward the Lord.
Sensing this unfathomably deep darkness, the sun of the flame fired countless bursts in an attempt to pull away—marking the first time the Lord had retreated. But he was met by a swarm of erupting Dark Souls.
Gawain's aura, which had dipped slightly from the injury, suddenly surged! Exploding! Madly increasing! Kill, kill, kill, kill!
His presence at this moment was countless times stronger than it had been since his arrival in the Land of Shadow! An absolute dominance, an absolute madness—such a loathsome demon god! What in this world could possibly stand against him now?! Dammit! What in this world can possibly stop him now?!
With such a powerful soul, he could—he easily could—obliterate everything in his path!
From start to finish, he had been ruthlessly suppressing the Lord of Frenzied Flame, giving him not a single opening. And he wasn't about to start now. Charging up, he took to the air and landed another punch, forcing the Lord out of the shattered roof and away from the manse.
Outside, Ashmi and Melina watched the scene in a daze. A yellow sun radiating madness was hurled from the roof, while clusters of shadows representing dark souls relentlessly eroded the already tattered body.
Unfortunately, as the distance grew, the continuous impact of the Dark Souls weakened slightly. Eventually, the Lord of Frenzied Flame managed to stabilize himself in mid-air against the onslaught.
He floated slowly above the rift valley, spreading his arms as the sun of the flame rose high, illuminating the once-dim woods.
Melina felt something and looked down at the ground. Without her noticing, the charred scars across the entire valley had reignited. This land, long since consumed by despair, was responding to the will of its Lord.
She immediately unleashed a prayer of the Golden Order. That power, representing eternity, ensured that at least the ground beneath her would not undergo a violent upheaval.
Ashmi watched the spreading flame and cast Eternal Darkness to temporarily absorb the troublesome fire. However, the mimic was already mentally preparing to retreat. In the Frenzied Flame's home turf, even the mimic's main body wouldn't have an advantage, let alone a small clone reinforced by a few spirit ashes.
The scattered power of the flame hidden within the valley was recalled, surging into the Lord's sun. The sun, which had been dimmed by Gawain's heavy strikes, regained its brilliance. Then, an even more torrential wave of fire erupted from it. The entire Abyssal Woods was dyed in madness.
The valley was utterly consumed, transformed into a purgatory. The Land of Shadow was already the convergence point for all deaths; the wails of the Hornsent and the bewilderment of the Crusade—emotions of despair—flowed in from all directions, continuously empowering the Lord.
Having re-absorbed his power and bolstered his weak physical shell, the Lord of Frenzied Flame reached his absolute peak state.
Messmer stood in the distance, silently observing the commotion coming from the Abyssal Woods. Upon seeing that sun of flame, he found it impossible to remain still.
"As I thought, I overestimated you, Melina. Is this the person you claim will become Elden Lord? He is nothing more than a soul being consumed by the fire of despair."
Even so, Messmer crouched low, beginning to charge his strength. A mess like this required his personal intervention to resolve.
In Scadu Altus, Leda's group had met up with the Dryleaf Sect led by Dane. They were about to continue searching for Miquella's crosses when they stopped, mesmerized by the anomaly in the distance.
"Is that a sun of Frenzied Flame?! This is bad... Can Lord Miquella handle something like that?"
Freyja swallowed hard as she stared at the sun radiating despair. Honestly, compared to the Frenzied Flame, she'd rather be turned into a heap of rotting meat by the Scarlet Rot; at least then the soul might have a chance of preservation.
"Lord Miquella will be fine," Leda said, her pupils shimmering with golden light. "But I think we won't need to disturb his journey this time."
She could already see it: another power, one capable of rivaling the Frenzied Flame, was beginning to take shape.
Amidst the spreading fire, the Lord of Frenzied Flame—wielding the Greatsword of Damnation—looked down. He gazed upon the now-destroyed manse and raised his hand, gathering a sun of flame to obliterate the troublesome soul once and for all.
"I see. You were waiting for the moment to reclaim your power? No wonder you were so weak before."
Gawain pushed aside the rubble of the building over his head and stood back up amidst the wreckage. He looked up at the figure in the sky and murmured to himself. This... this fits the image I had in mind.
After entering the Land of Shadow, he realized it was a place even more steeped in despair than the Lands Between. It was because of this that Nanaya believed the seed of despair planted here would eventually grow into a Lord of Frenzied Flame powerful enough to burn the world.
Hmph. A good plan, I'll give her that. But clearly, that Frenzied Maiden didn't realize what kind of enemy her chosen 'King' would run into.
The Darksign rose slowly behind him. A black ring wreathed in the silhouette of flame appeared in the air, confronting the sun of Frenzied Flame from a distance.
The Lord of Frenzied Flame refused to show weakness. A rain of fire, dense as a downpour, fell from the sky, plummeting toward the earth like meteors. Against the canvas of the scorched twilight sky, colors bright enough to be called "radiant" interwove.
"Come out, you two. Didn't you always want to link the fire? Here's your chance. The Frenzied Flame is still fire."
As Gawain's voice fell, a greatsword of unique design erupted in an explosion of flame. Then, a blast of holy light erupted from within, intercepting the meteor-like rain of fire.
"Ashen One... you are as loathsome as ever. Since you chose to extinguish the First Flame in the end, why must you continue to fight? I would have allowed you a suitable grave at my feet."
Draped over his brother's back—his movements returned to normal after the curse had vanished—the soul of Prince Lothric had long since merged with his brother. Even now, the two had no intention of parting.
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash
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