BOOM!
Even the sturdiest architecture could not withstand the repeated trampling of four powerful combatants and finally collapsed under the strain.
The clash of two opposing forces conveniently canceled each other out, giving Maria a moment's respite. She leaped back lightly, her murderous intent already locked onto the swaying, unsteady Flamme.
As a newcomer, this hunter was indeed a bit too green.
She swung her blood-slicked sword without a shred of mercy.
At the critical moment, Miriadel intercepted in time, not forgetting to taunt, "I knew you'd take the chance to sneak attack. You claim to dislike the power of blood, but when Frieren pushes you into a corner, you still find it useful, don't you?"
However, Maria had no time for banter. In that moment of distraction, the silver-haired elf leaped forward.
A do-or-die strike.
Two longswords intertwined, unleashing a torrent of attacks that sealed every possible escape route. This was the hunter's style, carried through to the very end. How would you respond?
To trade blows now would mean facing the Old God while heavily wounded.
Unexpectedly, Frieren suddenly lowered her stance, her steps like a dance as she whipped her blade into a flourish. She evaded the frontal assault, her movements as fluid as water creating their own cutting edge. A rosy afterglow bloomed in the air.
It was a sudden change of tactics, but Maria still came to her senses and dodged the first wave of sword qi.
A veteran of a hundred battles, as expected, yet she had still miscalculated. The opponent's assault was not over.
One attack flowed seamlessly into the next.
A beautiful arc filled her vision, reminiscent of a waterfowl's dance.
Shiiing!
A flash of blood tore through the tall figure. Frieren passed her by, leaving her to dim and fade away. In the end, Maria glanced back one last time and, in genuine admiration, withdrew from the dream. A spectacular fight. She hoped those Old Gods would also get a taste of the strongest of cat-kin, who had grown stronger still.
"I finally succeeded and it landed this time. I really want to discuss it in detail with Millicent."
Using Waterfowl Dance just now had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to end the battle while avoiding serious injury. Fortunately, it had worked.
Another victory over Maria.
It served as a good warm-up before the decisive battle with the Orphan of Kos, helping her recapture the feeling of being forged in the crucible of Yharnam's life-and-death struggles. Her two companions, who felt much the same, sat back-to-back, letting out long sighs as their hearts gradually calmed.
The three looked at each other and smiled. It was good to be alive.
They had to take a momentary rest, but almost simultaneously, the tower began to shake violently. No, the entire dreamscape reverberated with shockwaves.
The war in the sky was approaching its climax.
Reality.
The garrison outside the Elf Forest sounded the alarm bells, for the ever-expanding shadow city had suddenly grown by another huge margin.
It was as if the power that had been suppressing it had slackened for an instant, allowing it to seize the opportunity to aggressively expand its territory, its appetite so vast it seemed to swallow an area equivalent to three small towns.
"What in the world is happening?"
Wirn was utterly baffled. How could magic of such a terrifying scale exist? If its caster wished, it could probably swallow Northwind Fortress in one gulp. Theoretically, the watchtower beneath their feet was no longer safe.
His intuition screamed warnings; the warrior's instinct recoiled from even observing it.
A warrior's strength is not based on fearlessness, but on taming and utilizing fear in battle to grow stronger. Yet the terror emanating from the elf town now was enough to make any warrior shrink back, not daring to face it directly. It was the sublime power of a miracle of the highest order.
"I don't know." Zenze changed the subject, saying, "But we have made some new discoveries."
"This city is being used to override the effects of a curse. First, it protects the victims' souls, then prepares to overwrite and refresh their physical state with their souls, thereby breaking the curse…"
"—This is a theory the Vice-Chair once mentioned."
Traces of this could be found if one paid close attention to the academic theories Frieren had publicly published. The general concept was understandable, but the scale was simply too exaggerated.
It was just her style. Even her paranoid capability to counter curses was deployed in such a... malevolent way?
Such thoughts could only remain in their minds. Cowed by the power of a Mage of Myth, no one dared to speak them aloud.
Even with her fate uncertain and her life in peril, her lingering authority was intimidating. Her staggering kill count was no fabrication.
"In that case, the demons must have been absorbed into the dream as well, right?" Wirn inquired.
"Correct. We have a recent discovery: we've observed the mental signatures of several demons being severely damaged within the dream. A conflict must have broken out."
"No wonder. So this loss of control is their doing."
"Definitely."
Whether it was true or not, Zenze, representing the Association, was quick to assert it. Such an evil, chaotic, corrupt, and rampant power had to be the demons' fault. They must have twisted the Vice-Chair's great magic. It had to be so. It must be.
Wirn's brow furrowed as he cast a meaningful glance at the shadow city. He, too, seemed to sense a demonic presence.
The reconnaissance was correct; a war was taking place inside.
The current situation was most likely a result of the aftershocks. Since the magic was still being maintained, it meant Frieren had at least defeated the demons. Those fiends had met their end once within the dream, leaving them greatly weakened.
"Although the area is dangerous, we cannot retreat too far, or we will miss the opportunity to kill the two Seven Sages."
"—The heartlands of the human kingdoms are not the northern frontiers. Are we to let them come and go as they please? They will leave their lives here."
"His Excellency the Commander is right. The Association also intends to seize this opportunity."
Anyone with eyes could see that the Illusory Dream City was a veritable inferno. If it overflowed, they would be the first to be sacrificed. To enter it was to surrender control of one's own life and death. But no one was willing to retreat further.
If worse came to worst, they would fight within the nightmare itself.
They maintained a heavily armed encirclement as a final failsafe. Regardless of the outcome, the demons would absolutely pay a devastating price.
Not only that, but a steady stream of reinforcements continued to pour in.
The influential Wirn and Zenze had already mobilized forces to the greatest extent possible.
Coupled with the gravity of the "Elf Town under attack" incident, the Central Kingdoms dispatched their elite troops, forming a pincer movement. It was a gathering of forces, determined not to let any opportunity slip by. Even if their opponents were several greater demons, or even the Seven Sages, they had Frieren on their side.
They would take the gamble.
Regardless of whether the Vice-Chair was alive after the dream was dispelled, everyone was certain of one thing: the demons were not having a good time. With her arsenal of soul magic, Scarlet Rot, and other techniques, they would be lucky to escape with their lives, which would make them easy pickings.
In fact, the demons' cumulative losses were already crippling. The fall of their strongest warrior, Rivale, was confirmed, along with at least two greater demons.
This was why the Central Kingdoms were sending support with such haste.
It was a clear message to Schlacht the Omniscient: the allied forces intended to completely devour your pawns.
No one had expected a decapitation operation to drag on to this point, devolving into an abyss of attrition fraught with the risk of losing control. If it blew up in their faces, the loss would be humanity's.
But they had to bet.
They were betting that Frieren would surely win. Witnessing it all from the front lines were Wirn and Zenze, representing the allied forces of the kingdoms and the Association's headquarters. The responsibility was theirs, and the pressure was immense.
Unfortunately, all they could do was maintain a state of high alert and await the decisive moment that was sure to come.
Outside the Astral Clocktower, in the Fishing Hamlet.
Flamme glanced back at the complex and exquisite clockwork mechanism, then at the small path ahead. It was hard to imagine that the so-called final destination was hidden in such a way.
The nimble beauty of Frieren using a disc to wind the clockwork mechanism earlier was unforgettable. Yharnam was truly filled with masterful craftsmanship. To think a path could be concealed so perfectly; one would likely never find it with a magical mindset.
"It's cold."
The red-haired girl brought her thoughts back to the present, rubbing her hands together and letting out a puff of cold air.
"It's raining, just like the day we first came," Miriadel said, extending her palm to catch the icy raindrops.
It was exasperating to have to return after so many years.
It was all the demons' fault for stirring up trouble. And the Old Gods, for taking advantage of the situation to attack her friend. Not a single one of them was decent. In the end, they were the ones left to clean up the mess. It was going to be a lot of work.
"Everyone, stick close to me. From this point on, we are stepping into the Orphan of Kos's domain. Its authority over the dream is not to be underestimated."
Frieren's expression was grim.
With her in the lead, they maintained their previous formation, protecting the novice hunter in the center while the two veteran hunters guarded the front and rear. They couldn't rely on past experience; the Fishing Hamlet had probably been turned upside down by now.
Although her main consciousness generally kept the power of the Old Gods at a distance, adopting a hands-off approach, it had never sought to suppress them completely, only clearing out some of the more stubborn corruption every so often.
Or tossing things like the Abyss or Those Who Live in Death in here for unified disposal.
One could imagine that the environment fostered under such conditions would be anything but pleasant. A true melting pot of horrors.
And the Fishing Hamlet was the crown jewel of this collection.
From a great distance, the three could hear piercing cries, echoing with the crashing waves. The sound, which should have been soothing and awe-inspiring, now only conveyed terror, clinging to the mind, impossible to shake off.
Miriadel's mouth twitched. "I've been meaning to tell you, it seems there are more than just Yharnam's monsters here."
"Even if the outsiders are weaker, they're still disgusting."
"My apologies. They left too strong an impression on me, so I projected them into the dream. Don't worry, I'll reorganize the dreamscape once this is all over."
Frieren recognized many familiar faces.
For instance, signature monsters from the Painted World's fly-infested room, the Irithyll Dungeon, and the Chaos Ruins were all present. The ugly, the disgusting, the ferocious—they were all here, everywhere you looked.
"Sorry, I'm just inexperienced," Flamme mumbled, forcing back a wave of nausea.
"It's perfectly fine not to have this kind of experience."
The group had no choice but to clear a path as they advanced, lest the creatures accumulate and become an even bigger problem.
Their progress was a bit slow, but it was clean and decisive. The motley collection of monsters that had been lingering on the withered, tree-lined path all vanished. On the horizon, the rooftops of the Fishing Hamlet gradually came into view, a continuous stretch accompanied by the roar of the waves.
It was quiet.
But a careful scan with their senses revealed that the small village was filled with "fishmen." They had fish-like features, such as gills and scales, even abnormally grown fins, but were often bloated, had hands, and walked upright—a bizarre combination crammed into a single body.
They moaned in pain, their twisted postures indicating they were not naturally grown, but rather a mutation akin to beasthood.
From the snippets of conversation between the two veteran hunters, Flamme had gleaned some understanding.
The Fishing Hamlet had become kin.
The Old God that descended here had completely transformed the mortals, without exception, granting them both eternal life and eternal suffering. They had been lying down, sprawling, or curled up, but upon seeing strangers, they all turned their gazes, venomous and evil.
Even Flamme, who had prepared herself mentally, felt her heart clench as warning bells screamed in her mind. The corruption emanating from these creatures was not to be underestimated; she had to be on guard.
In contrast, Miriadel and Frieren remained calm.
They had seen it all before.
They had been here in the past; this was merely a return trip.
A veteran hunter's first requirement is resilience; otherwise, high Insight would scare them to death first.
The two noticed that the monsters of the Fishing Hamlet were different from before—stronger, more tenacious. It was likely due to the infiltration of other energies, causing changes in the dreamscape of the Hamlet. It was a different place now.
"It would be nice if you threw a little less trash into Yharnam."
"It's not that simple. Some places have to take the refuse, and for the Old Gods, dealing with menial tasks is also a burden."
The ever-cautious Frieren would never choose a plan with endless future troubles. Giving some of the corruption to this place was intended to cause trouble for the Old Gods and save her the effort of suppression. The cost of causing more mutations was within her expectations.
Ultimately, they needed to be beaten down every now and then to keep them in line.
This day came as no surprise.
Frieren, busy with matters in the Lands Between, had neglected her management of Yharnam. This, combined with Miquella's charm and the demon attack, gave the Old Gods an opportunity. It was truly rotten luck.
Her only card to play against them was the First Flame, and her hand was stretched thin.
The Divine Dragon was ruled out from the very beginning.
In reality, if her main consciousness hadn't been protected by three Great Runes, the situation would be several times worse than it was now.
One day, when she obtained the complete Elden Ring, she would be able to solve the Old God problem. Whether by completely suppressing them or strengthening herself to digest different powers... it would no longer be a difficult issue.
Whoosh!
The sound of rushing water interrupted Frieren's thoughts. A large merman was walking towards them, holding a weapon that looked like a pitchfork.
With it as their leader, the monsters all rose to their feet, forming an encirclement, their murderous intent overflowing.
The previously quiet Fishing Hamlet became restless. Countless fishmen emerged, blocking the trio in the center. Seeing this, they immediately stood back-to-back, ready for battle. The newcomers were not welcome.
"Bloodthirsty bastards, back to raid the Fishing Hamlet again?"
"You hunters are all executioners, butchers! You should die! Your sins can never be washed away!"
"May the curse of the Old God be with you."
"Outsiders, you've never been welcome here! All of you, die!"
Hearing the rising tide of curses, Frieren and Miriadel's faces remained flat. They coldly applied lightning and fire enchantments to their weapons, loaded their firearms, and prepared throwables, too lazy to waste words. Flamme, on the other hand, sighed with resignation and did the same, thinking to herself that this had nothing to do with her.
Faced with the trio's indifference, the villagers were enraged. They had intended to scare them off, but it seemed the enemy was determined to launch an expedition. Unforgivable.
The next moment, the fishmen straightened up, their twisted white bodies swarming forward.
Shiiing!
The reckless attack was met by Frieren's leaping horizontal slash, which instantly carved out an arc of blood, killing everything in its path.
Absolute power is unshakable.
Although the monsters were numerous and even included other mutants, she cut them down one by one with practiced ease, without any hesitation. She single-handedly took on almost all the enemies breaking through the front.
The few who slipped through the net were left for Miriadel and Flamme to eliminate.
The silver-haired girl took the lead, charging deeper into the village and shouting:
"Break through!"
This was no place to linger. They couldn't afford to get bogged down in a life-or-death struggle with these monsters at the village entrance, wasting their strength for nothing.
So, after her call, Frieren led by example, charging forward. Faced with such overwhelming power, even the enraged fishmen were forcibly torn apart, creating a breach. She advanced step by step over their corpses.
The blood incited their savagery.
If they had possessed any semblance of articulate humanity before, now only roars remained.
Their bodies, driven by primal instinct, writhed forward, revealing sharp teeth beneath fish-like lips. Their bloated bodies blocked the path, their relatively long limbs flailing as they lunged.
Bang!
Frieren blew the fishman's head off with a single shot while simultaneously switching to a one-handed rapier, her entire aura changing abruptly. The blade's edge sometimes traced ripples like stellar orbits, other times flowed like water through the enemy ranks... Invariably elegant and swift, her assault was relentless, echoing forever like the ocean's waves, easily washing away her targets.
What should have been an encirclement became a solo dance.
Although she couldn't use her primary powers from the First Flame and Elden Ring lineages, it allowed her to focus more on her swordsmanship. The twin abilities of Star and Flowing Water were enough to be invincible, a seamless switch between different sword techniques she hadn't even used against Maria.
Rumble!
Simultaneously, Flamme unleashed a furious bombardment in coordination with Frieren's assault, together blasting open a path.
As she was the least tainted by the Old God's aura, she was actually the one who could best unleash her full strength, remaining largely unaffected and even excelling in combat.
The powers of lightning, fire, and soul shifted fluidly, one after another.
The red-haired girl's magic surged.
Mana-intensive moves were of no consequence to her; she could squander it freely. The sheer destructive efficiency of her magic easily cleared a patch of ground, blowing the fishmen to smithereens in a single exchange.
"You have my pity, but if you're going to harm people, it's better you find release quickly."
Flamme's attacks grew even more ferocious. Rather, she was merciless precisely because she believed a swift death was better for them. Thus, the power of her magic was so great it blew the entrance to the Fishing Hamlet wide open.
The earth churned, flesh and blood flew, and no one was left standing.
Her power had been growing continuously since entering Yharnam. The power of the blessing was gradually being digested as her body matured, and the strengthening of her spirit had tamed profound soul magic. The foundation laid by her master, Frieren, and the push from Serie had brought Flamme's mana to the very limit of human potential. A cleanup job of this level was naturally effortless.
She didn't even realize that as her mana grew, the power of even the same spells continued to increase.
That was fine.
Miriadel, who had originally planned to support the attack alongside them, simply changed tactics to cover their rear, precisely killing any pursuers.
She and Frieren actively coordinated with Flamme's wide-area attacks.
Having a Great Mage in the party was convenient.
Otherwise, cutting them down one by one would have inevitably drained their stamina, playing right into the Old God's hands.
The three, perfectly in sync, moved as one. Against the disorganized swarm of fishman monsters, they were like a steel blade cutting through tofu, smoothly carving a path straight through, meeting no worthy opponent.
In the end, they were more mutated than strengthened.
Their strength was already worlds apart from that of top-tier hunters, to say nothing of a deluxe lineup like Frieren, Miriadel, and Flamme. Their force was comparable to, if not greater than, the original Fishing Hamlet expedition. Thus, they easily slaughtered their way through the main entrance area of the Hamlet.
But the squad dared not linger. The three of them didn't stop until they reached the depths of the Fishing Hamlet at full speed.
The variety of monsters they killed along the way was countless, paving a road of blood. The group fell silent.
Inside a certain hut.
Miriadel kicked the door in with a crash, breathing a sigh of relief only when she found it empty. Frieren, who followed her in, took out a map and added a mark to it.
"We've reached the depths of the Fishing Hamlet, but the terrain is different from what was previously recorded."
"We need to quickly find a cave that leads to the coast. The landmark is a large number of fishmen kneeling in worship. That's the passage to the Orphan of Kos's domain."
This was actually said for Flamme's benefit. Understanding this, the red-haired girl nodded obediently.
"I will determine the final route."
With that, Frieren sat down on the spot and closed her eyes. A tangible psychic power spread out, emanating from her in ripples, in moments exceeding the confines of the hut and extending throughout the entire Fishing Hamlet.
Voom!
A hum in her mind put Flamme on high alert. Only then did she realize that her master's psychic probe was resonating with the fire in the sky.
"Don't look directly at that light," Miriadel suddenly warned. "Having such keen Insight is fortunate, but don't go looking around randomly in Yharnam. Control your curiosity. You'll get to see those Old Gods in a sorry state soon enough, just not now."
Hearing this, the red-haired girl immediately averted her gaze, her heart still pounding with fear.
The psychic pressure from Grausam the Miracle-Worker was nothing compared to this. On the other side of the flame were bizarrely shaped Old Gods, and it seemed there was more than one.
They had joined forces.
Even with her master's main consciousness in a deep slumber, its sheer underlying power was not something they could overcome in a short time.
So the Old Gods had most likely hidden their locations.
Realizing this, Miriadel and Flamme grew worried. The Orphan of Kos was an Old God skilled in dream manipulation. It was specifically holding back from confronting the main consciousness to maintain the nightmare, all to stall them.
So it must be hidden very deep, planning to delay until the main battle was decided.
Fortunately, Frieren had always excelled at wide-range perception. The two could clearly feel the intensity of her psychic power continuously increasing, sweeping through like a gale, leaving no nook or cranny unchecked.
All they could do was protect the scout, as the fishmen were growing restless, showing signs of launching another attack.
A moment later.
The silver-haired girl, still seated, finally opened her eyes and pointed in a direction.
"Found it. That's the cave tunnel to the coast. It's about the same as before, quite stubborn." Frieren's expression grew nostalgic as she murmured, "I can feel the Orphan of Kos calling. It knows it's been exposed."
"If we don't take that thing out, the dream will keep suppressing everyone, including your main consciousness. Let's hurry. We won't know how much stronger it's gotten until we fight it."
"Master, I'm ready."
The surrounding fishman monsters, of course, would not give up, swarming to block their path, hoping to delay them as much as possible.
They obeyed the Orphan of Kos, fearlessly turning themselves into obstacles. And what met these roadblocks was, naturally, a furious bombardment.
Bang, bang!
A continuous line of explosive fire, like a great python, pointed towards the cave, scattering countless bones and bodies along the way. The squad was carving out this breakthrough path, and the entire Fishing Hamlet, indeed the entire dream, watched the overture to this battle.
______
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