Fiona's sword seemed to merge with a ray of moonlight, moving at a speed beyond the limits of vision, following the tiny trajectory Guilliman created, deeply embedding itself into Margit's throat! All the way to the hilt!
Time seemed to stand still for half a second.
Margit's ferocious expression instantly froze. The frantic divine light in his eyes rapidly dimmed like a snuffed-out flame.
Guilliman felt the power from his wrist instantly dissipate.
He suddenly exerted force, violently pulling himself free from the black-gold staff that had pierced his abdomen. Gripping it like a greatsword, his muscles tensed, and he raised the staff high, bringing it down from top to bottom with the Bear School's New Year's Greeting sword style, like a thunderbolt, smashing it heavily onto the Fell Omen's head.
Boom!
This directly caused the strange, ugly, and deformed head to cave in.
Blood mixed with the charred fragments of internal organs, burned by holy light, gushed out, but under the desperate burning of soul power, the wound rapidly sealed and regenerated.
Guilliman spat out a mouthful of blood mixed with internal organs, but his face still wore the smile of someone enjoying a battle.
Fighting with all his might was truly exhilarating!
Thump!
After his head was flattened, Margit's General Starsmasher body lost all support, his knees hitting the shattered stone ground heavily. He then let out an unintelligible gurgle, before collapsing like a falling mountain.
The sword hilt in his throat still trembled, and what spewed from the wound was no longer fresh blood, but a black, tar-like viscous fluid, emitting a nauseating odor.
The battlefield fell completely silent.
Guilliman staggered to his feet, clutching the huge wound in his abdomen that had almost cut him in half. He panted heavily, each breath bringing burning pain and the weakness of soul power overexertion, but the wound was stubbornly closing, charring, and being covered by new granulation tissue.
Blood stained half of his body.
Fiona's figure stood beside the fallen behemoth, her hand still in the forward-thrusting posture, trembling slightly.
Her silver armor was stained black with foul blood, and several broken edges showed traces of bleeding. She slowly withdrew her arm, pulling the straight sword, covered in black blood, from the Fell Omen's throat, her movements slightly stiff.
Her cold gaze swept over Guilliman's almost fatal yet still recovering abdominal wound, and his resilient posture as he braced himself. After a moment of silence, she gave a very slight nod.
No words were exchanged, but the heavy gate leading to Stormveil Castle, like the mouth of a giant beast, could finally be traversed smoothly after losing its guardian... After defeating the Fell Omen, Fiona, having contributed more, relinquished her right to choose spoils of war.
She had sustained many injuries in this battle, but because Tarnished possess special Sacred Tears, their recovery speed was no weaker than that of Witchers who had Swallow potions.
After the silent female knight entered Stormveil Castle first and left on her own.
Guilliman couldn't help but click his tongue, looking at her heroic, silent, yet uninhibited retreating figure.
So cool, she was exactly like the kind of female knight that would only appear in games and fantasies.
If he could have a deeper exchange with her, it would definitely be an unforgettable bliss.
It wasn't until Fiona's figure had completely disappeared into the castle that the old pervert Guilliman withdrew his gaze and focused on the Fell Omen's corpse.
According to the information he had gathered from the game, Margit, the Fell Omen, was actually a clone of Morgott, the Omen King.
Morgott was the child of Godfrey and Marika, one of the Demigods of the The Lands Between, incredibly powerful, and possessed a very strong bloodline.
Given this, Guilliman wasted no time. Not only did he use the Soul-Devouring Seal to directly absorb the Fell Omen's soul into his soul space, but he also didn't let go of his corpse, storing it directly.
Just as he had thought before, if he could use enemy corpses to create ashes, then the Fell Omen would be an excellent material.
The strength of this clone alone was probably no weaker than a high vampire. Aside from slightly inferior recovery capabilities, his combat skills were far superior to those of ordinary high vampires who still fought instinctively.
Without lingering in Stormveil, Guilliman settled the heavily injured Orianna on Torrent's back.
The holy light's erosion on Dettlaff was slowly being repelled and healed by his powerful physical strength, but Orianna's condition was even more tragic—both arms were severed at the elbow, and although the piercing holy flame in her chest cavity had extinguished, the residual light energy was still scorching her internal organs.
While high vampires' recovery abilities were strong, they still required nutrition and a certain period of recuperation.
After about another day, when they returned to the Church of Elleh camp, by the bonfire, Roderika was intently polishing something with rudimentary tools.
At her feet were piles of roughly processed tough wolf hides and strange bones, presumably preparations for spirit tuning materials.
Seeing Guilliman and his group return safely, a hint of joy appeared on her somewhat pale face.
After all, they had shared an intimate relationship. Although the Witchers in the expedition camp were also kind and didn't make things difficult for her, the noble young lady's most trusted person at the moment was, of course, only Guilliman.
Unfortunately, Guilliman didn't have much time to comfort the young lady. After arranging for Dettlaff and Orianna, the two injured, he quickly set off again on Torrent.
The goal of this departure was something he had considered long ago: finding Sellen, the sorcery teacher.
This female sorcerer, wearing a strange mask, although she never revealed her true face, was a very special existence for all players.
And compared to many grotesque, incommunicable residents of the The Lands Between, this seemingly kind sorcerer might be someone he could cooperate or communicate with.
The air in Caelid was heavier and more scorching than in Limgrave, as if an unquenchable lava flowed deep beneath the earth.
The stench of scarlet rot mixed with the dust and sand. Twisted plants emitted an ominous glow, and most of the surviving creatures were mutated and grotesque.
Guilliman traveled along the rugged, crumbling roads, relying on Dettlaff's vague topographical guidance and Torrent's intuition, avoiding the terrifying rot-infested swamps and areas clearly inhabited by dreadful creatures.
Finally, in the depths of an ancient ruin, desolate and eroded by scarlet moss, Torrent stopped before an inconspicuous low wall.
The wall was deeply embedded in the earth, surrounded by scattered broken stone pillars engraved with the crest of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.
Guilliman's gaze fell on a large, cracked sealed stone slab. The slab was entwined with heavy magical chains, but the chains themselves were also rusty. This was very similar to the scene he had encountered in the game.
He dismounted, walked to the stone slab, pushed open the stone door, and entered the enclosed secret room, which smelled of decay. He quickly saw a woman wearing a sorcerer's robe and a mask resembling a marble statue, but with a remarkably graceful figure.
This female sorcerer had clearly noticed him long ago, but she showed no panic. Instead, she waited until Guilliman approached before speaking in a very gentle tone:
"...Oh. A rare visitor."
"I am Sellen. As you can see, I am a sorcerer... So, is there something you need?"
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