Time seemed to freeze. The world fell into utter silence.
Only the Blood Lord remained standing, watching the darkened moon fully unfold and release an indescribable power.
It was a force vast enough to corrode heaven and earth alike.
"Fortunately… 'Mother' is with me."
Mohg's eyes were wide. He had no intention of accepting defeat.
He stared at the frost crystallizing across his body, at the arm nearly frozen solid. Veins bulged under the strain, standing out sharply against his skin.
I cannot yield. Our love has yet to be delivered to the world. If I can restrain this power, there is still a chance!
His heart roared in his chest like a caged beast.
He forced his chaotic, faltering mind to seize control of his body once more.
And in that razor-thin instant, a surge of power he knew all too well flooded into his nerves.
"Malenia?" Mohg's heart jolted. Confusion flickered across his face.
If he were gravely wounded by the Dark Moon's power, then even three first-rate heroes would become a serious threat afterward.
That would only benefit the Haligtree.
So why would this sister of his rush forward like this, throwing herself into death?
Before he could make sense of it, the crimson figure was already upon him, like a blazing fire charging straight at the Blood Lord.
"Scarlet Rot!?"
Mohg's eyes widened as Malenia drew near.
Her right hand gripped her long blade. Her left pressed tightly against her chest, as if holding something in place.
A haze of icy mist lingered behind her, shrouding her in a bleak, resolute beauty.
"My brother did not choose you!"
With a fierce cry, Malenia drove the Hand of Malenia mercilessly into her own body.
Her slender form shuddered.
With a dull, wet sound, the blade pierced through muscle. Blood erupted in a brilliant spray, scattering into the air.
There was no hesitation. No ritual. Not even a token gesture.
The moment Mohg reached out into the void, countless vivid crimson petals descended, like a tragic rain of blood.
Hiss—
A deep, drawn-out roar filled the air as magic and rot detonated together, like a volcano erupting.
The air twisted violently, as though set ablaze.
An indescribable force surged forward, sweeping across the battlefield like an unseen tempest.
It did not tear the world apart in grand spectacle.
Instead, it passed through the Blood Lord's towering form and brought him to a dead halt.
Power still roared within him, but his mind had gone blank. His body no longer answered him.
He could only stare, wide-eyed.
Malenia's form shattered without warning, breaking apart into countless crimson petals that drifted lightly through the air.
It was not the Scarlet Bloom. A mere projection could not bloom the Scarlet Flower. That was a ritual reserved for the descent of a true god.
But even so…
This was still the power of a god.
"The range is small, and we're out at sea. That makes things easier," Nolan said from afar.
With a single glance, he took in the scene within the crater.
Crimson petals fell like blood-soaked rain, impossibly beautiful, as though such a sight did not belong to this world at all.
Because he stood far enough away, the bone-chilling magic that pierced through his body did not bring the same spine-freezing terror it had when it struck the Omen's son.
Only a faint chill seeped through his armor.
When the crimson-tinged wind swept past, an intense, invisible force washed over him. The iron plating began to corrode under it, yet it failed to leave even the slightest mark on the body of the Promised Lord.
A crisp crack rang out from the Dark Moon.
It shattered like glass.
Fragments of silver light drifted downward like fallen stars, intertwining with the crimson petals that still filled the sky.
The wind roared, rustling without end.
Nolan drove both swords into the ground and stood braced between them.
"Your Highnesses, are you unharmed?"
"We're fine. Your power is as warm as ever."
Miquella's golden hair whipped wildly in the raging energy, yet his face remained calm and gentle.
Ranni, perched at the side, instinctively pressed her hat down against the gale to keep it from being torn away.
"Nolan Bethel, my Dark Moon Knight, I shall await your return in Caria."
The cool voice reached his ears, and Nolan broke into a bright smile.
"As you command, my princess."
Crack.
The doll resting on his shoulder shattered.
Countless ice-like blue motes scattered into the wind, like a sudden snowstorm.
That Dark Moon had drained every last trace of power from the doll.
"Hmph. Dark Moon Knight… what a pleasant title."
Trina's oddly inflected voice slipped from Miquella's lips.
At a time like this, and that's what you're focusing on?
Nolan leaned closer to the Empyrean's face, noting how the features had softened again. Miquella really was losing ground—he couldn't fully suppress Trina.
But there was no time to dwell on that.
From within the fading ripples of the Dark Moon, a hand reached out, carving gashes through the air.
The towering figure simply—rose into the sky.
Second phase?
Nolan lifted an eyebrow.
After the magical shockwave, the freezing cold, and Scarlet Rot, Mohg was still alive.
No wonder Radahn's resurrection in the game required his body. A true vessel of the Crucible's Aspects, favored even by Miquella. His vitality was monstrous.
A pair of enormous wings, black as ink, unfurled.
A vast shadow fell from above like a heavy storm cloud, swallowing the Golden Needle Knight in darkness.