After plowing through the heretical sorcerers who attempted to bar his path, Gawain finally stood before the Fire Prelate, who was flanked by a contingent of Fire Monks. The Prelate carried a massive hammer across his shoulders, and the fire-basket atop his head incessantly spewed deep-red flames—the manifestation of the Fell God of Flame.
Dismounting his horse, Gawain scanned the monks as they gradually closed in. Their movements betrayed an eagerness to strike, yet they seemed held back by a lingering hesitation, as if wary of some unseen threat.
"Watchers from the mountaintops, I know your identity," Gawain said calmly. "Why aren't you keeping your post in the frozen wastes? What brings you all the way to Liurnia of the Lakes?"
The Fire Prelate pushed aside the monks standing in his way, his eyes wide as he scrutinized the warrior before him. Now that he was closer, he realized the power of the fire Gawain wielded was far more complex than he had initially imagined. It felt as though it were in a state of infinite, shifting transformation.
Since the stranger already knew who they were, the Prelate saw little reason to hide. The fact that the "Watchers" had transitioned from wardens to devout believers of the Fell God was a secret even the Royal Capital of Leyndell didn't fully grasp.
When Adan, the thief, stole the Flame, it provided them with the perfect pretext to abandon the Mountaintops of the Giants and participate in the Shattering that gripped the Lands Between. Although the thief was currently right beneath their feet, they had no intention of actually capturing him and returning to their post. If the thief were caught, what excuse would they have to roam the world so freely?
"A thief has stolen the flame of the Great Deity," the Prelate rumbled. "As Watchers, it is our duty to ensure the wretched criminal suffers his due punishment. Hmm... interesting. Is that Blackflame you carry? No, it's unlike any fire I recognize. Tell me, where did you obtain such power? Do so, and I may allow you to leave this place alive."
As he spoke, the surrounding Fire Monks ignited their weapons, waiting for the Prelate's command to burn the intruder to a cinder.
"Obtain this power? Allow me to correct a small flaw in your reasoning," Gawain replied. "I am the final incarnation of this power."
Gawain produced an Ember and crushed it before their eyes. Instantly, a violent surge of flame swirled around his body. With a casual wave of his hand, eight pillars of fire erupted at the perimeter of the circle, sealing the area. Now that the Fire Storm was fully formed, none of them could escape through the chaos.
Realizing they were trapped, the monks instinctively unleashed their own incantations toward Gawain at the center, hoping to break the predicament by eliminating the source.
What happened next, however, left them slack-jawed. Their fire incantations seemed entirely ineffective. The expected explosions never occurred; instead, it felt like throwing pebbles into an ocean. The spells caused minor ripples, but were ultimately absorbed, becoming part of the vast sea itself.
Gawain drew the power of those flames into his body. It wasn't a particularly pleasant power; for a fleeting moment, he felt the lingering resentment nesting within. It was likely the grudge of the Fell God, long-trapped in the mountaintops after the giants were defeated. The will of the Fell God still resided within these incantations—a fact known only to a few at the Prelate level.
"Your flame is indeed intense, but now, it all belongs to me."
Gawain didn't even bother to actively strike. Relying on the overbearing dominance of the Ember, the moment the two forces touched, the Fell God's flame was decomposed and absorbed—much like the Frenzied Flame he had encountered before.
He couldn't care less about the differences between these fires. Before the First Flame, they were all lesser kin. Replacing the absorbed Fell God's fire was a different kind of flame—one more violent and wild, yet paradoxically brimming with the vitality of life.
The Fire Prelate hadn't even recovered from the shock of seeing his deity's flame absorbed before a Seething Chaos fragment exploded in front of him, sending several monks flying as they tried to charge.
This time, the Prelate saw it clearly. That violent explosion truly carried an unparalleled vitality. He felt as though he could see the very process of life being nurtured within it. In an instant, the thing he worshipped seemed tiny and narrow compared to such magnificent power.
"Everyone, hold! Do not move!" the Prelate commanded. "He is not our enemy."
Gawain nodded with satisfaction. This was the result he wanted. General Radahn's Redmane Army had obtained technical support from the Fire Monks to suppress the Rot; some had even turned to the Godskins' Blackflame. He refused to believe these people could resist once they saw his Ember.
"Mmm, that's more like it," Gawain said. "Now, I heard you mentioning a 'Great Deity.' Surely you aren't referring to the one associated with the Fire Giants?"
"Ahem! How could that be?" The Prelate cleared his throat. "The 'Great Deity' I spoke of is, naturally, Queen Marika. The wretched thief Adan stole the Flame of the Fell God that the Queen herself sealed away. We were merely acting on orders to apprehend him."
Gawain's lip twitched. He hadn't expected the man to be able to twist his logic back so quickly. Fell God? Never heard of him. We're just a bunch of slightly over-curious Fire Watchers here.
Seeing that the Prelate had wisely "cut ties" with the Fell God, Gawain dispelled the Fire Storm that was blockading the battlefield. The surrounding monks, seeing their leader stand down and having already been slapped around twice, suddenly found their vision much "clearer" and "calmer." No one was foolish enough to jump out and seek death now.
The Fire Prelate, feeling his current display of loyalty wasn't quite enough, clapped his hands. Suddenly, a violent explosion rocked the Evergaol behind them. It appeared to have been utterly destroyed from the inside out. As for the prisoner inside... his prospects were likely grim.
"What's the meaning of this?" Gawain asked. "I wanted to see the prisoner's face, and you just blew him up?"
The Prelate felt a bit guilty. He couldn't risk an investigation; if his secrets were found out, things would end badly. Even if he met his turncoat peers back on the mountaintops in the future, he could stubbornly claim they rebelled after he left. But Adan knew all his secrets—he couldn't be allowed to live.
"That thief stole the dangerous Flame of the Fell God. We originally planned to lock him away and dispose of him safely within the Evergaol later. Your arrival just happened to coincide with the scheduled execution."
"Fine. That's a passable excuse, I suppose."
The Fire Prelate breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Gawain didn't intend to press the issue. Then, his tone turned slightly bashful as he asked tentatively:
"My Lord... might I ask where the power of the fire you used just now originates? We have guarded the mountaintops for an age, yet we have never encountered a flame so special. It feels as if... it encompasses everything."
"Of course. My power comes from the great First Flame that created all things. Light and Dark, Cold and Heat, Life and Death... every disparity you can imagine existing in this world is contained within the First Flame. Feel it with your own body."
Gawain gathered a tiny spark at his fingertip and touched the Prelate's head. Without experiencing it personally, one could never truly understand why the First Flame was so great.
"Such a flame actually exists? No wonder..."
The Fire Prelate felt as if he suddenly understood everything. The fire-basket on his head erupted in geysers of flame from pure inner excitement.
What on earth was I worshipping before? The Fire Giants were just a dying race slaughtered by Queen Marika until only one remained. He admitted the power of the Fell God was beautiful and had captivated him until today, but before a higher-level power, it was merely destined to be absorbed. This power that could merge all things into one—this was the true Flame of his heart.
It was as if, in his destiny, he had been a believer of the First Flame from the very beginning. The Fell God's flame, the Frenzied Flame, and even the Blackflame of the Godskins seemed narrow and powerless in comparison.
The watching Fire Monks didn't know why their leader had suddenly become so agitated, but they were flexible with their allegiances. It didn't matter what they worshipped as long as there were benefits. Their loyalty was the cheapest thing they owned.
"My Lord, please accept my fealty!" the Prelate cried. "I, Gerry, am willing to cast aside everything of the past, so long as I may bask in the radiance of the First Flame."
"Your name is Gerry? Very well," Gawain said. "But don't you have a duty to watch over the mountaintops? Are you just abandoning your post?"
Gerry shook his head frantically. Let his former comrades play with the crows and Fingercreepers in the snow; he wasn't about to throw away this precious opportunity.
"Fine. I can accept your presence. However, in exchange, I need you to do something for me."
"What would that be? So long as it is within my power, I will not refuse!"
"It's simple. The Scarlet Rot is still spreading in Caelid. I imagine few in the Lands Between understand the application and management of fire better than you. When the time comes, I need you to throw yourselves onto the front lines of the fight against the Rot. Can you do that?"
"The Scarlet Rot? Of course! No problem at all."
Gerry was well aware of what had happened in Caelid. In fact, some of his comrades who had left the mountaintops with him had already headed there. General Radahn had apparently anticipated Malenia's arrival and had prepared the Redmane Army by adopting the monks' techniques. After the Valkyrie unleashed her self-destructive bloom, the Smoldering Wall used to suppress the Rot relied entirely on the Monks' technical support.
Seeing that the Prelate was so cooperative, Gawain didn't withhold his favor. He gathered a microscopic, almost invisible orb of light at his fingertip and placed it into the fire-basket atop Gerry's head.
Gerry felt the faint but wondrous power at his crown and drifted into a state of intoxication.
"What... what is this?"
"This is the origin of the Chaos Flame, a tiny fragment of the Lord Soul of Life," Gawain said. "Consider it a small reminder. I don't care what you were guarding on the mountaintops, but under my command, I require you to hold a basic respect for life. Beyond that, I have few demands. Just do your jobs well."
"The Lord Soul of Life? If a mere fragment has such power, how magnificent must it have been in its prime? I have memorized your words, My Lord. Rest assured, we will not disappoint you."
"Good. Then follow me back to Stormveil Castle. You'll likely scare the residents looking like that, so let's get you some normal clothes first."
Within the Roundtable Hold, Sir Gideon Ofnir learned of Ensha's fate with an expressionless face. Such a loss was indeed impossible to ignore; Liurnia was now essentially a blind spot in his real-time intelligence network.
It was a pity to lose a tool as useful as Ensha, but considering the opponent he had faced, it was inevitable.
However, had the "Storm King" appeared in Liurnia now? The man had been quite busy since obtaining his second Great Rune. Was his appearance at the Village of the Albinaurics a mere coincidence, or was he, like Gideon, seeking the medallion necessary to reach the Haligtree?
"This is a bit troublesome," Gideon muttered to himself. "Should I have Nepheli deliver a message?"
He eventually dismissed the idea. He knew his adoptive daughter's character well. If she found out he had sent men to commit such an atrocity, she wouldn't just refuse to cooperate—she would likely stand on the other side and condemn him.
His expression turned complex. Gideon slightly regretted sending men so aggressively to seize the half-medallion. Such actions clearly didn't sit well with the Storm King's temperament; it was no wonder not a single soul was left alive.
No matter. Future cooperation with that man was still necessary. He would simply treat Ensha as a "rogue element"—an independent action unrelated to his own intentions. At worst, he could compensate Gawain with more intelligence regarding the Academy.
Rising from his chair, he estimated it wouldn't be long before the man returned to the Roundtable Hold. He should go pay a visit to Finger Reader Enia.
After all, this was a man who held two Great Runes. Finally, someone had followed in his footsteps to reach this stage, and he had done so by defeating the strongest Demigod in fair combat. He wondered what kind of emotions the Two Fingers would show. This would provide him with even more intelligence to probe their secrets.
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (189 chapter - Ongoing)
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