"What is the Gate of... Gods?"
Melina and Frieren speaking in unison left the rare folk at a loss. Thinking about it, there was simply too much information that hadn't been shared between them.
The two sides had been isolated for too long. Life under the Scadutree had remained stable, unchanging for millennia.
They were unaware that in the Lands Between, people were at each other's throats, life was plunged into misery, and countless pieces of crucial information had been lost to time.
Furthermore, Marika had deliberately erased this period of history, burying the secrets of her ascension to godhood.
"The Gate of the Gods is at the very top of the spiral tower, a place that overlooks the entire Land of Shadow. It possesses powerful spirit-calling properties and was once a ritual site for the Horned Folk."
"It's been sealed," Frieren replied.
"No wonder."
So the buildings in the Land of Shadow were collectively called the Tower of the Gods? This coincided with the painting the Mimic Tear had found.
The puzzle had finally moved forward a step. The silver-haired girl and Melina exchanged a glance and a nod, essentially confirming it.
The key to the problem was inextricably linked to the Gate of the Gods; any who wished to become gods would surely have to replicate the ritual.
Therefore, Miquella was likely scheming for it, and he would undoubtedly need the help of the Horned Folk.
As expected, their positions were in opposition.
Melina continued to ask, "What was Mother like in the past?"
"Knowing that might not explain why Marika shattered the Elden Ring or why she disappeared. Even if we told you, there's still too much we don't understand. Why don't you wait until you've finished investigating the witchers' village, and then you can tell us what you've found?"
"That's right. We don't know much either, only that she was a survivor from the village and was usually very quiet and reserved."
"I've only ever seen two people make Marika smile. One was the Gloam-Eyed Queen, and the other was Godfrey. But who can guarantee that people don't change?"
"She may have become a god, but she wasn't happy, was she?"
Hearing this, Melina's heart stirred, and even Frieren fell into deep thought.
It was impossible to imagine a happy Marika. The statues, churches, and scriptures scattered everywhere were filled with people's reverence and praise for her, leaving only an impression of divinity in one's mind.
Hailed as the Eternal Queen, she endured many hardships. When the age of plenty faded, the seeds of today's calamity were likely sown.
Suddenly, Melina noticed her partner's gaze was fixed on her.
"What is it?"
"I can't imagine you smiling, either. You always look so glum."
"Every day I spend with you, I'm very happy, Frieren."
"So you're just not naturally a smiley person?"
"Are your own expressions so rich? Even when you smile, it has a kind of detached, otherworldly feeling. It's the smile of appreciation from a distant observer, not one from the heart."
Neither of them smiled, but their light-hearted bickering made the surrounding rare folk laugh, filling the air with a cheerful atmosphere.
Interesting.
They were so in sync they could read each other's minds, yet they mistakenly believed there was a distance between them, thinking that investigating the past would deepen their understanding and trust.
They didn't realize it wasn't about the destination, but the journey. Secrets don't create distance; trust and reliance are what bind people most closely.
Now, anyone who saw Frieren and Melina would believe they trusted each other absolutely.
"By the way, you think I'm Mother's child?"
"It's hard to say."
"Why?"
"It's strange. You don't have Godfrey's overflowing, vigorous spirit, but you do have the Gloam-Eyed Queen's reserved indifference. Based on appearances alone, we have no idea who your father is."
"I'm afraid I really might have the Gloam Eye."
Melina touched her sealed eye, the claw-mark pattern upon it vivid and lifelike.
"That doesn't confirm anything. For one, we don't know much about that Gloam-Eyed Queen, not even her name. We only know she established the faith of the Godskin Apostles and began hunting divine beings very early on, later competing with Marika for godhood."
"Only she and Marika truly knew each other. We spent most of our time in the village of the dead and didn't know much about our companions who roamed far and wide."
"Things were chaotic back then, and my memories are hazy as well."
"Besides, traits in offspring don't mean much. As you mentioned before, Marika gave birth to two Omens, didn't she? And then there's Messmer, a being accompanied by flame."
That was true.
The inquiry into Melina's biological father had hit a dead end, unable to proceed.
Because the Omen twins had overturned the logical chain. You couldn't just say Godfrey had Omen blood in him; that was absurd.
In the Lands Between, birth wasn't purely a biological process, especially for beings possessing divinity. It could even be considered a kind of ritual.
And if it was a ritual, it could be incredibly complex, making it difficult to trace one's origins.
She looked at Frieren, who also shook her head.
She didn't know. Even the first and most learned of sorcerers didn't understand, or rather, her mind had never bothered to untangle the complexities of the Golden Lineage.
No matter, it wasn't important.
The most crucial piece, the Gate of the Gods, had its basic situation understood.
As long as the core location was confirmed, that was enough. A series of conflicts would inevitably erupt around it in the end, so Miquella's band of followers would surely go there as well—once the seal was broken, of course.
Most likely, Miquella was guiding his followers to safeguard his own actions.
If necessary, he might even summon the Haligtree army. After all, Malenia, the Blade of Miquella, would certainly cross the sea to come to her brother's aid if she heard he was at a critical juncture.
Things would become even more complicated then.
But they weren't worried. Ultimately, it would all come down to a test of strength. The current investigation was merely to confirm the conspiracy.
"Could you two tell us more about what happened when you entered the Lands Between?"
As more and more people awoke, they grew curious about the state of the Golden Dynasty. Although the Land of Shadow was isolated, it was still part of the Lands Between and couldn't remain detached forever.
Even if it could have in the past, that isolation had now been broken.
So they were eager to understand, especially concerning the future path of their people.
Frieren remained silent, continuing to rest.
She had completely delegated the task of explaining to Melina. In any case, Melina was more articulate and truly understood the history of the Lands Between, from ancient times to the present.
When it came to who had traveled the farthest and witnessed the most tumultuous history of the Golden Dynasty, it had to be the spirit maiden.
For hundreds of years, riding Torrent, she had seen the shattering of the Elden Ring, seen the allied armies of the demigods burn the Altus Plateau, and seen the Haligtree army march south to clash with the Redmane forces...
Suddenly, the ever-vigilant Mimic Tear stared intently in a certain direction.
She held her staff, ready for battle.
Frieren, who had been resting, once again spread out her spiritual senses and indeed discovered a powerful life signature hidden within a cave.
A short Demi-Human slowly walked out. His beast-like face resembled a dog's, with pointed, erect ears, a fur cloak, and a slender sword in hand. His appearance shattered the idle chat, and the artisans fell silent.
"It's the Demi-Human Swordmaster Onze. His swordsmanship is formidable, be careful," one of the rare folk said fearfully.
Yet, the three demigods remained completely still.
Only when the silver-haired girl stood up and patted the dust from her skirt, not even sparing the enemy a glance as she asked, "Has he harmed you?"
"That thing used to use us as targets to practice his swordsmanship."
"Then he's no Demi-Human, he's an accomplice. An Omen."
Noticing the sharp gaze from Frieren's piercing eyes, Onze's heart tightened. To be honest, he had just been taking a detour to leave.
Who would be foolish enough to seek trouble with three demigods?
So he had been suppressing his aura, hiding, and finally waited for the strongest among them to begin her meditative rest.
Only then did he make his move.
He thought it was the perfect opportunity, with the one-eyed maiden busy caring for her kin, but he was discovered by the Tear lifeform. There was no escape.
They were just a bunch of monsters—Onze had treated them as such when he'd cleared them out before.
But today, they had been healed and even found a powerful backer to complain to. It was utterly ridiculous. He had inexplicably drawn their enmity.
He snorted, his face contorted with rage.
The Mimic Tear at the forefront waved a hand disdainfully in front of its nose.
"You're smelly and ugly, and I sense no noble soul within you. Offering your head to my mother would be a form of blasphemy."
Clang!
The enraged Demi-Human Swordmaster swung his blade, but it met only empty air. The silver-white spirit had appeared on the other side. With Miriam's Vanishing, this teleportation was already perfected.
He pursued again, but the Mimic Tear dodged with the same trick, simultaneously swinging its Night's Blade.
With a slice, both of Onze's ears were cut off.
Now, the already ugly Demi-Human's head was round and smooth, further accentuating his wrinkled skin and ferocious expression.
With simian fangs, wide eyes, and blood staining both sides of his head, he looked utterly vicious, yet his true nature was exposed under the Mimic Tear's assault.
Is that all?
Frieren, who had been eager to test his skills, sat back down. It was enough to simply observe.
Though he was a swordmaster, the 'Demi-Human' prefix cheapened him. She would see what level he could display, but the gap in their fundamental attributes was insurmountable.
The trip to Belurat Gaol had provided the Mimic Tear with a wealth of inspiration.
Onze took a few steps back. It wasn't a fatal wound, not even affecting his combat ability, but the blatant humiliation was infuriating. It took several deep breaths to finally suppress his anger.
A flurry of surprise attacks followed his pursuit.
He hastily swung his sword, blocking with a series of clangs. Every shard of night magic was parried by his blade, precise and swift.
It showed his profound swordsmanship; he had some skill. However, a demigod-level enemy was a cut above.
Suddenly, a glintstone's glow flickered in the corner of his eye, and the weight of a Gavel of Haima slammed into his chest.
Almost at the moment of impact, he curled his body and began to roll, dissipating the force.
Crack!
The small Demi-Human landed and immediately sprang back to his feet. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his spirit still fierce, though his face had lost some of its color.
The Mimic Tear dismissed the gavel and summoned a Glintblade Phalanx to guard it, an impenetrable defense.
Behind her, the two demigods watched on, calm and composed.
This was terrible.
Onze had intended to go around them and keep his distance, but he hadn't expected his opponent's perception to be so sharp. They probably wouldn't let a threat go.
Begging for mercy was useless; looking at the Omen corpses on the ground, if he were seen as an accomplice, he would be ground to dust as well.
So his only option was to flee, hoping the enemy was tied down by their protective duties, and escape once he had some distance.
He could definitely get away.
With this thought, the Demi-Human Swordmaster began to move with agility, weaving around the Mimic Tear as he tried to escape.
The two went back and forth.
For the first time since the battle began, he actively swung out a wave of sword ki, responding with a ranged attack, finally competing with the sorcerer at mid-range.
The silver-white spirit didn't mind at all, letting out an excited cry as she charged forward, magic surging.
Even though it wasn't a battle between two firepower-focused mages, craters still appeared on the ground, and tremors echoed frequently.
Their fight was less a deadly struggle and more a mutual tug-of-war.
"Trying to run?"
Seeing through her enemy's intent, the Mimic Tear pressed its attack. As a sorcerer, she charged forward, daring to close the distance against an enemy with a high-speed slender sword, her very presence overwhelming him.
Onze was like a small boat tossed in a tsunami, yet he managed to stay afloat.
Suddenly, a blue ripple appeared in his hand, pulling and teleporting the Mimic Tear's body directly in front of him. He grabbed it firmly and executed a throw, slamming it onto the ground with a clean motion. A deep pit sent rubble flying.
Blood splattered, not from the spirit ash, but from the Demi-Human Swordmaster's own hand, which had bled from the sheer force of the impact against the ground.
"Well, that was sudden."
The Mimic Tear's shadow appeared at the edge of the large crater.
She tilted her head, observing with great interest, completely unharmed, her expression unchanged. To say she was scared was a joke.
To have reacted to that attack was unbelievable; she had still managed to escape using Miriam's Vanishing.
Certain that his throw had failed, the Demi-Human Swordmaster's face darkened, and he took the opportunity to backstep and create distance.
A trace of caution also appeared on the Mimic Tear's face as she temporarily faced off against him.
"It's some kind of technique from the stargazers." Frieren, who had been silent, spoke up. "It looks a bit like night sorcery, but its source leans more towards the nature of the cosmos."
"Mother, that thing knows sorcery too?"
"No, I don't sense any intricate sorcerous formula. It's more like a warrior-class skill, an application of experience. Very simple."
"But I can't learn it."
The reason she had slowed the pace of the battle was because she hoped to uncover its secret and make it her own, just like the famous King of the Rose Shadow who could learn an enemy's sorcery mid-battle.
However, Onze had deliberately held back his abilities, such as the suddenness of that throw, by intentionally moving around.
He knew full well that using it frequently would diminish its threat.
"Because that's just a derivative move. There must be a swordsmanship more closely related to the power of the cosmos. Be careful not to get ambushed. Though he's not strong, his combat instincts are decent. You've still seen too few enemies."
"Here it comes!"
Compared to Frieren's analytical guidance, the more concerned Melina warned her directly.
The words had barely left her lips when the Demi-Human Swordmaster suddenly burst forth with power, his figure vanishing along with the gleam of his sword ki, becoming formless.
The Mimic Tear prepared to move but was caught by a gravitational pull.
It was the prelude to that throw technique.
But this time, it wasn't a simple wrestling move, but was combined with a full-power sword strike. A cold light flared, slashing through the pale spirit's body, and the arcing gale carved a fissure in the ground.
Did it land? The battle-hardened Onze couldn't be sure of the feel, but regardless, he had to take this chance to escape!
Thud!
Suddenly, his foot caught on something, nearly causing him to lose his balance. He immediately transitioned into a roll, moving swiftly but clumsily to the side and instantly getting back up, only to find the enemy had stuck a foot out.
A smooth gash ran from her shoulder to her heart, the cross-section flowing with spirit ashes as it slowly healed.
"How is that possible!" a low growl mumbled from the Demi-Human's throat.
In that instant, the Mimic Tear had proactively allowed part of its body to revert to the semi-liquid state of a Larval Tear. It had split open in advance right where the blade was meant to fall, effortlessly avoiding the damage. It was never actually hit.
It can do that?
He knew it was a summoned spirit ash, but he didn't know it was so special.
In fact, Frieren and Melina also exchanged surprised glances.
They trusted the Mimic Tear's strength. After the boon from the Mohgwyn Dynasty and their journey through the Land of Shadow, it was no longer the newcomer who had just reached the demigod level.
It had gradually become seasoned, adapting to fight using the power of its body.
It was controlled and fluid, unlike when they first met in the Eternal City, where it only knew to unleash its power instinctively.
Yet today, it had shown them a surprise.
"Why is it able to display the characteristics of its embryonic larval form when it's been converted into spirit ashes? The transformation was instantaneous."
Melina, who had just been worried for its safety, let out a sigh of relief. As expected of the strongest spirit companion.
The silver-haired girl said thoughtfully, "It's because the foundation laid by the Eternal City's technology was so good."
"Plus, I've been continuously strengthening its soul, and with Roderika's specialized spirit tuning... it's possible to create a being of higher strength that can also switch forms."
"It would be more accurate to say that only now is it a true Tear lifeform spirit ash."
"Exactly."
Melina had a moment of realization. In fact, changing form and shifting between semi-liquid and semi-solid states was its innate ability, and the Mimic Tear had truly utilized it to aid in combat.
Unprecedented and unrepeatable; it was likely that even the researchers of the Eternal City never knew it could become like this.
No wonder it caught the enemy completely off guard.
Of course, it was thanks to the indispensable combination of the Nox civilization, Frieren's nurturing, the Spirit Tuner's talent, and other factors that this miraculous creation, the strongest spirit ash, was finally achieved.
Even the rare folk nearby were astonished, not expecting such a special demigod.
This quasi-monarch from the Lands Between had a deeper foundation than they had imagined, bringing two top-tier combatants on a casual exploration trip.
Their eyes were full of admiration, unaware that the pressure on Onze had just skyrocketed.
Clang!
A Night's Blade sliced past his forehead. He barely dodged it, feeling only the wind brush past his ears. The wounds there had already scabbed over, but it still sent a chill down his spine.
He had to rethink his strategy.
The Mimic Tear's recent form-shifting trick was impossible to defend against. Even a swordmaster had to consider how many of his techniques were still effective.
It was no use. A war of attrition wouldn't work; he had to escape the battlefield as quickly as possible.
However, the enemy's relentless pursuit gave him no opportunity, leaving him only with defense.
"Is this the extent of your fighting spirit? And you call yourself a swordmaster?"
The Mimic Tear's assault grew stronger with each wave. The Night's Blade in its hand emitted a terrifying chill as it sliced past his shoulder, neck, and throat, drawing threads of blood.
Wounded but not fatally, it was complete mockery. It didn't take him seriously at all, treating him as a mere training dummy.
Stay calm.
He had been reminding himself of this since the battle began, yet a nameless rage kept flaring up.
He couldn't help it. This spirit ash girl was a master of psychological warfare. If he didn't teach her a lesson, he wouldn't be able to get away clean.
"Don't get too cocky."
As soon as he spoke, another gravitational pull came, and with a stomp of Onze's foot, a whirlwind kicked up sand and stone, concealing the path of his sword ki.
His attack aimed for the Mimic Tear's throat.
However, with a resounding ping, Thops's Barrier easily parried it, followed immediately by a Carian Slicer that cut through the mist, striking directly at the enemy.
At the critical moment, Onze quickly curled his body to minimize the impact area, and the blade flew past his side.
He dodged it, a good dodge, but the next moment, his opponent used a simple and unadorned kick skill—
Thump!
A heavy foot embedded itself in his chest, shattering his internal organs on contact.
The Mimic Tear, annoyed with the back-and-forth, held nothing back in this strike. The immense force, combined with the difference in their body types, amplified the power to its absolute maximum, as if he had been struck by a flying dragon.
As expected, the small Demi-Human flew through the air and then crashed heavily to the ground, drawing a round of cheers from the rare folk.
No, I have to get up.
Alarm bells ringing in his mind, Onze had just gotten halfway up when he immediately leaped away. A fireball exploded where he had been; his opponent didn't even intend to leave a corpse, aiming for complete annihilation.
Such a heavy killing intent. They must plan to wipe out the entire gaol.
He landed again, barely on his feet. On the surface, he appeared calm, but in reality, his entire body was in excruciating pain.
The damage from the Mimic Tear's attacks was far more terrifying than it appeared. Even Frieren and Melina hadn't realized that though it seemed she wasn't using sorcery, her very body was imbued with the power of night sorcery, combining magical interference with the ice attribute.
The King of Night had made it her instinct.
Just as an Ancient Dragon's stone scales possessed the highest resistance, it had become a part of her race, and she was a new existence, gradually maturing. Unfortunately for him, a Demi-Human Swordmaster was the one to experience it.
At this point, he had given up all hope, fearing he couldn't escape. It was time to fight with all his might.
With this thought, Onze took a deep breath, raised his longsword horizontally, and took a stance, his sharp aura erupting outwards.
"That's more like it."
A smile appeared on the face of the Mimic Tear, thrilled by the prospect of a good fight.
Frieren said, "Go ahead and test his moves. That sword is special; it was forged specifically for a certain technique that has been honed for years."
Even the Demi-Human Swordmaster couldn't help but glance over, his heart tightening. No matter how you looked at her, she was a sorcerer, yet her insight was exceptional, her mind meticulous.
She was the second-most knowledgeable person about swordsmanship here, hiding her true depths.
The changing situation gave him no time for further thought. The next moment, the Mimic Tear unleashed a Night Comet.
Invisible sorcery?
It no longer mattered. At this moment, Onze completely disregarded defense, his mind and body as one, with only a single thought: attack.
He stepped, dodged, and his sword swings carried a deep blue light that layered upon itself. He intuitively sliced through the Night Comet's attack, moving too fast to react, and pursued again.
Sword of Linked Stars!
The super high-speed sword arc crossed the distance between them, bypassing the magical barrier.
In an instant, several strikes from the Sword of Linked Stars landed on the Mimic Tear's vital points, producing a crisp cracking sound as blade met steel-like flesh head-on.
Ash of War: Endure.
The silver-white spirit, having taken a full sword art combo, acted as if nothing had happened. With a grunt, she stood her ground, her footing not wavering in the slightest.
This reaction left Onze dumbfounded, and his hands paused for a moment, revealing an opening.
With a cry of pain, two Night's Blades were thrust under his ribs, burying themselves in his chest and abdomen where his organs were concentrated.
He kicked his opponent and used the recoil to roll away.
When he tried to stand up again, he couldn't move. A chill had invaded his entire body, his bones were broken, and he felt sluggish. Even the act of lifting his head required all his strength.
Then, in despair, he watched as the Mimic Tear casually cast a healing spell on itself, its wounds rapidly closing.
Not to mention she hadn't been seriously injured in the first place, possessing an unfathomably high, constant poise.
Why is she so tough?
"A frog in a well, how could you possibly understand this body my mother created for me?" The Mimic Tear walked forward as if to say, "Your swordsmanship is decent, but you're too weak."
She stomped on Onze's hand, the force of Storm Stomp turning bone and flesh into dust.
"At best, you're just a hideous piece of trash. It's over."
____
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