Lucian swung his two blades toward the door—but the blood on the door suddenly shot up in a spray straight at his eyes.
He whirled the storm to disperse it, and managed to strike the door with both blades.
With a series of crackling sounds, the door split open almost completely—just one more blow and he could break through.
But Mohg's blood flames surged forward, forcing Lucian to dodge.
Without armor, even a minor hit could be fatal.
Unfortunately, that dodge cost him the chance to leave the room.
Lucian watched as the blood fully covered the door and walls, realizing Mohg had no intention of letting him escape so easily.
"Close call. You almost slipped away," Mohg said, though his voice carried amusement rather than panic.
Lucian turned to face him. He didn't understand why Mohg had singled him out—he had only killed one Bloody Finger.
"Oh? That gaze is quite something," Mohg said. "Under different circumstances, I might have considered letting you witness the rise of my dynasty alongside me."
"There were two others once who caught my attention the same way—because they killed Bloody Fingers. That's how they came under my command."
"But you… you have far too many traits I detest. Today, you will die quietly here, giving me a moment of pleasure."
Lucian didn't respond. He quickly considered his options for breaking the deadlock.
Mohg's abilities surpassed even what the game had revealed: appearing out of nowhere, covering an entire room with blood—these were unprecedented, and unnerving.
Seeing Lucian remain still, Mohg strolled forward leisurely, then thrust his Sacred Spear toward him.
Lucian raised his two blades to block it. The force sent him sliding backward across the slick, blood-soaked floor.
The arena was anything but forgiving. Fortunately, the blood emitted an eerie red glow, so he could still see.
From behind him, the walls' blood shot out again, this time aiming for his back.
The storm rose. With minimal expenditure of magic, he deflected it.
The voice of the Ancient King rang in his mind, warning caution—these small tricks were meant to be defended against.
Lucian deflected Mohg's spear, then lunged forward.
From their earlier clash, he had gauged the strength of this doppelgänger. Far stronger than himself, yet not invincible.
If he were fully armored, he could have risked a prolonged battle without Wind Spirit Moon Shadow and perhaps defeated it alone. But that was only physical strength.
Now, unarmored, facing not just the body but Mohg's blood magic too, he had to be cautious.
As he surged forward, Mohg raised his left hand. Blood flowed from his fingertips, carving curved claw marks through the air.
The marks ignited and exploded the next instant.
Lucian summoned the storm to pass through the flames, crossing blades in a strike at Mohg.
Blood shot up beneath him, forming a wall between them.
He pressed the attack. The blood wall was thin, easily cut through—but Mohg had vanished behind it.
Sensing danger, Lucian adjusted his stance, ready for attacks from any direction.
Blood claws shot from the ground toward his feet. He leapt over them.
But from the wall behind, a spear materialized, stabbing at him.
Using the storm's momentum, he dodged, striking the spear midair. A spray of blood erupted.
Are even his weapons made of blood? he thought.
Landing safely was another matter. Sharp blood spires erupted where he tried to touch down. He summoned the storm again to destroy them.
His scalp tingled—the abilities of this Mohg were grotesquely overpowered. The battlefield was utterly skewed against him.
This blood arena alone displayed sealing, attack, defense, and movement advantages—far more potent than Elyssa's ice. A completely different magnitude.
"May I ask why you came to kill me?" Lucian called.
At his words, the blood ceased its assault. Mohg emerged from it, still relaxed and amused.
"Heh. Nothing personal. I wanted to, so I did. How do you like that?"
"Not afraid of being exposed? Of losing your shadows in the corner?"
"Crushing you is like crushing a bug. Only your body will remain. Nothing else will be discovered."
He didn't think Lucian could escape, nor that killing him would risk exposure.
Mohg had no intention of continuing the cat-and-mouse chatter. Time to end this.
All the blood surged forward in attack. Mohg himself struck with the spear.
Lucian drew in a deep breath, squeezing all his Focus, calling the Ancient King's mightiest storm.
The raging wind tore through the small room. The blood attacking him scattered; even that clinging to the walls peeled away drop by drop.
Mohg stopped advancing and snapped his fingers.
The blood ignited violently, raising the room's temperature to unbearable heights.
The storm whipped the flames further. Soon, Lucian would be burned alive.
As his mana (FP) waned, the storm shrank, leaving him increasingly exposed.
Mohg's blood flame, fueled by his magic, ignited any blood it touched—from inside out, reducing the Tarnished to ashes.
He sensed the flame had reached the Tarnished's blood. Seconds now. That was all it would take.
Turning to the door, the blood flames there cooled, movement slowed, frost appearing—reinforcements were arriving too late.
Mohg turned back to witness Lucian's demise.
Instead, two great blades struck him first.
He dove into the blood to evade, but the strikes hit his face before he could shift.
Several of his black horns shattered, blood gushing forth.
He rematerialized elsewhere. Shock and disbelief replaced his usual amusement and composure.
"Why… are you still alive…?"
Lucian stood, one eye still unburned, fully ablaze with blood flame. Yet he struck two precise blows.
And the flames were fading, revealing intact skin beneath.
"Why?" he said. "Because your fire can't burn faster than I can heal."
He pointed a blade at Mohg.
"Now… it's my turn."