"Cough... these damn Golden lapdogs..."
Shabriri clutched his chest, coughing up several mouthfuls of fresh blood. After wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he continued his trek toward Limgrave.
On his way, he had encountered a group of clergy from the Church of the Erdtree. It was a stroke of miserable luck. The group had been out proselytizing and, while searching for food along the road, one of them had fired an arrow at some game.
As fate would have it, Shabriri was right in the line of fire. Startled by the sudden attack, he had reflexively retaliated. Thinking his tracks had been discovered, he instinctively unleashed a burst of Frenzied Flame.
That single move immediately gave him away to the Church officials.
Still unfamiliar with his new body and heavily injured, he was in no position to fight them head-on. After a desperate eruption of fire, he had turned and fled. However, during the pursuit, he was struck by a Golden Wrath incantation, piling more injuries onto his already battered frame. He estimated that if he ran into another group of Erdtree fanatics now, he would be finished.
If that happened, not only would his current scheme fail, but he would have to wander once more to find another vessel capable of housing his soul. Furthermore, his appearance had already alerted the Golden Dynasty. If he walked away from this with nothing to show for it... it would be a catastrophic loss.
He knew exactly how fanatical the Erdtree Church became once they caught the scent of the Frenzied Flame. They were the type to prefer slaughtering ten thousand innocents over letting a single spark escape.
He had used that very fanaticism to drive the Great Caravan to their eternal slumber beneath the Royal Capital; despair, after all, is the finest nutrient for the Frenzied Flame.
Consequently, he despised a unified and stable Lands Between. The Golden Dynasty was currently achieving that stability, so he naturally wanted to sabotage them however he could.
However... his grand vengeance was yet unfulfilled. The decline of the Golden Order was a long-term goal, so he was more inclined to settle his personal scores first.
If not for that cursed Omen, the initial spark of the Frenzied Flame would have already taken root in the sewers—the perfect hiding spot. He wouldn't have had to waste his time and energy worrying about how to fix this mess.
"And where might you be going, traveler?"
As Shabriri passed beneath a large tree, a voice suddenly drifted down from above.
His body stiffened visibly. He forced a rigid, mechanical smile onto his face and looked up toward the branches.
A man clad in light armor of silver and red crouched on a bough, watching him. Beside him stood another man in identical attire, leaning against the trunk and looking down with an indifferent gaze.
With a single glance, Shabriri recognized the iconic crest of the Blood Dynasty emblazoned on their chestplates.
"You again... the Blood Dynasty!!!"
Shabriri spat the words through gritted teeth. Then... after hurlng a sphere of Frenzied Flame at the pair, he burst into a desperate sprint, never looking back.
The two warriors on the branch shared a quick glance before leaping down to give chase.
Hearing the sound of whistling air drawing closer behind him, Shabriri's anxiety spiked. He couldn't die such a pathetic death at the hands of two mere grunts! He refused to believe his luck was that rotten. Surely he wouldn't run into another group in the direction he was fleeing?
"Hmm? What is it?" One of the Blood Soldiers asked, confused, as his comrade signaled him to stop.
"No need to chase. He's heading right toward the Sovereign."
A faint smirk appeared in the soldier's eyes. He had been worried the target might slip away, but the man had chosen to sprint directly into the area where their Lord was stationed. Talk about incredible luck.
There were so many directions he could have picked, and in almost any of them, he might have had a chance to vanish. Except that one.
Shabriri, noticing that the pursuit behind him had ceased, felt a metaphorical question mark pop up over his head. He couldn't understand it. They had looked ready to hunt him to the ends of the earth just a second ago; why give up now?
Moreover, there was something else that bothered him. The Frenzied Flame and the Golden Dynasty were enemies. The Blood Dynasty and the Golden Dynasty were also enemies. Between their two factions... he hadn't even had the chance to start trouble yet! Why were they blocking his path so aggressively?
Where was the logic? He hadn't even touched them, yet they were already out for his blood. Where was the morality? The law?
Oh, right. This is the age of the Golden Order. Never mind. Realizing something was wrong, Shabriri skidded to a halt. He was caught in a dilemma. Whatever lay ahead was enough to make his pursuers stop, meaning it was far more dangerous than the two of them combined.
But if he went back... he was certain those two were waiting for him. They wouldn't have let him go that easily. Turning back meant certain death. He had to gamble!
A spark of fire ignited in Shabriri's eyes. His luck... it couldn't be that bad!
He burst through a dense thicket into a clearing. Before he could catch his breath, a towering figure loomed in his sight.
The hope that had just begun to flicker in Shabriri's chest died instantly, leaving his face ashen.
"Yo. Talk about luck. I didn't think you'd actually come this way."
Seeing the look of absolute despair on Shabriri's face, Mohg was genuinely amused. His presence here was actually a whim.
After his romantic interlude with Rellana, he had found himself with some downtime. He had spent several days alone in the Dynasty's encampment researching the Horned Culture Dynasty, which proved to be a massive headache.
He had stepped out for some fresh air and remembered the order he'd given to intercept Shabriri. He decided to join the hunt himself to free up a squad for scouting.
To ensure the slippery bastard couldn't escape, Mohg had stationed men on every major road and hidden path leading to Limgrave. No matter which way Shabriri went, he would run into the Blood Dynasty—unless he planned to stay in Liurnia forever.
But that was unlikely. The Golden Dynasty was far more professional at hunting the Frenzied Flame than Mohg's men. Given enough time, they would have sniffed him out eventually.
"Sovereign of the Blood Dynasty... why are you here?"
Sensing that his current vessel was lost, Shabriri's expression turned eerily calm. He looked at Mohg with genuine confusion. In his memory, this Omen shouldn't have known about his plans. Why go through such a massive effort to corner him? In a twisted way, he felt almost flattered.
This was a Demigod coming for him. Previously, the strongest people sent to hunt him were at the peak of the Hero-class. Now, he was being personally cornered by the ruler of a faction, a true Demigod of the Lands Between.
"I was bored and remembered a pawn I'd left on the board. I came to check on it and didn't expect such a surprising harvest."
Shabriri's mouth twitched at the explanation. He looked up at the sky and sighed.
"It must be this body. My luck has never been this bad before..."
Finishing his sentence, Shabriri began to churn the Frenzied Flame within him, intending to detonate his vessel and spray the fire in every direction. He couldn't kill Mohg, but he could certainly leave him with a nasty souvenir.
Sensing his intent, Mohg blurred across the clearing. He grabbed Shabriri by the throat, hoisting him into the air. Before Shabriri could react, a mass of Cursed Blood was forced into his mouth, making his eyes bulge.
The moment he tried to trigger the explosion, Mohg seized control of every drop of blood in his body. The churning Frenzied Flame was snuffed out instantly.
Shabriri glared at Mohg with pure venom.
"If this body weren't so weak, I would make you pay!"
"Oh? I'm quite curious to see what kind of vessel you'll find next. And I imagine that after this failure, it will take you much longer to return to the Lands Between, won't it?"
Mohg offered him a sharp smile.
"But don't worry. I don't plan on 'solving' you just yet."
"What? What do you intend to do?" Shabriri asked, his guard immediately rising.
"It wasn't easy for you to gather the power of souls and chaos, or to weave your schemes to get a new body. How could I let all that hard work go to waste? And if I'm not mistaken, while your soul is immortal and returns to chaos, you can only occupy one vessel at a time in the Lands Between, right?"
Shabriri's face drained of color.
"No! You can't do this! Chaos is the only truth in this world! As one of Omen blood, surely you know the pain! The pain of being cast aside, of being despised and tortured! We have felt the same thing! If we embrace chaos and make everyone feel that pain just once, there will never be pain again!"
"True. After a baptism of Frenzied Flame, there would be no more pain. But then again, there would be nothing left at all, would there?"
Mohg dismissed the temptation with a cold laugh.
"It is because I have experienced that pain that I wish to overthrow the Golden Dynasty and build my ideal kingdom. Why would I let someone like you interfere? The Frenzied Flame is a plague that must be eradicated. You... are the enemy of life. Once I have the strength, I will personally go to the depths and have a long chat with the Three Fingers."
"You wouldn't dare!"
Shabriri's eyes flared with rage, but before he could spit out another threat, the Cursed Blood surged through his system, taking total control of his physical form.
Now, from head to toe, the only things Shabriri could move were his eyes. He could do nothing but glare at Mohg with impotent fury.
"Your eyes haven't burned out yet. It seems your synchronization with this body is still poor... That's a relief. Don't worry, I'll take 'good care' of you."
Mohg patted Shabriri on the head and then shoved him into a pool of blood.
His plan was simple: as long as this body remained "alive," Shabriri's soul would be trapped within it. It was an eternal shackle.
Of course, he knew he couldn't hold him forever. The power of the Frenzied Flame would continue to grow within the vessel even under suppression. His plan was to wait until he could no longer contain it, then kill him. That way, Shabriri's years of accumulation would be wiped out in an instant.
In short: fatten the pig before the slaughter.
While Mohg was stuffing Shabriri into the blood pool, in an incredibly dim cavern somewhere in the Lands Between, a figure curled up on a stone bed slowly opened her eyes.
Her eye sockets were hollow and empty. The sight of those pitch-black voids was enough to send a chill through any observer's heart.
"I am... Capoli... I must choose my Lord..."
Accepting her mission, Capoli rose slowly. She "saw" her surroundings.
The cave was filled with desiccated corpses. Every single one of them was clutching their eyes, crouching on the ground as if trying to dull their own agony. Without exception, they were all bowed in the direction of Capoli, as if she were their deity.
Capoli walked slowly to each of them. She reached into their hollow sockets and pulled out plump, ripe "grapes."
"Our Lord... where is our Lord...?"
She murmured incessantly, her footsteps echoing as she walked toward the tunnel exit until her form was swallowed by the darkness.
"What in the world is that?"
Lansseax poked a claw at the blood cocoon in front of her, looking at Mohg with curiosity.
"Shabriri."
"Huh?"
Lansseax's eyes widened in shock.
"You mean the Shabriri who caused all that chaos on the Altus Plateau and summoned the Frenzied Flame? That Shabriri is in there?"
"The one and only."
Mohg nodded calmly.
"Why would you bring that disaster back here?"
"Because he's a disaster, I brought him back for a little... remodeling."
Mohg patted the blood cocoon.
"He's weak right now and can't cause trouble. I'm going to submerge him in a specialized blood pool in my quarters. He'll only be able to interact with me. When he becomes too much to handle, I'll just finish him off."
"I see."
Lansseax nodded slowly. She understood Shabriri's nature well enough to know why Mohg was taking such precautions.
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