Two Black Blade Kindred, one on each side, dragged the exhausted Fortissax from the ruins, hoisting her roughly into the air. In the next moment, the remaining sections of the sluice gate's high wall disintegrated. The collapsed masonry plunged into the surging river, swept downstream by the violent current.
The Monitor stood at the base of the tower. Only after confirming that Fortissax had been brought to safety on the bank did he turn his gaze away.
"Tsk. A broken wing, several shattered bones, and let's not even start on the internal injuries." Having finished communicating with the Black Blade Kindred via Bestial Incantations, Selenzo shouldered his Beastman's Cleaver. He picked a stray piece of mushroom from between his teeth with a claw as he eyed the Monitor up and down. "I'm truly curious—how did you convince a dragon to go that far?"
"This is nothing to her. Ancient Dragons possess tenacious vitality; she will recover from such injuries after a few days of rest." The Monitor turned away. "Do not entertain any thoughts you shouldn't."
"Haha, what thoughts could I possibly have? I assembled my subordinates as you requested and had the Kindred save the dragon, didn't I?"
Selenzo laughed boisterously, though his eyes scanned the surroundings. He was indeed considering whether to let the dragon's "injuries worsen" until she died. But now that the Monitor had issued a warning, any further meddling would inevitably mean a falling out with this confidant of Queen Marika. If he incurred the Goddess's wrath, Maliketh—that loyal hound of the Goddess—certainly wouldn't say a word in his defense.
But if this Monitor were also to die in the chaos... Selenzo narrowed his eyes.
"The priests are at the top of the tower, aren't they? How many guards are inside?" the Monitor asked.
"Not many. They had a Clayman guard unit at the base, but they've all been swept into the river to feed the fish." Selenzo looked toward the battlefield. The bloated river had long since burst its banks; the battling Claymen and ants had been almost entirely wiped out. Only the Ant Queen could be seen struggling desperately in the turbid flow.
The Monitor nodded slightly. With a sharp shing, he drew his longsword and stepped onto the spiral staircase winding around the tower.
Two stone harpoons thrust down at him from above. Without breaking his stride, the Monitor parried the tips with two rhythmic clangs, passing by the two Claymen like a gust of wind.
The harpoons slipped from the Claymen's grasp, clattering down the steps to land at Selenzo's feet. The Beastman Priest looked down, and when he looked back up, the heads of the two Claymen were slowly sliding off their necks.
The Monitor's swordsmanship was grand and imposing. His first strike parried the spear, and his second ended the life; he moved with the bearing of a king inspecting his own court. However, by the time his blade entered the chest of the twenty-first Clayman, it met significant resistance. The Monitor pulled the sword out and inspected it; the edge was chipped, notched, and riddled with cracks.
It was a standard-issue longsword, nothing more, and the Monitor had used it with no regard for its preservation. It was only natural for it to reach its limit so quickly. Selenzo folded his arms, waiting to mock the Monitor's misfortune, only to see him toss the ruined blade aside and walk back down.
"I'm borrowing this." The Monitor reached out and took a massive Cleaver from the back of a beastman, weighing it casually.
"That is a beastman weapon. It's heavy; one cannot adapt to it without training," Selenzo said, moving to placate the now-unarmed and angry warrior.
"Heavy? I find the balance of the center of gravity quite well-designed," the Monitor praised. He suddenly swung the blade in an upward arc, sending a Clayman leaping from the floor above flying. In a fluid motion, he snatched a second Cleaver from another beastman warrior and followed through with a horizontal sweep, cleaving the falling Clayman in half mid-air.
With a long laugh, he dual-wielded the massive cleavers and strode up the spiral stairs. Amidst the clashing of steel, severed Clayman limbs were tossed from the edge of the tower.
"He does have some skill—Alert!" Selenzo's expression shifted, and he suddenly barked an order.
A gale swept over the stone steps as Lansseax brushed past the tower, diving toward Fortissax where she lay on the shore.
Landing heavily on the ground, she glared at the two Black Blade Kindred before spreading her wings to shield her sister, funneling Dragonbolt into her. Fortissax slowly opened her eyes, quietly resting her neck beneath the crook of Lansseax's wing.
Seeing this, Selenzo snorted coldly and finally abandoned his previous dark designs.
As Lansseax passed the tower, Raven leapt from her back. He struck the side of the tower, taking several steps along the stone to bleed off his momentum before flipping onto the stairs.
"Victory was already ours. Why was this necessary?" Raven looked at Selenzo. "Was this the Monitor's tactic? He didn't discuss this with us."
"Because you and Malenia would never have agreed," Selenzo said with an air of indifference. "As long as we control the priests, the Claymen have no choice but to obey the expeditionary force. Is that not more reliable than some 'alliance'?"
"The Claymen treated you as honored guests, providing food and shelter, and your response is betrayal? The Golden Order betrayed the Giants, the Zamorians, and the Carians. You beastmen betrayed the Ancient Dragons. No wonder you find such common ground."
Selenzo's grip tightened on his cleaver. With a thin, cold smile, he said, "Such a naive statement, Prince Raven."
"I simply find you pathetic," Raven said coldly. Knowing further argument was pointless, he began to ascend toward the summit.
The Ainsel River thundered below, washing away all traces of the battlefield. The swarm was finished, and the Clayman warriors were almost entirely gone. The war had ended in this farcical manner; the Queen and Kueye were like two clumsy actors on a stage, appearing for a moment only to be ushered off in silence.
Perhaps some survivors would make it to shore downstream where the current slowed, and perhaps the Queen—whose fate remained unknown—would return in the future. But none of that mattered to the current expedition. Raven had to admit the Monitor possessed a certain ruthless genius. It was a mystery how such a man remained nameless within the Dynasty.
And yet, to act so without scruple, to leave no room for mercy, to seek victory upon victory... what was the point in the end?
Raven reached the platform at the top of the tower. The Monitor was already standing there, his two borrowed cleavers planted in the ground at his feet. The priests were huddled at the far end of the platform.
"Ah, you've arrived, Raven," the Monitor said with a smile. He took another step toward the priests, causing several of them to shrink back further. "So, have you made up your minds?"
"Those swept away by the river were only our chosen warriors!" a priest shouted. "There are still thousands of Claymen under our command! Do not push us to desperation! Why not each take a step back?"
"Desperation?" The Monitor spoke as if he had heard a brilliant joke. "You watched the battle from the safety of this tower, ready to flee to the opposite bank if things went south, and now you claim to have the courage for desperation?"
"Give us... give us a moment to discuss." The priest who had spoken choked on his words. "There are many of us; it takes time to reach a consensus."
The Monitor sighed. "True. There are quite a lot of you."
Suddenly snatching up both cleavers, the Monitor shattered the floor beneath him and lunged into the center of the priests with a spinning slash.
Clang!
The Monitor slammed the cleavers back into the stone. The platform shuddered, and eleven priests who had been frozen in place collapsed to the floor like a row of falling dominoes.
"With a third fewer people, reaching a consensus should be much easier." The Monitor's smile remained unchanged.
Only then did the remaining priests frantically attempt to cast Oracular Bubbles. More than half failed due to sheer terror, and even those who succeeded lacked the courage to fire them.
Ignoring them, the Monitor pushed through the trembling priests and walked toward the old Clayman in the chair. He bowed slightly. "Lord High Priest."
"It is you," the High Priest said, turning his head slightly. "I remember you."
"A few days ago, I witnessed your mastery of the Oracular Bubble. Of course, I know that what we see within them are mere illusions, not true prophecy." The Monitor's smile was bright. "But you mentioned back then that if one possesses the resolve to sacrifice their life, they can release a bubble that truly reveals the future. I wonder... was that statement true?"
"Hehe... true, quite true," the High Priest laughed raspily. "But between illusion and reality, there is truly no difference. The past can be tampered with, the future can be altered... even this reality we inhabit, is it necessarily real?"
"You joke, my Lord. What has passed has happened; how can it be tampered with—"
The High Priest's hand shot out like a lightning strike, grabbing the Monitor's collar with a speed that belied his decrepit appearance. While the Monitor's upper body remained motionless, the High Priest used the leverage to pull himself up, leaning close to the man's face.
"The past is fake! It's fake! It has been modified... a false history!" the High Priest hissed, spraying bits of mushroom debris onto the Monitor's face.
"Are you suggesting that the history books were altered by later chroniclers?" The Monitor was still smiling, but Raven could see the fury simmering beneath the facade. "Stop speaking in riddles. I am well aware of such things."
"It isn't just the history books that were tampered with. The texts, the sculptures, the murals, our very memories... it is the entire world that has been altered!"
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Elden Ring: The Unborn One's Journey Through Elden Ring(250 Chapter - Ongoing)
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