After releasing the weapon skill once, Lucian also realized that the Ruins Greatsword was different from how it appeared in the game.
Every legendary armament he had come across so far carried with it some hidden strength that far exceeded its in-game counterpart.
The Sword of Night and Flame possessed a battle skill of terrifying output, and in addition, could serve as a catalyst for spellcasting.
Even Bernahl's Devourer's Scepter, as seen in their earlier clash, had displayed a power far beyond what the game had shown.
And as for the Ruins Greatsword—beyond the way its Wave of Destruction had disrupted Radahn's gravity magic, it too possessed another ability.
Lucian raised the colossal blade and drove it deep into the sands of the desert.
Purple light flared. From beneath the dunes, stone erupted and was pulled upward, drawn inexorably toward the weapon.
Soon, countless fragments of rock clung piece by piece to the Ruins Greatsword, bound there by gravity.
It became a blade of stone—akin to those wielded by the Starscourge himself.
The sword, already massive by its own right, was now lengthened, widened, thickened beyond all reason.
Remembering Radahn's stone-clad armor, Lucian attempted to channel the same effect through the Ruins Greatsword.
Indeed, shards of stone began to creep from the hilt, climbing along his arms.
Yet as the fragments reached his elbows, the process grew sluggish. The more FP he poured in, the less the effect seemed to match his effort.
Perhaps this was the inherent limitation of relying solely on the weapon skill.
In the end, Lucian could only manage to let the stones spread to his shoulders, forming extra armor over his arms.
But with the rocks attached, the Ruins Greatsword grew unbearably heavy, forcing him to wield it with both hands at all times.
And yet, the elongated sword was perfectly suited to the battle at hand.
Lucian spread his stance wide, feet rooted in the sand, blade pointed toward Radahn.
After the Wave of Destruction had stripped him of his earlier shell, Radahn once again cloaked himself in stone.
This time, however, his armor was thicker, denser than before.
Charging headlong, Radahn's greatswords clashed against Lucian's own stone-forged blade, and the collision sent shards of rock flying in all directions.
At once, Radahn's might drove Lucian backward, his feet gouging two deep trails across the dunes.
Lucian felt the crushing momentum carried upon Radahn's body and knew immediately something was wrong.
Radahn's strength already exceeded his own—and with the additional weight of stone bolstering him, his charge was all but unstoppable.
Worse still, Radahn had cast gravity upon Lucian's weapon itself, locking it in place.
And even more dire: the stone Lucian had gathered on his own blade was being stripped away under Radahn's gravitational influence.
Gravity against gravity—each pulling against the other. Radahn's mastery let him bend Lucian's strength back upon him.
Behind Lucian, countless stone spikes rose from the sand, ready to impale him the instant he faltered.
He could not continue playing into Radahn's rhythm.
Without hesitation, Lucian conjured forth the Dragonmaw, lunging toward Radahn to draw his attention.
The floating gravity orbs, already aimed at Lucian, now turned upon the dragon instead.
The head was destroyed in an instant, dealing no damage—but that distraction was all Lucian needed.
He unleashed the Wave of Destruction through the Ruins Greatsword, shattering the stones covering Radahn's weapon.
As their gravitational fields clashed, a storm erupted between them, winds howling across the sands.
Lucian seized upon the gale and forced open distance between them.
But Radahn gave him no respite.
The ground beneath Lucian roared with thunderous force, the very desert trembling.
Radahn summoned again his blades of stone, the land erupting into a forest of spikes lunging from every direction.
Lucian found himself trapped once more amidst deadly terrain.
Yet this time, he bore it with greater composure.
He drove the Ruins Greatsword into the ground, sending the Wave of Destruction rippling outward.
The shockwave spread, shattering the stone blades along his path.
For a brief moment, Radahn's gravitational hold faltered, unable to form new stone blades.
It was like a corridor of safety, lasting no more than two or three breaths.
Lucian sprinted behind the wave, dashing through the opening, swatting aside or evading the spikes lashing in from the sides.
Wave after wave, he carved a path forward, until at last he broke free of the stone forest.
The ease of it unsettled him.
That spell should have pursued him relentlessly. Why was it now so weak?
When Lucian laid eyes upon Radahn's new form, he understood.
The general had layered stone upon himself, over and over, until his body had become a monstrous colossus.
His twin greatswords too had been swelled to absurd size, sheathed in rock.
And his poor skeletal horse—was gone.
For Radahn had forged his own legs of stone.
Radahn stood once more upon the land, reformed as a giant of living rock.
Lucian judged him to be at least fifteen or sixteen meters tall—while Lucian himself, though standing over five meters, barely reached his knees.
"What?! You're piloting a mecha now?!"
Shocked though he was, Lucian could not help but feel envy, resolving then and there to study gravity sorcery with earnest.
Radahn's massive sword descended. Lucian dared not take it head-on, leaping aside in haste.
The impact shook the land, carving a crater deep into the dunes, exposing the bedrock beneath the Wailing Dunes.
Seizing his chance, Lucian struck Radahn's arm with his own blade, the Wave of Destruction gouging a vast crack.
The destructive energy crawled upward, stripping chunks of stone away.
But against that colossal form, such loss was trivial.
Radahn swept his arm and swatted Lucian aside like an insect, sending him flying toward a waiting forest of spikes.
Only by twisting his body upon the storm-winds did Lucian escape being skewered alive.
He spat blood, dismissing the stone plating on his arms.
That defense was useless now—little more than a desperate reserve.
Radahn had to be using gravity sorcery to command that form; no mortal flesh could endure such weight.
But that truth also made the answer plain.
Lucian drew the Ruins Greatsword close, shifting the stones along its edge until the blade gleamed sharp and narrow.
For a foe like this, there was only one solution—strike the cockpit.
Dodging Radahn's twin blades, Lucian circled swiftly to his side, then leapt onto the giant's back.
So long as Radahn maintained this form, he could not weave further gravity magic.
Just two more steps and Lucian would reach the core, where Radahn himself was seated.
If he could reach that place—
Lucian froze.
From the giant's body, a sharp spike thrust outward, piercing his foot clean through.
Another followed, aiming for his torso.
The bloody spike split at its tip, locking Lucian's leg in place.
"Tch! A trap—he never meant to rely on brute strength alone!"
Lucian twisted, dodging the second spike, yet not without cost—a gaping wound opened across his abdomen.
He slashed the impaling stones apart and leapt from the giant's back.
He had been outplayed.
Pain tore through his flesh as he landed, gasping.
The wound was grievous, nearly fatal.
To mend it with Crimson Tears would take at least three flasks—and he had but one left, alongside two flasks of Cerulean.
Thankfully, he still carried the Flask of Wondrous Physick.
It was the first time he had been driven so far, forced to drink so deeply even of the wondrous flask.
Most battles, one or two flasks sufficed.
But this—this was an ordeal.
He withdrew the crystal vessel, within which swirled the Physick that Melina herself had prepared for him—blended of Crimson Crystal Tear and Greenspill Crystal Tear.
The first would heal great wounds in an instant, the second would replenish his stamina.
But Radahn's attack came before he could drink.
The colossus's blades rained down, strike after strike, relentless.
Lucian dodged and weaved, watching too for the spikes that sprouted without warning along the blade.
Though slowed somewhat by his size, Radahn's massive reach and force compensated fully.
Only after weathering a torrent of strikes did Lucian at last find a gap.
He raised the Physick and drank it down.
At once, the exhaustion that had gnawed at him melted away. Strength returned to his limbs.
And his wounds knit shut, even the lingering injuries from earlier battles sealing in moments.
When the effect was spent, only shallow cuts remained upon his body.
If measured in numbers, his health had returned to eighty percent, his stamina to half.
Breathing deeply, Lucian steadied himself. He had strength enough once more.
He charged again toward the stone giant.
He had no choice. Unless he could drag Radahn out of his shell, the General's Great Rune would never break.
Lucian sprinted up Radahn's fallen blade, bounding onto his shoulder, Ruins Greatsword raised.
Again, spikes erupted without warning. But this time, Lucian was ready.
With a graceful sidestep—footwork he had long ago learned from Elyssa, he evaded.
And then he struck.
The Ruins Greatsword pierced Radahn's core, its sharpened stone edge bursting bloody from his chest.
Lucian poured the last of his magic into the blade. The Wave of Destruction roared within Radahn's body.
Stone shattered. The colossus crumbled.
Radahn's body was torn anew, grievously wounded, his shell broken.
And this time, Lucian would not allow him the chance to rebuild it.
As they both crashed back to the ground, Lucian drank a flask of Cerulean, restoring his FP.
From the dunes, Leonard, the scrawny horse, staggered back to his master, bearing him once more.
But Radahn's recovery was slower now. Leonard's gallop was weary, halting.
The faithful steed, though guarded fiercely by his rider, had suffered grievously throughout the battle.
For him to still move at all was miracle enough.
It was clear—the Great Rune was failing.
Two more cycles? Three, perhaps?
Lucian's condition was steady. If he could endure until the Rune's collapse, victory would be his.
Radahn charged again, blades bared—
But then, Leonard buckled.
His thin legs gave way, collapsing into the sand. Radahn pitched forward, sprawling.
The horse struggled to rise, but could not.
Leonard had reached his limit.
Scarlet Rot had tormented him long, and starvation had whittled him to nothing.
The ceaseless burden of battle had driven him to the brink, his spirit clinging to the thinnest thread.
Through the fight he had endured—but now, in a moment of rest, he could endure no longer.
Radahn stared, realization dawning.
He forgot the battle and turned back, kneeling beside his steed, lifting the companion who had borne him through fire and war.
But Leonard no longer breathed.
Radahn's face twisted in grief, sorrow spilling unchecked from his eyes.
"Leonard…"
Lucian, watching, did not strike.
He waited.
At last, Radahn turned back, sorrow etched deep upon his face, and nodded faintly.
The fight was not yet over.
With gravity's aid, Radahn lifted himself into the air once more, swords lashing down.
But the Rune's failure had already begun.
Lucian deflected, riposted, and drove his blade into Radahn's chest.
As Radahn healed again, a faint cracking sound echoed across the battlefield.
Lucian's gaze sharpened.
The Great Rune—it was shattering.
—
The watching warriors were shaken by the clash they had witnessed.
Bernahl, comparing Lucian to Hoarah Loux, felt awe.
Though not yet at the First Elden Lord's height, Lucian's might was already astonishing—far greater than his friend Rykard could ever hope to match.
Hoarah Loux, of course, was a poor comparison. Not even Radahn, at his fullest, could stand equal to him.
From afar, Blaidd and Alexander cheered, voices loud with hope. They wished with all their hearts for Lucian's victory.
Jerren and Iji stood side by side, with the Redmane army at their backs.
As Radahn's men, they would never strike at him unless there was no other choice.
But if no warrior could overcome him, they would themselves become the final blades.
From beneath her helm, Leda smiled.
"So strong, Storm King…"
"I cannot wait for the day we fight side by side."
Freya, never tearing her eyes from the battlefield, still murmured in agreement:
"Yes… to stand beside such a warrior—it makes the blood quicken."
Dane too nodded, his silence full of approval. Yet in truth, what he desired most was to test himself against Lucian.
Leda shook her head at their misunderstanding and looked once more upon the fight.
'He will surely become the greatest aid to Lord Miquella's dream', she thought.
'But how can I draw him into our fold…?'