Radahn, more than anyone, understood the state of his Great Rune.
The Great Rune had endured a long and blazing strain, yet now, in this battle, it could no longer hold on.
Perhaps, just one or two more grievous wounds, and it would be completely shattered.
Since the Great Rune was already on the verge of breaking, and with Leonard no longer at his side, then—why not unleash the final move?
Transform himself into a meteor, and plummet from the heavens.
Unlike the conjured spheres of stone that he had cast before, this would be a true meteor, falling from the boundless heights above.
In both might and range, it would far surpass the colossal boulders he had hurled earlier.
Yet this technique inflicted a terrible toll upon himself as well, and thus it had to be used before the Great Rune's ruin was complete.
Radahn bent his whole body downward, magic gathering furiously at his side.
Lucian sensed something was amiss. He guessed—Radahn must be preparing to unleash the Meteor Crash.
He must not, under any circumstance, allow Radahn to take to the sky!
If Radahn ascended and loosed that cataclysm, then Lucian would have no means of resistance left.
Lucian rushed forward at once, rapidly closing the distance between them.
They were not far apart—he reached Radahn's side just before the general could take flight.
Yet even when the Ruins Greatsword smashed into Radahn's body, he was unmoved, completing the gathering of magic.
Lucian grit his teeth, thrusting the greatsword deep into Radahn's chest, hoping to shatter the Great Rune then and there.
But no sooner had the blade pierced in than Radahn had already risen into the air, carrying Lucian aloft with him.
Radahn's ascent was blindingly fast—it was less flight than a violent launch, blasting himself skyward with sheer repulsive force.
Lucian looked down at the ground already distant beyond reckoning. To jump now was no option—there was no way down.
Radahn's massive arms clamped around him, binding him, leaving no chance of escape.
Lucian poured magic desperately into the Ruins Greatsword, unleashing Wave of Destruction to try to halt him.
But the ascent was already complete, and now gravity was no more than a token weight, unable to drag Radahn back.
With Lucian held fast, Radahn plummeted from the heavens, flames rising around them from the air's furious friction.
Together, they became a falling star, a blazing meteor from the boundless sky. They struck the Wailing Dunes with force enough to shake the land itself. The shockwave lifted sand and dust in a storm, blotting out the sight of all who watched.
Jerren and Freya, who had once seen Radahn wield this move's full might, shook their heads grimly. They did not believe Lucian could possibly survive such an impact.
When the rolling dust at last settled, a vast crater yawned at the center of the dunes, still searing with heat.
At its heart lay a charred and blackened body, already sprouting fresh flesh at unnatural speed.
"Lucian… did he lose…?"
Hearing the whispers of the warriors around her, Miquella's knight Leda clenched her jaw in regret.
They had underestimated General Radahn after all.
But then—someone suddenly pointed to the sky and cried out:
"Look! Over there!"
High above, a figure descended slowly, borne by the updraft of storm winds.
It was Lucian—burnt black from head to toe, the scars of the fall still smoking on his body.
He landed in utter disarray, staring at the crater Radahn had gouged into the lands, and felt his heart tremble.
So close. In his haste to interrupt Radahn, he had almost been taken along, hurled like a stone against the ground.
It was only by shrinking his form at the last instant that he had escaped. Otherwise, he would surely have been forced to invoke Invincibility, or burn through Infinite Health itself.
As Radahn's wounds slowly healed, a sound arose—quiet, yet echoing within the heart of all who heard.
Crack—
Radahn's Great Rune had burned itself away, leaving nothing but pale ash.
Radahn rose to his feet, his gaze calmer than it had ever been.
It was time. Time to draw this battle to its end.
Lucian realized it as well, enlarging his form again and clashing with Radahn in fierce combat.
This time, there was no technique, no strategy. Only raw, feral exchange—blow for blow, slash for slash, as both fought with reckless abandon.
It came down to one thing: who would last until the final moment.
And in the end, Lucian stood slightly the stronger. At the cost of having half his body hewn apart, he brought the Ruins Greatsword crashing down and severed Radahn's neck.
At last, the battle was won.
Radahn let go of his twin greatswords, his lips moving in broken whispers:
"Warrior… you have won…"
"Tell her… tell Ranni…"
His words never finished. His breath was gone.
A pale, gray-white Great Rune, burned of all power, drifted from his body and entered Lucian's.
Watching Radahn's enormous corpse fall, Lucian too could endure no longer.
He staggered away from the body, then collapsed to the ground.
Draining the last flask of Crimson Tears, he stemmed his bleeding.
With the Cerulean Flask, he restored his magic.
And once his magic returned, he quickly summoned the Dragon Communion Seal, invoking the Blessing of the Erdtree to slowly mend his wounds.
Only then did the terror of his injuries begin to subside.
Even now, Lucian could scarcely believe it.
He had truly defeated General Radahn—without once relying on the Wind Spirit Moon Shadow.
In death, Radahn was finally released.
The purple blessing that had hung over him from the distant stars vanished with his passing.
From the heavens, the violet veil that had shrouded the Lands Between began to recede, dissipating first above the Wailing Dunes.
Radahn's spirit gazed far into the sky, upon a dim white star.
That was the homeland of the Alabaster Lord—their origin, the gods who lived apart from the world.
When Radahn had followed the Alabaster Lord and learned their sorceries, he had formed a bond with that far-off home.
They had asked nothing of him. When he shattered a falling star on his own strength, he proved himself worthy.
And in that, he earned their recognition.
That distant white star lent him power. With its strength, Radahn draped a membrane across the Lands Between, severing them from the stars. All meteors that sought to fall were arrested upon it.
Now, with his death, that power was broken.
A pity. They had not fulfilled their goal before the end…
But Ranni's fate was no longer bound in chains. Perhaps another path still remained.
Radahn looked upon the warrior who had slain him, who bore Ranni's mark, and nodded in quiet satisfaction.
Strong. Enduring. Resolute.
The finest qualities of a warrior were all there.
Without doubt—this one bore the makings of a king.
With him at Ranni's side, surely she could realize her dream.
"Brother."
Following the voice, Radahn saw at the far end of the dunes a soul, red hair flowing like flame.
It was his sister, Ranni.
Through her sigil, Ranni had projected her soul here, to witness the battle.
Radahn gazed at her, dazed.
Ever since she had abandoned her flesh and fate, she had been bound to the cold form of a doll.
This… this was her true self, her original form, one he had not seen in so long.
Brother and sister locked eyes. Radahn spoke first:
"Ranni… is this the warrior you have chosen?"
"So strong. You have good eyes."
"Perhaps in time, he may succeed where your useless brother could not, and see your ideals fulfilled."
Ranni smiled faintly, replying:
"Torrent did choose him of his own accord. I but walked beside him, for mine own ends."
Radahn understood at once. So that was why.
"Brother… thou hast shouldered this burden far too long. It is time… to rest."
But Radahn shook his head.
"Ranni, just now, I learned a truth…
"The Greater Will… left the Lands Between long, long ago. It was the star who told me."
Ranni's expression hardened. If it came from the star that had lent her brother power, then there could be no mistake.
That star was ancient beyond compare, older than sun and moon alike.
"The true Greater Will is not your enemy. There is a false god, one who has toyed with the fates of all who dwell in these lands.
"But it is mighty beyond words, so that even those gods who know the truth dare not speak it."
"And… forgive me, Ranni."
"I fear I will disappoint you."
"I have another promise I must keep."
Ranni blinked, unsure what he meant.
On Radahn's soul flared a golden mark, urging him to depart and honor the pact.
Bathed in that golden light, his spirit was drawn away, following its call.
Long ago, he had promised Miquella—that he would be his king.
But after glimpsing the depths of Miquella's heart, Radahn no longer believed it wise.
He had not refused outright, nor sought to break his vow. Yet he thought, before the end, he might at least aid Ranni and her cause.
But perhaps their defeat had grown too certain. Miquella had ceased waiting—and even sent Malenia in his stead.
He still remembered her whisper at his ear as she leaned over him:
"Miquella waits—the promised consort must appear."
Even now, Radahn could recall his helplessness in that moment.
Miquella… what is it you truly seek?
Your pursuit of unalloyed gold, your nurturing of the Haligtree, your search for the primal law—was it not all for Malenia's salvation?
Then why… why must you make her unleash Scarlet Rot, just to fulfill this pact?
I cannot fathom it…
The golden light pulled his soul away.
When Ranni saw that gentle radiance, her face contorted.
She forgot her composure, teeth clenched, her beauty twisted with rage.
"Mi—que—lla!!"
"Thou vile, treacherous wretch!!"
Her brother had never spoken of any such pact with Miquella.
To snatch away his soul after death—what kind of pact was that?
Ranni now bitterly regretted not coming in person. Had she manifested here instead of projecting, she might have had the chance to seize her brother's soul back.
With Radahn's death, the stars began to move once more.
First, a white gleam streaked across the heavens above the Lands Between. Then another. And another. A resplendent shower of falling stars unfolded before their eyes.
The stars shimmered, their light no longer hindered.
One vast blue star tore across the sky, then plummeted, falling upon the Lands Between before the gathered throng.
The warriors gathered around Lucian, applauding from the heart.
The Redmane knights sang their ancient battle-song, closing the festival of war.
Jerren came forth, and in excitement proclaimed:
"At last, the war festival has ended! Brave champion you have our gratitude."
"Without question, you are the champion of the festival!"
The warriors on the dunes roared in cheer, lifting their weapons high, calling Lucian's name.
And Lucian laughed with them.
Yes—this was worth celebrating.
Those skilled in healing gathered around, praying Heal upon him again and again, until his wounds were mended.
Yet though his body was healed, the exhaustion remained crushing.
Lucian wished for nothing more than to find a place to rest.
After this battle, he felt he could fall asleep standing.
The others saw how weary he was, and agreed—the celebration would wait until the following night.
The host turned back, marching in great procession toward Redmane Castle.
Radahn's body, and that of his beloved steed Leonard, would be gathered and buried by the Redmane Knights.
Though they could no longer return to the Erdtree, to be interred beneath its boughs was still the highest honor.
And so the Festival of Combat came to its close. Because of that, all thought the matter settled.
Yet then—the sky itself resounded with a sharp, cracking sound.
Crack—
As though something were breaking.
All raised their heads warily, seeking its source.
Radahn's Great Rune already rested within Lucian; it could not be the cause.
Crack—
The sound grew louder, clearer—heard by every soul. With it came a mounting terror.
Crack, crack—
More urgent, more insistent.
At last, someone spotted it. He raised his hand, pointing to the heavens in disbelief.
There—a fissure, like a broken shell, splitting the false night sky.
With a final, deafening rupture, two black spikes tore through, shattering the veil.
A monstrous head loomed beyond, with endless dark at its back.
Only then did they realize—the "spikes" were jaws, a vast, grotesque pair of mandibles.
It was Astel—once summoned here, once barred from entry, now freed with the breaking of the seal, descending again.
Its ghastly skull thrust through the rent, the blue glow of its eye gazing upon the Lands Between below.
And beside it, another Astel pressed through. Then a third.
One alone once destroyed an Eternal City and took away their sky. A falling star of ill omen.
Now—there were three.
—
[T/N: With this, the Radahn Festival comes to an end. I'd love to know everyone's thoughts on it.]