When fighting a boss, what's the scariest thing that can happen?
It's when you defeat it with your last sliver of strength—just as you think you've won…
…only for the orchestral music to suddenly swell into a crescendo!
During the battle with the Undead Legion, a faint melody had always echoed through the fortress—low, somber, and solemn, perfectly matching the oppressive atmosphere. But everyone had been so focused on the fight that they had completely ignored it.
And now—
Just as Darrick finally relaxed, thinking it was over, the music surged into a passionate climax. A female chorus joined in from nowhere, sweeping away the earlier gloom as the atmosphere soared to its peak.
Blazing flames erupted behind them, illuminating the entire fortress. Even the thick darkness seemed to recoil, retreating before the fire.
A tremendous surge of vitality came from behind. The strings seemed to ignite, the chorus reaching its highest note—as if celebrating—
Rebirth within the flames.
"What the…?"
Gapar blinked, a look of pure confusion crossing his face—something he hadn't shown in a long time.
What had he just seen?
The Undead Legion had already fallen… but now, blood flowed from the other fallen members, gathering into a single body?
Wolf's blood converged. Flames ignited.
The figures of the Undead Legion flickered within the fire—thousands, hundreds, dozens—until they merged into one.
That figure, carrying all the wolf's blood, rose to its feet.
The Farron Greatsword was engulfed in flames. Even the edges of its armor glowed as if burning.
The raging fire nearly swallowed the entire fortress.
This was no ordinary flame.
Gapar could feel it—a power within it.
A power that seemed capable of sustaining the world… prolonging it… even saving it.
If he had to describe it—
It felt almost divine.
"Lord of Cinder!"
At that moment, Darrick suddenly shouted, his voice filled with excitement.
At some point, his wounds had vanished, and even the greatsword that had pierced his chest had returned to the Undead Legion's hands.
Gapar also realized he had fully recovered. The Farron guards who had been half-dead on the ground were now awake.
Everyone… had been restored!?
Turning the term over in his mind, Gapar suddenly understood.
He had read about it in the Bedford Weekly's compiled materials on the Undead Legion.
Darrick had been the first to react. In the Painting World "Hawkwood," he had learned the term from the so-called "Despondent One" and fully understood the Undead Legion's act of linking the fire.
It meant—
Those who cast themselves into the flames for the continuation of the world.
In this world, there was another, more fitting name for them:
"…Saviors," Gapar muttered. He had heard that word used many times to describe the Undead Legion.
Regardless of their motives, as long as they linked the fire and sustained the world—
They would be called saviors.
Thinking this, Gapar grinned and picked up his sword.
"Opportunities to fight something like this don't come often. I'm incredibly lucky."
The respect had already been paid at the beginning.
Now, all that remained was to stay true to his purpose.
So he raised his sword.
But then—
Gapar scratched his cheek and muttered,
"…Feels like I can't win."
Just looking at the Undead Legion rising from the flames made his very soul feel as if it were burning.
There was no need to think about it—
The "Lord of Cinder" state of the Undead Legion had already surpassed the Lunar Queen's Mimic Tear.
This was the strongest existence currently revealed in the Sein Dungeon.
Unless he had something like Thops's Barrier—something that specifically countered them—
How was he supposed to fight this?
He might be able to solo the Queen.
But solo the Lord of Cinder Undead Legion?
That was a joke.
Seeing Gapar raise his sword, the Farron guards—who had been excited just to witness the Lord of Cinder—were stunned.
Darrick was the first to react, picking up his weapon as well.
The Undead Legion's eyes glowed red.
Its movements changed—becoming as ferocious as its maddened comrades.
It had acknowledged them.
Those who defeated its first phase were now worthy.
So it released its full power—and no longer resisted the Abyss.
Realizing this, everyone began stacking buffs:
Monster Blood Pills, Green Blossoms, Hero Meat Chunks, Berserk Potions…
With the enhancements, their average strength increased by at least five levels. Combined with wolf blood activation, they became even stronger.
The battle began—
But what followed hardly needed description.
Those who had survived to face the Lord of Cinder were not afraid.
Their hands trembled—just a little.
Just a little.
The Undead Legion specialized in curing such "conditions."
The treatment?
Sending them back to the bonfire.
Every strike burned with fire.
Each swing of its blade claimed a life as easily as slicing vegetables.
Until it reached Darrick.
"Haah!"
Darrick leapt into the air, unleashing his strongest attack—just as he had when facing Artorias.
Stacking multiple buffs, he poured all his strength into a wolf-leap strike.
But—
The Undead Legion vanished from his sight.
By the time he realized it—
It had leapt even higher than him.
Its wolf-leap was more precise, more powerful.
"I—"
He didn't even have time to finish.
The flaming greatsword filled his vision.
And then—
Everything went black.
In his final moment, he thought he saw the Undead Legion charging toward Gapar.
So… we still lost…
Surprisingly, Darrick felt calm.
He accepted his defeat.
In fact, just witnessing the Lord of Cinder made it worthwhile.
He had to admit—
The Undead Legion was truly cool.
Darkness swallowed his vision.
If nothing unusual happened, he would soon fade out and awaken at the bonfire.
But then—
A spark of fire appeared before him.
It burned away the darkness, revealing a new scene.
He now looked down from above at the interior of the fortress.
The Undead Legion was fighting again.
Was that Gapar?
No—
That wasn't Gapar.
Darrick's eyes widened.
This was another vision.
The one fighting the Undead Legion—
Was a fully armored stranger.
Wait…
He had seen this person before.
Yes—
In the Painting World.
This was the one who had plunged the coiled sword back into the bonfire.
Hawkwood had called him—
"Ashen One."
A strange name.
Did it carry a deeper meaning?
As Darrick watched—
His expression froze.
The Ashen One defeated the Undead Legion alone.
Then calmly watched as they merged into the Lord of Cinder—
And began the second phase.
Defeating phase one solo?
Gapar could probably manage that with effort.
But what came next—
Was beyond effort.
It was the same shock he felt when he first saw the White Wolf defeat the Lunar Queen.
Against the Lord of Cinder—
The Ashen One took no damage.
He moved as if strolling leisurely.
The lethal attacks Darrick couldn't survive—
Were parried with a small round shield.
Precise footwork avoided minor strikes.
Rolls evaded heavy blows.
Between the Legion's attacks, the Ashen One casually delivered simple counterattacks.
The strategy was unbelievably plain—
Yet executed to absolute perfection.
Flawless.
Darrick stared blankly.
That overwhelming enemy…
Those raging flames…
And yet—
In the end, the Ashen One won.
After offering a respectful gesture to the fallen foe—
Darrick finally managed to mutter:
"…Huh?"
What just happened?
He hadn't blinked.
He hadn't missed anything.
How did the fight just… end?
He couldn't accept it.
How could such a simple fighting style defeat a Lord of Cinder?
If it was just rolling, he could do that too!
His brain: I understand it.
His body: No, you don't.
"No… no, it can't be that simple…"
He shook his head.
"I've heard that when gods descend, they use avatars—because their true forms would destroy human minds. So… I get it. This recording must have been altered to protect me. The real battle must have been far more intense!"
Perhaps it was just his way of coping.
But—
Seeing the fallen Undead Legion rest in peace, and the Ashen One show respect—
For warriors consumed by the Abyss…
This was likely the best ending.
Darrick felt a sudden pang of envy.
Why wasn't he the one in that scene?
He truly envied the Ashen One.
Ding… Dong…
A bell tolled.
The vision vanished.
When Darrick opened his eyes again—
He was still inside the fortress.
But at the center of the arena—
Something new had appeared.
A throne.
The Undead Legion sat upon it, surrounded by piled weapons.
A faint flame coiled around its body.
Its head was lowered, as if in eternal sleep.
"What is this…?"
Darrick stepped forward—but an invisible force stopped him.
He couldn't touch the Throne of Linking Fire.
He had seen similar thrones in Hawkwood's memories.
There were five in total…
Looking at it, he felt something stir within him.
Perhaps this was what it meant to "link the fire."
"…Didn't I die? Why am I still here?"
"Because we won. Probably."
Gapar's voice came from behind.
Darrick turned and saw him—and several Farron guards—standing there unharmed.
"It seems defeating the first phase counts as victory. The Lord of Cinder was probably just meant to show us their true form. This dungeon never intended for us to win against that."
Gapar sighed, looking years older.
"Throwing an unbeatable enemy at us just to crush our hope… what a nasty sense of humor."
He touched his chest.
In that fight, he had lasted dozens of exchanges—pushing himself to the limit, even inflicting several deep wounds.
But one mistake—
And he was cut down.
At that level, even the smallest error was fatal.
Perfection was required.
Not only had he died—
The sheer gap in power had shaken his confidence.
His proud swordsmanship and physique suddenly felt meaningless.
For a moment, he even questioned the value of all his training.
But then he reconsidered.
Humans had never excelled in physical strength.
Even his physique was average among stronger races like trolls.
What humans excelled at—
Was adaptability.
And occasionally, producing absolute monsters through sheer numbers.
And in battle—
Equipment mattered.
Not ordinary gear—
But special ones.
Gapar glanced at his bare upper body.
Aside from his sword, he had nothing.
"…Next time, I'll bring out my collection," he muttered. "Relying on swordsmanship alone… I still have room to grow."
And—
What exactly was the Dungeon?
How could it summon such powerful beings?
You'd need a hundred-man raid to stand a chance against that Lord of Cinder.
"…Sigh."
He looked again at the throne.
A strange feeling told him—
As first-clear challengers, their actions might trigger changes in the fortress.
And just then—
The fortress trembled.
Everyone turned toward the source.
Deep within, a passage opened—leading underground.
A cold, sinister aura flowed out.
But as they moved to investigate—
Magical text appeared before them:
[To the brave warriors who faced peril without fear—this is your reward for defeating a mighty foe. Accept this blessing.]
A powerful soul materialized before each of them.
By touching it, they learned its name:
[Soul of Wolf's Blood]
[A twisted soul filled with power. Can be consumed for a large number of souls, or transposed to extract its strength.]
[The Watchers who share the wolf's blood—their souls are also that of the Lord of Wolf's Blood.]
"…So this is the Undead Legion's soul?"
Darrick held the massive soul carefully, filled with reverence.
Should he consume it at the bonfire like usual?
No—
Because as he approached the Throne of Linking Fire—
An aged voice echoed:
"Would you transpose this twisted soul… and claim its power?"