Liurnia of the Lakes. A bitter wind howled, and the lake's surface had frozen into a mirror of ice.
Messmer stood quietly on the ice, his figure looking especially lonely in that silver-white world.
His gaze remained fixed on the gunpowder-laden boat he had brought. With a light wave of the flame in his hand, the boat ignited at once, and a deafening explosion roared across the lake.
Flames surged into the sky like a giant dragon, overturning more than a dozen of the Tarnished Ones' small boats along with it.
In the end, the ice field had still spread over to him. It was not because his mana bar was shorter than Gideon's and he had lost the contest of spells, but because he truly needed a platform to fight on.
"Damn it!" Vargram suddenly became a bolt of black-and-white lightning.
He raced across the ice at astonishing speed. Wherever he passed, the air seemed to tear apart, giving off a piercing whistle.
Vargram swung the Godslayer's Greatsword.
It was a greatsword that looked as though two blades had spiraled together. In the past, it had been the sacred sword of the Gloam-Eyed Queen, and the Black Flame controlled by the Godskin Apostles came from it.
His swing carried tremendous force. The Godslayer's Greatsword swept across, and the blinding arc of the blade stretched a full hundred meters.
In an instant, Vargram crossed a hundred meters, his attack completely enveloping Messmer.
Messmer leaped lightly. For a Demigod of his size, it was an almost unbelievable movement.
Demigods should have been natural monsters who swept through armies. On the battlefield, they advanced like the wind, struck like rain, unleashed surging magic, and crushed all living things.
But Messmer's leap was far too light, like a dragonfly tapping the surface of water.
The edge of The Impaler Spear collided fiercely with the Godslayer's Greatsword, letting out a sharp clang.
The immense force of the collision struck Messmer and blasted him back more than ten meters, even as he had already been leaping away.
"A perfect chance!"
The thought flashed through Vargram's mind.
He knew very well how important control of the body was to a Warrior.
On a fierce battlefield, once a warrior lost control of his body, none of his movements would be threatening anymore.
Falling would be even worse. By the time one got back up, the enemy would already be on top of them. That brief delay might be enough to turn someone into a lamb waiting for slaughter.
Vargram planted his feet on the ice and drove strength through his legs. He raised his greatsword high, intending to send Messmer back to the Erdtree the instant he hit the ground.
But just as Vargram was about to succeed, a crimson gale rushed at him like a savage dragon, claws bared and fangs exposed.
The gale came with fierce momentum and endless pressure, smashing straight toward Vargram's faceplate.
While flying backward, Messmer had released flying fire.
A Demigod's flames could melt a spreading field of extreme cold. Even a monster like the Raging Wolf could not ignore them.
Seeing this, Vargram hurriedly dodged to the side.
His movement was still half a step too slow. The first arc of fire shot past his faceplate, and the heat it carried made even his visor grow warm.
But before he could catch his breath, the second arc of fire was already following close behind.
Messmer spun The Impaler Spear in midair, moving like a dancer.
Not only that, he still had enough strength to thrust The Impaler Spear into the ice, using it to anchor himself before spinning down like a top and landing.
This time, Vargram did not even have the chance to dodge.
By the time he sensed the danger, the blazing arc of flame had already collided violently with his Godslayer's Greatsword, letting out a bell-like roar.
The fire arc immediately clashed with the Black Flame, grinding against it and annihilating it. The extreme heat that resulted made Vargram's armor burn hot, and even the ice beneath his feet began to melt.
Once Messmer steadied himself, he lifted The Impaler Spear and thrust straight forward. Flames rose like a phoenix soaring into the sky, only for six magical meteors to shoot in from afar and collide with the firebird.
In an instant, the firebird shattered apart. Vast clouds of steam spread over the lake, as though draping a thick white veil across its surface.
Messmer glanced toward Gideon, who held his staff and stared back at him from across the distance.
Vargram remained silent for a moment, then shattered the fire arc that had gradually weakened with time. From the narrow patch of ground beneath his feet, he leaped onto a larger piece of floating ice.
Although Destined Death had been sealed, part of the Gloam-Eyed Queen's power still remained within the Godslayer's Greatsword. Yet Messmer's flame had clashed with it without falling behind in the slightest.
In fact, if Messmer's attack had not been a ranged strike, but a close-quarters clash between the two of them, the Black Flame would certainly have been suppressed by the red flame. It was truly terrifying.
Beneath Vargram's gauntlet, a thin line of blood suddenly appeared. Clearly, he had been injured in the exchange just now.
But Vargram gripped his sword even tighter, driving strength into his legs and crushing the floating ice beneath him.
When he met the attack, Messmer's flame had grazed his arm. Most heroes would have been killed instantly by that kind of chain attack, but he was the Raging Wolf.
Messmer's attack had not had much effect. What it earned him instead was the fury of the Raging Wolf.
Vargram shifted to holding his sword in one hand, while his left hand reached behind him and drew out a metal shield.
At that instant, a strange wild aura rose from Vargram, as if he was no longer an ordinary Warrior, but a ferocious wolf.
Vargram was a Tarnished One unlike the others. His wish was different from that of other Tarnished Ones.
He had not returned to the Lands Between because he wanted to claim the throne. What he truly wanted to become was an Empyrean's Shadow-bound Beast, like Blaidd and Maliketh.
He had earned the title "Raging Wolf" from the white wolf fur at the nape of his helm. His armor and his weapon, a symbol of death, all carried the shadow of a certain beast.
Maliketh, the strongest and most exalted Shadow-bound Beast.
Vargram held his shield and dragged it hard across the ground, making a piercing screech.
Just when everyone thought he was about to retreat, he charged at Messmer like a hunting hound.
Maliketh had used this kind of fighting style against Nolan, and now his follower, like a beast himself, was challenging Nolan's son.
This was only the beginning. The moment Vargram vanished at extraordinary speed, a streak of Black Flame sword energy shot through the air, then more and more followed.
From the front, behind, left, and right. Black Flame. Black Flame. Still more Black Flame.
Black flames shot toward Messmer from every direction, unleashed by Vargram as though he were a demon stepping out of a painting of hell.
Messmer moved with everything he had, but those dangerous flaming sword energies kept shattering the ice beneath his feet. The ice surface grew smaller and smaller, until he gradually had nowhere left to stand.
So he flew.
The phantom of dragon wings appeared behind Messmer, three pairs in total. He was recreating the power of the Lord.
Kindling Incantation: Wings of the Lord!
As everyone knew, the Lord of Cinder was fire, human, and dragon.
Seeing all his Black Flame slashes dodged, Vargram forcefully stopped himself.
"Why aren't you running?"
That was the greatest question in his mind. With this Incantation, Messmer should have fled long ago. He should not have kept fighting them until now.
"My mission isn't complete. Ranni is still waiting for my good news," Messmer said softly.
He looked like a kind older brother doting on his younger sister, but he was not Radahn, nor was he Rykard.
"Your mission has already failed. You should have left long ago." Vargram glanced at the burning wreckage of the boat in the distance.
"Failed? Is that so? My knights never disappoint me." Messmer looked up at the sky.
There seemed to be two more moons in the sky, and those moons looked even larger than the sky itself.
Those two moons were far too close. They looked large because they were so close.
The moment Vargram saw those two magical moons, he had already guessed what was about to happen, and he flew into a rage.
"Damn it!"
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