Under the shroud of Darkness incantations, the Confessors rushed to the base of the perimeter wall. They unslung the heater shields from their backs, expertly forming a human ladder. Those following stepped onto the tiers of shields, easily scaling the high wall and leaping silently into the grounds. Drawing their broadswords, they charged toward the main structure of the manor.
From the windows, arrows streaked out, their sharp whistles cutting through the air before vanishing into the gloom, followed by a total, eerie silence. Among the knights Raven had recruited during the battle at Windmill Village were many masters of archery, yet they found themselves helpless against this boundaryless void.
After two volleys, the darkness had completely swallowed the residence. The Confessors swarmed beneath the building, hacking at the main entrance with their broadswords, only to encounter their first true setback.
Volcano Pots rained down from the windows, erupting into great blooms of fire upon impact. Massive amounts of high-temperature gas swept in every direction, churning the dark mist like boiling porridge.
While heater shields could block a frontal impact, they offered no protection against the all-encompassing heat. Caught off guard, numerous Confessors suffered severe burns on the spot.
However, the Darkness incantations muffled all sound. Though the ground trembled slightly from the explosions of the Volcano Pots, not a single bang reached the ear, let alone the screams of the wounded. A deathly silence enveloped this army in the dark, exerting immense psychological pressure on the manor's defenders.
"Damn it, are they even taking casualties?" One knight threw two more Volcano Pots, leaning out to observe the situation below. "I can't tell how many of them there—"
Thwack.
The knight let out a muffled grunt and stumbled back several paces, a bolt buried in his shoulder, its fletching still quivering.
"Shut the windows once the pots are thrown!" Knight Jon, commanding the defense, shouted harshly. "Don't let that black mist drift inside!"
The ground gave a violent shudder, though the cause remained unseen. The hacking at the front door ceased; it seemed the enemy had finally abandoned the frontal assault after the continuous barrage of fire.
Inside, facing the main entrance, Okina sat cross-legged. He opened his eyes, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. He picked up the tachi resting across his lap, stood up slowly, and walked toward the stairs.
The enemy had changed tactics. Shadowy figures were now scaling all sides of the manor. Having secured the roof, they threw down ropes, turning every window into a point of entry. The sound of shattering glass began to ring out one after another.
Seeing black-clad Confessors leaping into the corridors, the prepared knights swung their blades, only for the steel to pass through empty air.
Whistles, finger snaps, and tongue-clicks echoed from all directions as the enemies signaled to one another. Their true bodies were mingled with deceptive phantoms, making it impossible to distinguish the real from the fake. The knights felt as though they were fighting reflections in water; every furious counterattack struck nothing, yet the enemy's offensive never wavered.
Window after window was lost. The knights retreated continuously, forming defensive lines at the stairwells of several floors, with spears in the front and blades in the rear. The Confessors' advance finally met stiff resistance, and their casualties began to mount.
"Squad One, draw their fire from the front! Squad Two, breach the walls and hit the flank! Squad Three, suppress them with crossbows!" The Redwhistle Confessor leader issued orders in a piercing, owl-like screech, directing his subordinates in their secret tongue.
Suddenly, a streak of pale blade-light swept through the corridor like a bolt of silk.
A dozen phantoms lunged forward simultaneously, but the streak of light didn't stop, passing right through them. Four heads flew high into the air. Every phantom froze instantly as four headless bodies of Confessors remained standing in the hall.
"Seeking death!" Seeing the assailant heading straight for him, the leader let out a sharp hiss and swung his shield with savage force to intercept the blade.
There was a dull, heavy boom as the heater shield was sheared in two. The momentum of the blade-light was finally halted, revealing an ordinary-looking tachi held in a withered hand.
The leader screamed a battle cry, thrusting his broadsword with the speed of a lightning strike. The holy power of Order's Blade surged along the steel; the golden aura, resembling a rising sun, crashed toward the old man standing behind the tachi.
However, that "sun" suddenly tilted, veering off its intended trajectory and scraping past the old man's side. The leader was stunned by the loss of control over his weapon—until he saw an arm, still clutching the sword hilt, flying past him, blood geysering from the stump.
His eyes went wide as he finally realized the old man was holding an uchigatana in his left hand. It was this blade that had cleared its scabbard faster than a thunderbolt to sever his arm.
In the next heartbeat, the leader's vision soared into the air. The tachi whirled like a swallow, taking his head.
A series of thunderous crashes followed as the broadsword, still wreathed in its magnificent holy aura, smashed through several layers of flooring before finally falling silent.
The old man's straw cloak fell away in tatters, revealing the dark samurai armor beneath. Several cracks appeared on his face, and a corner crumbled away; it turned out he was wearing a wooden mask carved into the visage of a snarling elder.
Beneath the mask, he was still an old man.
Okina bared a smile more terrifying than the one on the mask—the smile of a Shura. White mist curled between his lips.
"The blood of the strong... Ah, it's not enough. Not nearly enough..." Crossing his twin blades before his chest, Okina looked toward the remaining Confessors in the corridor, his voice raspy and dry. "Are you... the strong ones?"
The Confessor at the very front couldn't help but take a step back, only for a blade to erupt from his chest.
"Cowards have no right to serve the Fingers," a second Confessor said, withdrawing his broadsword and pushing his comrade's corpse aside. "From this moment, I assume the duties of the Redwhistle."
"Those who shrink back shall return to the Erdtree as commoners," he said flatly, pointing his sword at Okina. "Kill him."
The dark mist billowed behind him. The group of Confessors melted into the gloom, moving with silent steps to meet the crazed blades of the Shura.
Enclosed as if beneath a massive upturned black bowl, the manor-turned-battlefield remained eerily quiet. Klepps peered through his telescope, but he could see nothing. His expression was grim.
The ground shook every so often, leaving him in the dark as to what was happening inside. He had already sent in all his reserves, and several messengers had failed to return or respond. He now had not a single soul left by his side.
Nearly half an hour had passed since the assault began. Realizing the manor's defenses were far from weak, he had called for reinforcements; the second wave should be arriving soon. However, fighting to this extent was essentially waging a small-scale war within the Royal Capital. Even with Darkness incantations to mask it, the fallout would be catastrophic.
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A whistle sounded from the distance. Through the telescope, Klepps saw the Confessor reinforcements arriving on the street. Just as he was about to lower the glass, he saw another figure approaching in the reflection of the lens.
Klepps didn't turn around. Instead, he lunged off the roof like a startled vulture. Twisting his body in mid-air, the Black Key Crossbow from his back was already in his hands. He aimed at the spot where he had just been standing, but found it empty.
Teleporting directly behind Klepps, Raven delivered a heavy palm strike toward the back of his neck, only to have his hand repelled by a shockwave a split second before impact.
Incantation: Rejection
An incantation of the followers of the Two Fingers.
Produces a shockwave that pushes back nearby foes. Charging increases the size of the shockwave.
O Tarnished, if you place your trust in the guidance, then reject all else.
With a sharp clink, two slender, curved blades snapped out from the wings of the Black Key Crossbow, slashing toward Raven's throat. Raven's palms were coated in a layer of hardened glintstone as he parried the blades at an angle, sending sparks and crystal dust flying into the air.
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Elden Ring: The Unborn One's Journey Through Elden Ring(174 Chapter - Ongoing)
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