Ch. 93 Mia hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

Although she really wanted an ally with such excellent combat abilities as Roger,

if another chance to avoid combat appeared, Mia was more willing to pay the smallest price.

Having chosen her course of action, Mia bid farewell to Roger.

“Until we meet again,” Roger blessed them. “I hope we all stay safe and do not become sacrifices.”

“Thanks.”

The three of them donned their disguises once more and set off along the tunnel.

Dozens of minutes later, natural light finally appeared at the end of the long, several-kilometer tunnel.

Passing through the tunnel and reaching the mountain peak, the howling winds of Stormhill dissipated,

turning into a cool, gentle breeze against their faces.

In front of the tunnel was a bridge.

That bridge, of unknown purpose but three times the width of the tunnel, spanned across the precipice. At the end of the bridge sat the dilapidated Stormveil Castle, cradled by the cliffs.

Stormveil Castle’s ornate, golden-decorated Gothic walls no longer held their former glory.

Countless terrifying fissures split the walls, and from the dark cracks, hideous thorns protruded, emitting an endless, ominous aura.

The city seemed as if it were cursed.

A large number of masterless weapons were scattered across the bridge, making it look like a battlefield where combat had just ended, highlighting the hostility of this place.

The three of them had already stepped out of the tunnel.

‘Don’t stop, keep it natural.’

Mia warned herself in her heart.

She hoped that this time, they could pass through without incident, just like when they bypassed the Tree Sentinel.

Taking advantage of her blindfold, she quietly shifted her gaze.

On the tower of the Stormveil gate, sure enough, stood a cloaked figure.

Margit, the Fell Omen.

He gripped his staff, standing atop the high tower, looking down at the bridge like a king.

He watched as Wilden led the two others onto the bridge.

He did not move.

Until the three had crossed a third of the bridge.

Without warning, Margit raised his hand.

Mia couldn’t see Margit’s face clearly and didn’t know if he made any expression; she only saw a golden dagger appear in the Fell Omen’s hand.

A sense of crisis surged from her tailbone straight to the crown of her head.

In an instant, the ropes vanished.

That golden illusory dagger swept down from above, passing Wilden and Patches, and flew straight toward Mia.

Fluorescent stars seemed to appear beneath the girl’s feet, and in the next moment, she leapt backward as if weightless.

The dagger, which to Mia was as large as a scimitar, stabbed into the spot where she had been standing a second ago.

*Thump—*

Margit’s palm struck the stone slab beneath his feet, producing a sound like a drum or a bell.

“Even one graced by such favor is still fooled by the flames of ambition?”

Margit felt it.

On the blonde girl dressed in black with her eyes covered, there was a familiar grace.

A grace that only those who grew up at the foot of the Erdtree before the Shattering War would possess.

…The grace on the girl before him was perhaps even stronger than what such people possessed.

Just as a chameleon’s eyes can see more of the light spectrum,

Margit, the Fell Omen, could also clearly feel the love the gods poured upon Mia.

And within that familiar power of grace, there was also an independent, strange power buried, shining in harmony with the grace of the Erdtree.

It was just like… a Shardbearer.

“How chilling.”

Margit gently closed his eyes.

But his body was already tense.

The thrown dagger was also a test.

A test to see if the girl carrying such grace possessed power that matched it.

Mia’s act of dodging confirmed Margit’s suspicions.

Someone with such skill, such grace, and the ability to break free from rope restraints at any time could not be an ordinary Tarnished, let alone a sacrifice for Grafting.

Therefore, her hiding among the sacrifices and attempting to deceive others could only be for a despicable purpose.

In that case, she was a traitor to the Erdtree.

Margit suddenly leapt from the high tower, soaring into the air.

Then, like a cannonball, he landed with a boom in the center of the bridge.

Dust billowed toward them, and the three people in front of Margit turned their faces away in unison.

The dust settled, and the horn-covered, robe-clad Fell Omen rose from his landing posture, gripping his gnarled staff.

“Disobedient traitors, along with those flames of ambition, shall all be extinguished!”

“I, Margit, the Fell Omen, shall execute this immediately.”

Writer’s block, taking a day off.

One-on-one battles are fine to write, but I have no idea how to write a multi-on-one battle at all, ahhhhhh!

Stuck!

Agony, ahhhhhhh!

I can’t squeeze it out even if I slap myself…

If the battle ends very quickly, in under a thousand words, can you guys accept that?