At the center of the mutated flower made of muscle and meat, a bone-white figure stood tall. Its skull was full of holes like an organ pipe, and it shrieked a hideous melody that tainted the very air. Even the frost in the air started to turn dark, corrupted by the sound.
The massive fleshy petals opened wide, revealing giant mouths that bit down on the incoming blades. Some tongues were sliced off by the freezing wind, but it didn't matter.
New limbs grew in their place: bones, vines, organs twisted into mockery of nature. It healed while laughing, dancing through the storm like it was celebrating.
"This… this is beauty. This is life. The perfect harmony of chaos and art! Don't you think so, little girl?"
His name was Malrik, known as the Flesh King. He spoke with every mouth on his body. His whole form had melted into the mess of muscle and gore beneath him.
From his back, a second face moved like a conductor, guiding the madness. But just as he lifted his arms, Bryella answered with magic.
A hail of icy spears smashed into the twisted stage, freezing everything solid. The cold sank deep into the abomination's flesh, mixing with the black magic running through it.
"Such brute force, girl…"
A strange figure stepped out from a bulging stalk, dressed like a man in a clean suit, brushing imaginary dust off himself.
"Die."
A pillar of ice the size of a building dropped from the sky and crushed him flat in one hit, splattering gore across the frost.
And this wasn't even special.
All over the battlefield, similar scenes played out. Gigantic glaciers dropped from the clouds, slamming into twisted meat gardens.
The ground split apart, buildings collapsed, and black mist leaked into the sky like smoke from a cursed volcano. Shockwaves spread out and slammed into the city's outer wall, crumbling part of it.
Near the edge of town, emergency squads had already started moving people away. It helped that this was a quiet region, there weren't many civilians to begin with.
Bryella had already sealed the whole area with magical ice barriers, keeping the destruction inside. Between gasping breaths, she still grumbled about the soup they never got to eat.
No one was hurt. At least, no normal people. But let's be honest, anyone standing close enough to watch all this? They weren't normal.
Only the crazy, the thrill-seekers, or the desperate would dare approach a battle between two creatures like this, one a writhing meat flower fused with dark magic, the other a living storm of ice and wind tearing open the sky.
At their level, they were clearly Gold-class threats. And once you hit Gold rank, the gap between fighters was massive.
Even most Silver-ranked fighters would be shredded in seconds. This border town? It had no one strong enough to intervene.
"Move! Evacuate to the north! Don't stop!"
"What's happening?! We deserve to know!"
"Know? I'd give my life just to see monsters like that fight!"
A squad captain shouted over the chaos, boosting his voice with aura. He didn't bother chasing down the fools sneaking closer. If mages, mercs, or idiots wanted to die watching, fine. Let them.
On top of a half-destroyed tower, Elara dragged herself up. Her mana training barely kept her body from giving out. She could feel her muscles straining just to move.
And now… Everything had gone wrong.
At least the soup wasn't a total waste. It had just enough kick to help her power through the climb, though she did crash through a few half-collapsed buildings along the way.
Lucky for her, they were abandoned. If anyone had been inside, she would've owed Bryella more than just a fresh bowl of soup.
But there was something more important.
"That kind of power… that ridiculously dramatic style…" Elara muttered, her fingers gripping the cold brick as her face went pale. "It has to be a Malrik."
Her eyes scanned the battlefield, the chaos unfolding below. The monstrous flesh creature tearing through ice like it was tissue paper, yeah, it looked exactly like that mid-arc fusion horror from the earlier chapters.
No wonder the whole place had gone straight to hell the moment it showed up.
"At this point in the story," she whispered, "Malrik should be starting to absorb Bryella's shard fragments... and then,-"
"Hey, little girl."
A rough male voice cut her off. A large, calloused hand landed on her head.
Elara froze. Her mind blanked for a second before she turned her head, only to find a man looming over her, dressed in worn leather armor and flashing a cocky smile.
"What the hell are you doing here, huh?" she snapped.
His tone was laid-back, but there was something in his voice that sent up every red flag in her head. He had crept up on her without a sound, and they were this close to a fight between two monsters who could level cities? No way he was just some bystander.
"Relax," he said, pulling out a flask and uncorking it. "Need a drink to warm up?"
The strong scent of alcohol hit her immediately. Her nose twitched. She recognized it, it was a rare liquor brewed with northern herbs, strong enough to count as medicine.
"Hard pass," Elara said, twisting away. "And keep your hands to yourself! Who even are you?"
"Easy there. Just trying to help. Look at the mess they're making down there." He nodded toward the battlefield.
"Can't let them tear up the place unchecked, right? Since you're already here, maybe you've got some intel. I'll take it from there."
'Take it from there?' Elara almost laughed. The battlefield was a warzone between a rogue elemental and some mutant cult horror, and this guy thought he was just gonna "handle" it like some kind of superhero?
Still, something about the man didn't set off alarm bells. His aura wasn't hostile, and the lingering magic clinging to her skin hadn't reacted badly. If anything, it felt… grounded. Safe.
She didn't drop her guard, though. She kept channeling the spell behind her back, just in case.
"Who are you to give orders?" she asked sharply. "Only the city lord has authority here. You should leave while you still can."
"Oh?" He smirked, like he'd been waiting for that. "Then I really can't leave."
He took another swig from the flask, then leaned casually against the wall.
"By the way," he said, "this 'Malrik' guy you mentioned… what's he like?"
Elara narrowed her eyes. The man spoke like he didn't notice her hand still glowing with magic, or maybe he just didn't care.
"Just curious," he added, shrugging. "I'm a religious man, you know. Went to Morningstar Chapel just a few days ago…"
Elara's expression changed. "Morningstar, huh? I know it." She stepped back slightly.