After dealing with the Malformed Star, Mohg stepped out from the temple.
The sight that greeted him made him pause. The surrounding Claymen had converged on the area during his battle with the creature, and now, they were all staring fixedly at him.
Individually, these Claymen weren't particularly powerful—weak, even. As long as an average person could overcome the primal fear of facing such a monster and remained cautious, they could easily dispose of one. After all, their movements were incredibly sluggish; their fastest method of closing distance was literally rolling toward their target.
However, once they gathered in large numbers, they became a force to be reckoned with. In a cramped subterranean space, encountering a mob of creatures that possessed immense strength and refused to retreat even when struck was a terrifying prospect.
This was exactly the scene before Mohg's eyes. A sea of Claymen stood at the temple's entrance, every single one of them focusing their gaze on him. The sensation made his skin crawl. The fact that they remained utterly silent only added to the eeriness; it felt like a scene straight out of a horror movie.
Uncertain of their intentions, Mohg slowly unfurled the wings on his back and took to the air, hovering high above the temple grounds.
Once away from the floor, he let out a sigh of relief. From the sky, these creatures were essentially harmless. The sorceries they wielded were as slow as their physical movements, so he didn't need to worry about being shot down.
With safety secured, he took a moment to observe the crowd. He recalled that the Claymen shared some obscure connection with the Malformed Stars, but he suspected that link wasn't particularly deep. If they were truly devoted protectors of the creature, they should have attacked the moment he started tearing the temple apart.
Mohg's silhouette stiffened in mid-air as a realization dawned on him. After a moment's hesitation, he began to descend.
At that moment, the elderly Clayman Priest he had noticed earlier stepped out from the crowd with slow, deliberate strides. He spread his arms wide, as if welcoming a long-awaited deity, and sank slowly to his knees. A series of unintelligible, low vocalizations escaped his throat.
Like a chain reaction, the moment the Priest knelt, the rest of the Claymen followed suit, prostrating themselves and reaching their hands out toward Mohg in unison.
Mohg was stunned for a moment, his brow furrowed. It seemed these Claymen had mistaken him for something else...
Wait. He suddenly remembered that the Uhl Dynasty was considered a part of the ancient "Horn Culture."
Understanding the connection, Mohg's lip twitched. He realized they had likely mistaken him for a remnant of the Dynasty's "Horned Ones."
In truth, he wasn't. The pinnacle of horn-based civilizations had long ago been submerged within the Land of Shadow, and the only horn-centric culture currently existing in the Lands Between were the Ancestral Followers. As for the Omens, they weren't truly a part of that ancient culture, as they hadn't inherited any of its traditions or knowledge.
Faced with the expectations of the Claymen, Mohg fell into a dilemma. In a sense, if he intended to develop the Mohgwyn Dynasty, he would inevitably have to study and adopt the ancient horn cultures; thus, he was a successor of sorts. From that perspective, these remnants were technically part of his faction from the start.
Furthermore, these Claymen appeared far more credible and loyal than the Harpies he had recruited earlier. Their long-standing faith in the horn culture would make them the most devoted of subordinates.
However, given the current circumstances, he couldn't easily bring them back to the surface. Even if he did, he wasn't sure if their presence would cause chaos within his existing ranks. The best course was to leave them here for now.
Mohg looked at the elderly Priest kneeling before him. Unlike the others, the Priest's eyes were filled with a distinct, burning hope and longing. That gaze caused Mohg to flinch—it was different from the Harpy Queen's eyes, which had only held a faint desire. The Clayman Priest looked at him as if he were the savior who would lead them to rebuild their fallen Dynasty.
After a long silence, Mohg let out a heavy sigh and reached out, placing his hand atop the Priest's head.
The Priest seemed to sense the significance of the moment and slowly closed his eyes.
In the next second, the Blood Blessing poured forth, and crimson liquid slowly enveloped the Priest's body. The surrounding Claymen pressed their faces deeper into the dirt, as if witnessing the advent of a god.
When the blood finally dissipated, the Priest's new form was revealed.
His body had become fuller, more humanoid in stature. The hardened mud that once composed his skin had transformed into solid rock, coating his body like a suit of plate armor. Through the cracks in the stone, crimson fluid could be seen flowing slowly. Most importantly, a single, sharp black horn had sprouted from the Priest's forehead—a sign of concentrated spiritual energy.
"My King... after so many ages of waiting... we have finally seen your arrival..."
A low, slow voice emerged from the throat of the Priest, who now resembled a heavy armored knight. The intense emotion carried in those words moved even Mohg.
The blessed Priest slowly lowered his head. His movements were now as fluid as any man's.
"Please, grant this servant a name, my King."
Mohg did not refuse. He nodded and spoke: "From this day forward, your name shall be Pilar."
"Pilar... you have my eternal gratitude!" Pilar knelt fully once more, offering his thanks.
"My King, does the establishment of the new Dynasty require our aid?"
"Mmm..." Mohg looked at the rest of the Claymen. "Pilar, what is the state of your kin?"
"...To answer my King, my people have lost much of their sapience over the ages. Only a few of us still possess our wits. However, we can still serve you. Please..."
Before Pilar could finish, Mohg raised a hand to cut him off.
"Do not worry, Pilar. Since I have chosen to be your King, I will not abandon you. It is simply that the Dynasty is in its infancy; we are still biding our strength."
"I understand." Pilar, having been a priest, was no fool; he understood the situation immediately. "I will have my people remain here for now. However, I have one more humble request... I ask the King to bestow his blessing upon those few of my kin who still retain their minds..."
As he spoke, Pilar lowered his head in shame. In his mind, asking for so many blessings before he had even performed a single service for his King was a height of insolence.
"Very well. Bring them forward."
Mohg nodded. He had no objections; this would bolster his combat strength, and besides... it didn't actually cost him any power.
────────────────────────────────────────
Support me here: https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Spring Sale Special – 20% OFF!
Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (340 Chapters – Ongoing)
Join the journey and become part of the story!
────────────────────────────────────────