Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW  

Glory to my chief Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as my favourite wall to bounce ideas off of.

My brain worm spoke, I must answer.

This will mostly follow my own route, so there will be a lot of running around to collect various items and things for set up in the first few chapters.

Not quite sure what the build will be currently, but it’s most probably gonna start as a bleed build and transition into whatever I’d feel like later on. Give your own suggestions in the comments and I might just use them :3

Also, I don’t claim to be a lore expert, I am just trying my best here. From Soft doesn’t make it easy for any of us. So if there are any lore inaccuracies according to you, you’ll have to forgive me and suspend your disbelief.

Anywho, enjoy~

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack Conners leaned back in his desk chair, arms crossed behind his head, as he watched yet another streamer attempt to speedrun Elden Ring . 

His room was dimly lit, the glow of the screen reflecting off his sharp blue eyes. He had quite the unremarkable look; an average slim build with long black hair tied into a small ponytail, and the kind of light stubble that neither added ruggedness nor detracted from his generally unimpressive appearance.

On-screen, the streamer ‘HeliosTheHater’ was deep into the final stretch of the run, squaring off against Radagon of the Golden Order. The boss’s divine hammer crashed down, sending golden shockwaves rippling through the air. Helios, clearly feeling the pressure, cast a Lightning Spear, aiming to finish the fight before Radagon could respond.

With a sudden, almost mocking efficiency, Radagon parried the attack. Jack watched as the streamer let out a strangled cry of panic, desperately rolling backwards, but they both knew it was too late. The red-haired Deity seized him with a punishing grab, lifted him into the air, and slammed him into the ground.

Instant death.

Jack snorted in amusement, his attention flickering to the run timer in the corner of the screen. ‘ 3 hours, 48 minutes.’ A long way from any record-breaking time. And now, with this setback? He chuckled quietly to himself. 

‘Yeah, that timer’s only gonna get longer.’

Helios groaned in frustration, leaning forward to smack his head against the desk with a loud thud. Then, with barely a second thought, he quit out of the game and restarted the run. Jack just smirked at this and leaned forward, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

[Bumgumi_Hater: Brother, you are trash.]

He waited for a moment, watching the chat—which was nearly dead, apart from a couple of lurkers—before adding another message.

[Bumgumi_Hater: Just pack it up already, speedrunning ain’t for you.]

In a chat box with only four viewers, his messages stood out like a sore thumb.

Helios, still seething from the loss, squinted at the chat and let out a tired groan. " Bruh, I'd like to see you do better. "

Jack’s smirk widened. ‘Oh, now we're talking.’

[Bumgumi_Hater: Easily.]

Helios scoffed, rolling his eyes. " Yeah? Show me, then. Let’s see you actually try. "

Jack cracked his knuckles, barely suppressing a grin. 

[Bumgumi_Hater: Bet.]

Without hesitation, he booted up Elden Ring , the familiar golden tree dominating the title screen. As the intro cinematic began to play, he absentmindedly reached for his phone, adding Helios on Yapper , a social media app, so he could broadcast directly to him and the handful of other viewers.

"Alright, what's the setup?" Jack asked, glancing at the options menu. "What’re the rules?"

Helios barely hesitated. " Pick whatever class you want, take whatever keepsake, but no glitches. Exploits are fine, but you play it straight. "

Jack nodded, satisfied with the rules. " Fair enough. "

Without wasting time, he selected the Samurai class. A solid choice, strong starting gear, an excellent early-game weapon in the Uchigatana, and a balanced stat spread. As for the keepsake, he hovered over a few options before selecting the Lands Between Rune. Free runes never hurt.

The stream chat, despite its minimal activity, reacted immediately.

[Booty_Warrior68: Mid class]
[SuperSeniorSolaire: Should’ve gone Warrior fr]
[RanniIsBestGirl: This man is about to get bodied, Magic betta]
[Melina’s_Boven: Of course this guy goes with a Bleed Build, shameless]

Jack just rolled his eyes at them, he went to choose a name and look for his character. He thought for a moment, considering choosing a saved female avatar that he usually used for runs but then shrugged and chose a male avatar, one that almost perfectly mimicked his own features, although it did make him look way more handsome than he was in person.

He then went to choose a name, thinking for a moment before a small grin covered his face. 

[Name: John Elden Ring.]

The stream chat, once again, reacted immediately.

[SuperSeniorSolaire: LMAO this fuckin guy bro]
[Melina’s_Boven: You can’t make this shit up]
[RanniIsBestGirl: That’s fuckin golden, why didn’t i think of that :PeepoSad:]

Jack chuckled slightly in amusement, he checked his character over one more time before nodding. Then, just as he was about to start the run, a sudden sound cut through the air.

Grrrrrrrnnnn.

His stomach let out a low, disgruntled growl.

Jack blinked, placing a hand over his abdomen. "Oh."

There was a moment of silence as he processed the feeling, getting another gurgle in his stomach a moment later. He sighed at that with a shameless shrug as he spoke to the stream, "Nature is calling, I guess."

Helios raised a brow in confusion. " What? "

"Gonna grab some food first." Jack said, already pushing back his chair. " Can’t speedrun on an empty stomach. "

" Bro- " Helios started to protest, then stopped.

For a split second, his expression changed. The irritation faded. A slow, almost knowing smirk crept onto his face as he leaned in towards the camera. His eyes gleamed with something… Strange.

"Sure. Go ahead. Take your time. I'll be waiting."

Jack frowned. " Why do you look like that? "

" Like what? "

"Like a cartoon villain about to monologue."

Helios just grinned wider at his words and rested a hand on one fist. " Dunno what you mean, man. Go get your food. "

Jack narrowed his eyes but shrugged it off, guessing it was an inside joke that he didn’t understand or something. 

"Whatever."

With that, he stood up, stretched, and grabbed his wallet before heading out of his room, making his way down the hall and out the front door.

…

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of petrol and city smog. Jack walked casually, hands in his hoodie pockets as he headed towards the nearby supermarket for some quick snacks. Streetlights cast long shadows against the pavement, and the low hum of traffic filled the air.

He was absentmindedly walking down the sidewalk, passing an idle white Truck and reaching the neighborhood’s superstore a few minutes later. All was fine, atleast until he felt it.

A creeping, insidious sensation curled up his spine—Like a déjà vu so powerful it nearly made his breath hitch. He slowed his walking pace as his eyebrows furrowed.

‘Why does this feel familiar?’

He began muttering under his breath, "I feel like I've been here before… Have I been here before?"

The uneasy sensation only grew stronger. His gaze flickered around himself as if looking for something. Normal traffic. Pedestrians walking by. Street lights blinking in routine patterns.

And then-

VRRRRR!

An engine revved, louder than it should have any right to, causing Jack’s head to snap towards the sound with undisguised shock.

A white Truck, which was just idling in traffic moments ago, was now covered in an unnatural pulsating dark aura. Oily, inky tendrils clung to its surface, twisting and writhing like living shadows. Glowing purple Kanji floated eerily around its front grill, flickering in and out of reality, he could almost swear they meant ‘DEATH’.

Jack stared at it with a shell shocked expression, unsure if what he was looking at was even real. He looked around himself to check if he wasn’t going crazy, finding that he was actually alone despite there being dozens if not hundreds of people around not two seconds ago.

"…What in the fuck? Is that Truck-kun?!"

"BEEP BEEP! MOTHERFUCKER!"

Before he could react, before he could so much as blink , the White Truck roared forward at impossible speed.

The last thing Jack saw was blinding white light. Then-

Impact.

Everything went black.

…

"Awaken, ‘O Tarnished One. Thou hast a Grand Ordeal to Conquer and an Order to Burn."

The voice was like the toll of a great bell – Resonant, commanding, and laced with a divinity that sent a shiver through Jack’s very soul. It was beautiful, yet imperious. A voice that had spoken laws into existence and shaped the fate of kingdoms.

Jack’s consciousness surfaced slowly, his body sluggish as if weighed down by unseen chains. His senses flickered into clarity one by one – The cold touch of stone beneath him, the distant whisper of wind through hallowed halls, the faint scent of dust and age. His fingers twitched against the ground, gripping it as if to confirm its reality.

‘Where... am I?’

A haze clung to his mind, thick and disorienting, but the presence before him cut through it like a blade. His muscles tensed instinctively as he forced his head upwards, and then.. He saw her .

She stood before him, bathed in an ethereal glow, her form wreathed in golden light that shimmered and pulsed like a living aura. There was a veil of divine mist around her, not obscuring but enhancing her radiance, making it difficult to discern where her body ended and the magic began. It was as if she existed both within and beyond the mortal plane at once.

She was a Goddess.

That was the only possible description.

A Goddess, if ever one there was.

She was tall, statuesque, and regal, her presence filling the vast chamber as though it had been built solely for her. Her golden hair, thick and flowing, cascaded down in elaborate braids that framed a face of impossible beauty—strong yet elegant, timeless yet unmarred by age. A delicate crown rested upon her brow, its intricate design merging seamlessly with the divine runes that marked her flesh.

Her robes, woven from black and gold, draped over her form with effortless grace yet leaving nearly nothing of her jaw-droppingly voluptuous body to the imagination. The dark fabric swirled with every subtle movement, embroidered with celestial patterns that seemed to shift under the golden light.

In one hand, she held a length of golden strands of hair, its meaning unknown, its material shimmering like threads spun from the very fabric of the Erdtree itself. In the other, a hammer – The Hammer.

Jack recognised it instantly. The hammer of Queen Marika, the weapon that had shattered the Elden Ring itself. It was neither ornate nor delicate; it was a brutal thing, heavy and purposeful, forged not for ceremony but for destruction. It crackled faintly with a power he could not comprehend, as if yearning to be wielded once more.

His throat ran dry.

He was staring at Queen Marika the Eternal.

The very Goddess whose game he had played countless times, whose actions had shaped the lore he had memorised, whose myths and legends had been dissected endlessly in online discussions.

And she was looking at him .

There was a long silence.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, to ask where he was, what was happening—but words failed him.

Marika tilted her head slightly, regarding him with an unreadable yet breathtaking expression. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she exhaled, almost amused as the Golden strands of hair in her hands faded away into Golden specs of light that overtook the dark and dilapidated halls of the church she stood in.

“Art thou stricken dumb, or dost thou intend to kneel?”

Jack blinked.

‘Oh. Right. That was Truck-kun, wasn’t it? There are three options here, the first two don’t really mean the best for me. Either I died and this is my mind fucking with me, I’m in a coma and this is the last gasp of my dying brain, or… I’m in a fucking Isekai.’

He immediately did what any rational person in his position would do.

“…Huh?”

Marika sighed, rubbing her temple with an air of frustration before muttering under her breath. "Thou dost understand my words, dost thou not? This had best work, for I hath sacrificed much for this gambit."

Jack, or rather, the Tarnished, pulled himself upright, shaking off the lingering haze of unconsciousness. His fingers instinctively pressed against the cold stone beneath him, his mind still reeling from the sheer absurdity of it all. He blinked, taking in his surroundings for the first time.

A ruined church. Dust clung to the broken walls, drifting lazily through beams of pale moonlight that filtered through shattered windows. Crumbling pillars reached towards a ceiling barely holding together, and twisted vines wrapped around the remains of forgotten statues.

He knew this place.

Even through his disbelief, recognition flickered in his mind. The Chapel of Anticipation.

A location every speedrunner knew well.

He exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the cold air. ‘No way. No fucking way. This is… Real?’

"Aye." Marika affirmed, her golden eyes watching him closely. "This is no mere dream nor illusion. I hath forged a covenant with a being most ancient—an Outer God, whose power I didst invoke to summon forth a Champion."

She stepped forward, the divine mist surrounding her shifting like living silk. Her every movement exuded grace, each word laced with weight.

"A Champion destined to best all who stand before him, to claim the title of Elden Lord, and to break the shackles that bind me within the Erdtree."

Jack’s fingers curled instinctively, feeling the unfamiliar yet unmistakable weight of armour. His gaze dropped, his hands running over the lacquered plates of his Samurai garb. The smooth texture, the snug fit – It was real . Everything was real .

And yet, despite the overwhelming nature of it all, one question burned brighter than the rest.

He lifted his head. “And which Outer God decided I was worthy of this?”

A small smirk played upon Marika’s lips. "His name is Helios."

“…Helios?" The Tarnished froze as his brow twitched. "You sure about that?"

Marika merely arched a delicate brow. "I wouldst not have spoken it were it not truth."

Jack inhaled sharply, memories crashing over him in an instant.

The stream. Helios' smug smirk. The dare.

Truck-kun.

His fists clenched, his expression twisting into one of rage and indignance. “…That Rat Motherfucker!”

Marika’s bemusement only grew, but she made no comment on his outburst. Instead, she raised a hand to her chest, her golden braids swaying slightly with the motion, and declared with absolute authority:

"With the aid of the Outer God, I hath woven for thee a ‘System’. One that shall guide thee upon thy journey, a system not unlike that which thou art already well-versed in."

Jack narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping in. “…But?”

Her lips curled ever so slightly. "But… With one singular distinction."

She placed a hand over her chest, exuding an undeniable sense of smug satisfaction.

"I am thy System Admin."

Jack blinked slowly.

“…You’re what? ”

Marika hummed, clearly pleased by his reaction. "I shall oversee thy journey, offer guidance, and ensure thy progress. Until such time as thou hast proven thy worth, I shall remain."

“Okay, but if you’re my ‘System Admin’ and you’re right here , then why the hell do you need me to free you?” Tarnished asked as he reached out and attempted to touch her.

And yet, his fingers passed straight through her as if she was but an illusion, drawing a sharp gasp from him as his mind raced, trying to process the impossibility of what just happened.

Marika’s expression did not change. "This form thou dost perceive is but an Astral Projection of my true self."

She turned, stepping away with effortless grace, her golden aura casting long shadows across the chapel floor.

"My body remains within the confines of the Erdtree, ensnared within it by the Greater Will. Know this, thou alone may see and hear me. So I bid thee, do not disgrace us both by speaking aloud as though thou wert a witless fool."

She gave him a pointed look. "Speak thy thoughts, and I shall hear them just as well."

Jack exhaled. This was a lot to take in. He ran a hand through his hair, still half-expecting to wake up in his chair, his stream open and Helios laughing at him. But the cold bite of the chapel air, the weight of his armour, the scent of dust and decay – It was all too vivid, too real .

His fingers flexed, testing the strength of his new body. It felt… Powerful. Stronger. Faster. Every movement was precise, his senses sharper than ever before.

Marika gave a small nod of satisfaction before gesturing to the side with a single, elegant motion.

"Now then, thine first trial awaits. I trust thou knowest what that is?"

Jack followed the direction of her hand, his gaze landing upon the corpse of a maiden. A small azure beacon pulsed upon it, calling to him.

His feet moved on instinct. He knew what this was. His hands reached forward as if guided by memory, his fingers brushing against something cold.

A notification flashed before his eyes.

[Picked-Up Item: Tarnished’s Wizened Finger]

Jack almost gasped, the text had appeared in his vision. Just like the game, just like the countless times it had before. Marika’s voice was smooth with amusement as she spoke to him after giving him a moment to take it in.

"Thou dost possess an Inventory and a Stats Page, I wast told thou knew this afore, so I needn’t explain them. Both may be summoned with but a flick of thy finger." She then smirked. "Of course, as thy System Admin, I too may summon them at will."

Without warning, a new display materialised before him.

[STATS PAGE]

Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Level: 9

• Vigor: 12 (Truly? I hath seen scrawnier knights in my court.)
• Mind: 11 (Let us see how much wit doth fill thy skull.)
• Endurance: 13 (Mayhaps thou shalt not collapse like a babe with naught but a breeze.)
• Strength: 12 (Ah, the might of a warrior? Or merely the grip of a stableboy?)
• Dexterity: 15 (Astonishing. Truly, the swiftness of a crippled crow.)
• Intelligence: 9 (Tis fitting, mayhaps.)
• Faith: 8 (A heathen, I see.)
• Arcane: 8 (No great miracles shall be wrought by thee.)

Jack exhaled slowly, then turned to Marika as a sweat dropped down his face. “…Were the comments really necessary? ”

Marika only laughed, a low melodic chuckle. "Thou shalt earn my respect when thou hath earned it."

Before he could retort, she disappeared in a sudden flash of golden light, only to reappear beside the chapel’s great doors. She pointed towards them with a single graceful finger, her voice once more commanding.

"Go on then. Open the doors; open the doors and lay thine eyes upon the Magnificence of my Kingdom. Gaze upon it with Awe and Trembling."

The Tarnished hesitated, then stepped forward as he placed his hands upon the heavy doors and pushed. At first, a brilliant ray of light pierced through the gap. Then, a chilling wind rushed in, caressing his skin as the doors groaned open. The ancient wood creaked under his strength, resisting slightly before giving way, revealing the breathtaking expanse beyond.

His breath caught in his throat as he stepped forward, the full scope of the Lands Between unveiling itself before his eyes. Jagged cliffs framed the sky, their edges worn by time and storm, while a vast stone bridge stretched across a misty abyss, leading to a great, broken keep. The very air carried a sense of forgotten majesty, tinged with the scent of damp stone and wild grass swaying beneath the cold breeze.

And then, there it was.

The Erdtree.

It loomed over the horizon, an immense pillar of radiant gold, its branches reaching beyond the heavens. It was not simply a tree. It was a force, a presence that seemed to dictate the very laws of the world itself. The warm, ethereal glow of its divine light bathed the land below in a soft golden haze, shifting and swaying like a living thing.

The Tarnished could only stand there, staring, as the weight of reality settled upon him.

This wasn’t a screen. It wasn’t a game.

He was here.

Marika appeared beside him with a hand on her hip as voice rang out in his head, carrying a sense of smug amusement. "Dost thou yet doubt the truth of this world?"

The Tarnished let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as his fingers flexed against the cool air. He exhaled slowly, a grin creeping onto his face despite himself. “I’d be a fool to.”  

His gaze remained fixed upon the Erdtree as his voice dropped to a murmur. 

“…I really am in the world of ELDEN RING .”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Let me know in the comments what you think, for now it's just a smaller side project I wanna work on while keeping my One Piece fic as my focus. If you guys like it enough, I’ll give it more and more focus.

…

Next Chapter Title: You are Maidenless.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW  

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished turned slightly, his eyes drifting toward a small stone staircase leading to a bridge. Beyond it stood an archway, its weathered stones forming the entrance to an all-too-familiar arena. His breath hitched as he took in the sight—he knew this place. Every speedrunner knew this place.

'This is surreal…' he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

Marika, standing beside him in her shimmering astral form, scoffed lightly. “But of course. The splendour of mine own domain knoweth no equal.”

She folded her arms beneath her ample bosom, pressing them up ever so slightly as she tilted her head with a knowing smirk. The motion was subtle, but utterly devastating. The golden embroidery of her dark gown shimmered under the ethereal light surrounding her form, accentuating her otherworldly beauty and causing her bountiful breasts to perk up slightly.

Tarnished, now free from the shock of his reincarnation, finally noticed .

His face flushed instantly, his cheeks burning red—no, not just his cheeks. His whole damn face was practically glowing, the deep crimson hue nearly matching the lacquered plates of his samurai armour.

Marika’s smirk widened as she let out a lilting, melodic laugh. “Fufufu~ My, my… Art thou so easily swayed? A mere glance and thou dost avert thine eyes as though scorched?”

Tarnished stiffened at being caught, swiftly trying to deflect. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned sharply, marching towards the bridge with forced determination.

Marika, still amused, floated behind him effortlessly with arms still crossed together. “Is that so~?” She teased, watching his movements with keen, predatory interest.

As he walked, he clenched his fists, trying to push the thought out of his mind. ‘Holy shit. She’s absurdly hot. No amount of fanart could ever do her justice…’

A shadow flickered above him.

Marika suddenly appeared midair, laying sensually sideways with her head rested on one hand as she peered down at him and spoke with a low purr. “Ah, what a flatterer thou art~... I didst just inform thee that I can hear thy thoughts… And yet, thou darest to proclaim mine allure so openly? Bold indeed.”

Tarnished paled in horror at the realisation that she heard him, then promptly turned even redder.

Marika chuckled, tilting her head. “I had no doubt that I am fairer than any thou hast known… But ‘tis rather shameless to admit it so readily. Mayhaps this is how mortals now pursue courtship?”

Tarnished didn’t even attempt to answer. Instead, he broke into a dead sprint, dashing across the dilapidated bridge like his life depended on it.

Behind him, Marika laughed, her rich, golden voice echoing through the ruined chapel path. For all her divine grace and majesty, Queen Marika the Eternal had spent countless millennia imprisoned, her only company being the flickering fragments of her shattered self. Trapped, unseen, unheard.

Now, she was free—if only in this limited form. And she would not waste this opportunity to entertain herself to her heart’s extent.

Besides, she had chosen her champion well, yes. But a champion was still a tool, and tools required maintenance. Encouragement. Motivation .

And if there was one thing Marika understood well, it was the power of Desire .

Tarnished slowed as he reached the archway, stepping into the arena beyond. It was just as he remembered—the circular stone platform, the ruined pillars, the looming cliff edges that promised a swift and merciless death.

At the far end, bathed in dim, golden light, stood a familiar statue.

A depiction of Queen Marika herself with her arms held out, as if trying to mercifully embrace all those who laid eyes upon her visage.

Tarnished paused, his gaze lingering on it. In all his runs, he had seen these statues scattered across the Lands Between, yet he had never truly looked at them. They were just… Background set pieces.

‘Damn it, I really should’ve paid more attention to the lore…’ He thought bitterly. ‘Fucking From Soft, making everything so obscure that I gave up trying to understand it.’

A soft hum made him glance to the side.

Marika stood beside him, arms folded, her expression unreadable. “This… From Software …” She mused. “Helios spake of them, yet did not elaborate. Tell me, Tarnished—what is their connection to mine own world?”

Tarnished hesitated but then let out a short sigh, she could hear his thoughts anyway, so there was no point in lying.

He exhaled and rubbed his neck. “Short version? In my world, this place— your world—is just a game. Millions of people played it. That’s how I know all this.”

Marika’s golden eyes flickered. “…A ‘game’?”

She turned away, her expression darkening as she processed his words. Seeing her reaction, Tarnished was about to say something, but a sudden noise stopped him cold.

A wet, grotesque squelch followed by a distant, droning sound—a deep, distorted choir.

Tarnished froze. “…Why do I hear boss music?”

A shadow loomed over him.

Then the revolting monster landed before them, its multi-limbed, grotesque form shaking the very earth beneath its feet. The creature reared back and let out an ear-splitting, inhuman shriek as a crimson boss health bar materialised in Tarnished’s vision.

[GRAFTED SCION]

Marika huffed, flicking her wrist dismissively. “We shall continue this discourse at another time.”

She then tilted her chin, watching the grotesque creature approaching with mild disdain. “For now… Slay this loathsome wretch.”

Tarnished cracked his knuckles as the background music flared up. “With pleasure.”

Tarnished reached for his uchigatana on instinct, his fingers curling around the hilt with an ease that surprised him. The weapon felt natural in his grasp, as though his body already knew how to wield it. His grip tightened. 

‘Muscle memory? …No, more like some kind of built-in knowledge. Guess I’ve got something to work with.’

The brief flash of confidence was enough. He drew the blade in a single fluid motion, the steel glinting under the dim light of the chapel. Without hesitation, he dashed forward and slashed at the towering abomination before him. The Grafted Scion let out a wet, gurgling shriek as the uchigatana bit into its flesh, dark ichor spilling from the fresh wound.

It screamed in fury, flailing its grotesque collection of limbs. Swords, axes, and spears blurred together in its chaotic rampage. Tarnished threw himself to the side, rolling just in time to avoid being cleaved in half. As he came up on his feet behind the creature, he swung his uchigatana again, aiming for another deep strike.

CLANG!

The blade rebounded violently off a golden shield, rattling his arms and throwing him off balance. His stance broke just for a moment—just long enough. One of the Scion’s other arms shot forward, a jagged blade skewering through the gap in his armour and tearing into his chest.

A burst of painless pressure flooded his senses.

Tarnished gasped and stumbled back, blood spraying from the wound as his vision flashed red. A sharp chime echoed in his mind, and in the corner of his vision, his health bar plummeted by a full 35%. ‘Shit-!’

He threw himself into a roll, barely dodging the Scion’s follow-up attack. Another roll. Then another. He needed distance. When he finally stopped, his free hand instinctively shot up to clutch his chest. His breath was heavy, his mind bracing for agony. And yet…

Nothing.

No pain. No warm blood gushing from the wound. He looked down. The hole in his armour was there, proof that he had been hit, but his body was unscathed. A phantom pain lingered, not quite real, more like an unpleasant hum at the site of the injury.

“…The hell?”

“Tch.” Marika’s voice echoed within his mind, unimpressed. “An effect of mine System, naught more. But thou wouldst be wise to remain wary—thy foe moves to take thy head, and I shall not mend that.”

Tarnished’s eyes snapped back up. The Scion was already lunging.

“Shit-!”

He panic-rolled to the side, barely avoiding decapitation. Coming out of the roll, he steadied himself and focused. The Scion roared and rushed at him, weapons raised, its grotesque mass of limbs shifting as it prepared another relentless assault.

But Tarnished knew this fight.

He had seen these attack animations countless times before, memorised their exact wind-ups and follow-throughs. He watched carefully, waiting— waiting —until he saw the final swing of the chain. His fingers twitched. There.

The instant the Scion finished its last slash, he surged forward, uchigatana flashing in a precise counterattack.

The blade cleaved through one of the monster’s many arms, severing the one that carried its golden shield. The appendage fell to the ground with a wet thud. Ichor sprayed from the wound as the Scion reeled back, screeching in pain.

Tarnished grinned. ‘Hell yeah, limb damage is a thing! That’s actually sick! It’s just like ‘Bloodborne’! ’ He barely had time to process the implications before he raised his weapon again, preparing a follow-up strike.

Then the Scion screamed.

A raw, ear-splitting, bloodcurdling wail tore through the air. The sheer force of the sound sent a shudder through Tarnished’s body, rattling his very bones. His ears rang as his vision shook. A sharp pain stabbed into his mind, and in the corner of his vision, his health bar nosedived as 60% of it was gone in an instant.

‘What the fuck ?! Fuck you Miyazaki ! You and your Bastard, Bullshit, Unblockable attacks!’

“Pitiful.” Marika scoffed. “Stricken low by a mere wail? I had thought thee stronger than this.”

Tarnished barely registered her words, his focus torn away by the Scion as it lunged, all its weapons drawn back for the killing blow.

He tried to move, tried to dodge, but his body refused to listen.

‘Shit-!’

Blades tore into him.

He barely felt it as the world began going dark around him.

The last thing he heard was Marika’s voice, smooth and unwavering, as his consciousness faded away.

“Thou art weak, mine champion. But worry not. In time, thou shalt grow into a warrior fit to be Elden Lord and rule at mine side… Or thou shalt fade into Dust with the rest of thy Wretched Kin.”

Everything faded to black.

…

The Tarnished drifted back into consciousness, his mind sluggish, his body weak. He tried to move, but a crushing exhaustion kept him pinned to the cold, wet ground. 

‘Am.. Am I dead?’ He wondered, his thoughts slow and hazy. He could still feel… something. The distant sound of water running along the stone floor reached his ears, along with the faintest splash of hooves against the shallow puddles.

Then, a voice. Soft, yet firm. Familiar.

“Fear not, Torrent. Fortune is upon his side.”

‘M.. Melina?’

Tarnished forced his eyes open, his vision unfocused and blurry. A shadowed figure dismounted the spectral steed and stepped towards him, kneeling gracefully at his side. He could barely make out the gentle curves of her features, her hood obscuring most of her face, but the voice was unmistakable.

“One of his kind is sure to seek the Elden Ring.” She murmured, her gaze studying his broken form with quiet scrutiny.

His strength failed him once more, his head dropping limply against the damp stone. He barely registered the sound of glass clinking beside him—two flasks, placed carefully within his reach.

As she turned away, her voice lowered to a whisper, meant only for herself. “Will he be the one to succeed… After all this time?”

Darkness pulled at him again, but just before unconsciousness could claim him, he felt another presence. A warmth unlike the cold dampness surrounding him, something ancient yet familiar.

He didn’t need to open his eyes to know who it was.

A breath of laughter echoed in his mind, amused yet knowing. “Hm… It seemeth my daughter hath taken a liking to thee.”

And then, the world went black once more.

Tarnished stirred, groggy but aware, his body stiff from the cold stone beneath him. The damp scent of earth filled his nostrils, and as his vision cleared, he took in his surroundings. A small, dimly lit cave stretched before him, the walls slick with moisture. To his side, a ledge dropped into darkness, leading to a familiar tutorial area. Ahead, the path sloped upward towards an exit bathed in faint light.

“Thou art finally awake, it seemeth.”

The voice was smooth, tinged with amusement. Tarnished turned his head, finding Marika hovering effortlessly in the air before him, legs elegantly crossed, her golden hair cascading like a divine veil.

"Did I die?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

She scoffed. “Nay, though ‘twas a fate most deserved. After thy shameful defeat at the hands of that wretched beast, it merely cast thy body from the cliffs. By fortune alone didst thou survive, slumbering here in disgrace.”

“Well, I feel dead.” He sighed as shifted, rolling his shoulders as he pushed himself up. His gaze drifted—first to the damp cave floor, then slightly upwards, and then… just a bit higher.

He caught sight of Marika’s bare feet, floating inches above the ground, before his eyes naturally traced the length of her flawless form, drinking in the details he hadn’t fully processed before.

The amused lilt in her voice sent a shiver down his spine. “Ara, ara~! ’Twould seem my champion is quite the degenerate.”

Tarnished coughed, turning away abruptly, his cheeks betraying him with a telltale heat. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

“Mhm~...” She chuckled knowingly, watching as he distracted himself by scanning the ground. His gaze landed on two familiar flasks sitting beside him. Without thinking, he picked them up, a notification flashing before his eyes:

[Acquired: Flask of Crimson Tears x1, Flask of Cerulean Tears x1]

Satisfied, he adjusted them on his belt and moved past her, stopping only when something caught his eye—the roots of the Erdtree protruding through the cave walls, their golden veins pulsing faintly.

Marika followed his gaze, a light giggle escaping her lips. “If such meagre roots dost fascinate thee, then I cannot wait to behold thy reaction to the great Erdtree itself.”

Tarnished exhaled, shaking his head as he continued forward. He reached the heavy stone doors before him, pushing them open with a grunt, stepping past several stone coffins before climbing the worn stairs. His armour clanged with every step, the weight of his new reality settling further into his mind.

At the top of the stairs, a faint golden shimmer caught his eye—the first Site of Grace. Marika materialised beside it, arms folded as she gestured toward it. “I trust thou art familiar with this, yet allow me to explain—these are sanctuaries of Grace. Rest upon them, and shouldst thou perish, ‘tis here thy form shall return.”

Tarnished let out a small chuckle, one that held great pain and experience. "Yeah.. Yeah , I’m very aware."

She gave a slight shrug as he stepped forward, reaching out with intent. The moment his fingers neared the golden glow, the Grace responded, flaring to life.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

He felt the connection form, an invisible tether linking him to this place. A sense of security settled over him, however fleeting.

Glancing to the side, his eyes fell upon a fog-covered passage—the entrance to the Fringefolk Hero’s Grave, locked behind a Stonesword Key mechanism. He knew full well that he was hilariously under-leveled for what lay beyond.

‘Yeah, not happening.’ He thought, moving past it without a second glance.

Instead, he approached the lift. A corpse lay slumped nearby, but to his surprise, there was no item glinting beside it. He frowned. ‘No summon signs either, huh? Guess that means no calling for help in this world.’

With a sigh, he stepped onto the elevator, activating the mechanism. As the platform ascended, the darkness of the cave gave way to soft golden light. The ceiling above him peeled back, revealing an ornate stone archway.

“Oh yeah, why is it that I couldn’t feel pain when I was stabbed.” He asked as he made his way towards it.

“’Tis but a boon of the system thou hast been granted. Pain is dulled to naught but a whisper, and thy wounds are borne upon thine health bar instead. A trifling mercy, that thou might endure a while longer upon thy path.”

He nodded at her response, appreciating that she managed to do something so thoughtful in order to help him get used to fighting for his life. Soon, he reached for the bottom of the door and pulled it open.

[Limgrave]

The notification flashed in his vision, but he barely noticed it.

His breath hitched.

The world stretched out before him, vast and untamed, more real than he ever thought possible. The golden fields of Limgrave swayed gently under a sky of turbulent green and gold. Jagged cliffs and ancient ruins dotted the land, their forms lost to time. 

A massive stone bridge arched over a deep canyon, leading to the crumbling silhouette of Stormveil Castle, its jagged towers clawing at the heavens. Above it all, the Erdtree loomed, its divine radiance pouring through the clouds, painting the sky with streaks of luminous gold.

Tarnished stood motionless as he took in  the surreal majesty of the Lands Between, his chest rising and Marika materialised before him, arms crossed, golden eyes gleaming with amusement as she took in his reaction.

“Beautiful, is it not?”

Tarnished barely registered her words, his head turning slowly as he took in more of the landscape. “You can say that again.”

His gaze roamed until it landed upon something—or rather, someone . A Site of Grace lay just ahead, its golden streams flowing skyward, and beside it stood a lone figure. Tarnished immediately recognised him.

White Mask Varre.

The man was clad in a pristine white garb, his sleeves stained with faint, unsettling marks of crimson. A bone-white mask obscured his features, only the dark hollows of his eyes peeking through. His posture was relaxed, his hands pressed together as if in quiet contemplation—or anticipation.

Tarnished let out a slow breath and approached, kneeling for a moment to light the Grace before stepping forward to speak with him. The moment he did, Varre lifted his head slightly, examining him from head to toe before speaking in a smooth, lilting voice.

“Oh yes… Tarnished, are we? Come to the Lands Between for the Elden Ring, hmm?”

Tarnished gave a slight nod, his mind already anticipating what was about to come next.

“Of course you have. No shame in it.”

Then, he felt it, it was like a disturbance in the force, a distant ringing in his mind. He remembered this moment.

He knew what Varre was about to say.

And why he killed him on sight in every single run.

“Unfortunately for you, however, you are Maidenless.”

Tarnished’s eye twitched as Marika, who was floating just behind him, stilled.

Varre, blissfully unaware, continued. “Without guidance, without the strength of runes, and without an invitation to the Roundtable Hold… You are fated, it seems, to die in obscurity-”

His voice blurred into background noise as the Tarnished clenched his fists, his old simmering annoyance had boiled over into a hatred he hadn’t felt since his first run through Elden Ring.

Behind him, Marika broke as the divine queen let out a hysterical peal of laughter, clutching her stomach as she struggled to keep herself upright, her body beginning to hover slightly off of the ground and float away.

“F-Fufu~! Oh, oh this is truly rich! Mine own Champion, Maidenless? Ahahaha~!”

Tarnished’s fingers twitched towards the hilt of his Uchigatana, the temptation to gut this smug bastard right here and now was overwhelming.

‘Actually… If I angled my sword just right— could I stab him so far up the ass that the blade would poke out through his stupid fuckin’ mask?’

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

—

…

Next Chapter Title: First Death.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW  

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching at his sides as he forced his temper into submission. The heat in his blood simmered down, though the urge to disembowel Varre remained ever-present. 

Meanwhile, Marika, after what felt like an eternity of laughter, had finally composed herself—though the occasional amused hum still slipped from her lips.

Varre, blissfully unaware of the sheer amount of unholy wrath he had narrowly avoided, was still talking. “-It will lead you, Tarnished, to the path you are meant to follow; even if it leads you to your grave. Grace’s guidance will reveal the path forward, most certainly.”

Tarnished blinked, refocusing just as the masked man turned slightly, gesturing over his shoulder towards the massive, decrepit fortress looming in the distance. Stormveil Castle. “To Castle Stormveil, over on the cliff. The home of the decrepit demigod, Godrick the Grafted .”

Tarnished nodded, his voice flat. “I know.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “I’m going there to take his Great Rune for myself.”

Varre hesitated, clearly caught off guard by his confidence, before smoothly continuing. “As you should,” he mused, rubbing his hands together once more. “Then go forth, brave Tarnished, and heed Grace’s call . To Castle Stormveil, where your destiny awaits— maidenless as you are. ”

Tarnished’s eye twitched violently as behind him, Marika visibly trembled before biting down on her knuckle, her golden shoulders shaking as she desperately tried not to burst out laughing again and retain her divine grace.

Tarnished inhaled sharply through his nose, raised a single finger, and thought with all his might.

‘Shut it…’

Marika immediately schooled her expression, her tone perfectly even as she responded, “I know not of what thou speakest.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain something before stepping past Varre without another word, heading down the worn path leading into the golden plains of Limgrave.

And there it was.

The bane of all new players. The boss that ended thousands of runs before they had even begun.

Tarnished smiled as he laid eyes on it.

A towering knight, clad in resplendent golden plate, astride a warhorse equally adorned in shining metal. The Tree Sentinel prowled the area with the trained vigilance of an executioner, its massive gilded halberd glinting ominously in the sun as it rested against its shoulder.

Marika materialised beside him, arms folded over her chest as her Golden eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

“Even after mine imprisonment, my knights remain.” She spoke softly, but there was pride in her voice. “Unwavering, ever faithful in their charge… ‘Tis a sight most pleasing.”

Tarnished hummed noncommittally, his gaze locked onto the patrolling knight.

Marika then turned to him, her smirk returning. “I would suggest thee find another path, mine champion. Even bereft of mine own oversight, any one of my Tree Sentinels couldst reduce thee to naught but phlegm and ruin.”

The Tarnished simply grinned as his fingers curled around the hilt of his uchigatana, his stance shifted forward, his weight lowering slightly in anticipation.

Without a word, he leapt off the small hill leading down to the Sentinel’s field. The moment his boots hit the ground, the massive knight turned sharply, its helm locking onto him instantly.

There was no hesitation as the Sentinel pivoted its warhorse in a single fluid motion and began slowly moving towards him.

Marika reappeared beside him with an incredulous look, “My Champion… What dost thou think thou art doing?”

He laughed, rolling his shoulders as he took a stance. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m fighting him.”

“Hast thou lost thy wits? Thou standest no chance! Thou shalt be slain within moments-”

Tarnished’s grin widened, pure exhilaration surging through his veins as he lowered himself further. “That might be true for some…” He exhaled sharply, tightening his grip on his katana.

“…But me? Nah. I’m different.”

His golden-tinged azure eyes locked onto the charging knight. “I’ve played these games before!”

And then, with an excited shout, he rushed forward to meet the Tree Sentinel head-on.

Marika stared at him in sheer disbelief before pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing heavily. She shook her head, golden locks flowing elegantly around her as she muttered to herself.

“Thou art a reckless dullard.” She floated upwards, watching with a mix of exasperation and curiosity as her champion clashed against her knight.

“But I suppose… Now is as good a time as any for thee to die. One ne’er forgetteth their first—or so 'tis said.”

Tarnished tightened his grip on the hilt of his uchigatana, his fingers curling around the worn leather as a sharp grin stretched across his face. The heavy hoofbeats of the Tree Sentinel’s steed reverberated through the ground, each measured step sending small tremors through the earth as the golden-armoured knight patrolled the path before him. 

He had fought this boss countless times. He had memorised every attack animation, every opening, every single frame of movement. In his mind, he could see the exact moments where he could strike, when he needed to roll, when he needed to back away.

And yet… Something felt off.

The Tree Sentinel turned its helmeted head towards him, its faceless visor locking onto him the moment he stepped forward. The knight wasted no time in formalities; it simply urged its steed forward, its mighty halberd already raising high into the air as a pop up appeared in his vision.

[TREE SENTINEL]

Tarnished’s grin widened as he dashed forward, his mind already calculating the frames, ‘That’s the overhead swing, it’s got a long wind-up but a deceptively fast release. I need to roll right before it comes down and then punish with a slash to the side.’

The halberd came crashing down with earth-shattering force, splitting the ground beneath it. Tarnished rolled to the side just as he had intended, but-

Too slow.

The weapon’s sheer force sent a shockwave outward, and though he dodged the brunt of the impact, the residual force struck his side, staggering him slightly. He cursed under his breath but quickly recovered, lashing out with his uchigatana. The steel blade struck the knight’s gilded greaves, scraping across the pristine metal but leaving no significant damage.

The Tree Sentinel wasted no time. With a tug on the reins, the spectral steed reared back before slamming its hooves down, kicking up dirt and debris as it galloped towards him. 

The Tarnished Warrior’s mind raced, ‘Charge attack, I know this one, just roll into it at the last second and counter when he stops-’

He rolled, but his movements were sluggish. He felt the weight of his armour dragging him down, slowing his reactions just enough that instead of cleanly dodging past the Sentinel’s charge, his shoulder clipped the horse’s flank, sending him sprawling across the dirt.

Marika, who had been watching from above with crossed arms, let out a sigh. “And here I had thought thee skilled. ‘Tis rather unsightly.”

Tarnished groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, the Tree Sentinel already wheeling around for another pass. He kept his eyes locked to its movements, his heart pounded as he took a deep breath. 

‘Alright, focus. Just need to adjust. My body isn’t as fast as I thought, not as responsive as I’m used to, but I can work around it. Just need to be smarter, better .’

The Sentinel came at him once more, its halberd sweeping low in a deadly arc. Tarnished saw it coming, ‘Delayed swing, but the follow-up is fast. Roll to the right and-’

He dodged, barely clearing the weapon’s path, but before he could counter, the knight reversed its grip and slammed the halberd’s shaft into his ribs, sending him skidding back with a sharp gasp. His vision flashed red as his health bar drained by nearly half.

Marika clicked her tongue. “Oh dear. Thou art quite fragile, aren’t thee?”

Tarnished ignored her, forcing himself back up as he reassessed. He had to play it safer. The Tree Sentinel was punishing his arrogance—he needed to slow down, to be patient. This was an endurance fight, not a rushdown since he wasn’t nearly on the level required for this fight.

For the next minute, he carefully evaded and struck when he could, learning the new rhythm of his body. He still wasn’t reacting as fast as his instincts demanded, but he was getting better at compensating.

Then he saw it, an opening.

The Tree Sentinel finished a leaping strike, its halberd buried in the ground for just a moment. Tarnished rushed in, raising his katana for a devastating slash.

But, yet again, his feet dragged as the weight of his armour bore down on him. He was too slow.

The Tree Sentinel yanked its weapon free and twisted, bringing the halberd’s head around in a brutal backswing. Tarnished tried to dodge at the last possible second, assuming that his roll would get him out of range like it always did in the game.

Except, he slow rolled.

Instead of the swift, clean evasion he expected, his movement was sluggish, laboured. His body barely moved before the halberd’s golden blade came crashing down onto his chest.

A sickening crunch filled the air.

Tarnished’s body crumpled under the sheer force, his vision instantly darkening as his health bar was obliterated in a single instant. He barely registered the impact as he was sent flying, his form crashing onto the ground in a heap of shattered armour and broken limbs.

His blood pooled around him, his body twisted in a grotesque mimicry of the countless bloodstains he had once seen littering this very field.

Marika floated down beside his broken form, peering down at him with an unimpressed look.

“Hmph. As I predicted.”

Then, darkness took him.

The world came back in a flash, golden light washing over him as his body reformed at the Site of Grace. Tarnished groaned, rubbing his face before pushing himself up onto his feet. That familiar sensation of revival, of being brought back from nothingness—it was something he'd expected, but it was still eerie.

Before he could gather his thoughts, a voice cut through the air.

“Oh my… Back so soon?”

Varre stood beside the Grace, his masked face tilted slightly as he eyed Tarnished up and down. His voice dripped with amusement. “Tell me, have we learned our lesson about picking fights yet?”

Tarnished didn't even acknowledge him. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode towards the edge of the hill overlooking the Tree Sentinel's patrol path. His azure eyes locked onto the towering knight as it roamed beneath him, its massive golden halberd glinting beneath the midday sun.

A familiar golden shimmer appeared beside him as Marika materialised, arms crossed and a knowing smile gracing her lips. “Hmph. That heathen dost speak true. Thou standeth no chance. Get thee past the knight and move forward with thine journey.”

Tarnished, however, wasn’t listening. He stared at his own hands for a long moment before swiping through the air, summoning his system panel. His fingers moved swiftly, navigating through the interface.

Then, he burst into laughter.

“Of course it all felt off! Of course I was moving slower than I should! This World is Real!”

Varre blinked, tilting his head slightly, while Marika raised an unimpressed brow. Tarnished ignored their stares, his grin widening as he continued tapping through his system menu.

Then, without hesitation, he began stripping.

His gauntlets hit the ground first, followed by his chestplate, then his greaves. He reached behind him and unhooked his bow, tossing it to the ground alongside his shield; they all then vanished into his inventory. Within seconds, he stood there in nothing but his pants, his uchigatana still strapped to his hip.

There was a deafening silence as the two of them stared at him for a moment before Varre took a single step back. “...I see. A Madman.”

Marika, on the other hand, simply face palmed helplessly. “Hath thou lost thine wits? Or art thou a nudist? Thou wert felled nigh instantly whilst clad in armour, and yet thou wouldst now face thy foe near bare?”

Tarnished finished unequipping everything and stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders as he moved freely for the first time. He tested a quick roll, and to his absolute delight, it was faster than before. A notification then flickered in his vision after a swipe against the air:

[Light Load]

A grin spread across his lips.

"You see, my dear Goddess…” Tarnished turned to Marika with a look of absolute confidence. “As a wise man once said: Why wear armour if I don’t plan on getting hit?!”

Then, without another word, he leapt off the cliff.

Marika sighed wearily, shaking her head as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ah… A reckless dullard, mine own Champion be.”

Tarnished landed lightly on the dirt path below, his bare feet barely making a sound against the cool earth. The moment he hit the ground, the Tree Sentinel turned its massive helm towards him, the golden glow of its eyes narrowing in recognition. 

The towering knight wasted no time, snapping its reins as its enormous warhorse reared up, letting out a deafening, battle-hardened neigh. The sheer weight of the knight’s plated armour caused the ground beneath them to tremble slightly.

A familiar boss health bar materialised in Tarnished’s vision. 

[TREE SENTINEL]

The golden-clad knight lowered its greatshield, lance gleaming ominously in the morning sun. Tarnished, now clad in nothing but a pair of worn trousers and his trusty Uchigatana , grinned as he lowered himself into a ready stance. His body felt lighter—faster. He could feel the difference in every fibre of his being.

No more sluggish reactions, no more slow rolls, no more mistakes.

This time, he was ready.

The Tree Sentinel charged.

The ground beneath it shook as its warhorse thundered forward, the sheer weight of the knight and steed sending small clouds of dust into the air. Tarnished remained still, watching, waiting. He had fought this boss more times than he could count. Every speedrunner had. He knew its opening move before it even began.

As the Sentinel neared, it reared back its lance, preparing to slam it down with earth-shattering force.

‘Now.’

Tarnished rolled forward, the lightness of his body making the movement effortless. He slid beneath the incoming lance just as it came crashing down, leaving a deep crater in the dirt where he had stood. The shockwave rippled past him, harmlessly disturbing the grass.

Springing up from his roll, Tarnished slashed at the Sentinel’s flank, his Uchigatana carving through the golden plate with a satisfying scrape. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was something. Blood sprayed from the gash, the Sentinel letting out a low growl of irritation as it pulled on the reins, spinning its warhorse around to face him again.

Marika’s voice echoed in his mind, her tone tinged with genuine surprise. “Hoh! So thou canst move swiftly when unclad? ‘Tis an unexpected sight, mayhaps thou art not entirely witless.”

Tarnished smirked but had no time to gloat.

The Tree Sentinel twisted its body sharply, bringing its colossal golden shield crashing towards him with terrifying force. Tarnished recognised the attack instantly—the backswing—and leapt into a perfectly timed roll to avoid being crushed into a paste.

But he had miscalculated.

The shockwave caught him just as he landed, sending him skidding painfully across the dirt. A dull, unpleasant hum radiated from his chest, and his health bar dropped sharply.

‘Tch.. That was careless!’ He grimaced, quickly rolling to his feet.

The Sentinel wasted no time, already swinging its lance in a wide arc. Tarnished barely had time to react. No chance to dodge so instead, he brought his Uchigatana up and blocked the attack head-on.

The force behind the strike was immense, sending tremors through his arms. His knees buckled slightly, his health bar dipping even further. He grit his teeth, his grip tightening around the hilt of his blade.

He heard Marika click her tongue, unimpressed at this but he just ignored her and reached for his belt, snatching his Crimson Flask with practiced ease. He popped the cork with his thumb and chugged it down, the familiar warm sensation spreading through his body as his health bar restored itself.

The Tree Sentinel gave him no time to breathe as it charged once more, hooves thundering against the dirt. Tarnished had mere seconds to react. And this time, he was ready.

He feinted a dodge to the left—then rolled right, completely avoiding the incoming lance. The Sentinel had overcommitted to its attack, its warhorse needing a moment to slow its momentum.

Tarnished grinned. ‘Gotcha.’

He surged forward, gripping his Uchigatana tightly as he activated its Ash of War: Unsheathe.

His stance lowered, blade poised and then in one fluid motion, he unsheathed his sword and slashed diagonally—the devastating speed of the attack tearing through the Sentinel’s exposed thigh.

Blood gushed from the deep wound.

The Tree Sentinel roared in pain, but before Tarnished could press his advantage, the warhorse kicked out its hind legs, catching him straight in the chest.

The sheer impact sent him flying backwards, his body slamming into the dirt with a painful thud as his health bar plummeted again.

“Fuck!” he coughed, the impact rattling his ribs.

Without hesitation, he reached for his second Crimson Flask and drank deeply, the red glow pulsing through his body as his wounds vanished.

Marika sighed dramatically as she reappeared in his vision taking a seat on a nearby boulder, “Truly, thou art hopeless. To take a steed’s hooves to thine ribs—hast thou no pride?”

Tarnished grumbled something under his breath, but there was no time to retort; The Sentinel wasn’t done yet. The knight raised its greatshield, preparing one of its deadliest moves, causing the Tarnished warrior’s eyes widened in alarm.

‘Oh shit! It’s that bastard Shield Bash!’

BOOM!

The golden shield slammed into the ground, sending out a tremendous shockwave that erupted through the air like a divine explosion and he was far too close.

The force slammed into his body, sending him hurtling back like a ragdoll. His vision blurred, the world spinning violently as he hit the ground hard. His health bar flashed red. 

He was one hit away from death.

Marika clicked her tongue, her golden eyes narrowing. “Enough dallying. Finish this, or perish so that we may move onwards.”

Tarnished wiped dirt and blood from his mouth with a grin as he reached for his final Crimson Flask, he downed the last of its healing power before rising to his feet.

The Tree Sentinel, still recovering from its shield bash, was wide open.

‘Don’t worry, I may not be used to this fighting thing just yet; but he’s just as low as I am. And I know exactly how to finish this!’ Tarnished thought as he sprinted forward while sheathing his uchigatana, causing it to shine for a moment with the activation of his Ash of War.

As the Sentinel turned, its warhorse lifted a hoof, preparing to stomp, but he was faster. The Tarnished activated his ‘ Unsheathe’ Ash of War as the horse’s leg shot towards him.

His blade flashed, sending one of the warhorse’s legs into the sky. The beast screamed, collapsing under its own weight as the Tree Sentinel was thrown from the saddle. Tarnished didn’t hesitate as before the knight could recover, he sheathed his blade and lunged forward, activating ‘Unsheathe’ once more.

His blade sliced clean through the Sentinel’s exposed neck.

A moment later, its head tumbled from its shoulders.

The Tree Sentinel’s body collapsed, blood pooling around its golden armour.

For a moment, there was silence.

[GREAT ENEMY FELLED]

Tarnished barely had time to grin before his body gave out, collapsing onto the grass. His chest rose and fell heavily, exhaustion setting in.

A flood of Runes entered his vision.

[Acquired: 3200 Runes + Golden Halberd ]

Tarnished let out a weak, breathless chuckle. “…Hell yeah.”

A moment later, Marika appeared in his vision once again, crouching right above his head with a small impressed, breathtaking smile. He just grinned at her cheerfully, drawing a small chuckle from her as she stared down at him while resting her divine head on one hand.

"Well fought, my Champion."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Marika’s right, you never quite forget your first Death.

…

Next Chapter Title: A Whole New World.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished lifted his arm, flexing his fingers as he stared at his open palm, his mind replaying the final moments of the fight. 

His last strike had carved through the knight’s golden helm, severing flesh and bone in a single motion, but what stood out wasn’t the technique—it was the sheer force behind it. The way the Tree Sentinel’s health had suddenly plummeted by nearly a third… That was no ordinary hit.

‘Did I proc Bleed at the last second? And was that a crit?’ He wondered, rolling his wrist as he tried to process the mechanics of this world. If limb damage was a thing, then it stood to reason that severing a vital point would cause an immense spike in damage.

Marika, now hovering beside him with her arms folded beneath her bosom, tilted her head slightly. "Hmph. ‘Tis a rare thing to see one of mine own Tree Sentinels so unceremoniously felled. They are the finest knights of my order, chosen for their unwavering loyalty and skill." 

She closed her eyes, her expression unreadable before exhaling softly. "But I suppose… without my guidance, they hath long since lost their prime."

Tarnished snorted, brushing dirt off his chest as he pushed himself off the ground. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

A light chuckle escaped her lips as she reappeared midair above him, lounging sideways with one hand supporting her head. "Thou shalt need to accomplish far more than slaying a mere knight to earn my genuine praise, mine own Champion."

He clicked his tongue but didn’t argue the point. Instead, he exhaled and stretched before turning away from the fallen knight. He had a journey ahead, and his next stop was clear—the ruined cathedral just ahead.

As he approached, he felt a wave of familiarity wash over him. Even after all this time, even after truly stepping into this world himself, he still recognized these landmarks as well as he had in the game. The stone walls, worn by the wind and rain, stood solemn beneath the open sky. 

The broken bell tower, long since silenced, loomed over the entrance. This was the Church of Elleh.

Stepping inside, the scent of old parchment and campfire smoke greeted him. A lone figure sat by the flames, his back against a wooden crate, a tattered cloak draped over his shoulders. The merchant’s long ears twitched slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps before his piercing eyes locked onto him.

“You are a Tarnished, I can see it." the merchant spoke, his voice low and smooth. "And I can also see… that you're not after my throat.”

Tarnished grinned and leaned against the doorway. “Hah! Yeah, you’re right about that much.”

The merchant nodded, his expression neutral. “I see. Then why not purchase a little something? I am Kale, Purveyor of Fine Goods. And what might your name be, traveler?”

Tarnished opened his mouth to answer, but the moment he tried to speak his own name, nothing came out. He blinked, confused, before a glowing blue notification appeared in the corner of his vision.

[ERROR: NAME NOT FOUND]

[Correction: Your name is “John Elden Ring”]

A cold shiver ran down his spine as his fingers twitched slightly. Then, from beside him, he heard the unmistakable sound of muffled laughter.

“…Really?” He muttered under his breath.

Marika smirked, crossing her arms. "Thou art mistaken if thou dost believe this was of mine own doing. The blame lieth solely upon Helios, not I."

He let out an exhausted sigh. “That smug bastard… I swear, when I get my hands on him…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Kale tilted his head slightly, noting the long pause. “Are you alright?”

Tarnished forced a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… Let’s just say I’ve got amnesia. Can’t remember my name.”

“Ah. Quite the misfortune.” Kale mused, though he didn’t sound particularly surprised. “Well then, if you wish to purchase something, I have much to offer.”

With a practiced motion, the merchant gestured toward his wares—an assortment of arrows, a torch, a telescope, cookbooks, a crafting kit, and cracked pots.

“I’d personally recommend the crafting kit.” Kale added. “A traveler such as yourself would do well to have the means to prepare their own tools.”

Tarnished hummed in thought before reaching into his inventory, pulling out a Lands Between Rune. With a casual flick of his wrist, he crushed the golden fragment in his palm, allowing the warm light of runes to flow into his body.

[+3000 Runes]

With his new total, he wasted no time purchasing three cracked pots, a crafting kit, and all three of Kale’s cookbooks.

[-1500 Runes]

Kale inclined his head slightly. “Many thanks for your patronage. Do take care out there.”

“You too,” Tarnished said, securing his newly acquired items before stepping out of the church.

The moment he did, his sharp azure eyes immediately spotted movement in the distance. A small group of soldiers clad in tarnished metal armor patrolled near a broken encampment, their dull cloaks fluttering slightly in the wind. Each bore the unmistakable crest of a golden grafted limb emblazoned across their armor.

Marika materialized beside him, her gaze scrutinizing the men before her. "Hm. These men… I know not their garb. Who art they?"

Tarnished exhaled, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah… A lot changed while you were gone.” He gestured toward them. “Those are soldiers of Godrick the Grafted, the demigod Varre mentioned. Apparently, he took over Stormveil Castle and controls this entire region.”

Her expression darkened. "I bore no Demigod of such a name."

Tarnished scratched his chin. “Some say he’s a descendant of Godfrey—through Godfroy, or something. I dunno. Never paid much attention to the lore.”

A moment of silence passed before his own words registered in his mind. He stiffened slightly, his jaw clenching as he hesitated. The weight of reality pressed down on him—this wasn’t just a game anymore. This was her world.

Marika, as if sensing his turmoil, met his gaze with an unwavering golden stare. "If a mere whisper of doubt upon my existence could shake my will, I would not have become a Goddess. Nor would I have ruled over the Lands Between."

Tarnished remained silent as she stepped closer, she looked down at him from her enormously tall heigh as her radiant golden eyes peered into his soul.

"Thy past life is of no consequence. Let it remain buried. All that matters now… Is that thou art mine own Champion."

Tarnished stood still for a moment, staring at Marika as her golden gaze bore into him, her words settling deep within his soul. A champion… her champion.

Then, slowly, a grin pulled at his lips. “Yeah… You’re right.”

Marika smirked knowingly, "But of course. I am always right."

He chuckled at her arrogance but nodded, rolling his shoulders as he turned his eyes toward the path ahead. “Well then, guess I’d better get moving. I’ve got a Demigod to hunt down.”

"Aye." She crossed her arms, her regal presence unwavering. "This ‘Godrick’, whoever he may be, doth possess a fragment of mine own Elden Ring. Thou must go forth and claim it."

Tarnished hummed at her words, then, after a moment of thought, tilted his head with a playful smirk. “As you command, my Lady~!” His voice was deliberately smooth, teasing, the playful lilt in his tone impossible to miss.

Marika blinked, her brows raising ever so slightly at his sudden change in demeanor.

“…And whence didst thou gain such confidence?”

Tarnished merely laughed, stepping past her with an easy stride. “If I had any doubts or shame in my life, they both died the moment I came here. I’ve got an entire world to explore, an adventure laid out before me, and the freedom to do whatever the hell I want.” 

He glanced back at her, flashing a wide grin. “What kind of idiot would I be to hold myself back now?”

And with that, he took off, his uchigatana singing as he drew it in one fluid motion. The blade gleamed under the golden light of Grace as he rushed toward the nearest of Godrick’s soldiers, his eyes alight with determination.

Marika remained where she was, watching as her chosen warrior charged into battle, his steps unwavering, his spirit unyielding. For a long moment, she simply stared, golden hair billowing in the wind. Then, ever so slightly, her lips curled into a small amused smile.

She exhaled softly before shaking her head, her form shimmering as she faded into golden stardust.

"Thou art a fool, mine Champion… But an honest one."

Tarnished sprinted forward, his eyes locked on the patrolling Godrick Soldier ahead. The man turned his head at the sound of rapid footsteps, his brows furrowed in confusion at the sight before him—an almost completely bare-chested warrior with an uchigatana , charging straight at him with reckless abandon.

For a split second, hesitation flickered across the soldier’s face, but years of drilled-in discipline took over. He tightened his grip on his longsword and rushed forward to meet the challenge. His armor clanked as he moved, the metallic sheen of his weapon flashing in the light of the early morning sun. 

With a sharp breath, he raised his blade and swung down.

Tarnished rolled.

His body twisted fluidly, the momentum carrying him just past the soldier’s strike. As he came up from the roll, he found himself directly behind his opponent. The Godrick Soldier had barely begun to recover from his swing when Tarnished struck.

The uchigatana plunged deep into the soldier’s back, slicing through armor, flesh, and bone with lethal precision. A wet gasp tore from the man’s lips as a burst of crimson sprayed from the wound. His body convulsed violently as Tarnished twisted the blade, then unceremoniously shoved him forward and yanked his weapon free.

The soldier barely had time to twitch before he collapsed onto the dirt, lifeless.

A faint shimmer of golden light washed over Tarnished as a stream of Runes flowed into him. He exhaled sharply, letting the rush of adrenaline settle for a moment before his azure-blue eyes flicked toward the dense forest ahead.

Without hesitation, he broke into a sprint, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins.

A moment later, he spotted another Godrick Soldier crouched beside a wooden cart, rummaging through its contents. His back was turned. An easy target.

Tarnished slowed his pace, his steps light and calculated. The soldier remained oblivious, too focused on his looting.

Then, in one swift movement, the Tarnished Warrior lunged.

The uchigatana found its mark once more, piercing through the man’s spine with ruthless efficiency. The soldier let out a strangled gasp before slumping forward onto the cart, dead before he even knew what had happened.

A familiar voice hummed in amusement within his mind.

"Cowardly… yet effective."

Tarnished smirked, flicking the blood off his blade before casually resting it against his shoulder. 

"There’s no point in holding onto your pride like a dumbass if you can get things done way more efficiently." He quipped, rolling his shoulders as he stepped past the corpse.

Marika scoffed but said nothing further. As much as she detested underhanded methods, she could not deny their results.

Pressing onward, Tarnished soon found himself at the entrance of a cave, its gaping maw stretching into shadowed depths. The sight was unmistakable—Groveside Cave.

A pop-up notification appeared in his vision, confirming his location.

Without hesitation, he stepped inside, the temperature immediately shifting to a cool dampness. Near the entrance, a small golden flame flickered atop a Site of Grace. He knelt before it, extending his hand.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

The golden light surged through him, forming an invisible tether between him and the sanctuary. But there was no time to linger. He rose to his feet and dashed deeper into the cave’s depths.

The murky air filled his lungs as he navigated the narrow passage. Soon, the cavern opened into a small clearing illuminated by a flickering campfire. Around it, several wolves lay curled up in sleep.

Tarnished wasted no time. He leapt into the middle of them, snatching up a Cracked Pot near the fire before immediately turning away and sprinting toward a side passage.

The wolves stirred, their ears twitching as they snapped their heads up at his presence, but he was already gone—his footsteps barely making a sound as he dashed through the tunnel. Along the way, he plucked up handfuls of Cave Moss, stuffing them into his inventory without slowing his pace.

Finally, he reached a familiar sight. A golden fog wall loomed before him, marking the entrance to a boss arena.

Tarnished exhaled, pressing a hand against it experimentally. There was resistance, but with some force, he pushed through, feeling the shimmering veil part around him as he stepped inside. 

At the far end of the dimly lit cavern, a hulking figure loomed over a corpse.

The Beast perked up at his presence, its feral head snapping toward him with glowing yellow eyes. A deep, guttural growl rumbled from its throat before it roared, raising its massive, jagged blade high.

Tarnished barely registered the boss title flashing before his eyes.

[Beastman of Farum Azula]

Instead, his focus remained on the towering creature as Marika materialized beside him, arms crossed with her golden eyes narrowing in disgust. "Why dost a filthy Beastman sully this place?"

Tarnished kept his stance loose, his fingers tightening around his blade. “Hell if I know.”

The Beastman wasted no time and lunged forward with terrifying speed. Tarnished barely had time to react before the creature brought its rusted blade crashing down, intent on cleaving him in two.

He rolled, the force of the impact splitting the stone beneath his feet. Without missing a beat, he dashed to the side, uchigatana flashing in a sharp arc.

The blade found its mark, carving into the Beastman’s flank. Dark Blood spilled onto the cave floor as the creature howled, whipping around with a wild horizontal slash.

Tarnished ducked low, the wind of the passing strike brushing against his jet-black hair. He retaliated instantly, thrusting his blade forward, piercing through the Beastman’s abdomen.

The creature roared in agony, swinging wildly in an attempt to dislodge him. Tarnished yanked his uchigatana free just in time to roll backward, narrowly avoiding a retaliatory cleave.

Marika’s voice echoed in his mind, "Hmph. Thy speed is commendable… Yet thou dost lack the strength to end this swiftly."

Tarnished scoffed, his breathing steady as he kept his stance loose. "Yeah? Well, I’ve got something better than brute strength."

The Beastman roared and rushed forward, swinging in a frenzied onslaught.

Tarnished rolled, sidestepped, ducked—his speed saving him from death time and time again.

But it wasn’t perfect.

As he dodged another wild downswing, his foot landed on loose gravel. His balance faltered, just for an instant, but it was enough.

Steel met flesh as a deep, searing gash tore across his chest and shoulder, sending him staggering back as blood sprayed through the air. His health bar plummeted, 70% gone in a single hit.

“Shit-!”

He stumbled, vision flashing red as he yanked a Crimson Flask from his belt, downing it in one quick motion. Warmth flooded his veins, golden light sealing his wounds as his health recovered.

The Beastman charged again but he had just enough time to recover, he exhaled sharply and rolled just in time. With its back fully exposed to him, Tarnished slashed his Uchigatana three times, causing the Beastman to stagger to the ground, its body trembling as crimson poured from its wounds.

Tarnished saw his opening as his grip tightened around his blade.

“Unsheath.”

A clean, horizontal slice tore through the Beastman’s gut, causing a huge torrent of blood to shoot from its body.

It froze as its health bar immediately dwindled to zero.

Marika tilted her head in confusion, "Why dost it stand there so idly?"

Tarnished smirked as he flicked the blood off his blade before sheathing it. A heartbeat later, the Beastman collapsed, lifeless.

[ENEMY FELLED]

The black haired man grinned, “Holy shit… I’ve always wanted to do that!”

Marika just sighed, rubbing her temples tiredly. "Thou art insufferable."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Hm.. Let’s see where this goes, perhaps my Brain Worm shall lead us to great things.

...

Next Chapter Title: Maidenless no Longer!

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders before turning his gaze toward the rapidly dissolving corpse of the Beastman of Farum Azula. Wisps of white ash scattered into the stale cave air, swirling like dying embers before fading into nothingness. 

His brows furrowed slightly. 'Huh. That’s weird… Why the hell did it just… disintegrate?’ He stared for a moment longer before shrugging. 'Eh, doesn’t really matter.'

With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the cave’s entrance, he stared at the Flamedrake Talisman within in his inventory for a moment before equipping it. He might as well use it, it was better than nothing. 

As he reached the entrance, he settled down at the Grace, resting briefly to restore his flasks before standing once more, reinvigorated.

The dense forest beyond the cave stretched out before him, the quiet rustling of leaves and the distant howling of wolves breaking the silence. He kept his head low, weaving between trees to avoid the patrols of Godrick’s soldiers. Their armour clanked softly as they patrolled, unaware of the predator lurking just beyond their sight.

One particular soldier stood directly in his path, gripping a warning horn tightly. Tarnished narrowed his eyes. If that thing so much as touched his lips, the entire goddamn camp would be on his ass. Not happening.

Lowering his stance, he crept through the underbrush, his movements careful and deliberate. The soldier stood oblivious, idly scanning the treeline. Then, in an instant—Tarnished struck.

His uchigatana slid smoothly through the man’s neck, the blade severing muscle and artery with practiced precision. A choked gasp escaped the soldier’s lips, his fingers twitching as he instinctively reached for the horn—only to be yanked backward into the bushes. 

Tarnished pinned him down and twisted the blade before pulling it free, ensuring the job was finished. The soldier’s body stilled, Tarnished removed the uchigatana and wiped his blade clean before exhaling softly, rolling his shoulders. ‘Man, I love stealth kills.’

With no further interruptions, he slipped past the forest’s edge, stepping into the vast, open plains of Limgrave. 

Ahead of him loomed a familiar sight—The Gatefront Ruins. Crumbling stone walls and broken towers stretched across the landscape, the remains of an ancient stronghold now repurposed as an encampment for Godrick’s forces.

Hundreds of soldiers roamed the area, patrolling the pathways, tending to the horses, and standing guard over caravans. Some rested around bonfires, sharpening their blades or sharing quiet conversations. Wolves prowled alongside them, their ears twitching at every movement.

The black haired man’s lips curled into a smirk as he observed the massive camp before him, 'Ah… home sweet home.'

Marika materialized beside him, arms crossed, her golden gaze flickering over the scene before them. “Mine champion, surely thou dost not intend to engage them all alone? Mayhaps a more… Subtle approach would suit thee better.”

She extended a delicate hand, gesturing toward the gaps in the ruined walls. “See there. Passageways, blind spots. Use them to slip past unnoticed.”

Tarnished chuckled, shifting his weight onto one foot as he casually rolled his wrists. “Oh, I know exactly how to get through undetected.” His smirk widened. “But… I know an even better way.”

Marika arched an elegant brow. “And pray, what reckless foolishness dost thou scheme now?”

Before she could get an answer, a soldier stationed at the watchtower turned his head and spotted him. His eyes widened slightly as he registered the barely-armoured warrior standing casually at the edge of the ruins.

Tarnished took a deep breath and let out a loud shout, “RUN AND DODGE WHILE STEALING EVERYTHING THAT ISN’T NAILED TO THE GROUND!”

He then sprinted forward at full speed.

The soldier stared blankly for a solid three seconds before scrambling to ring the alarm. “INTRUDER!”

The camp erupted into chaos. Soldiers leapt to their feet, wolves snarled as they rushed forward, and the air was filled with the clanking of drawn steel.

Marika just stood back and watched on, utterly dumbfounded.

Tarnished dodged past the first soldier who swung at him, expertly rolling under the blade before immediately jumping over a wolf that lunged at his legs. His momentum carried him forward, weaving through the mass of enemies like a blur.

A few arrows whizzed past his head as he spotted his first target—an underground staircase leading to a small basement.

A soldier stood at the entrance, spear at the ready.

Tarnished didn’t even slow down. He rolled past the incoming stab and shoved the poor bastard down the stairs, leaping over him and into the basement. He kicked open a chest and snatched up the contents inside.

[Acquired: Ash of War – Storm Stomp]
[Acquired: Whetstone Knife]

No time to linger.

He bolted back up the stairs. The soldier he’d shoved was groaning, trying to push himself up—Tarnished jumped over him.

Another wolf lunged at him the moment he exited, but he simply stepped on its head mid-air, using it as a springboard to keep moving.

Soldiers shouted all around him as he made a beeline for the caravans.

Two of them rushed him, swords raised.

Without breaking stride, he unsheathed his uchigatana and—stabbed both of them at once.

Crippling them in a single strike, he rushed past their staggering bodies and threw open the massive chest at the back of the caravan.

[Acquired: Flail]

Marika’s voice finally snapped out of her stunned silence. “Watch thy side-!”

“I KNOW!”

He jumped, causing the pair of soldiers swinging at his flank to miss entirely as he leapt over them, landing smoothly before making a mad dash toward the map post.

The camp’s head knight—a towering figure wielding a massive spear—stepped into his path but Tarnished didn’t even acknowledge him. Rolling beneath a thrust, he snatched the map fragment from the post mid-sprint.

[Acquired: Map of Limgrave]

With an entire horde of furious soldiers, wolves, and a very pissed-off knight at his back, Tarnished burst into laughter mid-run.

"BAHAHA! Hey, Marika! If I sit at a Grace, they’ll reset, right?"

“Nay, fool! My Grace shall not embrace thee whilst foes remain near!”

“...Figures.”

Instead of heading straight for the Grace, he veered off, his eyes scanning the terrain. A rock.

Perfect.

His legs coiled like springs before he jumped. He landed on the rock, then leapt to the ruins’ outer wall. The soldiers below screamed obscenities, trying to chase after him—but he was already gone, jumping from ledge to ledge until he cleared the ruins entirely.

Diving into the nearby forest, he ducked into the same cave he had hidden in earlier, pressing himself against the damp stone.

The soldiers fanned out, searching… But none ventured into the cave.

A few moments passed before the last of them finally gave up.

Silence.

Tarnished let out a shaky laugh, his heart pounding in his chest. He slid down the wall, wiping sweat from his brow. “Hah… That was awesome…”

A golden shimmer materialized before him, Marika appearing with her arms folded beneath her voluptuous bosom, lips curled in a wry smile. “Hast thou finally tired of thy madness?”

The Tarnished let out a breathless chuckle, his eyes still gleaming with exhilaration. “Nope.”

Marika sighed, shaking her head in amusement. "At the very least, I see now that thou art no craven."

Tarnished was silent for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he gave Marika a confused glance. “Craven? The hell does that mean?”

Marika blinked at him, her golden eyes momentarily losing their usual sharpness. Then, with a soft hum, she explained, “A word of mine own tongue, meaning ‘coward’ in thy vulgar speech.”

“Oh… Neat.”

With that, he turned away and made his way out of the cave, stepping back into the dim light of the early morning. The air was cool, the scent of damp earth lingering as he stretched slightly, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension in his muscles. His body was still adjusting to this world, but each passing moment made it feel more and more like his own.

His azure-blue eyes—still faintly glowing gold from Marika’s Grace—scanned his surroundings, quickly locking onto the Site of Grace he had spotted earlier but had been unable to use. This time, he took a longer route around the entire Godrick encampment, making sure to avoid detection. 

A few minutes later, he reached the Grace and stretched a hand toward it, feeling the golden energy respond to his presence.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

He sighed and sat down, allowing himself a brief moment of rest.

Then, an odd sensation filled the air. A gentle shimmer of azure light flickered beside him, followed by the faint sound of footsteps. A moment later, a woman in a dark tattered cloak materialized from the magic, her presence serene yet commanding.

“Greetings, traveller from beyond the fog.” she spoke, her voice smooth and deliberate as she pulled back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face.

Tarnished had seen her before—countless times in his previous life, through a screen—but it was different seeing her like this, right in front of him. 

Melina was a young woman with short, tousled brown hair, her right eye a striking shade of turquoise while the left remained closed, a black marking running down her cheek. Her expression was calm, composed, yet carried the faintest trace of something melancholic beneath her practiced neutrality.

“I am Melina. And I offer you an accord.”

Tarnished smiled at her and gestured for her to sit. "Go ahead, I'll hear you out."

She gave a small nod and lowered herself onto the ground, sitting opposite him with effortless grace.

“Have you heard of the Finger Maidens?” She began, folding her hands in her lap. “They serve the Two Fingers, offering guidance, and aid to the Tarnished.”

Tarnished gave a small nod, already knowing where this conversation was going.

“But you, I am afraid, are Maidenless.”

His expression froze as a sharp snort echoed in his mind. Marika was barely holding back her laughter. He could practically feel her shaking with silent amusement.

‘Don't you fucking dare…’ He growled in his thoughts, but that only made it worse.

Melina, completely unaware of his internal struggle, continued speaking. “However, I can play the role of Maiden; turning runes into strength, to aid you in your search for the Elden Ring. You need only take me with you to the foot of the Erdtree.”

Tarnished exhaled, pushing down his irritation. He wasn’t going to let the M-word ruin this moment for him. He offered her a small smile. "Sounds good to me."

“Then it's settled,” Melina said with a small, satisfied nod. “You may summon me by grace to turn runes into strength.”

She paused for a moment, as if remembering something, then reached into her robe. “Ahh… Another matter.”

She withdrew a small, golden ring and gently placed it in his hand.

[Gained: Spectral Steed Whistle]

A soft chime accompanied the notification as Tarnished glanced down at the small trinket.

“Use it to traverse great distances.” Melina explained. “It will summon a spectral steed named Torrent. Torrent has chosen you, treat him with respect.”

Tarnished chuckled as he slipped the ring onto his left index finger. “Of course, I will. Who do you think I am?”

Melina remained unphased by his casual tone. “It is merely a precaution.” she replied before shifting her gaze back to him. “Since I am now your Maiden, should you not introduce yourself as well?”

Tarnished instinctively opened his mouth to answer, only to stop when no words came out.

A notification flashed in his vision.

[ERROR: NAME NOT FOUND]

[Correction: Your name is “John Elden Ring”]

A barely contained “ Pfft-” echoed in his head.

Tarnished’s eye twitched violently as he clenched his fists. His body trembled in barely restrained rage as Marika, his ever-so-divine ‘System Administrator,’ was dying of laughter in his mind.

‘You… Absolute son of a bitch, Helios.’

Melina tilted her head slightly. “Are you alright?”

He quickly exhaled through his nose, forcing a strained smile. “Yeah… Just a little amnesia. Can’t remember my name.”

Melina hummed in understanding, her expression remaining neutral. “That is unfortunate. Until you recall it, I shall simply call you Tarnished.”

“Y-Yeah… Good call…” He muttered, twitching lips betraying his exasperation.

Melina nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. “Now then, would you like to use your runes and turn them into strength?”

Tarnished thought about it for a second, but ultimately shook his head. “Hmm.. Nah. Not yet.”

“Very well.” She accepted. “Whenever you wish, you may call upon me at any Grace.”

Tarnished gave a small nod, and Melina brought her hands together, forming a golden Order incantation. A soft hum filled the air as threads of radiant light coalesced between her fingertips, before shooting forward in a gentle arc. 

A golden tether surged into his chest, warmth spreading through his core as the magical bond between them solidified. The light faded, leaving behind a faint, lingering sensation within him. She studied him for a moment, then gave a final nod before rising gracefully to her feet. 

“Farewell for now. I shall observe and await your call.”

Tarnished smirked slightly, tilting his head and resting it on one hand as he regarded her. “Stay safe, yeah? I’d hate to see such a pretty face get hurt.”

Melina blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the comment, a crimson blush lighting up her face for a moment. Her turquoise eye widened just slightly before she schooled her expression back into neutrality though a faint pink dusted her cheeks. 

“…T-There is no need for concern. I am more than capable of protecting myself.”

Before he could tease her further, azure sparks shimmered around her form, and in the next instant, she was gone—vanishing like mist in the wind.

Tarnished let out a small chuckle, shaking his head before turning his attention to the ring in his palm. He slipped it onto his left index finger, feeling the weight settle comfortably.

Just then, Marika materialized beside him, arms folded, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips as she regarded him with an almost predatory amusement.

“Thou dost seem to have taken quite the liking to mine daughter.”

Tarnished blinked, arching an eyebrow as he turned to her. “Melina’s your daughter?”

“Indeed. One of mine eldest.” Marika affirmed, her tone shifting slightly. “Though she suffered a misfortune in her youth… Her own flames nearly consumed her, and her corporeal form was lost. ‘Twas by mine hand that she regained her ability to manifest.”

She frowned slightly, her golden eyes narrowing in thought. “Yet, she knoweth not of her own divine blood… Curious. Something must have suppressed it.”

Tarnished was silent, processing that information. “…Damn, lady. Why do all your kids have the worst luck?”

Marika scoffed. “Hmph. Dost thou think ruling a world as its God-Queen is an easy task? I have been imprisoned for countless millennia—mine hands cannot hold all.”

He shrugged with a smirk. “Fair. Still, at least I can see where Melina gets her looks from.”

Marika tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into an amused smile. “My my~! Thou just had mine daughter kneel before thee as thine maiden, and now thou seeketh to claim her mother as well? Greedy, art thou not~?”

Tarnished turned away, stretching his arms as he began walking forward. “I’m just a man who knows what he wants. Not afraid to chase it, either.”

Marika’s gaze followed him as he walked, her smirk deepening. Then, with a teasing hum, she leaned forward, one hand resting at her hip, pushing her divine curves into full display. “Then if thou truly desirest me, mine champion… Prove thy worth. Collect the shards of mine Elden Ring, and set me free.”

Tarnished chuckled, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting to it. But first…”

His smirk widened, “I’ve got an old friend to visit. And after that… It’s time to take a little day trip to Caelid.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

—

…

Next Chapter Title: Don’t Go Hollow, Friend.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished stood at the edge of a small hill, arms crossed as he gazed at the massive fortress looming in the distance. Stormveil Castle stood tall and foreboding, its weathered walls scarred by countless battles, the remnants of Godrick’s rule littered across its broken ramparts. 

The golden banners of his fading lineage fluttered weakly against the wind, barely holding onto their tattered dignity. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his azure eyes glowing faintly with the golden tint of Marika’s Grace.

Then he turned away. “Nah.”

Marika materialized beside him, floating just above the ground with her arms crossed. Her golden eyes regarded him curiously, one delicate brow arching upward. "Art thou truly choosing to ignore the path ahead? The very purpose of thy quest?"

Tarnished stretched his shoulders, rolling them lazily before reaching into his inventory and pulling out a small, ornate ring—the Spectral Steed Whistle . He brought it to his lips and gave a sharp blow, the clear note ringing through the crisp Limgrave air.

A moment later, a shimmering mist of azure light spiraled before him, forming into the familiar figure of Torrent , his spectral steed. The loyal creature huffed softly before nudging its head into his palm, expecting affection.

Tarnished chuckled and ran his fingers through the ephemeral strands of its mane. “Good to see you too, buddy.”

"Thou hast yet to answer my question, my Champion." Marika’s voice was smooth, tinged with amusement. "Hast thou abandoned thy claim upon that fool Godrick’s throne?"

“Nah,” Tarnished repeated, a smirk playing on his lips as he grabbed the saddle and pulled himself onto Torrent’s back. “I’ll deal with him later. Got more important things to worry about right now.”

Marika hummed in consideration, her expression unreadable. Tarnished gave Torrent a light nudge with his heels, and the spectral steed surged forward, carrying him down the weathered stone path.

The Godrick encampment sprawled out below, its soldiers patrolling the road, their armor glinting under the midday sun. A few turned at the sound of galloping hooves, some reaching for their weapons, but Torrent was far too fast. Tarnished shot through their ranks before any of them could react, leaving a trail of confused shouts in his wake.

As he continued down the paved road, he spotted a Site of Grace resting beside a broken stone wall. Without stopping, he leaned slightly, reaching a hand out as he passed by—

[Lost Grace Discovered]

—before he was already past it, not bothering to stop.

The landscape blurred as he pushed Torrent faster, riding southeast at full speed. The winds rushed against him, his hair whipping wildly behind him. His next destination was clear.

A bridge came into view ahead, spanning a small ravine. A mounted knight and several Godrick Soldiers patrolled its length, their weapons drawn as they stood guard.

Tarnished barely spared them a glance.

The knight spurred his horse forward, charging at full speed, lance raised—

Torrent shot past him in an instant.

The knight barely had time to process what had happened before the wind of Tarnished’s passing sent his helmet spinning off his head.

Marika’s voice rang in his mind, "Impressive. Yet this reckless haste of thine shall prove thy undoing."

Tarnished grinned. “You sound like a tutorial pop-up.”

The bridge faded behind him as he veered right, his eyes locking onto something far more interesting.

A massive armored caravan trudged along the road ahead, flanked by a small battalion of heavily armed soldiers. Two hulking trolls, their bodies chained, dragged the massive wagon forward, their backs lined with deep scars from the whips of their handlers. Godrick Knights, Footmen, and a few mounted cavalry marched in formation beside it, their armor bearing the golden insignia of the Gilded Dynasty.

Tarnished’s smirk widened.

Marika materialized beside him, arms still crossed beneath her bountiful chest. "My Champion… Surely, thou dost not mean to-"

“I absolutely do.”

He nudged Torrent forward, accelerating toward the caravan at full speed.

The soldiers took notice immediately.

“INTRUDER!” one of them roared, pointing his sword. “A THIEF!”

The entire formation tensed, weapons raised. The mounted knights spurred their horses forward, rushing toward him.

Tarnished, however, had no intention of stopping.

At the very last second, he leapt.

His boots landed heavily atop the moving caravan, the impact rattling the chest at its rear. Soldiers shouted in alarm, scrambling to react as Tarnished reached forward, flinging the heavy lid open. Inside, nestled among fine velvet, was a massive ornate Greataxe, its wickedly sharp edges gleaming even in the dim light.

[Picked-Up Item: Greataxe]

With no hesitation, he snatched it up and tossed it into his inventory before turning on his heel and leaping from the caravan.

His landing, however, was less than graceful .

Torrent was already moving beside him, waiting for the pickup, but as he fell, Tarnished managed to grab hold of the saddle, barely . His body swung wildly, legs flailing as he struggled to right himself. Meanwhile, three mounted knights were now hot on his heels, their spears pointed at his back.

“Shit!”

Marika appeared beside him, flying effortlessly with arms still crossed, her golden hair billowing elegantly. She sighed. "Was this truly necessary? Wilt thou even use such an axe?"

Tarnished finally managed to pull himself upright onto Torrent’s back and grinned. “Nope, probably not. But where’s your sense of adventure? This is fun as hell!”

Marika exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly. "And yet, ‘tis my Grace that spares thee from thy own foolhardiness."

He just laughed as he turned his head slightly, eyeing the approaching knights. The armored riders spurred their steeds faster, their weapons raised, but it was futile.

“GO! GO! GO!” Tarnished shouted, slapping Torrent’s flank.

The spectral steed huffed in understanding and shot forward with a burst of speed, outpacing the knights with ease. The pursuers cursed, but there was nothing they could do. Tarnished’s laughter echoed through the open fields as he left them in the dust, his heart pounding in exhilaration.

Marika sighed again, watching his antics with thinly veiled amusement. "Thou dost realize my daughter doth observe thee, do thou not? Mayhap ‘twould serve thee better to think thy words when responding to myself, rather than speak them aloud."

Tarnished blinked. ‘Oh, right. My bad.’

He mentally switched to thinking , hoping Melina hadn’t heard everything .

As they passed a set of ruined stone structures, his eyes flicked toward a nearby underground chamber, half-buried beneath rubble. He knew what was down there— Sellen’s chambers .

He slowed for a brief moment, considering. Then he shrugged. ‘Not going for a magic build right now. Sellen can wait.’

Marika tilted her head. "Sellen?"

‘She’s a powerful sorceress who teaches magic.’ He explained idly.

Marika scoffed. "Hmph. Magic is for wretched scholars and cowards. ‘Twould be best if thou didst remain upon the path of Faith. I can teach thee far greater things along thy journey."

Tarnished chuckled, his fingers tapping against the reins. ‘Right, because you’re totally unbiased.’

She simply smiled beautifully. "Indeed."

Tarnished exhaled, his breath steadying as he ran his hand along the smooth fur of Torrent’s mane. The spectral steed huffed softly, waiting for his next command, but he did not urge him forward just yet. His gaze lingered on the rolling hills and vast expanse of Agheel Lake, the golden glow of the Erdtree bathing the world in a dreamlike light.

It was… breathtaking.

He had seen this view countless times before on a monitor, had rushed past it during speedruns, barely paying any mind to the sheer scale of its beauty. But now? Now, he was living it.

His fingers gripped Torrent’s mane a little tighter as he took it all in, his lips curling into a small smile. "God… this place is beautiful…"

"But of course." Marika’s voice hummed through his mind, rich with pride. "The magnificence of mine own domain knoweth no bounds nor equal."

Tarnished let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, you might be right about that one."

With that, he lightly tapped his heels against Torrent’s sides, urging the steed forward. They rode at a steady pace, the wind rushing past him as he veered southeast toward Agheel Lake South’s Site of Grace.

As he rode, Marika’s voice suddenly turned contemplative. "Hn… the tides of this lake… they hath receded immensely. I remember this land, yet ‘twas once far deeper…"

Tarnished hummed at that, his brow raising slightly. "Yeah? Wonder what changed."

He made a note of her words but kept his focus on the path ahead, following the familiar contours of the landscape as he guided Torrent down into the now-dry lakebed. He kept to the right side of the lake, skirting along its edge as he made his way toward a dark, cavernous underpass he remembered well.

As he rode beneath the rocky overhang, his sharp eyes spotted something glinting near the wall. His instincts kicked in immediately. He leapt off Torrent mid-gallop, landing smoothly as he crouched down to inspect the object.

A small notification flashed in his vision:

[Picked-Up Item: Fire Grease]

"Nice." He muttered, swiping the small container off the ground and slipping it into his inventory. That’d come in handy later.

With that, he whistled for Torrent once more and climbed back onto his saddle, riding deeper into the underpass.

A few wandering nobles in tattered robes shuffled aimlessly through the shadows, their heads lolling as if in a daze. Tarnished ignored them entirely, they were harmless, and pressed forward. Soon enough, the underpass gave way to a small clearing with a cave entrance carved into the rock.

He slid off Torrent’s back, his feet hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Marika materialized beside him, her golden eyes scanning the area with mild curiosity. "So… this ‘old friend’ thou seeketh, is it one who dwelleth here?"

Tarnished shook his head, unsheathing his uchigatana in one fluid motion before pointing it ahead. "Not here. Inside the cave. But first…"

A shadow shifted in the distance.

The sound of soft footsteps echoed from the gloom. A figure emerged from the darkness, draped in a black, bloodstained cloak. His robes bore the sigil of the Mohgwyn Dynasty, his presence radiating a sickening aura of bloodlust.

Tarnished’s eyes narrowed.

The air grew thick, heavy with a vile, iron scent. His vision tinged with red as a mini-boss pop-up materialized in his view:

[Bloody Finger Nerijus]

The cloaked figure tilted his head slightly, his grip tightening around a gnarled, serrated dagger that oozed fresh blood despite never being swung.

Marika appeared beside Tarnished, and the moment she laid eyes upon the wretch before them—she nearly wretched.

Her golden brow furrowed in revulsion, her lips curling as she lifted a delicate hand to pinch her nose shut. "Prithee… What in the name of mine own Order is this abhorrent stench…?!"

Tarnished didn’t answer immediately, instead adjusting his grip on his katana as he watched Nerijus’ stance, his movements slow and deliberate, the mark of a seasoned killer.

Marika composed herself, her expression twisting into something sharper—colder—as her disgust gave way to something far more dangerous. "Tarnished… this wretch reeks of the Formless Mother. What manner of filth stands before us?"

Tarnished exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders as he lowered his stance. "Not sure exactly. What I do know? He’s a Bloody Finger. One of the freaks that serve that bastard Mohg."

There was a deep, unnerving silence as Marika’s expression froze.

The name… she recognized it. Her gaze turned distant—her golden irises flickering with something dark—before she abruptly turned away, as if trying to hide her face from him. Then, after a long measured pause, she spoke.

"Rend this heathen into carrion… This instant."

Tarnished blinked at the sheer venom in her voice, her usually smug or teasing tone nowhere to be found. His grip on his katana tightened as he made a mental note of this reaction, filing it away for later.

But for now?

He grinned as he unsheathed his Uchigatana, "With pleasure."

Tarnished barely had time to react as Nerijus exploded forward, his blood-stained dagger flashing like a viper’s fang. Tarnished twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the first stab, the sharp edge of the dagger whistling past his ribs as he dodged.

Nerijus didn’t stop.

The Bloody Finger’s dagger came down again, and again, his movements so erratic that it was almost impossible to track. The strikes were wild, yet there was a terrifying precision to them—like a frenzied beast that still knew exactly how to kill.

Tarnished ducked low, rolled past a downward stab, then countered as his uchigatana surged forward, the cold steel of the blade cutting through the air as he aimed for Nerijus’ open side.

CLANG!

A shock ran up Tarnished’s arms as Nerijus twisted unnaturally, the cursed dagger shifting into an almost impossible angle to parry the attack. Tarnished scowled and backed off, barely avoiding a retaliatory slash that nearly carved across his stomach.

‘This cunt is fast, faster than I remember...’

The two warriors circled each other, the tension thick as neither dared to make the first move. Tarnished’s breathing was even, his eyes locked onto every twitch of Nerijus’ muscles. The Bloody Finger, for his part, merely tilted his head slightly—almost like a curious animal.

Then he hissed, and the air changed. Tarnished felt it before he saw it, the aura of bloodlust thickened. A second later, Nerijus rushed forward once again, his dagger leading the way—but this time, Tarnished was ready.

He didn’t dodge, he parried.

CLANG!

The moment Nerijus’ dagger met his blade, Tarnished twisted sharply, forcing the weapon away before countering with a fast, brutal slash.

A sharp spray of blood followed.

Nerijus let out a gurgling hiss as the uchigatana carved into his side, slicing through his robes and flesh with ease. Tarnished grinned and followed up with another swift strike, stepping forward to slash across the Bloody Finger’s chest.

Another gash opened and another burst of blood spilled onto the dirt.

Nerijus staggered back, his crimson robes now soaked in fresh wounds. Tarnished exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he flicked the blood from his blade.

"You’re quick." He admitted, smirking before the form of a certain red haired Rot Goddess came to his mind. "But I’ve fought faster."

Nerijus twitched, then he laughed.

The sound was wet, as if there was blood bubbling at the back of his throat. His shoulders trembled slightly, his head tilting at an unnatural angle.

Then he lifted his dagger. Tarnished tensed as the Bloody Finger suddenly dragged the dagger across his own arm, slicing deep as an eruption of crimson mist sprayed into the air. The blood didn’t fall. It moved.

Tarnished’s eyes widened. ‘No. No, no, I know what this is-!’

Marika’s voice came sharp in his mind. "Move!"

But it was too late, a crimson arc of blood surged forward. The Reduvia Blood Blade, a damn near unblockable blood-art attack.

Tarnished barely had time to react before the bladed wave of blood crashed into his chest, carving through his skin like molten steel. The impact sent him flying, his back slamming into the dirt as he skidded across the ground.

A sharp, burning pain surged through him as his health bar dropped by nearly 70% thanks to his lack of armour making him especially vulnerable to Bleed based damage.

‘Shit-!’ His breathing hitched as he forced himself onto one knee, his vision spinning. His chest felt like it was on fire. Even though the System dulled pain, the sheer force behind the attack still rattled his nerves and staggered him slightly.

Nerijus let out another twisted laugh, stepping forward with deadly intent white the Tarnished cursed, struggling to push himself up as the Bloody Finger closed in.

This was bad.

If he didn’t do something fast, he was dead.

Nerijus wasted no time. He pulled back, preparing to drive his dagger into Tarnished’s skull, but then he froze.

A long, gleaming Nagakiba had pierced through his back, the blade twisting cruelly before yanking him to the ground. The Tarnished didn’t question this and simply used the opportunity to move forward with all his strength and cut off the Bloody Finger’s head.

The Tarnished warrior took heavy breathes in and out as he looked up, his gaze meeting a pair of sharp, kind black eyes. A voice, smooth yet firm, spoke.

"You handled yourself well against that cessblood."

The man withdrew his blade from Nerijus’ twitching corpse, flicking the blood off its edge before offering a hand to Tarnished.

Tarnished let out a short laugh, accepting the help. "Did fine till I got hit like an idiot."

The hunter chuckled, "And yet you survived. Not many can say the same."

He nodded toward Tarnished’s wound, "Best patch that up."

Tarnished scoffed, already grabbing his Crimson Flask and taking two swigs to restore his health. As the warmth of the golden liquid spread through his body, he finally took a proper look at his rescuer. A lone ronin, clad in dark and a giant iron Kasa, his long Nagakiba resting idly against his shoulder.

The man met his gaze, "I am Yura, Hunter of Bloody Fingers."

Tarnished took a moment to steady himself, the warmth of the Crimson Flask spreading through his body as the last of his wounds faded. He exhaled, stretching his shoulders before offering Yura a grin.

"Yura, huh? Appreciate the assist. These Bloody Finger bastards need to be wiped out anyway."

Yura gave a small nod, his eyes lingering on Nerijus' rapidly fading corpse. "That much is true. Cessbloods like him bring only misery and suffering wherever they tread. You did well to put him down." 

He cast a brief glance at Tarnished’s bare chest and lack of armor. "Though, I must say, to face a Bloody Finger without any protection and still live to tell the tale… That is no small feat."

“Yeah, well… I don’t really plan on getting hit, so what’s the point in wearing armor and slowing myself down?" Tarnished let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. "Or atleast, that’s the plan…”

Marika scoffed loudly in his mind, her golden voice laced with amusement. "A reckless mindset. One that shall doubtless lead to thine own undoing."

Yura raised an eyebrow, "A bold strategy… Though I cannot say I would recommend it."

Tarnished simply shrugged, sheathing his uchigatana as he turned his attention toward the cave entrance nearby.

Yura followed his gaze. "You seek something within that cave?"

"Yeah." Tarnished said, a smirk creeping onto his face. "An old friend."

Yura gave him a considering look before nodding. "Then I shall not keep you. But take heed, fellow Tarnished; should you ever find yourself crossing paths with another Bloody Finger, do not hesitate. Strike them down without mercy."

Tarnished grinned, offering a casual salute. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t gotta tell me twice."

Yura studied him for a moment before turning away, "Then I shall take my leave. May fate permit our paths to cross once more."

As the crimson samurai strode off into the distance, Tarnished raised a hand in farewell. "Farewell! Don’t you dare go Hollow, friend!"

Yura paused mid-step, glancing back at him with a slight frown. " ’Hollow’ ?"

Tarnished blinked and rubbed the back of his head, "Oh, right. You wouldn’t get that."

Marika appeared beside him, arms crossed, her golden eyes narrowed with mild intrigue. "‘Go Hollow’… another peculiar phrase from thy world, is it?"

Tarnished smirked, nodding and answering them both at the same time. "Yeah. It’s an old saying from my homeland. It means not to lose yourself, much like those Wandering Nobles do . It means to keep moving forward, no matter what happens. There will be a light at the end of the Horizon."

Yura was silent for a moment, then gave a small nod. "…A good saying. One I shall remember."

He turned fully this time, his dark ronin robes billowing slightly in the wind. "Then allow me to return the sentiment: Do not go Hollow, fellow Tarnished."

And with that, he strode off, disappearing into the mist of the valley.

Marika watched him go, humming softly before tilting her head toward Tarnished. "Hmph. There is… Wisdom in such words. Though I wonder, canst thou truly heed them, when thou art yet to grasp the weight of this world?"

Tarnished chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "Guess we’ll find out, huh?"

With that, he turned toward the cave entrance, rolling his shoulders before striding inside.

A soft pop-up flashed in his vision:

[Murkwater Cave]

A slow grin spread across his face as he took his first step inside as he raised his hands together and cracked his knuckles, "Alright, time to go beat Patches’ ass. For old time’s sake…”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

—

…

Next Chapter Title: Patches, The Untethered.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

Sorry for the late update, I was busy. Plus, the grind from Celestial 2 to One Above All on Marvel Rivals won’t grind itself :3

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished stepped into the cave’s dimly lit entrance, his boots crunching softly against the dirt floor. The air was thick with dampness, carrying the scent of old stone and lingering smoke. As he moved deeper into the cavern, the faint flickering of a distant campfire cast dancing shadows along the rough walls.

Marika appeared beside him, her golden form shimmering slightly in the darkness. Her arms were folded beneath her chest, her sharp gaze sweeping across the cave as she tilted her head slightly in curiosity. "Who is this ‘friend’ thou hast come all this way to meet?"

Tarnished chuckled under his breath, weaving through the narrow tunnels with practiced ease. “Oh, you’ll see,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Marika narrowed her eyes slightly. "I see… But tell me, how dost thou name him an ‘old friend’ when thou hast only walked this world for but an hour?"

At that, Tarnished’s smirk widened. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he spotted a Site of Grace in a small alcove ahead. Kneeling down, he extended his hand toward it.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

A golden warmth spread through him as the connection formed, his flask charges refilling in an instant. He pushed himself back up and dusted off his hands, turning back to Marika with an amused glint in his golden eyes.

“See, this guy’s a little special. He’s a Constant.”

Marika’s brow furrowed. "A Constant?"

Tarnished walked forward, heading further into the tunnels. “Yeah, pretty much. He exists in so many different versions of this world. No matter what changes, no matter how many versions of the Lands Between exist, he’s always there.”

She regarded him curiously, watching him as he navigated the winding passage with the ease of a man who had already walked this path before. "And what doth that mean?"

“Remember how I told you that I know of this world because it exists as a game in mine?” Tarnished glanced at her with a knowing smile. “Well, the same way I was able to access this world, there were… Let’s say, reflections of other versions. Parallel worlds. Different variations of the same story.”

Marika was silent for a moment, absorbing the information before speaking again. "And in all these ‘parallel worlds’… This so-called friend of thine? He doth always exist?"

“Yep.” Tarnished confirmed, his grin widening as he rounded a corner, his ears picking up the sounds of hushed voices ahead. “And in every single one? He’s always the same thieving, conniving little rat.”

Marika blinked. "Then why dost thou call him friend if he is naught but a scoundrel?"

Tarnished’s smirk turned almost mischievous as he crouched slightly, peering into the next cavern where three bandits sat around a weakly burning fire, their weapons resting against the nearby walls. “Because, my dear Goddess… Friends fuck with friends sometimes.”

Marika arched a brow at his phrasing, but before she could respond, Tarnished abruptly sprinted forward.

The bandits barely had a moment to react before a loud, metallic clang echoed through the cave. Tarnished grinned as he felt his foot trigger a noise trap—a pile of rusted metal shards and broken weapons strung together.

The bandits shot to their feet, weapons drawn, their eyes wide in alarm.

“Oi! Who the hell is that?!” One of them barked.

“Stop right there, you little shit, or we’ll gut you!” Another snarled.

Tarnished, however, did not stop. He bolted straight past them, dodging a wild swing from one of their swords as he dove into a side tunnel. Marika watched in mild exasperation as the bandits cursed and scrambled after him.

At the tunnel’s end, he found a fog wall, shimmering faintly like a veil of golden mist. Without hesitation, Tarnished pressed forward, pushing past the threshold and into the boss arena beyond.

The room was dimly lit, the walls rough and uneven. A simple campfire burned at the center of a makeshift campsite, a bedroll and a few scattered belongings resting beside it. Tarnished slowed his steps, a small, knowing smile forming as his gaze landed on a wooden chest resting against the far wall.

Marika appeared beside him, eyeing the scene with a raised brow as she read his mind. "…Thou didst come here for mere clothing?"

Tarnished opened the chest without answering, rummaging through its contents. The soft rustling of fabric filled the cavern as he picked up a set of simple clothes. Before he could respond, a voice rang out from above.

“Well, well, well… Thought you'd just help yourself to a man's personal belongings?”

Tarnished turned, already grinning.

Up on a nearby ledge, a bald-headed man stood with his arms crossed, his beady eyes gleaming with amusement. His tattered brown cloak draped over his thin frame, his posture deceptively casual despite the clear tension in the air.

Marika blinked at the sight of him. "…This is thy ‘Constant’?"

Tarnished smirked, giving her a knowing look.

The man, Patches, pointed at Tarnished, his expression shifting from amusement to irritation. “You scheming little thief… The gods demand repentance!”

He hopped down from the ledge, landing in a crouch before whipping out a spear and large shield. His eyes narrowed as he brandished his weapon, taking an aggressive stance. “Cough up your coin, all of it!”

Tarnished cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as he unsheathed his Uchigatana, gripping it in both hands. He leveled the tip toward Patches and grinned wildly. “Not until you do it first, you bald-headed rat!”

Patches sputtered, scandalized. “Oi! You don’t just attack a man’s looks! You damn naked nutjob!”

Marika sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "By the Erdtree, why art all men so insufferably ridiculous…?"

Tarnished held his Uchigatana steady, his breathing measured as he circled Patches, watching the merchant-turned-bandit shift uneasily on his feet. The bald man jabbed forward with his spear, his expression set in a mixture of wariness and irritation.

Tarnished lunged forward with a wide swing of his Uchigatana which Patches barely dodged, bringing his shield up as he backpedaled.

Then, without warning, he charged forward.

Patches didn’t hesitate, he simply thrust his spear forward with ruthless intent. Tarnished barely twisted his body in time, the tip of the weapon grazing past his exposed ribs.

‘Shit, he’s faster than I remember…’

Patches followed up immediately, using his momentum to slam his shield forward. Tarnished barely got his blade up in time to deflect the brunt of the impact, but the sheer force sent him skidding back slightly.

"Heh, not bad." Tarnished muttered as he rolled his shoulders.

Patches scoffed. "If you think I’m just some pushover, you got another thing coming, lad!"

Tarnished’s smirk widened. "Good. This’ll be more fun, then."

The moment Patches stepped forward for another attack, Tarnished countered with a quick Unsheath. The Uchigatana flashed in the dim cave, carving a deep gash across Patches’ chest.

The bald man let out a sharp grunt, stumbling back as blood dripped onto the cave floor. But instead of retaliating, he did something unexpected. Patches suddenly curled in on himself, shielding his body with his great shield and dropping to the ground in a fetal position.

"Wait, wait, please! I surrender! White flag and all!"

Tarnished froze, blinking in disbelief. "...Oh, come the hell on. Seriously? One hit and you tap out?"

Marika, watching from the sidelines, raised a delicate brow. “Truly? ‘Tis all it took to break him?”

Tarnished sighed, rolling his eyes before sliding his blade back into its sheath. "Fine."

Patches exhaled in relief and sat up, still clutching his side as he shot Tarnished a wary glance. "Well, finally come around, have you? I knew you would. You're a man of reason, through-and-through. Ha ha ha…"

Tarnished crossed his arms. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Patches rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while still kneeling. "Ahhh… Well, what do you know? You're Tarnished, like me. Now, how did I get that wrong?"

Tarnished’s grin widened. "Yeah, how did you, ya dumbass?"

"Well, there’s no need for profanity!" Patches huffed indignantly. "You came into my home uninvited and nearly naked, so I took you for an insane madman or a demihuman or some such!"

A blood vessel twitched on Tarnished’s forehead as Marika giggled beside him, bringing a hand up to her mouth. “Well~... For an ingrate, his description of thee is not entirely without merit, mine Champion~!”

Tarnished exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm. Meanwhile, Patches continued, entirely oblivious to his growing annoyance. "T’was an innocent mistake, I assure you! Well, water under the bridge. Now that we're squared up, how about we play nice from now on?"

Tarnished was silent for a moment, then he grinned.

"Yeah… Nah."

He cracked his knuckles.

Patches paled. "S-Slow down, son… What's the matter? This simply isn't like you-!"

Tarnished grabbed him into a headlock before delivering a vicious noogie.

"OW! OI! STOP, STOP!" Patches flailed, but Tarnished only laughed, grinding his knuckles harder against the bald man’s scalp.

Marika simply watched in stunned silence, unsure what to even say. This was… certainly a first.

"Mercy! I said mercy, damn it!" Patches wailed.

After a full minute of torment, Tarnished finally released him, watching with satisfaction as Patches groaned and rubbed his now-reddened scalp.

"You done?" The bald merchant grumbled indignantly.

Tarnished smirked with mirth and satisfaction. "Yeah, I’m good."

Patches sighed, shaking his head before standing up. "Might as well introduce myself properly. I'm Patches. Patches the Untethered. Tarnished, like you—only, free-spirited. Nomadic, you might say. Only for now, those retired-soldiers-turned-bandits are paying for my gruel."

Tarnished held up a hand, cutting him off. "Yeah, yeah, don’t care. Just hand over the Gold-Pickled Fowl Foots, the Shackle, and the Cookbook."

Patches frowned. "How in the hell do you even know I have those?!"

Tarnished just stared at him.

Patches shifted uncomfortably before sighing in defeat. "Right, right. Doesn’t matter, does it?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Well, I could just refuse." Patches muttered under his breath.

Tarnished cracked his knuckles again, “And I could just beat your ass again.”

Patches instantly caved. "Fine, fine! You win, damn it!"

After a moment of grumbling, he handed over the items as Tarnished deposited 2,000 Runes into his hand.

[Item Acquired: Gold-Pickled Fowl Foot x3]
[Item Acquired: Margit’s Shackle]
[Item Acquired: Missionary’s Cookbook (2)]

Tarnished grinned, storing the items away. "Pleasure doing business, Baldy."

Patches scowled but held his tongue as the Tarnished turned to leave but just before warping away, Tarnished glanced back with a smirk. "Don’t die too soon, and don’t you dare go Hollow."

And then, in a flash of golden light, Tarnished was gone.

Patches blinked, his expression shifting slightly as he felt a headache slowly form in his head which he assumed to be from the Tarnished’s noogie. "...‘Don’t you dare go Hollow,’ huh?"

The words lingered for a moment. For some reason, they sounded oddly familiar.

“...Where have I heard that before?”

…

Tarnished reappeared at the Gatefront Ruins Site of Grace, golden light dissipating around him as his feet met the grass once more. He barely took a breath before raising his left hand, whistling sharply through Torrent’s Ring. 

A heartbeat later, the spectral steed materialized in a burst of pale blue mist, snorting as he lowered himself slightly to let his rider mount. Tarnished wasted no time, swinging himself atop Torrent’s back before clicking his heels against the steed’s sides, urging him into a steady walk toward the looming Stormgate.

But as the wind whistled through the valley and the faint clatter of distant patrols echoed around him, he noticed something unusual.

Marika was silent.

She had not made a smug remark about his reckless antics, nor had she teased him about Patches or mocked him for wasting Runes on something ‘useless.’

Nothing.

It was strange.

Too strange.

Tarnished furrowed his brow and slowed Torrent’s pace, his mind reaching out through the tether between them. ‘Hey… You good?’

For a moment, there was no response.

Then, after a few seconds, her voice finally surfaced—muted, distant. “…Naught is amiss.”

But there was a hesitation in her words, a pause that was too heavy for mere disinterest.

Something was wrong.

Tarnished’s fingers curled slightly against the reins as he let the moment stretch. He thought for a second, running over the last few things they had done before realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

‘...This is about the shackle, isn’t it?’

Silence.

Then, a barely audible “...Aye.”

He exhaled through his nose, his grip tightening ever so slightly. With a small tap to Torrent’s side, he urged the steed forward again, keeping his thoughts level.

‘Do you know what the Shackle actually is?’ He asked as they rode past a patrolling Godrick soldier, who barely glanced at him before resuming his post.

Marika took a moment before answering. “…’Tis a binding of ancient design. …To leash and restrain an Omen, that they might never rise above their station.”

Tarnished’s azure eyes narrowed slightly as he passed through the ruined bulwark of Stormgate, riding beneath the crumbling stone archway. He barely registered the soldiers manning the upper battlements as Torrent sprinted past them, his focus was solely on the weight in Marika’s voice.

‘You know that’s not what I meant.’

Another pause.

Then, a sigh—small, nearly imperceptible. “…Of course I do… ‘Twas by mine own decree that the filth of Omen-kind, of Hornsent-kind , be shackled and cast below.”

For the first time since meeting her, Marika’s voice lacked its usual smugness and mirth, although her words twisted with an undeniable disgust for a moment when she spoke of the ‘Hornsent’.

There was no smugness. No arrogance. Just something ancient, something deeply buried beneath millennia of rulership and war. Tarnished let the silence settle for a moment before pressing further.

As Stormgate passed behind him, he asked, ‘Then that means you locked up Morgott and Mohg too, didn’t you?’

“…Aye.”

She manifested then, hovering just behind him, her arms crossed beneath her chest, golden hair swaying gently in the wind.

But her gaze did not meet his.

Instead, she turned away, as though the answer had left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Morgott and Mohg were born accursed—vile Omens, marked from birth as defilers of mine Order. And so, they were bound and sealed beneath the Capital… As was necessary.”

‘Necessary, huh?’ Tarnished’s jaw tensed as he spurred Torrent into a faster gallop. The distant ruins of Stormhill Shack came into view, but his mind barely registered them. ‘Sure didn’t stop Morgott from being the only one who stayed loyal to you.’

A sharp exhale left Marika’s lips, and for the briefest moment, her voice faltered. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t.

Instead, she only muttered quietly to herself, “Ah… Morgott… ‘Tis a cruel fate indeed...”

The wind howled between them for a long moment, neither spoke. Then, as if snapping herself back to reality, Marika’s tone shifted.

She turned her back on him fully, flicking her wrist toward a root protruding from the ground ahead. “I see no further reason to continue this discourse. Look ahead, mine Champion, a root of the Erdtree remains—there, thou shalt find something of interest.”

Tarnished saw straight through her deflection, he wanted to push, wanted to press deeper. But instead, he exhaled and let it be—for now. 

‘This conversation isn’t over.’ He warned, earning a quiet scoff from the Goddess.

As he rode closer to the golden root, he felt the presence of something lingering. His sharp eyes caught the faint shimmer of gold buried within its twisted bark.

Dismounting from Torrent, he strode toward the root, crouching slightly as he reached for the object. The moment his fingers brushed against it, golden energy surged through his palm.

[Acquired: Golden Seed]

He held it up for a moment, watching as its faint, pulsing light flickered in the dim afternoon sun.

“A gift from the Erdtree.” Marika mused beside him. “These seeds, remnants of its great power, may yet strengthen thy Flask. They are scarce, yet vital—hoard them well.”

Tarnished rolled the golden seed between his fingers before slipping it into his inventory for later use, ‘Yeah, I know. I’ll make good use of it, don’t worry.’

Marika nodded before her voice took on a sharper edge, “Thou must hurry, mine Champion. The Erdtree weakens with every passing age it lacks a Lord—should it fall, all shall crumble with it.”

Tarnished glanced at her, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he simply chuckled, shaking his head.

‘Yeah, yeah. That’s the plan.’

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

—

…

Next Chapter Title: Fear isn’t Cowardice.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished urged Torrent up the winding hill, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the dirt road filling the air. The wind howled softly through the sparse trees, carrying the scent of damp grass and earth. For a few peaceful moments, he allowed himself to simply take in the stillness of the world around him.

Then, the quiet was broken.

A series of chilling howls echoed through the valley, a sound that was both primal and predatory. Tarnished barely had time to react before he caught movement above—a blur of grey shapes leaping from the rocky cliffs.

Five wolves came crashing down around him, their sharp fangs bared as they lunged with the unrelenting hunger of wild beasts.

Tarnished clicked his tongue. “Oh, come on.”

He barely needed to think before acting. With a practiced motion, he patted Torrent’s neck, signaling the spectral steed to vanish. The moment his hand made contact, the horse dissipated into a flurry of shimmering blue sparks, retreating safely into the ring.

Now standing alone against the pack, Tarnished unsheathed his uchigatana with a practiced flourish, its polished steel glinting under the dim sunlight.

The first wolf lunged. Tarnished sidestepped effortlessly, his blade flashing as he cleaved through its neck in a single stroke. The beast let out a weak yelp before collapsing, its blood pooling beneath the dirt.

The second came from his right, snapping its jaws at his arm, but he twisted away, slamming the hilt of his weapon into its skull with enough force to send it sprawling. Before it could recover, he drove his sword downward, piercing its chest.

The third and fourth came at him together, one from the front and one from his flank. Tarnished shifted his stance, rolling beneath the frontmost wolf’s leap, coming up just in time to slash upward and catch it midair, sending it tumbling lifelessly to the ground. The second landed behind him and lunged for his exposed back.

Teeth sank into his shoulder.

Tarnished hissed, instinctively twisting his body to shake it off, but the wolf’s jaws clamped tighter, its sharp fangs piercing into his flesh. Gritting his teeth, he let go of his katana with one hand and grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck, yanking it off with raw force before slamming it into the dirt.

The final wolf hesitated as the rest of its pack lay dead at Tarnished’s feet, their blood seeping into the soil. With a wary growl, it took a step back before turning and sprinting into the trees, disappearing into the underbrush.

Tarnished exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulder to shake off the lingering yet muted sting of the bite. "Tch. Persistent little bastards.”

Marika’s voice rang in his head, smug and amused. “Bitten by a mere mutt? Pitiable.”

Tarnished scoffed, running a hand through his hair before responding mentally, ‘Yeah? Well, I’ll have you know I let him get that hit in. You know, just so they don’t feel too bad before dying.’

A delicate scoff left Marika’s lips, though he could sense the faint amusement laced within it. “Aye, of course. ‘Twas all part of thy masterful plan, I am sure.”

He smirked. ‘Glad you understand.’

She snorted softly, but said nothing further.

Tarnished took one last glance at the bloody scene before stepping forward, ascending the rest of the hill. His eyes immediately fell upon a dilapidated shack, its roof caved in slightly, the wooden planks rotting from neglect. The air was still, save for the faint flutter of torn fabric against the wind.

A corpse sat slumped against the shack’s interior, its bony fingers curled around a small, glimmering object. Tarnished approached and knelt down, prying the Stonesword Key from the corpse’s grasp. The moment his fingers closed around it, a familiar golden notification flashed before his eyes.

[Item Acquired: Stonesword Key]

Satisfied, he straightened up, activating a Site of Grace that was beside him. The notification popped up in his view but he ignored it and turned around, only to pause when he noticed a figure sitting just a few feet away.

A young woman sat quietly within the ruined shack, her delicate frame wrapped in a deep crimson cloak. Her hands were folded in her lap, her golden-brown hair barely visible from her crimson hood. There was something melancholic about her posture, as if she had sunken into the very essence of sorrow itself.

Tarnished tilted his head slightly, then stepped forward and raised a hand. “Yo.”

The woman’s head snapped up, startled by his voice. Her wide, blue eyes blinked at him in surprise before she offered a soft, almost hesitant greeting. “H-Hello…”

He studied her for a moment before offering a grin. “What’s a pretty young lady like you doing all by yourself in this shitty little shack?”

Silence.

Marika visibly flinched beside him, turning to stare at him with a look of absolute bewilderment. “…Didst thou truly just-?”

The young woman turned scarlet. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she shrank into her cloak, her fingers gripping the fabric tightly.

“P-Pretty?!” She stammered, clearly caught off guard. She quickly lifted her hands to her face, poorly attempting to shield her embarrassment behind her fingers. “I-I must look awful right now! I… I haven’t even been able to-”

Tarnished raised an eyebrow. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I see is a cute girl who looks like she could use some help.”

The woman let out a squeak, visibly flustered.

Marika, meanwhile, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply, shaking her head in exasperation. "Unbelievable… Thou art meant to be my proud and nobel Champion, not a shameless philanderer!"

Tarnished just smirked, turning his attention back to the girl. He crouched down and sat cross-legged in front of her, his posture relaxed and open. “So? What’s your name?”

The girl fidgeted slightly, shifting under his gaze before stammering, “I-I’m… Roderika…”

Tarnished’s smile softened. “Roderika, huh? Cute name.”

Her blush deepened further as she ducked her head, her hands now clenched into fists against her cloak. She clearly wasn’t used to being spoken to so casually, let alone complimented so freely.

Marika, still watching from the side, exhaled once more before crossing her arms beneath her chest, her golden gaze scrutinizing him with mild irritation. 

“Hmph. Insatiable greed and shameless gall, all in equal measure… Tell me, mine Champion, dost thou intend to court every woman thou meetest upon thy journey?”

Tarnished grinned, leaning back slightly on his hands.

‘Depends. Is it working?’

Marika’s eye twitched. “Thou art insufferable.”

Roderika, meanwhile, looked as if she were about to combust.

Tarnished let out a short chuckle before shifting to sit more comfortably, crossing his legs as he leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting on his knees. He gave Roderika a relaxed smile, his golden-tinged azure eyes meeting her own soft red ones.

"Well, Roderika, it's a pleasure to meet you. Just call me Tarnished, a man of no renown, no memories, and apparently no shame, if you ask some people." He shot a smirk toward Marika, who simply rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

Roderika let out a quiet giggle before quickly covering her mouth, as if embarrassed for reacting so openly. She tucked a strand of her short blonde hair behind her ear, her fingers fidgeting slightly in her lap.

Tarnished took note of her nervous gestures, watching as she gathered the courage to speak. “I… I came here with companions, you see.” She started softly, twiddling her fingers together. “But they’re gone now. Taken away… Changed. Grafted by Godrick and his men and twisted into chrysalids.” 

She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “And I-I was too craven to do anything about it. I just ran, like a coward! I'm nothing but a craven!"

Tarnished listened quietly, nodding along as she spoke. Truth be told, he’d never paid much attention to Roderika’s story in his previous runs. She was just another NPC, another questline to complete. But now? 

Now he was here, seeing the way she curled into herself, the way her hands trembled, the way her voice wavered between shame and regret.

For once, he truly saw her. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Roderika awaited his response with bated breath, her fingers gripping her cloak as she cast her gaze downward. When she noticed him shift forward slightly, she flinched on instinct, shutting her eyes tight as if expecting pain or worse.

But instead, a warm hand ruffled the top of her head.

“E-Eh?!” Her eyes flew open as her hood fell from her head, exposing her short, golden-blonde locks.

Tarnished just grinned at her widely, his fingers messing with her hair in a playful, reassuring gesture. "Fear isn’t cowardice, Roderika. It’s okay to be afraid. Fear’s natural, everyone feels it."

She blinked up at him, her face completely crimson red. "R-Really?"

He nodded firmly, his grin unwavering. “Yeah. Even I feel fear sometimes. Fear itself doesn’t make you a coward. It’s letting yourself be paralyzed by it, letting it rule you—that’s what makes someone a craven.”

Roderika’s lips parted slightly, her breath hitching as she absorbed his words. Slowly, she nodded, though her face remained bright red, her expression a mix of awe, confusion, and overwhelming fluster.

After a moment of silence, she fidgeted slightly before mumbling under her breath, "C-Can you, um… Take your hand off now?"

Tarnished blinked. "Oh! Yeah, my bad!" He quickly pulled his hand back, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Roderika pouted slightly, looking away as she tried to suppress a small smile.

Marika, who had been watching all of this, clicked her tongue and folded her arms beneath her chest. “Utterly Shameless…”

Still flustered, Roderika quickly busied herself by adjusting her cloak before glancing at Tarnished hesitantly. "You’re leaving now… aren’t you?"

Tarnished nodded as he stood up, dusting himself off. “Yeah. I should get going.” He paused for a moment before offering her a small smile. “But do me a favor, yeah? At least think about what I said.”

Roderika looked up at him, her red eyes flickering with uncertainty. After a moment, she gave a small nod. “I-I will.”

Tarnished smiled, turning to walk away—but before he could take a step, Roderika quickly called out. “Wait!”

He turned back toward her, raising an eyebrow as she hesitated for a second before reaching into her pocket. A moment later, she held out a faintly glowing, translucent blue object—a delicate Spirit Ash.

"The poor thing deserves someone braver than myself." She said softly. "And the spirits… they look rather fondly upon you. It'll be glad of your company, I think, the little'un."

A notification flickered before his eyes.

[Item Acquired: Spirit Jellyfish Ashes]

Tarnished smirked as he took the ashes, flipping the small object between his fingers before storing it away. “Heh, I’ll take good care of it.”

Roderika gave him a small smile in return.

Then, as if mustering the last of her courage, she hesitated for only a second before speaking again.

"Are… Are you going to Stormveil Castle?"

Tarnished hummed in thought before shrugging. "Eventually."

She nodded at that, seeming satisfied with his answer before exhaling softly.

“Oh, if you do, could you… pass on a message for me? If you see the little chrysalids in Stormveil Castle?” She hesitated, her fingers clenching around her cloak before continuing, "Tell them I love them. And that… despite my craven heart, I'm sure I'll be joining their club soon enough."

Tarnished’s smirk faded slightly, his brows furrowing at her words. He studied her for a moment before sighing, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I’ll tell them. But don’t count yourself out too soon, yeah?" He gave her a reassuring smile. "I believe in you, Roderika. You’ve got more strength in you than you realize."

Roderika’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat.

Tarnished turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder one last time. “Stay safe. If you need a place to go, try the Roundtable Hold. You should find refuge there.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “I… I’ll think about it.”

He grinned. "Good."

Then, as he took a step forward, he paused and looked back at her one last time. His expression softened slightly.

"And Roderika?"

She blinked, tilting her head. "Y-Yes?"

"Don’t give up. And don’t you dare go Hollow on me."

She frowned slightly in confusion at the strange phrase, but after a moment of thought, she pieced together the meaning. Her lips trembled slightly before she gave him a small, hesitant nod. "Then… you mustn’t go Hollow either, Sir Tarnished."

Tarnished grinned. "That’s the spirit!"

With that, he whistled sharply, the sound carrying through the air as Torrent materialized in a burst of blue mist. The spectral steed huffed softly, lowering his head slightly as Tarnished grabbed the saddle and pulled himself up in one smooth motion.

Turning back to Roderika one last time, he lifted a hand in farewell. "See you around, Roderika."

She lifted a hand shyly, her cheeks still tinged pink as she waved back. "Farewell… Sir Tarnished."

With a small kick to Torrent’s side, the steed took off, galloping away into the open fields.

Roderika watched him go, her fingers lightly brushing over the top of her head, as if still feeling the ghost of his touch.

Then, with a small smile, she whispered, "Don’t go Hollow… huh?"

Tarnished guided Torrent off the main path, veering right into the side road that wound through the mist-laden forest. The distant cries of crows and the rustling of wind through the skeletal trees filled the air as he rode at a steady pace, the golden glow of the Erdtree still visible in the far distance. 

Stormhill Castle loomed ahead, but he ignored it entirely, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be paying Godrick a visit just yet. As he rode, Marika materialized beside him, floating effortlessly in the air, her arms crossed beneath her ample chest as she cast him a sidelong glance. 

"Thy shameless philandering aside, I do understand thy plan to venture toward that empty farmland before taking down that false Demigod. Yet, I fail to see the purpose. Caelid is a land of little worth to thee—what dost thou seek in that forsaken place?"

Tarnished chuckled under his breath, his golden-tinged azure eyes gleaming with amusement as he nudged Torrent forward. ‘Caelid isn’t the same peaceful place you remember it to be, my lady. There’ve been… Quite a lot of changes.’

Marika’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion creeping into her tone. "Like what, precisely?"

He grinned. ‘Ask Malenia and Radahn.’

She was silent for a moment, as if piecing together the implications of his words. Then, with an exasperated sigh, she closed her eyes. "Those two idiots fought and destroyed the region, didn’t they?"

That nearly broke him. Tarnished bit back a laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly as he struggled to keep himself composed. ‘Destroyed isn’t exactly the word I’d use.’

She let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Then what word wouldst thou use, mine Champion?"

His smirk widened, but he simply shook his head. ‘You’ll see soon enough. Some things are best witnessed firsthand.’

Marika scoffed, clearly unimpressed with his cryptic response, but she said nothing further. Instead, she turned her gaze forward, watching the path ahead as they rode in silence.

After a short while, Tarnished noticed a faint glimmer in the distance—a Grace site nestled beside a worn-down shack. More importantly, he recognized the lone knight standing beside it, clad in battered yet well-maintained armor, his sword resting idly by his side.

‘Bernahl.’ Tarnished thought, already pulling Torrent to a stop.

He dismounted in one smooth motion, the spectral steed dissipating into blue mist as his feet hit the ground. Walking forward, he reached out and activated the Site of Grace, feeling its familiar warmth tethering itself to him.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

With that done, he turned his attention to the knight, stepping forward with an easy gait. “Hey there, nice to meet ya. I’d say my name right about now but, unfortunately, I don’t remember it.”

The grizzled warrior looked up, his sharp, experienced eyes studying Tarnished for a moment before giving a small nod of acknowledgement. His voice was deep and steady as he introduced himself. “I see, well the name’s Bernahl. Tarnished, just like you, I assume.”

There was a brief pause as he examined Tarnished more closely, his gaze flicking to the man’s complete lack of armor before shaking his head slightly. “Let me ask you something. Are you here in the Lands Between to take up the fight? Does your faith in the guidance of Grace hold firm, despite the collapse of the Golden Order?”

Tarnished regarded him for a moment, then shifted his eyes toward Marika, who had reappeared beside Bernahl, arms still crossed and watching him expectantly. She then raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting to see how he would answer.

He turned back to Bernahl with a small grin. “Yeah, suppose it does.”

Bernahl gave an approving nod. “Yes, you're a Tarnished through and through. Takes me back… But that's a quality needed now more than ever.” 

He leaned forward slightly. “Any interest in bearing the torch of my battle arts? All I know is the sword. Picked up a fair few tricks in my time, too. Now's the time to pass 'em on. To a good and proper Tarnished, like you.”

Tarnished hummed in thought before nodding. “Yeah, that sounds good. Teach me Quickstep and Parry.”

Bernahl raised an eyebrow. “Quickstep and Parry, eh? How’d you know I knew those?”

Tarnished smirked slightly and shrugged. “Call it intuition. Could see it in your stance, in your eyes.”

Bernahl studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Hah… You must be quite the experienced warrior yourself to be able to tell.” He paused, then tilted his head slightly. “Then again… That much should’ve been obvious from how you dress.”

Tarnished blinked. “...Come again?”

Bernahl gestured vaguely toward him, his tone dry but amused. “Only the most experienced and confident warrior would ride into battle shirtless, without a shred of armor. Otherwise, he would be a mad fool with no common sense.”

Tarnished’s eyes twitched as then, he heard laughter. Loud, golden, divine laughter.

Marika, the great Queen of the Lands Between, the Eternal Goddess herself, was clutching her stomach, her entire form shaking as she nearly doubled over. “PFFT- Hah…! Ahahahaha! H-Hah! Oh, oh this knight is more correct than he even knows!"

Tarnished clenched his jaw, his face twitching as Bernahl, completely unaware of the divine mocking, simply continued on as if he had stated the most reasonable fact in the world.

Marika wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, her smirk utterly insufferable as she met his glare. "Oh, my Champion~. ‘Tis not often that another hath such a perfect grasp on thy… shall we say, ‘unique’ mindset~?"

Tarnished exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple before waving a dismissive hand. “Right. Okay. Are we gonna start the lesson or what?”

Bernahl chuckled, clearly picking up on his frustration but wisely choosing not to comment. Instead, he rested his hand on his sword and nodded. “Of course. Let us begin, fellow Tarnished warrior.”

Tarnished rolled his shoulders, stepping forward and loosening his stance. Marika, still smiling in amusement, simply crossed her arms and watched as the training began.

‘At least this guy isn’t trying to kill me.’ Tarnished thought dryly, raising his blade in preparation.

Then again… Bernahl did look like he had some strength behind him.

This was gonna be fun.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

—

…

Next Chapter Title: Skills and Ashes.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished moved swiftly, his body low to the ground as he quickstepped past Bernahl’s thrusting greatsword, the massive blade carving through empty air where he had stood a moment prior. 

Without wasting a second, Tarnished twisted his stance, shifting his weight and swinging his Uchigatana in a sharp arc toward Bernahl’s exposed side.

The older Tarnished reacted fast, his instincts honed by years of battle. CLANG! Sparks flew as Bernahl’s sword met Tarnished’s uchigatana mid-swing, deflecting it just in time. 

The impact rattled through both of their arms, but neither backed down. Bernahl retaliated immediately, pivoting his stance and lunging forward with a deadly stab, aiming to pierce Tarnished’s side.

Tarnished’s left hand shot up in response, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade as he twisted it sharply, redirecting the incoming strike in a perfectly timed parry. The force sent Bernahl’s blade skidding off-course, the older warrior momentarily exposed.

Tarnished smirked. He saw his opening.

He feinted another slash, shifting his weight forward just enough to bait Bernahl into raising his weapon defensively. It worked—the veteran knight lifted his sword to block, expecting an immediate counterattack.

But Tarnished never followed through.

Instead, he shifted his grip, his muscles tensing as a familiar power surged through him. A split second later, he muttered under his breath. 

“Unsheath.”

His Uchigatana blurred in the air as he surged forward, the sheer speed of his strike catching Bernahl off guard. The veteran warrior barely had time to react before a deep crimson line formed across his abdomen, the keen edge of the katana slicing through his armor with terrifying precision.

Bernahl stumbled back with a sharp grunt, his left hand instinctively clutching the wound as blood seeped between his fingers. His knees buckled slightly before he fell to one, his breathing heavy. Yet, despite the injury, he let out a rough chuckle.

“I yield.” he admitted, shaking his head with an amused sigh.

Tarnished grinned, flicking his Uchigatana to the side to cleanse it of blood, then smoothly slid it back into its sheath with a satisfying click. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, offering Bernahl his hand.

Bernahl smirked at him before grasping his hand firmly, allowing Tarnished to pull him back to his feet.

The older warrior patted his side with a wince, examining the wound with a critical eye before shaking his head. “Hah… You’re quite the warrior,” he mused, voice filled with genuine respect. “You practically picked up both of the techniques I taught you instantly. It’s almost like… You’d already used them before.”

Tarnished let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh, yeah… Might be something to that.”

His eyes flickered slightly, shifting away from Bernahl toward the System Panel that had just appeared before him. A new section had opened under a [SKILLS] tab.

→ [SKILLS]
— Parry (Deflect incoming attacks with precise timing)
— Quickstep (Dodge and reposition with agility)
— Unsheath (Draw and strike in a single, fluid motion)

Tarnished’s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the information. Non-elemental Ashes of War were now categorized separately as ‘Skills’ meaning he could equip and use multiple at the same time, as long as they weren’t elemental in nature. 

That meant Ashes of War like Storm Stomp or Flaming Strike wouldn’t stack, but he could freely mix things like Parry, Quickstep, and Unsheath without restriction.

‘That’s… insanely useful.’ He thought, immediately recognizing how this differed from the game.

“Of course it is.” Marika’s voice echoed in his mind, her tone carrying a hint of smug satisfaction. “Whatever form thou wert able to view this world from before… ‘Twas but an imitation. This is reality, the now, whilst that was naught but the past.”

Tarnished hummed in agreement, nodding slightly. This changed everything. He would be able to mix and match skills in ways he never could before.

Meanwhile, Bernahl let out a sigh, pulling at the edges of his armor as he inspected his injury. “Well… That was a good fight. But I’ll be needing some time to recover from that one.” He gave Tarnished a pointed look. “I’ll take my payment now.”

“Oh, right. My fault.” Tarnished quickly reached into his soul, pulling out the required Runes and handing them over. Bernahl took them with a nod, slipping them into his own.

“That was a damn fine duel.” Bernahl said, crossing his arms. “You’re already shaping up to be a proper Tarnished Warrior.”

Tarnished smirked. “Glad to hear it.”

Bernahl gave him a final nod of respect before turning away. “If you ever want to learn more, you know where to find me.”

With that, Tarnished whistled sharply, raising his left hand as Torrent’s summoning ring shimmered with energy. In a flash of pale blue mist, the spectral steed materialized before him, snorting softly in greeting.

Tarnished patted Torrent’s neck before swinging himself onto his back, then turned his gaze northward, toward the dark expanse of the forest ahead.

“Alrighty then…” He muttered to himself, tightening his grip on the reins. “Next stop, murder dungeon.”

“‘Murder dungeon’?” Marika asked in confusion, prompting him to nod his head.

“Murder dungeon.”

With a click of his tongue, Torrent shot forward, carrying him deeper into the woods. Tarnished rode through the quiet, wind-swept woods, Torrent’s hooves barely making a sound against the soft grass and dirt. 

The further he went, the more secluded the path became, the trees growing thicker, their twisting roots reaching deep into the ground like ancient veins of the earth. After a few minutes of navigating through the dense foliage, he spotted something peculiar—a small, hidden corner of a cliffside.

A large, bowl-like structure rested at the base of the cliff, its stone form ancient and weathered, with roots coiling around its base like a living thing, as if the earth itself sought to claim it. Within the hollow of the bowl, nestled among the tangled roots, lay a faintly glowing item.

Tarnished dismounted, stepping forward as he reached down to retrieve it. The moment his fingers brushed against the object, a faint golden shimmer pulsed across its surface. 

[Item Acquired: Strength-Knot Crystal Tear]

He lifted it into his palm, inspecting it carefully. The Strength-Knot Crystal Tear was a small, crimson-tinged crystal, its core appearing almost like a frozen drop of molten gold, locked in time. It had an odd weight to it, as if holding something much greater within.

“Hmm… Not bad, right where I thought it’d be.” Tarnished muttered, turning the Tear over in his hand.

A golden shimmer flared beside him, and in the blink of an eye, Marika materialized, her elegant form hovering just slightly above the ground as usual. Instead of standing at her full height, however, she leaned forward slightly, bending at the waist to examine the crystal tear up close.

The movement caused her bountiful chest to press against the loose fabric of her divine robe, the already revealing garment doing little to conceal her ample curves.

Tarnished barely held back a smirk as he tilted his head slightly. ‘Is this intentional? Or is she just that careless?’

If Marika heard his thoughts, she made no ove to show it as her golden eyes scanned the Tear with scrutiny before letting out a soft “Hmph.” She shifted slightly, placing one hand on her hip as she spoke.

“This is a Crystal Tear… A rather crude means for lesser beings to draw strength from mine own Erdtree’s fading gifts.” Her lips curled slightly in mild disdain. “Tis naught but a fleeting and shameful method to borrow power that should rightfully be earned. But… given the current state of things, I suppose we must make do.”

Tarnished rolled the Tear between his fingers before shrugging. “Might come in useful at some point.” He looked at her with a teasing smirk. “And who am I to deny myself such a handy tool?”

Marika scoffed softly, her lips curving into an arrogant smirk. “Yes… It may offer thy weakling self but a mere droplet of strength—strength which thou so desperately lack.”

Tarnished raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh? That so? Guess I should just start learning from the strongest person I know then, huh?”

Marika’s smugness only grew, her eyes half-lidded with confidence. “Hmph. A wise decision. I shall have thee know, as the God-Queen of this world, there are very few beings in all existence who could hope to match me.”

Tarnished hummed in thought. “I can think of a few.”

Marika’s smirk faltered slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. “Oh? And who might these so-called equals of mine be?”

Tarnished lifted a finger. “Well, Godfrey, obviously.”

She nodded, her pride undiminished. “A fair comparison. After all, he was once my consort—the first Elden Lord. Few could rival him in his prime.”

“Radagon.” The black haired man continued.

Marika narrowed her eyes slightly, a strange look flickering across her face. “An expected answer… Yet one that carries more meaning than thou knowest.”

Tarnished gained a knowing look at that but let it go. Instead, he grinned and added, “A fully grown Fire Giant.”

Marika’s expression instantly soured as her arms uncrossed immediately, her golden gaze turning sharp as she shot him a deeply offended glare.

“Thou wouldst dare compare ME to those filthy, wretched, godless GIANTS?”

Tarnished barely held back his laughter. “I mean, they’re pretty damn strong.”

Marika clicked her tongue in irritation. “Hmph. Mind thy manners, mine Champion. Lest I need to teach thee some proper respect.”

Tarnished let out a chuckle, turning to summon Torrent once more. “Hey, if it’s lessons from you, I’d probably enjoy them.”

Marika blinked as her gaze flicked toward him, one delicate eyebrow raising slightly in amusement as the corner of her lips twitched upward. “Hoh~?”

A golden glow shimmered faintly in her eyes as she placed a single slender finger against her chin, tilting her head ever so slightly. “A bold claim. Mayhap thou art a greater pervert than I had first assumed.”

Tarnished smirked as he mounted Torrent. “I’m not the one wearing that robe.”

Marika’s expression didn’t change at first. But then, her golden brows knitted together slightly in mock offense.

“What, pray tell, dost thou mean by that?”

Tarnished gestured vaguely toward her with one hand while gripping Torrent’s reins with the other. “That thing leaves practically nothing to the imagination.”

Marika crossed her arms with a haughty scoff. “I shall have thee know, these are divine robes—woven by the greatest Seamstress in all the Lands Between, crafted with the finest silk known to god or man.”

Tarnished tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Uh-huh. And yet, there’s so little of it. Can’t be that comfortable to wear. Aren’t you cold?”

Marika’s golden eyes flashed slightly, her pride instantly flaring.

“A GODDESS does not get ‘Cold’.”

Tarnished outright laughed this time, shaking his head. “If you say so~.”

Marika merely huffed, turning her head away dramatically, arms still folded as she floated beside him with all the grace and confidence of a queen.

Tarnished grinned, kicking his heels gently against Torrent’s sides. The spectral steed let out a soft huff before bolting forward, weaving through the forest path once more as he continued his journey.

Tarnished rode through the dense forest, the wind whispering through the canopy above as Torrent’s hooves lightly tread upon the mossy ground. The ride was peaceful for a time, a stark contrast to the bloodshed and battle he had just endured. 

But despite the silence, his sharp eyes constantly scanned the area for anything useful and his efforts were soon rewarded. He spotted several patches of mushrooms growing along the roots of an ancient tree, their earthy scent filling the air. 

Without hesitation, he dismounted, plucking them from the soil before slipping them into his inventory. A few steps later, he found strands of root resin clinging to a fallen log, their sticky texture leaving faint marks on his fingertips as he gathered them.

Then, he stumbled upon a rare sight. A small clearing nestled between two rocky outcroppings held a patch of eight flowers which he recognised as Miquella’s Lilies, their soft golden petals swaying gently in the wind.

Tarnished whistled low. "Holy shit, now that’s lucky."

Marika materialized beside him, her golden eyes shifting toward the delicate flowers with a raised brow, not recognising them and assuming them to be a newly emerging species that was birthed in her absence. “A mere flower hath earned such enthusiasm from thee?”

Tarnished grinned as he crouched, carefully plucking each one before tucking them away. “You have no idea how useful these are. They’re part of a recipe for Sleep Cracked Pots.”

Marika’s brow arched slightly. “Sleep?”

“Yeah. Ever been hit by sleep buildup? Shit’s broken.”

She scoffed softly, shaking her head in mild exasperation. “Hmph. Yet another unorthodox and underhanded method… But I suppose ‘tis no longer surprising coming from thee.”

Tarnished just chuckled, standing up and dusting himself off before summoning Torrent once more. He mounted the spectral steed and continued forward, his mind already set on his next objective.

The trees thinned as Tarnished reached the crest of a hill, revealing a clearing bathed in the golden light of the Erdtree’s glow. The land was still, save for the rhythmic sound of heavy hooves upon grass.

A knight patrolled the clearing on a majestic steed clad in golden armor, his longsword gleaming faintly in the warm light. His posture was straight, disciplined, radiating an air of duty and unwavering faith.

Tarnished’s gaze locked onto the knight, his lips curling into a grin. "Finally found you."

Marika materialized beside him, floating slightly off the ground with her arms folded beneath her ample chest. “Hmm? And why, pray tell, hast thou taken interest in one of mine own knights?”

Tarnished stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders as he surveyed the armored figure below. "It’s not the knight I’m after."

Marika narrowed her eyes slightly. “Then what?”

"The ‘Golden Vow’ Ash of War he’s carrying."

A flicker of understanding crossed her expression before she sighed lightly, tilting her head slightly as she read his mind. “Is killing him truly necessary? 'Tis a mere rudimentary spell, one I could teach thee with ease; if thou wouldst only use thy runes to enhance thy Faith, as I hath already instructed thee to do.”

Tarnished snorted. "Ehhh… not really interested in dumping a bunch of levels into Faith right now." He leaned forward slightly, resting an arm lazily over Torrent’s neck. "It’s not as strong as the incantation version, but the Ash of War works just fine. Cheaper. More convenient."

Marika rolled her eyes, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Hmph. Ever the pragmatist.”

Then, her expression softened just slightly. “Very well… But at least grant him mercy. He hath done naught but fulfill his duty. There is no need to stain thy hands further this day.”

Tarnished glanced at her for a moment before shrugging. "Fine."

Then, without further hesitation, he kicked Torrent forward, charging straight for the knight. The knight immediately took notice of the half-naked madman barreling toward him at full speed. His posture stiffened, and in an instant, his blade was raised high, shimmering with golden light.

“Golden Vow!”

A radiant aura surged from his blade, enveloping both himself and his steed in a golden glow. The sheer presence of his unwavering faith caused the air around him to shimmer with power.

Tarnished, however, was unfazed; his grin widened as he leaned forward, Torrent accelerating beneath him like a bolt of lightning.

Then, just before impact, Tarnished jumped. He vaulted off Torrent’s back with a powerful leap, his body twisting in midair before colliding full force with the knight’s chest.

“HRKK-?!”

The impact sent them both tumbling off the golden steed, rolling across the dirt in a mess of limbs and clanking armor. The knight tried to regain his balance, but Tarnished was already upon him, pinning him to the ground.

“L-Let go of me, knave-!”

Tarnished didn’t listen.

He wrapped his arm around the knight’s neck, tightening his grip as he applied steady pressure. The knight struggled, his gauntleted hands clawing at Tarnished’s forearm, but his movements grew sluggish as the oxygen drained from his lungs.

Marika appeared nearby, watching the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Unruly… But effective."

Tarnished smirked. "That’s my brand."

Seconds later, the knight’s body went limp, unconscious.

Tarnished released his hold, breathing heavily as he sat up, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. He looked down at his handiwork—an armored warrior, felled without a single lethal blow.

Then, his eyes flicked toward the ground where the knight’s longsword had fallen.

He reached for it, lifting the blade to eye level. The weight felt good in his grip—solid, well-balanced, and still humming with the remnants of divine energy.

A notification flashed in his vision.

[Acquired: Ash of War – Golden Vow]

Tarnished grinned wildly, rolling his shoulders as he took a moment to admire the weapon.

"I can live with that description."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

—

…

Next Chapter Title: Touched by Death.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW  

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

This would have been out sooner but life has a funny way of fuckin with ya, what can ya do

Also chap’s longer than usual, so you better enjoy…

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished stood up from the dirt, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. His muscles ached slightly from the earlier scuffle, but nothing a quick rest wouldn’t fix. Before he could get moving again, Marika materialized beside him, arms crossed beneath her chest, her golden gaze scrutinizing him with mild curiosity.

“Where now?” she inquired, her voice smooth and patient, as if indulging a particularly stubborn child.

Instead of answering, Tarnished’s grin widened. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he turned to her and posed a question of his own. “What’s cooler than ONE Uchigatana?”

Marika’s expression barely shifted, though one delicate brow arched slightly at the absurdity of his question. “…I know not. What?”

Tarnished inhaled deeply, dramatically raising a single finger skyward, before shouting at the top of his lungs, “TWO Uchigatanas!”

Marika blinked.

Then she simply stared at him.

“…Thou art but a child.”

He ignored her flat response, already turning on his heel and sprinting forward with boundless enthusiasm. Marika watched him go, her confusion deepening as he ran straight toward the edge of a nearby cliff.

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Tarnished? I do hope thou dost realize that is a-” Her sentence cut off when she noticed he wasn’t stopping.

Her eyes widened. “-A CLIFF?!”

He didn’t slow. If anything, he sped up.

Marika’s confusion quickly morphed into frustration. “What in mine own name art thou doing? Art thou blind? Wilt thou merely plummet to thy doom and call it a ‘shortcut’?”

Tarnished simply cackled, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he shouted, “Of course I have a plan!”

“And what, pray tell, might that be?”

He was almost at the edge now, his speed unwavering.

“JUMP!”

Marika’s mouth opened slightly, stunned by his sheer audacity. She repeated the word back, as if trying to process whether she had truly heard correctly.

“…Jump?”

And then he did.

Tarnished launched himself off the cliff’s edge, his body twisting midair as he performed an unnecessary but stylish front flip. The wind howled around him as gravity yanked him downward, and for a brief moment, he felt truly weightless. 

The golden glow of the Erdtree bathed the landscape around him in divine radiance, and then…

THUD.

Tarnished crashed into the ground below in a textbook superhero landing, one knee down, fist to the dirt, his other arm outstretched dramatically to the side. A plume of dust kicked up around him from the impact.

A second later, a sharp throb shot through his legs.

“Argh-! Damn it.” He grimaced, rolling his shoulders before slowly beginning to push himself up. “…Okay. Ow. Yeah, that hurt… Deadpool was right, leave the Superhero landings for the Superheroes…”

Marika materialized beside him almost instantly, her arms still folded but her head tilted slightly downward, regarding him with a blank expression.

Then, with the patience of a woman who had long since run out of patience, she exhaled slowly through her nose and spoke.

“…I know not who this ‘Deadpool’ is, but it soundeth to me that he is far wiser than thee, mine Champion.”

Tarnished chuckled dryly, still patting the ache out of his legs. “You have no idea how funny that is with context. Still though, he was right. Superhero landings are a bad idea. Bet that would’ve shattered my legs if I didn’t have the system to eat the damage for me.”

Marika’s expression barely shifted, but there was the slightest twitch at the corner of her mouth as she watched him drink a Crimson flask. She rubbed her temples briefly before crossing her arms again.

“By the Erdtree, thou art a reckless fool.”

Tarnished simply grinned and dusted himself off. “A reckless fool with a plan!”

She huffed, shaking her head. “’Twas no plan. ’Twas insanity given physical form.”

Tarnished groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering ache from the fall. He shot Marika a flat look, rubbing his temple. “You’re really using the disappointed mother voice on me right now?”

Marika blinked, caught completely off guard. “The what?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

She stared at him, flabbergasted, as he turned away from her and faced the cliff he had just leapt from. His gaze trailed downward toward the rocky mountainside, where two massive stone doors stood embedded into the cliff face, flanked by crumbling statues and old, rusted torches.

Marika followed his line of sight, her golden eyes narrowing as she recognized the entrance to a catacomb. She scoffed. “Surely thou dost not mean to enter a place of burial?”

Tarnished smirked slightly, already walking toward the entrance. “Oh, I very much do.”

Marika let out an exasperated sigh and floated after him. “And why, pray tell, dost thou seek to desecrate such hallowed ground? Surely thou hast not fallen so low as to stoop to grave robbing?”

Tarnished held up a single finger. “First of all, if I were robbing a grave, I don’t see why not. It’s not like the dead are using any of this stuff.”

Marika’s expression instantly flattened into a deadpan stare, her golden brows knitting together as she regarded him with clear disappointment. “…As shameless as ever, mine Champion.”

He grinned, holding up a second finger. “Second, if you think these catacombs are just burial sites, then I hate to break it to you, but they’re not exactly how you remember them.”

Marika’s expression shifted slightly, curiosity flickering across her regal features. “…And what dost thou mean by that?”

Tarnished hummed, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s easier if I just show you.”

Without another word, he stepped forward and pushed against the massive stone doors. They groaned in protest before slowly swinging open, revealing a dark, yawning tunnel lined with cracked bricks and damp stone. A heavy, suffocating air rushed outward, thick with the scent of dust, rot, and something else—something wrong.

Tarnished inhaled sharply, his nose wrinkling slightly at the unpleasant stench. Marika materialized beside him, her arms still crossed, but her face twisted slightly as if she, too, could sense something unnatural lingering in the air.

Her golden gaze swept over the dimly lit corridor beyond, and her expression quickly darkened.

“…Something is wrong.”

She sniffed the air again, her frown deepening. Then her eyes suddenly widened, and her posture stiffened. “This stench… This feeling… Necromancy?!”

Tarnished shot her a knowing look. “Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.”

Marika’s nose curled in sheer disgust. “How in mine own name hath the dead been twisted in such a foul manner?!”

Tarnished exhaled through his nose as he stepped inside. “Not entirely sure, but if I had to guess… it probably has something to do with Deathroot.”

Marika’s confusion deepened. “Deathroot? What nonsense dost thou speak? What in the Lands Between is ‘Deathroot’?”

Tarnished slowed his steps slightly, his expression turning thoughtful as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Damn, now you’re makin’ me regret never paying attention to the lore or watching Vaati more. I wish I could explain it better. I was never really a lore expert. But from what I remember… it’s tied to Godwyn.”

Silence.

Marika froze mid-step, her entire form going rigid. “…Godwyn?” Her voice was eerily quiet, the usual mirth and arrogance stripped away in an instant. “What does mine own son have to do with this?”

Tarnished didn’t answer immediately. His gaze flickered downward, his lips pressing into a firm line. After a long pause, he sighed, walking deeper into the catacombs.

Not far inside, he spotted a faint golden shimmer. A Site of Grace rested against the cold stone wall, its gentle radiance standing in stark contrast to the suffocating darkness of the catacombs. He reached out and placed his hand upon it.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

The familiar warmth coursed through him, but his mind wasn’t on the Grace itself. Instead, he turned his head slightly, casting a side glance at Marika, whose face was still unreadable.

After another long moment of silence, he finally spoke.

“…Fate really hasn’t been kind to your family, has it?”

His voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual bravado.

“Godwyn least of all.”

Marika did not reply.

She simply stared into the abyss of the catacombs ahead, golden eyes shadowed by something distant—something Tarnished wasn’t sure he had ever seen in them before.

Regret. Regret and mourning.

Tarnished let out a satisfied sigh as he sat down at the Site of Grace, the warm golden light washing over him like a comforting embrace. Before him, a small menu materialized, listing various options. His eyes flicked over them before settling on one in particular.

[Upgrade Flask]

Selecting it, he felt a faint tug within himself as the system guided his actions. The Golden Seed he had gathered earlier pulsed in his inventory, and a moment later, it dissolved into radiant motes of light that merged with his flasks. He watched as the number of charges increased by one. 

Without hesitation, he assigned it to his Crimson Flask, ensuring he had another dose of healing at the ready.With that done, he stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders before stepping away from the Grace. 

The atmosphere of the catacomb pressed down on him, thick and unnatural, the faint stench of decay hanging in the stagnant air. His sharp eyes immediately locked onto a familiar sight—the heavy, rune-carved door to the main chamber, sealed shut.

Marika materialized beside him, her golden eyes scanning the scene with a still solemn expression. “That passage ahead is barred to thee, my Champion. However, if these catacombs still follow the design of mine own decree, then the mechanism to unseal it should lie deeper within these halls.”

Tarnished shot her a side glance, arching a brow. "Oh? So now you’re helping me out? Thought you were against me ‘desecrating sacred burial grounds’ or whatever.”

She exhaled through her nose, arms crossing beneath her chest as she gazed down the darkened corridor. 

“That may still be the case, but mine own curiosity outweighs my distaste. If this ‘Deathroot’ is, as I suspect, a corruption of my Erdtree’s divine roots, then I must see it for myself. If there is a core to this plague within these catacombs, it shall be found deep within the root network beneath.”

Tarnished studied her for a moment, watching the flickering torch light reflect off her golden hair, before shrugging. “Fair enough. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. It ain’t pretty.”

With that, he turned and strode further into the catacomb, his boots barely making a sound against the damp stone. The narrow halls were lined with carved recesses, each filled with skeletal remains long since abandoned by time. 

The air was thick with dust, and faint whispers—likely tricks of the wind—seemed to echo in the distance, weaving through the labyrinthine passageways. The deeper he went, the heavier the air became, as if the very walls themselves rejected his presence.

A few feet ahead, nestled in the dim light of the torches lining the walls, a trio of skeletons lay scattered across the ground, their bones dull with age. But Tarnished knew better than to trust the stillness of the dead.

Marika appeared beside him once more, her expression shifting into one of disdain. “Dost mine eyes deceive me… or art those truly what I suspect?”

Tarnished smirked, already drawing the Golden Order Longsword he had looted earlier. "Oh, they are."

Raising the blade skyward, he called out its sacred command. "Golden Vow!"

A brilliant golden light radiated from the sword, washing over him in a shimmering wave. His muscles tensed, his skin tingling with divine reinforcement. His attack and defense surged as an aura of warm, celestial power enveloped his form.

He clenched his fists experimentally, feeling the newfound strength surging through him. A grin tugged at his lips. "Now that's what I'm talking about."

As if sensing his presence, the skeletons twitched violently before their bones began to rattle. One by one, they rose, jagged rusted blades clutched in their bony hands. Hollow sockets burned with eerie, unnatural light as they turned to face him.

Tarnished wasted no time.

He shot forward, blade flashing as he cleaved through the first skeleton with a single downward arc. The golden light of the longsword burned through the undead abomination, reducing its bones to cinders before it could even let out a sound. 

The second lunged at him with a crude short sword, but he sidestepped effortlessly, twisting his wrist to drive his blade into its ribcage. The third managed to get behind him, and before he could turn, a sharp pain shot through his left shoulder—jagged bone scraping against flesh. 

He hissed in annoyance, twisting his body and retaliating with a vicious backhanded slash that bisected the skeleton at the waist. Its torso clattered to the ground, writhing before fading into golden dust. 

Marika’s voice rang out, filled with wry amusement. “Tsk. A mere mutt of bone managed to bite thee?”

Tarnished exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulder as the wound faded thanks to his Golden Vow’s residual blessing. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, golden girl.”

She smirked but said nothing, watching as he pressed forward.

The catacombs stretched deeper, winding corridors giving way to more skeletal guardians. Tarnished cut them down swiftly, moving with purpose. Eventually, he entered a large chamber with a noticeable drop leading further down. 

Without hesitation, he leapt, landing in a crouch before immediately impaling a yet-to-rise skeleton with a swift stab. To his right, a smaller, unassuming passage caught his eye.

Marika appeared once more, her gaze narrowing slightly. “Strange… Why would such a passage exist? These catacombs were constructed with strict design in mind.”

Tarnished merely chuckled, stepping into the tight corridor. “Don’t ask me. You’re the one who had them built, not me.”

She scoffed. “Aye, but I could hardly oversee each and every one constructed across mine entire domain.”

Humming thoughtfully, he emerged from the passage into a large chamber. The walls were lined with eerie blue flora, their faint glow illuminating the dark space. Nestled among them was a single Grave Glovewort, its petals pulsing softly.

[Acquired: Grave Glovewort (1)]

Tarnished grinned and plucked the plant, stowing it away in his inventory. "Nice. This'll be useful."

Pushing forward, he found another tight passageway leading to a precarious overhang. A single corpse lay slumped over the ledge, and even from a distance, he could see the glint of an object resting within its bony grasp.

His grin widened.

Approaching the body, he reached down and pried the item from its cold, lifeless fingers. The moment he held it up, a notification flashed across his vision:

[Acquired: Uchigatana]

His smirk turned into an outright grin as he wasted no time equipping it in his left hand, placing his first Uchigatana in his right. He spun both blades experimentally, reveling in the newfound balance between them.

Then, with no shame whatsoever, he giggled.

Marika sighed heavily beside him, rubbing her temple. “By the Erdtree, thou art a child.”

Tarnished simply grinned. “You don’t get it. Every man dreams of wielding two katanas and cutting down hordes of the undead.”

She scoffed, shaking her head in bemusement. “Hmph. If this is truly the measure of a warrior’s ambition, then mine faith in mankind dwindles by the second.”

Tarnished merely chuckled, twirling both blades once before sheathing them in unison. “You say that now, but you’ll see. This is gonna be fun.”

With that, he strode forward, twin blades resting comfortably in his hands, eager to put his newfound weapons to the test.

Tarnished took a deep breath, steadying himself before taking the plunge. He leapt off the ledge, landing with a dull thud on the stone floor below. The moment his feet touched the ground, the air around him grew heavy with unnatural energy, and the eerie clatter of bones echoed through the chamber.

Five skeletons—three melee warriors and two archers—lurched to life from the scattered remains littering the floor. Their hollow sockets burned with eerie, spectral light as they turned their skulls toward him, jagged weapons and bows at the ready.

He ignored them.

Instead of engaging, Tarnished bolted forward, sprinting past the awakening undead with a single goal in mind. The flickering torchlight barely illuminated the far side of the chamber, but his sharp eyes locked onto what he was looking for—a stone lever nestled within a small alcove.

Marika materialized beside him, leaning lazily against the chamber wall, her arms crossed. “That is good and all, my Champion… But mayhap thou shouldst consider the half-dozen foul undead about to rip thee to shreds?”

Tarnished smirked, his hands tightening around the hilts of his twin blades. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

With that, he lunged for the lever, yanking it down with a sharp clunk . A distant whirring sound followed, the vibrations reverberating through the walls. He nodded, satisfied. “The door should be open now.”

Marika arched a brow. “Aye, and thy fate sealed, if thou dost not act.”

A guttural rattle signaled the first skeleton’s approach. Tarnished twisted his body just in time, narrowly avoiding a jagged rusted sword that came slashing at his side. He countered in an instant.

One fluid motion.

His right-hand Uchigatana cut a clean arc through the skeleton’s ribcage, slicing it in half with a single swipe. Before its upper body even hit the ground, his left-hand Uchigatana came down in a brutal, crushing blow, caving in its skull before the foul thing could reassemble itself.

Marika hummed in approval. “Efficient.”

Tarnished rolled his shoulders, an easy grin spreading across his lips. "Told you, two katanas are way cooler than one."

He pivoted on his heel, shifting into a wide stance as the remaining skeletons closed in. One rushed him from the side, jagged axe raised, but he parried with his left blade, using the deflection to maneuver into a counter-slash with his right—shearing the undead warrior’s spine clean through.

Another came from behind. He twisted just in time to drive a backwards thrust into its sternum before whipping his left blade around to cleave through the remaining vertebrae.

Twice the blades, twice the carnage.

His new fighting style flowed seamlessly, each blade moving in perfect tandem.

One skeleton swung at him wildly, but he sidestepped, ducking low before surging up in a powerful upward slash, cleaving straight through its skull. With a flick of his wrists, he seamlessly transitioned into a downward X slash, shattering the last melee combatant into splintered bone and dust.

Pain.

A sharp, burning sting flared across his back as two arrows embedded themselves deep into his shoulder blades. He stumbled slightly, cursing under his breath as he twisted his body, spotting the two skeleton archers standing a few feet away.

He sprinted straight towards them, weaving in and between a few arrows as a moment later he was upon them. All it took was one unsheath to slash one in twain followed by a running cross slash to kill the other and the battle was over.

As he took a moment to breath and regain his bottomed out stamina, he heard Marika click her tongue in disapproval. “Tsk… Thou didst let thine guard down. Truly, I expected better.”

Tarnished grumbled as he reached behind him, wincing as he yanked the arrows out. "Yes, Mom.”

A beat of silence.

Marika blinked. “…Mother?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, smirking despite the lingering sting in his back. “I mean, if you’re gonna lecture me like one, might as well commit, right?”

Her golden eyes narrowed, though there was a glint of amusement hidden within them. “Hmph. If ‘tis a mother’s discipline that thou requirest, then mayhap I should embrace the role. Perchance, I shall be thy ‘Mommy’ instead.”

Tarnished burst into laughter, clutching his ribs as he doubled over. "Don’t threaten me with a good time!"

Marika smirked, shaking her head in amusement. “A fool, through and through.”

With the last of the skeletons felled, he stretched his shoulders and turned toward the chamber exit.

The heavy stone doors at the far end of the catacombs now stood slightly ajar, the fog wall just beyond them shimmering faintly.

This was it.

Marika floated beside him, her expression turning serious as she regarded the sealed chamber. “This place… the roots of mine own Erdtree doth run deep within these walls, yet…” She frowned slightly, golden eyes narrowing. “Something… is amiss.”

Tarnished stepped closer, passing through the fog wall. As soon as he entered, he could tell something was off, the air was different— wrong.

There was something unnatural clinging to the roots of the Erdtree’s subterranean network. The once-pristine golden glow of the divine wood was tainted , darkened with a sickly hue, writhing.

It was rotting.

Marika’s voice was quieter this time, almost contemplative. “…I understand now. This ‘Deathroot’ thou spake of… Truly, ‘tis a blight upon mine Erdtree. A sickness.”

Tarnished nodded. “Yeah. And it all leads back to Godwyn.”

Before she could respond, a shift in the air silenced them both.

A body rose from the ground. A lithe, shadowed form materialized within the boss arena, draped in midnight-black armor, its movements eerily silent —as if the very air itself refused to acknowledge its existence.

Then, a boss health bar appeared at the bottom of Tarnished’s vision.

[Black Knife Assassin] – (55%)

Marika froze. Her entire form went rigid, her golden irises burning with sheer, unfiltered rage.

“No… This cannot be. Mine own eyes must deceive me.”

Tarnished narrowed his gaze, gripping his katanas tighter. “They’re not.”

Marika clenched her jaw, her hands trembling at her sides. Then, her voice came—low and venomous , dripping with cold fury.

“A Black Knife… A wretched coward who partook in the foul betrayal of my son…” She bared her teeth, a rare snarl gracing her divine features. “My Champion. Cut down this filth this instant. Leave naught but dust in thy wake.”

Tarnished nodded, his usual playful demeanor giving way to something far sharper , far deadlier .

His golden eyes gleamed as he lowered into a stance.

"Of course. Consider it done. "

Tarnished wasted no time. The moment he stepped through the fog, the Black Knife Assassin lunged.

A blur of midnight-black fabric, a streak of silver death. The assassin closed the distance in an instant, their dagger flashing like a viper’s fang.

Tarnished barely twisted his body in time, the cold steel of the enchanted blade whistling past his ribs by mere inches. He countered immediately, both Uchigatanas flashing forward in a vicious cross-slash.

But he hit nothing but air.

The assassin was gone .

Marika clicked her tongue. “Tch. These wretched curs… They never fight with honor.”

Tarnished gritted his teeth, quickly pivoting as his eyes darted through the dim chamber, trying to spot his foe. Then, there was a flicker of movement…

‘There!’

He twisted just in time to parry another incoming strike, the clang of metal against metal ringing through the catacomb’s chamber. The assassin’s dagger scraped against his katana’s edge, sparks flashing between them as the two warriors locked eyes.

No words were exchanged. 

A relentless, seamless dance of blade against blade.

The assassin was fast. Unnaturally fast. Their footwork was soundless, their strikes precise and lethal . But Tarnished kept up, weaving through the onslaught with Quickstep and well-timed rolls.

The two of them clashed, then separated. Clashed again , then separated once more. Their blades met mid-air with brutal efficiency, neither willing to yield an inch of ground.

Marika observed in silence, her arms folded as she hovered just above him. Despite her usual smug demeanor, her golden eyes burned with intense focus. “A dance of death, indeed… Yet, take heed, mine Champion. This foe is not as the others thou hast faced.”

Tarnished exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip. “Yeah, I noticed.”

The assassin suddenly vanished . Tarnished’s pupils shrank—his instincts screamed.

Behind him.

He twisted on his heel, both blades already moving—Too slow.

A flash of red. A blade wreathed in eerie, black-and-gold energy.

Destined Death.

Marika’s voice roared through his mind. “DODGE! DODGE, NOW!”

He reacted instantly , throwing himself to the side as the Black Knife Assassin unleashed a flying slash of Destined Death, the corrupted golden arc tearing through the air with a hiss.

The sheer force of the swing sent dust and embers spiraling around them, the roots embedded in the walls blackening as the lingering power of that forbidden Rune corrupted everything it touched.

Marika clenched her fists, her divine form trembling with rage. “Foul wretches! Even now, they wield his stolen power…!”

Tarnished, catching his breath, narrowed his eyes at the assassin as they shifted back into a ready stance. “That was close.”

Marika’s tone was sharper now, more urgent. “Watered down as it may be, that dagger still holds fragments of the Rune of Death. If thou art struck down by it… There is no guarantee that even mine own Grace could restore thee.”

His grip on his blades tightened slightly. That meant…

“Permadeath.”

Marika’s gaze darkened. “Aye.”

Tarnished let out a slow breath, refocusing. His usual reckless abandon faded into something colder. Sharper.

“Alright…” He muttered, rolling his shoulders. “No more slip-ups.”

He adjusted his stance, his mind calculating. If he couldn’t afford a single mistake, then he’d just have to force one from the assassin instead.

With renewed focus, he pressed the attack.

The assassin was fast, but Tarnished was faster now, moving with calculated efficiency. He dodged with minimal motion, Quickstepping through slashes, rolling under swipes, retaliating with swift counters.

But he wasn’t just reacting, he was leading. The assassin, for all their skill, was still following his tempo.

Step left. Step right. A thrust—parried. A slash—dodged.

Tarnished smirked. ‘ Gotcha, Bitch!’

He saw the opening. The Black Knife Assassin, perhaps growing frustrated, overcommitted on a forward stab.

Too deep.

Too exposed.

Tarnished’s muscles coiled, then he struck. His right Uchigatana snapped forward, catching the assassin’s wrist with surgical precision, knocking their dagger off course. In the same breath, his left Uchigatana followed, slamming into their chest, stabbing clean through their heart.

The assassin lurched, their body trembling as blood leaked from the wound. But Tarnished wasn’t done.

His right hand shot forward, snatching the Black Knife from their faltering grip, wrenching it free from their hold and then, in one final, merciless strike—his left blade carved clean through their throat.

The assassin’s head hit the ground with a dull thud and heir body followed a moment later.

Tarnished exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he took a step back. His gaze drifted toward the Black Knife in his hand. A second later, without a word, he tossed it into his inventory. Marika remained silent, her form lingering in the air beside him.

A minute passed before she finally spoke.

“Thank you.”

Her voice was soft. Almost… Vulnerable.

Tarnished turned toward her, brows raised slightly. He grinned, wiping some of the blood from his blade. “Hey, I’m your Champion, aren’t I? Least I could do is meet my Goddess’ expectations.”

A small, breathy chuckle left her lips. Her golden eyes, still carrying traces of past grief, softened just slightly.

“Yes… ‘tis the least thou couldst do.”

Then, in a rare moment, she smiled. “And… Thank you. For not failing me.”

Tarnished gave her a playful salute. “You’re welcome, my Goddess.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Hmm.. Sweet, delicious character development~

…

Next Chapter Title: Why Do I Have to Choose?

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

Hmm.. took longer than expected to get this chapter out…

Then again, I had to write 3 other chapters in between and literally moved countries soo~

Mayhaps the consistent updating schedule is the friends we made along the way!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished patted his clothes clean of dust, exhaling as the last remnants of the battle settled in the dimly lit chamber. A small, familiar notification blinked at the corner of his vision.

[Item Acquired: Assassin’s Crimson Dagger]

His gaze flicked to the floating text before nodding to himself. A useful talisman. He could see himself using it if he ever needed an emergency burst of healing in a fight.

Rolling his shoulders, he let his eyes sweep over the eerie chamber, its walls gnarled with twisted roots that pulsed faintly with unnatural energy. Something was still wrong here, a presence lingering even after the assassin had been dealt with.

Then his eyes landed on it.

At the base of the room, nestled amongst the Erdtree’s roots, was a bulbous, pulsing mass of decay, blackened tendrils digging into the golden bark like a parasite. A sickly mist seemed to waft off of it, the air around it almost thick with something vile.

Before he could comment, Marika materialized beside him, her expression immediately sharpening with recognition.

Her golden eyes narrowed as she tilted her head slightly. “Mine Champion… Get thee closer.”

Tarnished blinked but obeyed, stepping forward cautiously. He wrinkled his nose as the stench of death and stagnation thickened, his instincts screaming that this thing did not belong here.

“…Why?” He asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

She exhaled slightly, arms crossed beneath her chest as she studied the rot-infested root. “Whilst I hold some autonomy, mine senses are… Tethered unto thine own. If I am to understand the nature of this corruption, I must perceive it as thou dost.”

Tarnished hummed at that, kneeling beside the decayed root with curiosity. It was worse up close—it pulsed, like something alive, and he could see thin, hair-like tendrils burrowing into the surrounding roots, as if desperately trying to spread further.

A tumor growing within the Erdtree’s body.

Marika’s lips pressed into a thin line, her hands clenching slightly. “Foul…” she muttered, almost to herself. “This blight… ‘tis not of mine Order.”

“Yeah, no shit…” Tarnished muttered. 

He unsheathed his Uchigatana, gripping the hilt with both hands before hacking into the Deathroot with a swift, clean stroke. The blade bit deep, but the root did not fall away so easily—it was tough, resistant, unnatural.

He clicked his tongue, adjusting his stance before bringing the katana down again. And again. And again.

It took a solid minute of slashing, cutting, and hacking before the bulbous mass finally tore free, a wet squelch echoing as he wrenched it from the base of the root. Dark ichor leaked from the severed section, thick and putrid, like something long dead and yet… still struggling to remain.

The moment he held the Deathroot in his hand, he felt an unnatural chill crawl up his spine. The air itself felt heavy, like an unseen force was pulling at the back of his mind.

Tarnished scowled and turned it over in his hand. The black, veined root pulsed ever so slightly, as if still alive. Marika’s gaze darkened as she leaned forward, studying the mass with an unreadable expression.

“…This is no mere decay… Nay, ‘tis something else entirely.”

Her golden irises gleamed as she reached out, though her hand stopped just short of touching it. “…Put it away, mine Champion. ‘Tis best kept safe, until I may discern its true nature.”

Tarnished didn’t argue. If she was worried, then it was better to not keep the thing exposed for long. He opened his inventory and tossed it inside, the cursed root vanishing in a small flicker of golden light.

With a small sigh, he wiped his blade clean against his pants before standing up properly. “Alright. That’s done.”

Turning on his heel, he accessed the system menu, selecting the fast travel option. A flash of golden light enveloped him, and in the blink of an eye—he was back at the Catacombs’ Site of Grace.

The cool night air immediately washed over him, a stark contrast to the stale, death-ridden atmosphere he had just left behind.

He took a slow breath. The sky above was littered with stars, the pale silver light of the moon casting gentle shadows over the clearing. The wind stirred the leaves around him, rustling the distant trees with a whispering hum.

For the second time since landing in the Lands Between, Tarnished… paused.

He let himself take in the moment—the vast sky, the open fields, the sheer beauty of this world. He had always thought the game looked amazing, but living it? Breathing it?

It was something else entirely.

He exhaled. “…Huh. Didn’t expect it to be night already.”

Marika appeared beside him, her golden hair softly glowing beneath the moonlight. She studied him for a moment before speaking.

“So it seems. ‘Tis strange… for time to pass so swiftly, yet thou hast been within this realm for but a single day.”

Tarnished hummed, rolling his shoulders. “Guess I’ve been busy.”

She folded her arms, tilting her head slightly. “Dost thou desire rest? If so, seek it soon. I have no desire to see mine Champion slain by exhaustion and negligence.”

“Nah, I’m fine-” He opened his mouth to argue, but mid-sentence, a yawn tore its way out of him.

Marika raised a brow. “…Truly?”

Tarnished cleared his throat, refusing to acknowledge the betrayal of his own body. “I’m fine.”

She stared at him, expression unreadable. Then she narrowed her eyes slightly, giving him an expectant look.

The kind of look that made it very clear she wasn’t buying a single word of his bullshit.

Tarnished tried to hold her gaze, but… Well. She didn’t blink, she didn’t need to.

The staring contest lasted a grand three seconds before he sighed and groaned in defeat, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine…”

She nodded in satisfaction, turning on her heel as her golden hair shimmered under the moonlight. “Good. Then seek shelter, lest I must watch thee collapse like a fool.”

Tarnished tapped his chin in thought. He needed somewhere safe to sleep, preferably indoors, but he hadn’t reached the Roundtable Hold yet…

Then it clicked.

Snapping his fingers, he smirked. “I’ll crash at the Church of Elleh.”

Marika paused mid-step, glancing at him over her shoulder with a raised brow. “The merchant’s den?”

Tarnished nodded. “Yeah. It’s quiet, it’s got a Grace, and Kale’s chill.”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “Thou dost truly trust that merchant with thine own life?”

He snorted, waving her off. “Of course! Kale’s trustworthy!”

She deadpanned.

“…Thou hast met him but once. For two minutes.”

Tarnished stared at her blankly for a moment, then without another word, he clicked the teleport button.

A flash of golden light engulfed him, and just like that, he was gone.

Marika stood in place, blinking at the empty space where he once was.

Then she sighed heavily, rubbing her temples.

“…Stubborn idiot.”

…

Tarnished reappeared in the dimly lit Church of Elleh, golden light fading around him as his boots touched the cool stone. The old ruins were quiet, save for the soft crackling of the distant campfire where Merchant Kale rested. 

The air was still, the night sky above stretching endlessly, stars glimmering faintly around the pale glow of the moon. Marika materialized beside him, her arms crossed as she tilted her head with an exasperated sigh. “I must insist, mine Champion, that this mayhaps be one of thy less intelligent-”

She abruptly stopped, her expression shifting instantly.

Her golden irises narrowed as her head subtly turned, as if tracking something unseen. A strange, familiar presence had settled upon the church—ancient, cold, and vast as the cosmos itself.

Tarnished felt it too.

A chill ran through his body, not of fear, but recognition. Something—no, someone—was here.

Then, a voice called out.

“This way, Tarnished. May I have a word?”

Tarnished turned, his eyes scanning the shadows of the ruined church.

And then he saw her, perched atop a pile of crumbling rubble, bathed in the eerie glow of her moon, was a pale, four-armed witch.

Her regal blue cloak billowed slightly in the night breeze, her silver hair cascading down her shoulder like strands of woven starlight. Misty fog curled at her feet, dancing lazily across the church floor as the temperature seemed to drop slightly.

Her gaze—a deep, otherworldly azure—met his own, unreadable as ever.

“Ranni…” Marika muttered when she laid eyes on her wayward daughter, her face darkened as her voice was filled with far too many emotions.

On the other hand, Tarnished’s face lit up immediately. “Wife!”

Ranni froze.

Marika blinked. Then her expression darkened considerably.

“Wife?” She repeated, her voice slow, questioning—and carrying just the faintest hint of danger. “Mine rebellious, traitorous daughter?”

Ranni, for her part, was entirely caught off guard. Her normally composed expression faltered, her brows subtly knitting together as she stared at him.

“…W-Wife?” She echoed, clearly trying to process the absurdity of the claim.

Tarnished simply crossed his arms, nodding confidently. “Wife.”

Marika visibly twitched, a slow, deep inhale filling her lungs as she tried— tried —to process the sheer audacity of her champion.

Ranni, meanwhile, let out a small, exasperated sigh, closing her eyes momentarily before responding. “I believe thou art mistaken, Tarnished. This is the first time we hath met.”

Tarnished simply grinned, completely unbothered by the skepticism. “I don’t let space and time limit me in my choices.”

Ranni tilted her head slightly, her celestial features shifting in intrigue. “…Is that so?”

He nodded. “Besides, I’ve got a gut feeling that we were meant to be. Call it… Fate.”

For the first time since appearing, Ranni’s second astral face twitched slightly, her spectral eyes subtly widening in what could only be interpreted as flustered surprise. Her primary form remained still, composed—but he could tell.

A smirk crept across Tarnished’s lips as he pointed at her face. “You’re blushing.”

“…Thou art mistaken.” She replied, looking away slightly.

At this, Marika abruptly appeared right beside Ranni, arms crossed as she practically loomed over the smaller witch. Her golden gaze was sharp, her posture radiating a level of exasperation and disapproval so strong that it could likely shatter stone if she willed it.

Tarnished could practically feel the intensity of her stare boring into him.

Tarnished watched as Ranni cleared her throat, a delicate motion that betrayed just the slightest bit of fluster beneath her composed exterior. Then, with a graceful tilt of her head, she shifted her posture slightly before addressing him once more.

“Anyways….”

Her voice was smooth, lilting with its usual air of ethereal calm, though he could sense the subtle effort she put into recomposing herself. She folded her hands in her lap, her azure gaze settling back upon him as she introduced herself properly:

“I am the witch, Renna.”

Tarnished quirked a brow slightly but said nothing. Marika, however, was not as silent.

She scoffed softly beside him, her arms still crossed, golden eyes sharpening slightly as she narrowed them at her daughter. “Why dost thou claim thy former teacher’s name? Hast thou abandoned thine own?”

Tarnished briefly side-eyed Marika, but remained silent, letting Ranni continue as the witch turned her attention fully onto him, her lips curling into the barest ghost of an amused smirk.

“I’d heard tell of a half-naked Tarnished hurtling about atop a spectral steed, robbing and stealing anything that isn’t nailed down within sight.”

Tarnished grinned shamelessly, giving her a mock bow.

She tilted her head, eyeing him up and down, taking in his state of undress with something between mild amusement and quiet exasperation. “And upon meeting thee, I can only surmise that talk is of thee.”

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head slightly. Then, her gaze became just a bit more serious. “Thou art possessed of the power, no? To call forth the spectral steed named Torrent.”

Tarnished nodded, then whistled sharply through his ring, activating the spectral steed’s call. A shimmer of blue mist swirled around them, coalescing into the form of Torrent. The spectral horse snorted, shaking his head once before tilting it slightly—first at Tarnished, then at Ranni.

There was recognition in his ethereal eyes.

Tarnished caught that. So did Ranni. 

She nodded slightly, as if confirming something to herself. “Ah. As I had hoped.”

Her fingers moved gracefully, and a moment later, two items materialized in her palm.

“I was entrusted this, for thee. By Torrent’s former master.”

She extended her hand toward him, offering a small silver bell and a set of Spirit Ashes—the faint wisps of spectral wolves swirling within.

Tarnished took them from her hand as a notification flashed in the corner of his vision:

[Item Acquired: Spirit Calling Bell]
[Item Acquired: Lone Wolf Ashes]

He turned the Spirit Calling Bell over in his fingers, running his thumb over its smooth surface, before glancing up at Ranni with an appreciative nod.

She explained further:

“’Tis a bell for calling forth spirits. Summon them with it, from ash unreturned to the Erdtree. The spirits will obey thine command but briefly, as they recall battles past. Now, it is thine. To do with as thou wishest.”

Tarnished already knew this, of course, but he nodded regardless. “Appreciate the assist.”

His gaze flickered over to Torrent, then back to Ranni. “And pass my thanks to his former master, too. Torrent’s been invaluable on my journey.”

For the first time, Ranni’s expression shifted.

There was a brief pause, a fleeting moment of hesitation.

Then, she spoke—calmly, as always. “I shall try to pass on thy thanks to him. But I promise nothing.”

Tarnished narrowed his eyes slightly at her phrasing.

‘Wait, him?’

That was an interesting choice of words.

He considered pressing further, but ultimately let it slide. Instead, he flashed her a grin and added, “Well, if you do see him, tell him I owe him one.”

There was the slightest twitch on her secondary face—the tiniest indication of fluster. Ranni, however, did not acknowledge it.

Instead, she straightened her posture, her voice even as ever. “Forgive mine intrusion, Tarnished. I doubt we shall meet again. But all the same, learn well the Lands Between.”

Tarnished smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Oh, I think we both know that’s not true.”

She ignored him. Instead, her gaze darkened as she regarded him one last time—this time, with an edge to her tone that even made Marika tense slightly.

“How long will it be, I wonder… before the Tarnished tire of obeisance to the Two Fingers?”

Then, before he could respond, her form dissolved into a haze of blue mist. Her dark moon faded from the sky soon after. Leaving behind only silence. The low crackle of Kale’s campfire was the only thing that remained.

Tarnished turned slightly, his gaze shifting from the flickering embers of Kale’s campfire back toward the empty space where Ranni had once sat. His mind replayed their conversation, lingering on her words, on the way she had referred to Torrent’s former master as ‘him.’

His brow furrowed slightly as he mused to himself.

‘Who’s ‘him’? I thought Torrent’s former master was Melina, no?’

For a brief moment, Marika remained silent. Then, after a pause, she spoke, her voice softer than usual. “Nay… His original master was mine own son, Miquella.”

Tarnished blinked, caught off guard. ‘Huh. Didn’t expect that.’

He rubbed his chin, mulling it over as he turned away from where Ranni had once sat. ‘Then again… I guess that makes sense, though. I did see official art of him riding Torrent at some point, didn’t I?’

Marika offered no response. Her presence lingered in his mind, but she was… quiet. Tarnished frowned slightly but filed it away for later. Instead, he made his way toward Kale, the merchant still idly tending to his wares. The older man looked up as Tarnished approached, his red hood shifting slightly.

“Ah, Tarnished. Back so soon?” Kale greeted, his voice friendly but curious. “Do you require more supplies?”

Tarnished shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. “Nah, not this time.” He then gestured around the ruined church before flashing a small, easy grin. “Actually, I was just looking for a place to crash. Mind if I sleep here tonight?”

Kale’s brow lifted slightly, clearly not expecting the request. But after a moment of consideration, he simply shrugged. “By all means, help yourself. I do not mind company.”

Then, with a slight chuckle, he added, “Though, I should warn you. I am not nearly as strong as you, Tarnished. If some great beast or soldier were to attack us in the night, I doubt I’d be able to defend you.”

Tarnished grinned, already settling himself down by the fire. “That’s fine. Just wake me up if anything happens.”

Kale nodded, returning to his wares, while Tarnished leaned back against the ruined wall of the Church of Elleh, the warmth of the crackling fire washing over him as he gazed up at the starry sky.

For a while, he simply basked in the stillness of the moment, letting the sounds of the night settle around him. The soft chirping of crickets. The distant hoot of an owl. The gentle rustling of leaves swaying in the midnight breeze.

Then, after a long moment, he spoke.

‘You’re awfully quiet… Are you mad at me or something?’

A beat passed. 

“Oh, why would I ever be mad at thee?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, every syllable laced with a mocking sweetness.

Tarnished chuckled under his breath.

‘Sarcasm? Didn’t think you were capable of that!’

Marika offered no immediate reply. She remained silent for a while, her presence in his mind felt subdued. Then, finally, she spoke again, her tone losing its mockery, shifting into something… almost contemplative.

“Thou called Ranni ‘Wife’...”

Tarnished paused.

“What didst thou mean by that?” She continued, her voice a mixture of curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite place. “Was it merely thy usual shameless philandering of every attractive woman thou meetest?”

Tarnished let out a short snort of laughter. ‘That obvious, huh?’

“Painfully so.”

He chuckled again before shaking his head slightly. ‘No, it wasn’t just that. I mean… Sure , she’s my type, but there’s more to it than that.’

Marika hummed slightly, prompting him to elaborate.

Tarnished rested his arms behind his head, staring up at the vast expanse of the night sky as he continued. ‘I always liked Ranni. Every time I played the game, I’d always do her ending.’

Marika’s voice shifted, carrying a subtle hint of intrigue. “Her ending?”

‘Yeah. The Age of Stars. The path where she leads the Lands Between into a new era, free from the Greater Will’s influence. And in the process, she and I… Well, we get married.’

Marika’s presence stiffened slightly and Tarnished felt it immediately. 

Her voice was carefully measured when she next spoke. “Married?”

Tarnished grinned slightly, sensing the subtle tension in her tone. ‘Yep. I become her Eternal Consort.’

He could practically feel her golden eyes narrowing.

Then, after a pause, she exhaled softly, muttering something he barely caught.

“…Thou truly art a menace.”

Tarnished laughed openly at that, letting the night wind carry the sound.

Kale raised an eyebrow at Tarnished’s sudden burst of laughter, but after a moment, he simply shrugged, muttering something about Tarnished being a strange one before turning his attention back to his wares.

Tarnished, still grinning to himself, let out a small sigh and leaned further back against the crumbling wall behind him. The night air was crisp, the soft crackling of Kale’s campfire blending into the gentle rustling of leaves overhead.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar golden shimmer.

Marika appeared beside him, elegantly seated upon a piece of ruined stone, her divine form far smaller than usual—still radiant, still ethereal, but no longer towering over him like a goddess addressing a mere mortal. Instead, she had adjusted herself to match his height, sitting in a way that felt… almost casual.

Tarnished glanced over, his breath nearly catching for a second. The way the orange glow of the campfire bathed her golden hair, how the gentle flickering light cast soft shadows across her flawless features—she was, without exaggeration, breathtaking.

Marika’s golden eyes studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, in a voice far softer than usual, she spoke. “…What about now?”

Tarnished’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze shifting from the sky to her. ‘Hm?’

“What about now?” She repeated, her tone steady but carrying something… Uncertain. “Now that thou art mine own Champion… Wilt thou still abandon the Golden Order? Wilt thou still chase my daughter’s Age of Stars?”

Tarnished tilted his head, letting the question settle for a moment. Then, he leaned forward slightly, resting an arm on his knee before replying. ‘...Why do I have to choose?’

Marika blinked, her brow knitting in confusion. “…Huh?”

He repeated, his azure eyes reflecting the firelight. ‘Why do I have to choose?’

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words stilled on her tongue. Tarnished leaned back again, placing one leg over the other as he studied her face for a moment, as if gauging her reaction, before turning his gaze back toward the vast night sky.

‘Age of Fracture. Age of Perfect Order. Age of Stars…’ He mused as he bounced his leg lightly with every thought. ‘Why do I have to choose just one?’

He lifted his hand toward the sky, fingers stretching out as if to grasp the stars themselves.

‘Same thing with you, Melina, and Ranni.’ His fingers slowly closed into a fist, as if wrapping around the cosmos itself. ‘This isn’t a game anymore. I have no limits in this World, no preset path. So why do I have to choose just one? ’

The words lingered in the air.

Marika stared at him, her golden eyes searching for something— anything —to counter his words, but she found herself… Speechless.

She had never even considered the possibility.

To her, to all who walked the countless winding paths of the Lands Between, existence had always been a matter of choosing a side—of following a single path and forsaking all others. That was simply how the world worked. 

How it had always worked.

But here he was. Her Champion.

Grinning. Unshaken. Declaring that he would defy even the very laws of fate.

‘I don’t want to choose just one.’ His voice was steady, filled with conviction. ‘Call me greedy, call me shameless if you’d like, but… I want it all. I want to do my own thing. My own Ending.’

Marika exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a brief moment before shaking her head. A helpless, almost exasperated smile formed on her lips. “…Thou truly art a madman.”

Tarnished laughed softly, his hand dropping back to his side as he continued gazing up at the sky.

Marika was silent for a long while. Then, in a quieter voice, she murmured, “…I wish I had thy confidence.”

Tarnished’s eyes flicked to her, his lips curving slightly. ‘Why don’t you?’

Marika hesitated. Then, she sighed with an ancient tiredness. “’Tis not the same...”

Tarnished smiled at her, then turned back toward the stars. The crackling fire cast long shadows across the ruins, the warmth of the embers flickering against the cool midnight air.

Neither of them spoke again for a while.

Then, a few minutes later, Tarnished let out a quiet breath.

‘Goodnight, my Goddess...’

Marika watched him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable.

Then, just as softly, she replied.

“…Goodnight, my Champion.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

—

…

Next Chapter Title: The Warrior Jar and the Hunter of Death.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished stirred awake, the warmth of the campfire long since faded as the cold morning air settled around him. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft glow of dawn creeping through the broken walls of the Church of Elleh.

With a groggy sigh, he pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders as he glanced around. His gaze landed on Marika, still seated elegantly upon the stone rubble, her golden form illuminated by the morning light.

Tarnished blinked, then chuckled. “You stayed there all night?”

Marika barely spared him a glance before tilting her head slightly. “Someone had to watch over thee. Lest that merchant decide to gut thee in thy sleep and rob thee blind.”

Tarnished let out an amused snort as he dusted himself off. “Careful, you almost sound like you actually care.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “I simply refuse to let mine own Champion perish due to his own stupidity.”

His grin widened. “Suuure~, I believe you~.”

She clicked her tongue in irritation, turning away sharply. “Enough time hath been wasted here. Get thee gone.”

Tarnished just chuckled again as he turned toward Kale, the ever-watchful merchant who had already begun setting up his wares for the day.

“Thanks for letting me crash here, man.” Tarnished said with a grin.

Kale shrugged. “No problem. Just don’t make it a habit.”

Tarnished nodded, then raised a hand in farewell as he turned around. “Stay safe. And don’t you dare go Hollow.”

With that, he vanished in a flash of gold, leaving Kale staring at the spot where he had stood. The merchant let out a small huff, then shrugged to himself before returning to his work.

…

Tarnished reappeared at the Deathtouched Catacombs’ Site of Grace, the golden light fading as he landed softly on the stone floor. Without hesitation, he made his way out, stepping back into the crisp morning air before raising his hand to whistle.

A second later, Torrent materialized in a burst of pale blue mist, snorting softly as he lowered his head in greeting.

Tarnished grinned and gave the spectral steed a quick pat on the neck before swinging himself up onto the saddle. With a light nudge, he urged Torrent forward, galloping through the dense forest until he reached a paved road cutting through the landscape.

His sharp eyes immediately caught a small incline leading up a nearby hill—one he recognized instantly.

Then, right on cue:

“Hello-o? Can you hear me? Help me! I'm stuck. Hello? Hellooo! Anyone?!”

Tarnished’s grin widened.

Marika manifested beside him, arms crossed as she raised an eyebrow. “Someone thou knoweth?”

He nodded, barely containing his amusement. “A good friend. And a true warrior.”

Marika let out a small, amused chuckle, shaking her head. “Now this, I must see.”

He nudged Torrent up the incline, weaving through patches of wild grass and scattered boulders before coming to a sudden stop.

There, half-buried in the ground, was a massive, rotund warrior-shaped jar—his glossy terracotta body wedged deep in the earth, leaving only his upper half exposed. Faint cracks ran along the surface of his arms, and the golden war paint decorating his form gleamed under the morning sun.

Tarnished couldn’t help but grin.

The warrior noticed him immediately, his small circular eyes widening with joy.

“Oh my stars, I'm so happy to see you!” He exclaimed, his deep, booming voice echoing across the hill. “I am Alexander, also known as the Iron Fist. And yes, as you can see, I’m stuck here! So any help would be greatly appreciated!”

Tarnished hopped off Torrent, cracking his knuckles with an eager smirk.

“Oh, don’t worry, big guy.” Tarnished said as he rested his hands on his hips, eyeing the massive jar warrior before him with an amused smirk. “I got you.”

Alexander, despite his predicament, remained remarkably upbeat, his deep voice bellowed with enthusiasm. “My thanks! A thousand thanks! Just give me a good smack from the rear, with something nice and big, and I’ll pop right out!”

Tarnished’s grin widened at that, his brows lifting slightly. “Oh-ho? You sure about that? Not gonna complain about it hurting after?”

Alexander let out a booming laugh, his entire ceramic form shaking slightly. “Put those doubts to rest, I'll be just fine! I'm very well trained. Give it your all, I say!”

Tarnished chuckled, shaking his head before reaching for his uchigatana. Instead of unsheathing it, he gripped the sheathed weapon firmly, using it like a makeshift bat.

"Alright, big guy. Brace yourself!"

He stepped back, wound up his swing, and…

WHAM!

Alexander let out a pained grunt.

"Ah!"

Tarnished gritted his teeth, planting his feet more firmly before swinging again.

WHAM!

"Ouuuch!"

Tarnished sighed, adjusting his grip, then pulled his arms back one final time before delivering a powerful, two-handed strike right to the back of Alexander’s ceramic form.

WHAM!

"Ahhh!"

With a deep, reverberating pop, Alexander suddenly burst free, tumbling forward before landing upright with an eager shake of his massive arms.

"Ahh! Well played, good sir! Well played!" Alexander exclaimed, his voice full of relief and gratitude. "Though that mighty wallop of yours almost spelled the end of me! Ha ha ha ha!"

Tarnished grinned, rolling his shoulders. “Hey, you asked for it.”

Alexander nodded enthusiastically. "Well, I'm out now, and that's what counts! I thank you, and as a token of my appreciation, I'd like you to have this."

He reached into the hollow of his body, then extended a piece of meat wrapped in cloth toward Tarnished.

A small notification flashed in his vision:

[Picked-Up Item: Exalted Flesh]

Tarnished nodded as he took it, expecting the item but pretending otherwise. “Meat? Huh. Wasn’t expecting that.”

"A warrior must be well-fed, my friend!" Alexander laughed, folding his arms proudly.

Tarnished smiled slightly, tucking the Exalted Flesh away before crossing his arms. “So, where are you off to now?”

Alexander perked up at the question, his large, clay fingers tapping his arm in thought before answering.

“I journey to the east, where I intend to further my education in the ways of war. South of these lands are the blighted Caelid wilds, and in them lies Redmane Castle, where a festival of combat is being held! I’d heard whispers of such festivities before... Doesn't the notion set your breast aflutter?! Ha ha ha ha!"

Tarnished chuckled at his enthusiasm, but before he could respond, a quiet voice muttered in his mind.

"Blighted?" Marika’s voice was laced with suspicion.

‘Yeah,’ Tarnished replied mentally, his expression growing slightly more serious. ‘Although cancerous might be a better term.’

There was a brief pause, and then she spoke again. "...Do not tell me..."

Tarnished sighed inwardly, already knowing what she was thinking. ‘Yeah. It’s not pretty.’

Marika was silent, but he could feel the weight of her contemplation.

Meanwhile, Alexander had been watching him, the great warrior jar tilting his massive form slightly in curiosity. "And what of you, friend? Where does your road lead?"

Tarnished refocused and gave a sharp nod. “Caelid, same as you. I’ll be there when the festival begins.”

Alexander let out a booming laugh, clapping his massive hands together. "That’s wonderful, friend! I would be honored to fight alongside you!"

Tarnished grinned, stepping back as he whistled for Torrent. “Likewise. So until we next meet…”

He swung himself onto Torrent’s back, giving the warrior jar one last nod before smirking. “Stay safe—and don’t you dare go Hollow, friend.”

Alexander’s ceramic form stiffened slightly, his circular eyes blinking at the words. For a brief moment, he looked as if he were about to say something—perhaps ask what that meant.

But before he could, Tarnished clicked his heels, and Torrent surged forward, galloping off into the distance. Alexander snapped out of his daze, watching the Tarnished ride away beneath the morning sun. Then, after a moment, a deep laugh rumbled from within him, his form shaking with amusement.

"Ha ha ha ha! And you the same, my friend! You the same!"

With that, the great warrior jar turned toward the eastern horizon, preparing for his own journey into the lands of Caelid.

Tarnished rode Torrent down the sloping hill, the wind whipping lightly against his skin as he approached a small clearing. The moment he spotted the glow of a Site of Grace nestled beneath a gnarled tree, he pulled on the reins, slowing his spectral steed to a steady trot.

He dismounted with practiced ease, stepping toward the golden aura of the Grace before kneeling down and extending his hand.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

A soft golden warmth surged through him as the connection was formed, his flask charges refilling instantly.

As he rose to his feet, he glanced toward Marika, who had been unusually quiet for a while. With a small grin, he decided to break the silence.

“So, what do you think of Alexander?” he asked, his tone light and casual as he climbed onto Torrent’s back once more.

Marika, who had manifested beside him, arched a delicate golden brow. "Hoh? Art thou not the one who proclaimed he wanted all? Since when didst thou care for mine opinion?"

Tarnished chuckled, nudging Torrent forward as they continued along the weathered path. “Oh, I don’t know…” he mused, pretending to think it over. Then, with a widened grin, he added, “I am your Champion, aren’t I? I value your treasured guidance and consultation.”

Marika hmphed softly, her golden arms crossing beneath her chest as she turned her gaze toward the sky. She was quiet for a moment, but when she finally spoke, her tone was noticeably less guarded, almost thoughtful.

"Mine feelings are… Layered, to say the least."

Tarnished raised a brow, but let her continue.

"On instinct alone, I find myself immensely repulsed by the notion of 'Living Jars'—creatures crafted in crude imitation of warriors; according to thine thoughts, their bodies filled with the discarded remains of the slain.”

Her mind seemed to be filled with ancient and weary memories as she then shook her head, “‘Tis a practice of grotesque origins, one that—had I the choice—I would have forbidden entirely. But…"

She hesitated briefly before sighing. "...I shall choose to place some measure of trust in this single 'Warrior Jar,' since thou thyself hath vouched for him."

Tarnished smiled slightly, his grip tightening on Torrent’s reins as he thought, ‘Yeah?’

Marika scoffed softly, her golden eyes flicking away as she repeated his own words back to him in a mockingly regal tone. "Of course. I am thy Goddess, am I not? I value thy treasured guidance and consultation."

Tarnished’s smile widened deeply. He recognized what she meant, even if she hid it behind her usual arrogance. She was acknowledging his trust—and, more than that, returning it in her own way.

Instead of teasing her about it, he chose to say nothing, simply enjoying the comfortable silence that settled between them as he rode onward.

The rhythmic clip-clop of Torrent’s hooves echoed against the stone as he passed beneath the shadow of a crumbling bridge. A hulking figure sat hunched at its center—a Mad Pumpkin Head, its grotesque iron helm tilted slightly as if listening to something only it could hear.

Tarnished paid it little mind, guiding Torrent past the bridge and back onto the main road, where he soon spotted a flickering campfire at the side of the path.

There, hunched over a worn blanket strewn with various wares, sat a Nomadic Merchant—his dark robe draped over his slender form, the low hum of a stringed instrument playing softly beneath his breath.

As Tarnished approached, the merchant glanced up, his gaze calculating but not unkind.

"Ah… A traveler in need of wares?"

Tarnished grinned, dismounting from Torrent and striding forward. “Something like that.”

Without hesitation, he listed off the items he wanted purely from memory. “Nomadic Warrior’s Cookbook (3), three Smithing Stones, and a Cracked Pot.”

The merchant’s eyebrow lifted slightly, clearly surprised that Tarnished knew exactly what was in his stock before even looking. He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Heh. Curious thing, knowing my wares before laying eyes upon them. But it matters not—runes are runes."

With a nod, the merchant reached into his folded blanket, retrieving the requested items and setting them down in front of him. Tarnished raised a hand and willed the runes to flow from his storage into the Merchant’s soul, a moment later the nomad nodded and handed over the goods.

[Runes Lost: -2,200 Runes]
[Picked-Up Item: Nomadic Warrior’s Cookbook (3)]
[Picked-Up Item: Smithing Stone (1) x3]
[Picked-Up Item: Cracked Pot]
[Picked-Up Item: Pickled Turtle Neck]

Tarnished grabbed the items, slipping them into his inventory before offering the merchant a casual salute.

“Pleasure doing business.” He said, before stepping back toward Torrent and swinging himself onto the spectral steed’s back once more.

The merchant nodded silently, already strumming at his instrument once again, playing a low, haunting melody as Tarnished urged Torrent forward. With a sharp whistle, the Tarnished rode off down the paved road once again, the warm glow of the merchant’s campfire fading into the distance behind him.

Tarnished rode at a steady pace along the worn, paved streets of Limgrave, the rhythmic clopping of Torrent’s hooves the only sound accompanying the quiet rustling of the wind. The night sky stretched endlessly above him, the Erdtree’s golden glow casting a soft radiance over the land.

After a few minutes, he spotted a lone figure standing on the side of the road, clad in ornate silver armor that gleamed under the dim light. The figure stood over a corpse, its twisted, decayed form barely recognizable. Tarnished immediately recognized the man—D, Hunter of the Dead.

D’s armor was unlike that of most warriors; his silver-plated chest piece bore the unmistakable markings of the Golden Order, intricate engravings of tree roots twisting over his shoulders and torso. A thick, tattered red cape flowed from his back, weathered by time and battle. 

His helm, covering his entire face save for a narrow T-shaped visor, gave him an almost spectral presence, as though he were more an instrument of the Order than a man himself. Tarnished heard him muttering as he approached.

"There's no mistake, is there? Death has left its mark once again."

D’s voice was level but grim, filled with a deep-seated revulsion that Tarnished recognized well. As the sound of Torrent’s hooves echoed through the air, D froze slightly before turning to face him. His helmeted gaze landed on Tarnished’s shirtless form, his posture stiffening ever so slightly. 

The man studied him for a second, as if trying to comprehend why this half-naked warrior was riding toward him with such an easy-going smile.

Tarnished lifted a hand in greeting. “Hail, friend.”

D was silent for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Hello. You’re a fellow Tarnished, I presume?” His voice was measured, with the disciplined tone of a seasoned knight. “I'm known as D. I hunt down Those Who Live in Death and weed their Deathroot.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Marika stirred within Tarnished’s mind. “Ah… I see. A hunter of That Which Should Not Be.”

There was an unmistakable note of approval in her tone. “I can feel it upon him—the power of mine Order. A knight of my Golden Order, fighting against those who would defile it with their filth.”

Tarnished chuckled slightly in his mind. ‘Yeah, I figured you’d like D. Of all the people I meet, he’s one of the most loyal to the Golden Order.’

Marika hummed in satisfaction. “Good. In my absence, there must be those who still uphold the purity of this world.”

D turned slightly, gesturing toward the ruined remains of Summonwater Village, nestled in the valley ahead.

"Heed my warning." His voice lowered slightly, tinged with unease. "The village up ahead has been touched by Death. And worse yet, it is home to a Mariner. If you value your life, then go no further."

Tarnished narrowed his eyes as he gazed past him, toward the village, where a faint, eerie mist clung to the ruined structures like a suffocating shroud.

Marika’s expression darkened at D’s words. “Another one?”

Her golden brows furrowed, and for the first time since their journey began, there was something deeper in her tone. A quiet fury. “More of that vile infection… Spreading across my lands?”

Tarnished sighed, rubbing the back of his head. ‘Yeah. Undead are everywhere. It’s honestly easier to list the places that haven’t been touched by them, by Death.’

“This cannot stand. Not forever.” Marika exhaled sharply, her arms crossing over her chest as she stared toward the village with a disdainful glare. She was quiet for a moment, then continued in a lower voice. “We shall have much work to do after thou hast freed me, mine champion.”

Tarnished smirked slightly at her words but said nothing, merely nodding to himself as he turned back to D.

"Thanks for the warning." He said, his voice casual but firm. "Stay safe."

D nodded, but his gaze lingered on Tarnished for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to discern something hidden beneath his confident exterior.

Without another word, Tarnished whistled sharply, and Torrent materialized once more in a burst of blue mist. He swung himself onto the spectral steed’s back before kicking his heels lightly against its sides, sending the horse galloping toward Summonwater Village.

D stood motionless, watching as he rode away. After a moment, he turned his attention back to the corpse at his feet.

The Summonwater Village lay in eerie silence, its once-thriving settlement now nothing more than a drowned ruin, swallowed by stagnant, dark waters. The water was still, almost unnaturally so, as if waiting for something to stir it. Weeds and rotting debris floated lazily on the surface, remnants of a life long lost to decay.

As Tarnished rode in atop Torrent, the hooves of his spectral steed splashed against the ankle-deep water, sending ripples cascading outward. A deathly fog clung to the village like a suffocating blanket, a chill that seemed to pierce not just the skin, but the soul. 

The air was heavy, thick with an unsettling stillness—yet something slithered beneath the surface, unseen but palpably present.

Marika appeared beside him, her golden radiance dimmed by the overwhelming presence of death. She inhaled sharply, her delicate nose wrinkling in unmistakable revulsion.

“By the Erdtree… this stench… this putrid, rotting stench… ‘Tis vile beyond words.”

Tarnished glanced at her with mild amusement. ‘Yeah? You think it’s bad now, wait ‘til we get to Caelid.’

Marika shot him a glare but didn’t respond. Instead, her eyes narrowed sharply, locking onto something moving through the flooded ruins.

Tarnished followed her gaze and spotted the figure rowing silently through the water, its movements sluggish, methodical. 

A gaunt, hooded figure hunched over in a rickety black boat, its skeletal hands gripping an oar that did not disturb the water as it moved. A long, gnarled horn rested against its shoulder, cracked and worn with age.The Tibia Mariner.

“That… wretch.” Marika’s voice was sharp, laced with quiet fury. “My Champion. That creature is the very source of this unholy defilement. Destroy it. Immediately.”

Tarnished chuckled as he swung himself off Torrent’s back, landing lightly in the water. “Heh, already planning on it.”

He reached into his inventory and grabbed his Golden Order Longsword, gripping the hilt tightly before raising it skyward. A pulse of radiant light erupted from the blade, bathing him in a warm, golden glow.

“Golden Vow”

A comforting warmth spread through his limbs, strengthening his resolve, sharpening his reflexes. His muscles tensed as the divine energy fortified his body, granting him increased strength and resilience.

With the sword still glowing in his grasp, he swiftly switched it out, storing it in his inventory before pulling out a Pickled Turtle Neck. He grimaced slightly as he bit into it. The taste was… strange.

‘Pickled chicken with a hint of marshmallows… What the hell?’

Marika arched an eyebrow at his disgusted expression but said nothing. Then, with a feral grin, Tarnished unsheathed both of his Uchigatanas, their polished steel glinting in the dim moonlight.

The Mariner turned its hooded head toward him, as if only now recognizing his presence. A deep, guttural groan emanated from within its skeletal frame.

Tarnished clicked his tongue, summoning both his Uchigatanas, one in each hand. He rolled his shoulders, tilting his head from side to side as he approached. "Alright, let’s get this over with."

The Mariner’s head tilted slightly at him. Then, with a deep, otherworldly groan, it raised its oar high and slammed it down. A wave of cursed black water erupted outward, tearing through the ground like a flood of death itself.

Tarnished’s eyes widened, and he Quickstepped sideways, narrowly avoiding the wave as it crashed into the ruined houses behind him, sending up a sickly green mist. The remains of old wooden beams and stone crumbled beneath the wave’s weight, further collapsing the already ruined village.

The Mariner groaned again, its voice echoing like a distorted funeral dirge, before pointing its oar directly at him. The ground quaked as a shadowy miasma formed, and suddenly, from the mist, skeletal warriors began rising—seven of them.

Marika’s tone darkened. “Undead filth. Dispose of them swiftly.”

Tarnished exhaled, gripping his blades tighter. "Alright, fine."

He moved.

He shot forward like a phantom, dashing between the shambling undead warriors with pinpoint precision. The skeletons barely had time to react before using an Unsheath.

One slash—one head cleanly severed.

The skeleton collapsed instantly, unable to reform due to the inherent holy properties of the Uchigatana’s newfound Golden Vow infusion.

Tarnished didn’t stop.

“Unsheath.”

Second skeleton, bisected at the waist.

A rusted sword swung for his head—he ducked. Another thrusted from behind—he spun, catching the attack on his left-hand Uchigatana and using the momentum to push forward, slicing through the attacker’s ribs.

The Mariner let out a wailing groan, slamming its oar into the ground again—another wave of cursed water surged forward.

Tarnished jumped, flipping midair over the attack before landing smoothly on the opposite side. Before he could react further, however—a sudden, piercing whistle cut through the night air.

The Mariner’s boat started moving.

Tarnished’s grin vanished as he watched the spectral vessel suddenly glide across the battlefield at high speeds. It smashed through what little remained of the ruined village, spectral water spilling from its base as it rushed directly toward him.

"Ah… Poop."

He ran.

The Mariner barreled toward him like a tidal wave, closing the distance far too quickly. Tarnished Quickstepped, dodging left—only for the Mariner’s oar to come swinging from the side, attempting to slam him mid-step.

He barely managed to duck under it, rolling back onto his feet just as another group of skeletal warriors emerged from the mist.

Marika clicked her tongue. “It calls forth the dead with every passing moment. A tedious foe.”

Tarnished huffed. "Yeah, no kidding. These bastards aren’t even strong, they’re just annoying…"

He flipped both Uchigatanas in his grip before rushing straight for the Mariner.

“Unsheath. Unsheath. Unsheath.”

Strike after strike.

Stagger after stagger.

Every hit landed cleanly, causing the Mariner’s ghostly form to flicker violently, struggling to maintain its existence.

Then, the Mariner shrieked, suddenly slamming its oar into the ground and vanishing entirely in a veil of swamp water.

Tarnished skidded to a stop, glancing around warily.

"...Where the hell-?"

The water around the battlefield trembled.

Marika’s voice spiked with urgency. “Above thee!”

Tarnished barely had time to look up before the Mariner reappeared mid-air, its entire boat flipped upside down, and slammed down like a massive, spectral guillotine.

"Try something harder to dodge next time, jackass!!"

He rolled—just in time.

The impact shattered the ground where he had been standing, sending rubble and cursed mist into the air.

Tarnished coughed, scrambling back onto his feet.

He wasn’t giving it another chance.

“I’m not gonna sugar coat it…” He muttered while summoning every ounce of speed, he dashed forward, his katana drawn in reverse grips as he closed the distance in seconds.

“Unsheath. Unsheath. Unsheath. Un- fucking -sheath!”

Four slashes.

The Mariner reeled backward violently, its form glitching, distorting.

Tarnished’s eyes flashed gold as he threw both blades forward, slashing in a vicious, double-crossed arc.

CRITICAL HIT.

The Mariner screamed as its form cracked apart, bursting into streams of fading blue mist, its skeletal summons crumbling into dust alongside it.

A shockwave of cold wind erupted outward as the Mariner let out one final groan, its existence shattering into nothingness.

Tarnished exhaled, rolling his neck as the rewards notification appeared before his eyes.

[Runes Acquired: 4,400]
[Picked-Up Item: Deathroot]
[Picked-Up Item: Skeletal Militiaman Ashes]

A familiar "Hmph" sounded beside him.

“Thou managed to slaughter that filth without being struck even once…” There was a pause, then, her voice softened ever so slightly. “Good work.”

Tarnished grinned, sheathing his blades with a flourish.

“Hehe… Thanks.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Got finals for med school coming up soon, I wouldn’t expect much till I’m done at the 29th of May…

…

Next Chapter Title: Highway to Hell (Caelid).

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

I know i said not to expect much till I finish my finals, but leaving y’all high and dry for a month seemed like a dick move…

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished wiped the last bits of spectral mist from his blades, exhaling through his nose as the Mariner's body disintegrated into nothing. The battlefield around him was silent now, save for the faint sloshing of water against the ruined village's foundations. He glanced at the golden notifications in his vision.

[Picked-Up Item: 2,400 Runes]
[Picked-Up Item: Deathroot]
[Picked-Up Item: Skeletal Militiaman Ashes]

He nodded slightly, satisfied. That went about as smoothly as he had hoped.

“Well, well... Another fool who won't listen to reason, eh?”

Tarnished turned at the voice, spotting a familiar armored figure standing a few feet behind him, arms crossed over his chest. D, Hunter of the Dead, had been watching the fight. His helmet obscured his expression, but the approval in his tone was evident.

"It seems you’ve a prowess for weeding Deathroot..."

Tarnished tilted his head slightly before replying. "I suppose you could say that."

D took a few steps forward, his boots crunching against the damp ground. He looked Tarnished up and down, then nodded in approval.

"How would you like to earn the strength of beasts?" D asked, his voice steady. "If you're inclined to hunt more of Those Who Live in Death, and weed their Deathroot, then I'll introduce you to Gurranq, the beast clergyman. For now, I have a matter of my own to attend to. And the beast himself wishes for someone to take my place. What say you?"

Tarnished felt Marika’s presence sharpen at the mention of that name.

"Gurranq… Could it be? Does the knight speak of who I believe he does?"

‘Yeah.’ Tarnished nodded slightly in his thoughts. 

Marika’s mood shifted slightly, a hint of relief threading through her voice. "So my shadow still stands vigilant… Good. Maliketh has ever been a stalwart guardian. If he remains, then all is not lost."

But Tarnished hesitated for a moment, rubbing his chin before adding, ‘I’m not quite sure about the ‘well’ part of that sentence...’

"What do you mean?"

Tarnished exhaled slightly. ‘He’s still alive, yeah, but let’s just say he’s found a... Creative way to deal with Deathroot. It’s not pretty.’

There was a long pause before Marika sighed, her usual exasperation returning. "Yet another matter I must take care of after I am freed… My work increases by the minute."

Tarnished chuckled internally. ‘Tell me about it.’

D shifted slightly, interrupting his thoughts. "Well? What do you say?"

Tarnished tilted his head slightly, then shrugged. "Sure, show me." Not that he needed directions—he already knew exactly where the teleporter was. “Although, I don’t have a map for this side of Limgrave yet, unless you happen to have one to spare on hand.”

“Hm… That is fine.” D said as he nodded, reaching into his pouch. "Then take this."

[Picked-Up Item: Limgrave, East Map]

“Huh.. Nice, thanks.” Tarnished accepted the map, slipping it into his inventory and feeling his system’s map update immediately. D straightened, crossing his arms once again.

"Be on your way, then." He said before his voice dipped into a warning tone. "And stay upon the path of the honeyed rays of Gold. Lest I need to strike you down with the rest of the heretical filth."

Tarnished watched as D turned and walked away, disappearing into the fog-covered ruins. He let out a slow breath, shaking his head before summoning Torrent.

Marika reappeared beside him, arms crossed, a smug look on her face.

"Now there is a warrior truly devoted to the Golden Order. If only thou wouldst show such dedication."

Tarnished groaned while shaking his head, grabbing the reins. ‘Yes, Mom!’

Marika’s golden eyes narrowed. "Tch.. Do not sass me, my champion!"

‘Pfft.. Since when do you know what ‘sassing’ is?’ Laughing under his breath, Tarnished kicked Torrent’s sides and made his way into the main ruin of the village, leaving her huffing in his mind.

“’Tis not that difficult to understand…”

Tarnished got off of Torrent as they entered the ruins and motioned for the steed to wait for him to be back in a moment, his boots crunching softly against the overgrown stone floor as he looked around. His eyes landed on a stairway descending into darkness, barred by an imp statue’s seal.

A slow grin crept onto his face. He reached into his inventory, retrieving a Stonesword Key and inserting it into the statue’s waiting hands. The enchanted blades crossing the entrance shimmered and dissipated, granting him passage.

He took a step forward, his excitement growing—only to immediately freeze at the sight before him.

Turtles.

An entire underground chamber filled with them.

Marika materialized beside him, arms crossed, her golden gaze sweeping over the bizarre sight. She blinked once, then again, before speaking incredulously.

"Who, pray tell, saw fit to imprison these lowly creatures? And for what purpose?"

Tarnished tilted his head, glancing at her before shrugging. “Beats me. I’m just here for the talisman in that chest.”

Ignoring the countless shelled creatures waddling about, he strode forward, weaving between them until he reached the lone chest sitting against the far wall. He swung it open and pulled out the prize within—an intricate metal emblem adorned with the carving of a great turtle.

[Picked-Up Item: Green Turtle Talisman]

A satisfied grin spread across his face as he unequipped his fire resistance talisman and replaced it with his new acquisition.

The effect was instantaneous.

A rush of energy flooded his veins, his stamina replenishing at a rate that was borderline intoxicating. He clenched and unclenched his fists, marveling at the invigorating sensation coursing through his body.

“Holy shit…” He took a deep breath, letting the euphoria wash over him. “This must be what being on cocaine feels like.”

Marika pinched the bridge of her nose. “By the Erdtree… I do not wish to know what that means.”

Tarnished simply chuckled and turned his gaze back to the turtles, now eyeing them with a new consideration.

He placed a hand on his chin, weighing his options. He could leave peacefully… Or he could harvest some of them for their valuable necks. ‘ Pickled Turtle Necks are an absolute lifesaver, after all…’

Marika sighed heavily. “Just decide already, wouldst thou? We have far more pressing matters to attend to. I must see what has become of Caelid so I might begin formulating a plan to undo whatever madness has befallen it.”

Tarnished exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around the hilt of one of his Uchigatanas.

The turtles turned to him.

Their small, beady eyes—once filled with trust—shifted to uncertainty. Then to fear.

One of them, slightly larger than the others, seemed to stare directly into his soul. It was almost as if it knew .

He swallowed hard, feeling a pang of guilt settle deep in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and whispered as he looked into the turtle’s small beady eyes. “I’m sorry, little one…”

Marika groaned and dragged a hand down her face. "For the love of mine Order, cease thy dithering and slay the miserable beasts, so that we may depart at once."

Tarnished hesitated for only a second longer before steeling himself. “I’m going to! Damn!”

Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Heartless monster…”

Marika scoffed, crossing her arms. “Thou art such a child.”

…

Tarnished emerged from the basement, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the warm glow of the afternoon sun. Torrent let out a soft snort upon seeing him, pawing at the dirt impatiently. Tarnished chuckled and patted the spectral steed’s neck. "Yeah, yeah, I know I took a bit. Good boy for waiting."

With a practiced motion, he swung himself onto Torrent’s back and nudged the steed forward, beginning the journey towards Caelid. The air grew heavier the further they rode, the golden warmth of Limgrave giving way to an ominous crimson haze.

Minutes later, the telltale reddish hues of corruption stained the horizon. The land ahead was twisted and dying, the ground cracked and blackened as if it had been scorched from the inside out. Enormous swords, rusted with time, jutted from the earth like grave markers, a silent testament to battles long past.

Tarnished guided Torrent carefully through the desecrated landscape, his eyes scanning for threats. As he crested a hill, a ruined structure came into view—its stone walls blackened by flames, its shattered remains barely resembling a church anymore.

Marika’s presence sharpened as she regarded the sight before them.

"A church…?" She mused, golden eyes narrowing. "Defiled by flame, corrupted by filth… This land truly is no longer my own."

Tarnished hummed in agreement but said nothing as he nudged Torrent towards the ruins. However, before he could reach the entrance, a strange feeling crawled up his spine.

A presence.

A malevolent one.

Tarnished tensed and pulled back on Torrent’s reins, scanning the area with a wary gaze. That was when a figure stepped out of the ruined church—clad in ragged, bloodstained cloth, a woman staggered forward, her head lowered and her body trembling.

She clutched at her side, as though wounded, and when she spoke, her voice was weak and pleading. “P-Please… You there, Tarnished… I need help… I- I was attacked…”

Marika materialized beside him, arms crossed as she watched the scene unfold with an unimpressed look.

"Pathetic." She scoffed. "Hiding behind feigned frailty… Tell me, mine Champion, how many fools dost thou believe hath fallen to such deception?"

Tarnished didn’t respond. He simply slid off Torrent’s back, his sharp eyes never leaving the woman before him. He sniffed the air slightly, then exhaled through his nose.

"Your bloodlust stinks." He muttered, drawing both his Uchigatana. "You’re not fooling anyone."

The woman froze, her facade shattering in an instant. Then, her lips twisted into a cruel, feral grin. "Hmph… Well, aren’t you a perceptive one…"

She straightened, all traces of weakness vanishing as she pulled a massive cleaver from behind her back, its edge slick with old blood. Her name appeared a moment later atop her head, along with a healthbar.

[Tarnished-Eater Anastasia.] 

She lunged without warning, a wild gleam in her eyes as she brought her weapon crashing down.

Tarnished sidestepped smoothly, her cleaver slamming into the ground where he had just stood. The impact sent dirt and debris flying, but he was already moving, his blades flashing as he struck out at her exposed side.

Anastasia twisted unnaturally, avoiding the worst of the slash, but she overextended in her bloodlust, her reckless aggression leaving openings far too wide.

She swung again—high, then low—yet her attacks were fevered, predictable, wild.

Tarnished didn’t even bother blocking.

He let her commit to an overzealous swing before stepping into her guard, his stance shifting in a blur.

The parry was precise.

A sickening clang rang out as his blade deflected her attack, leaving her wide open.

The riposte came swift and brutal, his blade sinking deep into her abdomen, immediately draining 40% of her healthbar away.

Blood spurted from the wound as she let out a gurgling snarl, staggering backward. Her grip tightened on her cleaver, her breath ragged, yet she refused to falter.

She came at him again, more erratic than before, swiping at him in a frenzy. Tarnished weaved between her attacks with ease, rolling past a downward chop before ducking under a horizontal slash.

Then, he saw his moment.

She overextended—just as he expected.

He twisted, parrying her strike a second time. The moment her stance broke, he surged forward. His first Uchigatana buried itself in her chest, her breath hitching sharply as Blood Loss was triggered, draining away 55% of her health and leaving her nearly dead. 

His second flashed in a red arc, slicing through her neck in one clean motion. Her head hit the ground before the rest of her body.

[Enemy Felled]

The notification flickered in his vision, followed by another:

[Picked-Up Item: 2,600 Runes]
[Picked-Up Item: Sacred Scorpion Charm]

Tarnished let out a slow breath, flicking the blood from his blades before sheathing them.

Marika hummed in approval. “A swift and efficient execution. Well done, mine Champion.”

He smirked slightly, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "Hehe… Thanks."

Without another word, he turned towards the ruined church, stepping inside to activate the Site of Grace within. The gentle golden light washed over him, restoring his strength in an instant.

His gaze then shifted to a couple of fresh corpses on the church’s floor, freshly flayed and stripped of both flesh and goods. 

He assumed the poor bastards to have been Anastasia’s latest victims; thankfully, however, it seemed like she was sloppy in looting them as she left a couple of cookbooks on their person which he gladly took.

[Picked-Up Item: Missionary’s Cookbook (3)]
[Picked-Up Item: Nomadic Warrior’s Cookbook (14)]

Satisfied, he stepped back out of the church, taking in the corrupted sky above. Summoning Torrent once more, he mounted his steed and turned eastward, riding toward the Rotview Balcony.

Marika watched the horizon darken as they approached the place where they could take in the true breadth of Caelid’s corruption.

Tarnished could sense her unease even without looking.

“…Now you’ll see for yourself.” He murmured as the landscape twisted into something wholly unnatural. "What’s left of your Farmlands."

Tarnished urged Torrent forward, weaving towards the twisted remnants of Caelid’s scorched earth. The oppressive red sky loomed overhead, casting an eerie glow over the land. A moment later, a minor Erdtree came into view in the distance, its golden leaves standing in stark contrast to the corruption that surrounded it.

Marika materialized beside him, her golden eyes locking onto the sight of the Erdtree with something almost like hope.

"…A minor Erdtree." She murmured, her voice softer than usual. "Mayhap, ‘tis not yet too late…"

Tarnished said nothing, merely clicking his tongue as he spurred Torrent onward. He vaulted over a smoldering stone wall with a well-timed double jump, landing just outside the dilapidated Shack of Rotting. 

Before moving further, he took a moment to activate the nearby Site of Grace, the familiar golden warmth pulsing through him as the connection was established.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

Then, without hesitation, he strode forward to the edge of the hill, taking in the land that lay before him.

Caelid stretched out into the horizon like a vision from a fevered nightmare.

What was once a proud and fertile land had been twisted beyond recognition. The very soil itself was steeped in Scarlet Rot, its infected veins creeping along the ground like a festering wound.

The trees—those that still stood—were warped, their bark bloated and riddled with decay. Enormous fungal growths, sickly and pulsating, loomed across the land like grotesque tumors. The rivers ran thick with corruption, and the very air seemed heavy with disease.

A land of death.

A land of ruin.

Marika appeared fully beside him now, golden hair flowing behind her as she took in the scene before her.

And for a short while, she was completely and utterly silent.

Seconds passed.

Then minutes.

Then, in a rare and entirely uncharacteristic moment—Marika swore.

"...What in the fucking blasphemy?" Her voice was low, almost disbelieving. "The Scarlet Rot hath consumed the land whole… Not even the soil remaineth untouched!"

Tarnished exhaled through his nose, watching as a pack of malformed crows pecked at something writhing in the filth below. 

‘Malenia happened.’

Marika stood motionless, as if frozen. Then, slowly, she turned to look at him.

"…Sure, thou dost jest." she said, though her voice held no confidence. "Malenia? My daughter? She.. She wouldst never-!"

Tarnished sighed, crossing his arms and gestured slightly to Caelid before them. ‘Evidently, she did.’

Marika still looked as though she could scarcely believe it and was deeply in denial. "What madness could drive her to such ends?! My Malenia was ever the reserved child, always at Miquella’s side. She wouldst not lay waste to an entire realm unprovoked!"

Tarnished tilted his head, mulling it over. ‘Well… Let’s just say she and Radahn weren’t exactly on the best of terms after the Elden Ring shattered.’

Marika narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms in thought. "A war between those two moronic children and their forces? Hah.. Surely, ‘twas a conflict that shook the very foundations of the Lands Between… Yet this? This is no mere battlefield. This is pure and utter annihilation!"

Tarnished rubbed his chin. ‘From what I know, they fought to a standstill. Some say it was a draw, some say Radahn was winning. Either way… Malenia wasn’t happy with the outcome. So she climbed onto Radahn’s back and…’

He hesitated.

Marika’s golden gaze bore into him. "And?"

Tarnished sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘She… Bloomed.’

Marika blinked.

Her mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again, her expression blank.

"…She what ?"

Tarnished winced. ‘Yeah… She bloomed. Right on Radahn’s back. Didn’t even win the fight, either. Had to get bailed out by one of her knights.’

Marika’s jaw tightened.

Tarnished braced himself.

"She BLOOMED?!"

Her voice echoed in his mind, a mixture of outrage, disbelief, and sheer exasperation.

‘She did.’

Marika pressed a hand to her forehead.

"She- She unleashed the Scarlet Bloom Flower upon the battlefield? On the very back of her own brother Radahn?!"

‘Yyyep.’

"And in so doing, she utterly annihilated the land and left it to fester under the influence of the Outer God of Rot?!"

‘Uh-huh.’

Marika inhaled deeply. Then exhaled. Then groaned in utter, soul-deep frustration.

"Greater Will, grant me patience, for I am surrounded by idiots and madmen…" She muttered. "Tell me, mine Champion, what grievous sin hath I committed to warrant such… Such-!"

Tarnished pursed his lips and raised a single finger in protest. ‘Well, to start, you did kinda lock up two of your own kids in the sewers and then shatter the Elden Ring.’

Marika’s head snapped toward him. "That was rhetorical, thou artless dog!"

Tarnished laughed, shaking his head. ‘Come on, you walked right into that one.’

Marika muttered something incomprehensible, something that sounded suspiciously like a string of ancient profanities.

Then, abruptly, her tone shifted. "Enough. Say naught else. I must think."

Tarnished raised an eyebrow. ‘What, seriously? That bad?’

Marika huffed. "Thou canst scarcely comprehend mine ire at present. Yet, I shall grant thee respite… For it seemeth mine daughter wisheth to speak with thee."

Before Tarnished could question her, she vanished into golden light.

A moment later, a familiar blue mist swirled behind him.

He heard soft footsteps, followed by a quiet voice.

"Greetings, Tarnished." Melina said, her expression impassive as she stepped forward. "Might I have a word with thee?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

—

…

Next Chapter Title: A Day Trip Through Hell with my Maiden.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh? What’s up, Melina? Finally got bored of just sitting back and watching?”

Melina, however, didn’t reply.

Instead, she stepped closer, her soft hazel eye piercing into his own, her expression slightly tense. Tarnished barely had time to register her movements before she suddenly grabbed his shoulder with both hands and pulled him toward her.

His breath hitched slightly as their faces ended up mere centimeters apart—so close that he could see the fine details of her features.

She was beautiful.

Not just in the ethereal, graceful way he had already acknowledged, but in a genuinely mesmerizing way. Her lips, soft and delicate, looked entirely too kissable for his own good, he felt a small tinge of nervousness creep up his spine.

Tarnished chuckled awkwardly, his usual smug confidence faltering just a bit. “Well, uh… I gotta say, I enjoy the sudden attention, and I admire your straightforwardness, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing lightly, “I am so very, very confused right now.”

For a moment, she did nothing but stare into his eyes, her gaze calm, yet scrutinizing. Then, with a small nod, she released him and took a step back.

“I apologize.” She said, her tone as even as ever, though there was a small hint of something beneath it—relief, perhaps?

Tarnished tilted his head. “For what?”

“For grabbing you like that.” She folded her arms, her violet gaze steady as she explained, “I needed to see it with my own eyes… To confirm that you truly have it.”

Tarnished blinked, still slightly thrown off by the whole interaction. He straightened his posture and arched a brow. “...Have what?”

Melina looked at him intently, as if expecting him to already know the answer.

“The Grace of Gold.”

His expression flickered, intrigued.

Melina continued, “I needed to see if you truly hold Queen Marika’s Grace within you.”

Tarnished scratched his chin, curiosity piqued. “And? Do I?”

Melina nodded. “Your relative safety on your journey and your unnatural strength for a newcomer to these lands were already indications of it,” she admitted. “But… I needed to see it for myself before making my decision.”

Tarnished crossed his arms. “See what, exactly?”

Melina hesitated for a moment before her gaze flicked toward his eyes.

“To see the Grace of Gold within your gaze.”

Tarnished’s brows furrowed. “Wait, what?”

She studied him for a moment before letting out a small breath. “You truly haven’t noticed yet, have you?”

He shook his head. “I’m gonna have to go with a hard no on that one.”

Melina reached into the folds of her dark robe, pulling out a small, simple mirror before handing it to him.

“Look.” she instructed.

Tarnished took the mirror, half-skeptical, before tilting it toward his face. He got a strange system notification a second later.

[It’s you!]

His gaze turned to Marika for a moment, but she just shrugged. He decided not to think much of it and turned his gaze back to the mirror.

His deep azure-blue eyes stared back at him. At first, he didn’t notice anything different—until he shifted the mirror slightly, catching the reflection in the flickering light of the Caelid sun above him.

Then he saw it.

A subtle shimmer of Gold, faint yet undeniably present, swirled within his irises—like tiny embers of celestial fire, lingering just beneath the surface. It wasn’t just a reflection or a mere trick of the light. It was part of him.

Tarnished muttered, “...Cool.”

He took a moment to look closer and admire his new face, ‘Damn, I really am a sexy bastard now. I kinda look like Miyamoto Musashi from Vagabond, except without any scars and deep blue eyes. The gold shining in them from Marika’s Grace makes me look even better, too.’

“You are welcome~!”

He smirked slightly at the Goddess’ response before he glanced back up at Melina, quirking a brow. “As cool as that is, if that’s what you wanted to know, why didn’t you just ask me?”

Melina closed her eyes briefly before answering. “Because I needed to be sure you wouldn’t lie.”

Tarnished wasn’t offended in the slightest. If anything, he found it amusing. He grinned, handing the mirror back. “Oh ye of little faith~!”

For the first time, Melina’s lips tugged upward slightly, just the faintest hint of amusement flickering across her face.

Tarnished shrugged nonchalantly, watching Melina’s expression as she studied him with newfound curiosity.

She let out a soft sigh, crossing her arms beneath her cloak. “In any case, I hope that you can forgive me. I have been testing you—to see whether or not Grace truly does guide you. And whether or not you are fit to face the challenge that entails.”

Her hazel eye softened, and for a brief moment, she seemed almost… relieved. “But it seems my worries were unfounded.”

Tarnished chuckled, giving a half-smirk. “Evidently.”

She gave a small nod before continuing, “Torrent had your measure from the very start, whereas I merely pretended. There is but one other thing I can do to offer you guidance. I can take you to the Roundtable Hold—a gathering place of Tarnished champions, guided by Grace…”

Tarnished tilted his head slightly, mulling it over for a second before shaking his head.

“Appreciate the offer, but I got a few things I’d rather do first. Some loose ends to tie up before heading there. So, I’ll go later.”

Melina blinked in mild surprise, as if she had fully expected him to say yes. But instead of pushing the matter, she simply nodded slightly. “That is fine. You may take this at your own pace. May the Guidance of Queen Marika the Eternal help you along your path until you are ready.”

She studied him for a second, then added, “Though, I must ask… Why have you not summoned me to strengthen yourself with the power of runes yet?”

Tarnished sweat-dropped slightly.

Ah. That.

The truth was, he was just used to Rune Level 1 runs, having conditioned himself to get through the game without leveling up. It wasn’t necessary in his mind to use his hard earned Runes on leveling up—at least, not yet.

He hadn’t yet fought anything that pushed him enough to necessitate an upgrade.

He scratched the back of his head, chuckling. “Haven’t really felt the need to. I’d rather save my runes for supplies and materials.”

Melina narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly surprised by the answer. But after a moment, she simply nodded. “It is your choice. I shall not interfere.”

A comfortable silence stretched between them as Tarnished thought for a moment, staring off into the distance. He watched the wind rustle through the golden leaves of a nearby tree, his fingers idly tapping against his thigh.

Then, just as Melina was beginning to fade away, he spoke again.

“Wait.”

She paused, blinking curiously. “Yes?”

Tarnished grinned slightly, looking at her with genuine interest. “When you said you were done pretending to be my Maiden… Did you mean that?”

Melina tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Of course. I do not speak in falsehoods. Why do you ask?”

Tarnished’s grin widened.

“Because I want you to actually join me on my journey.”

She stared. “...Pardon?”

“I mean travel with me.” Tarnished leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. “As far as I know, a Maiden is supposed to accompany her Tarnished in their journey, right? They fight together, explore untamed lands together…”

He smirked slyly and looked to the side. “Among other things...”

Melina’s mouth twitched slightly at his tone. “Other things?”

He waved it off with a grin, then continued, “Point is, why don’t you do the same? You can fight, can’t you?”

Melina’s hazel eye flickered with something unreadable as she took in his words. She looked genuinely uncertain.

Tarnished watched her, feeling his grin falter slightly.

‘She’s thinking too hard about this…’

He sighed and waved a hand. “Look, if you don’t have an answer for me now, that’s fine. You can-”

“Very well.”

Tarnished paused.

“Wait, really?”

Melina exhaled softly, as if bracing herself. “Yes.” She folded her hands in front of her, looking away slightly as a faint blush formed on her cheeks. “It is logical. If we work together, we may reach our goals far faster. It is the most practical course of action.”

His smile stretched wider, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Perfect.”

With a sharp whistle, he summoned Torrent, the spectral steed appearing in a flash of azure mist. Without missing a beat, Tarnished swung himself onto its back before turning toward her, extending a hand.

Melina stared at him, then at his outstretched hand.

Then back at his face.

Then at his hand again.

A visible sigh left her lips as she muttered under her breath. “What have I gotten myself into…?” 

Nonetheless, she reached forward, placing her hand in his.

Tarnished gripped it firmly and pulled her up onto Torrent’s back, the steed snorting in response as he adjusted his size accordingly, making room for both riders.

Melina took a second to steady herself, adjusting her cloak and shifting her position slightly.

Then, with a small nod, she spoke, “I am ready.”

Tarnished grinned, flicking the reins lightly. “You won’t regret this.”

Melina sighed, glancing off toward the Rot infested wildlands of Caelid. “I very well hope I do not.”

Tarnished rode forward, Torrent’s hooves thudding softly against the cracked and blighted ground as they ventured deeper into the Caelid wastes.

The air was thick and vile, carrying the stench of decay and rot, the very land itself corrupted beyond recognition. Skeletal remains of trees loomed like gnarled fingers, their bark peeling, blackened, and lifeless.

As they passed through a crumbling ruin, a group of rotting skeletons stirred from their graves, raising brittle weapons with slow, lazy swipes at them.

Tarnished barely paid them any mind.

Torrent merely sprinted past with ease, and the skeletons collapsed pitifully as they missed entirely, their fragile forms clattering into piles of broken bone. Melina watched this unfold before speaking, her voice carrying the weight of genuine curiosity and mild concern.

“Why would you come here of all places? I understand that Radahn is at his festival, deep within these infested lands… But surely you know that you are not yet ready to face him.”

She tilted her head slightly, watching his profile as he stared ahead with quiet determination. “What else could there be in this wretched wasteland?”

Tarnished smirked slightly, not taking his eyes off the path ahead. “You’d be surprised. There’s quite a few things I need from Caelid before I leave.”

Melina raised an eyebrow at that, listening as he continued.

“After we’re done here, I’d like to make a quick stop at the Weeping Peninsula for some more stuff,” he explained, adjusting his grip on the reins. “Then, after that, we can head to Godrick’s Castle and finally kill that pathetic excuse of a Demigod.”

Melina hummed softly, as if processing his plan. “I see… And where do you intend to go first? I would at least like to have an idea of how long we must remain here.”

Tarnished tapped his fingers against Torrent’s reins thoughtfully before answering.

“First, we’ll be heading to Fort Faroth. Then Fort Gael. After that, we’re making a stop at the Cathedral of Dragon Communion, and to finish it off, we’ll be heading to Sellia.”

At this, Melina’s expression flickered with mild confusion.

“That is… Quite the selection…” She murmured.

Her tone was curious but reserved, as if she were waiting to see if he would elaborate.

He didn’t.

Instead, Tarnished chuckled, shaking his head. “There’s far too much I need to cover to be satisfied.”

Melina simply hummed in response, her gaze lingering on him briefly before she let it drop.

The road ahead twisted into a new horror.

A wide, cracked path led straight into the maw of death itself—massive, grotesque Monstrous Dogs stalked the area, their elongated limbs twitching unnaturally as they feasted upon rotting corpses scattered across the blood-soaked ground.

Their jaws gnashed and snapped, exposed muscles twitching grotesquely with every unsettling movement.

The sight made even Melina tense slightly.

Tarnished pulled Torrent to a slow halt, narrowing his eyes at the creatures. Something just behind them caught his eye—a large, seemingly untouched caravan, surrounded by a few dead scattered knights who he assumed were the meals of said monstrous creatures before they had arrived.

Melina followed his gaze, understanding immediately.

“I suggest we go around,” she advised, voice steady yet firm. “There is no need to fight those things.”

Tarnished didn’t respond immediately, instead studying the layout of the battlefield. Then, after a moment, he grinned. “They’re right next to something I really, really want.”

Melina sighed. “Of course they are.”

Tarnished rubbed his chin for a second, then his eyes lit up with realization.

An idea had formed.

He hopped off Torrent, rolling his shoulders.

Melina narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

He grinned at her. “I have a plan.”

She crossed her arms skeptically. “Oh? And what might that be?”

Tarnished tilted his head, still smirking. “Just trust me. When you hear my cue, come grab me.”

Melina frowned slightly. “...Cue? What cue?”

Tarnished simply grinned wider, patting her shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll know it when you hear it.”

Melina stared at him, utterly bewildered. “That is… Not reassuring.”

But before she could press further, Tarnished turned on his heel and full-sprinted toward a nearby hill, one that overlooked both the Monstrous Dogs and the caravan below.

Melina watched him go, rubbing her temples with a sigh.

“This fool is going to be the death of me.”

Tarnished sprinted up the hill, his breath steady, his excitement barely contained. The cliff’s edge came into view, and without hesitation, he pushed off with all his strength, launching himself into the air. The cold wind rushed past him, his heart thrumming in exhilaration.

He landed heavily atop the caravan’s wooden roof, the wood creaking beneath his weight. Without missing a beat, he sprinted down its length, the force of his footsteps rattling the planks beneath him. Below, the Monstrous Dogs continued feasting, unaware of the reckless intruder soaring above them.

Tarnished reached the caravan’s edge, then leapt off, gracefully landing on a small stone platform beside it. There, in the dim light of the blighted Caelid sky, sat a large, iron-bound chest.

His eyes gleamed with anticipation. He rushed forward, gripping the heavy lid and flinging it open. The metallic scent of ancient steel met his senses. Inside, nestled among dust and decay, was a massive, weathered Greatsword—a behemoth of a blade that radiated sheer weight and destruction.

Tarnished grinned wildly, reaching in and gripping the hilt with both hands. The moment his fingers wrapped around the handle, a surge of excitement coursed through him.

But he wasn’t alone anymore.

A guttural snarl rang out behind him.

One of the Monstrous Dogs had noticed him, its rotting, elongated body rising from the corpse it had been devouring. Its sunken, soulless eyes locked onto him, and with a bone-chilling screech, it lunged.

Tarnished ripped the Greatsword from the chest, his laughter booming across the battlefield. He hoisted the massive blade skyward, grinning like a madman.

“I HAVE… THE POWER!!”

The Monstrous Dog hesitated, its rotted brain struggling to process the sheer insanity before it. Then, all at once—every other Monstrous Dog snapped their heads toward him.

The distant chewing and snarling ceased. Then, as one, the pack surged toward him.

A sudden notification flashed in his vision.

[WARNING: Stats insufficient to wield weapon effectively.]

Tarnished’s grin faltered.

“Oh, right.”

The first Monstrous Dog lunged, its massive maw snapping open, aiming to tear his head clean off.

Tarnished tightened his grip on the Greatsword, twisting his body.

Then, he swung it.

The massive blade came crashing down like an executioner’s axe, the sheer weight of it alone enough to send a concussive shockwave through the air.

CRACK.

The Monstrous Dog’s skull crumpled like brittle parchment, its entire head smashing into the dirt with a sickening crunch. Its limbs twitched once, then fell still.

Tarnished exhaled sharply, blinking. Then, he grinned. “Totally calculated.”

The remaining Monstrous Dogs did not care. The moment of silence was shattered as the rest of the pack reached him, their massive claws tearing at the ground, their grotesque forms barreling toward him.

“Uh oh…” Tarnished felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple, his grip on the then Greatsword tightened as he then willed it to enter his inventory for safekeeping and to lighten his load in case he needed to run for his life. “Sure hope Melina got my cue…”

For a split second, there was only the sound of snarling beasts, the rush of wind, and the thudding of countless monstrous limbs against the ground.

Then, a blur of blue shot through the air.

Torrent leapt from the cliffside above, his spectral form twisting gracefully as he double-jumped midair, his hooves dispersing a burst of azure sparks.

Tarnished grinned in relief.

“You got my cue!”

Melina, sitting astride the ethereal steed, did not share his amusement.

She glared at him, her expression was one of annoyance.

“Get on. Now.”

Tarnished didn’t argue. He vaulted onto Torrent’s back, landing just behind her.

Their bodies pressed together slightly from the close proximity, the warmth of her presence noticeable despite the urgency of their escape.

Tarnished leaned in slightly, smirking. “Floor it.”

Melina huffed sharply, gripping the reins.

“As if that wasn’t obvious?!”

With a sharp pull, Torrent whinnied, then bolted forward, leaving the lunging monstrosities behind in a blur of blue light and dust.

Torrent surged forward, hooves pounding against the scorched earth as he pushed himself to his absolute limits. The monstrous dogs behind them howled, their twisted, gaping maws snapping shut just inches from their heels. 

The beasts were relentless, their grotesque forms moving unnaturally fast despite their bloated, rotting frames. Tarnished, caught off guard by Torrent’s sudden burst of speed, teetered dangerously. 

He swayed, struggling to keep balance, and for a split second, it felt as though he would be thrown off entirely. Instinct took over before thought, and he did the first thing that came to mind—he wrapped his arms tightly around Melina’s waist.

Melina immediately stiffened, her entire body going rigid at the unexpected contact. The situation was dire, the howls of their pursuers growing louder, but even over the rushing wind and the thundering hooves, Tarnished could hear the distinct fluster in her voice when she shouted, “W-Where now?!”

Grinning despite himself, Tarnished leaned in slightly to make sure she could hear him over the chaos. “Stick to the left! Keep going until you see a ravine splitting the earth!” 

He didn’t need to turn around to know she would likely glare at him, her face probably still red from his sudden hold, but she did as he instructed, urging Torrent down the path.

The putrid air of Caelid carried the scent of death and decay, the crimson wasteland stretching endlessly before them. The monstrous dogs were relentless, their pursuit unwavering. 

Tarnished scanned his surroundings quickly, eyes sharp, taking in every landmark and detail. That was when he spotted something just ahead—a faint, golden shimmer nestled on the roadside. His eyes widened slightly as realization dawned. It was a Site of Grace.

Without a second thought, he tightened his grip on Melina, shifting his weight slightly to the left as they passed.

Her breath hitched sharply. “A-Ah!”

Ignoring her flustered response, Tarnished stretched out his right hand as they rode past. He felt the warmth of Grace flicker against his fingertips, a brief connection forming between him and the ancient power buried beneath the land. A moment later, a familiar notification blinked into his vision.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

Tarnished grinned victoriously. “Yes! Got it!”

Finally steadying himself, he loosened his grip on Melina ever so slightly, allowing her to breathe. She let out a small, shaky exhale, her composure slowly returning. Her voice, though still holding the faintest trace of fluster, was more composed when she spoke next. “…And what now?”

Tarnished turned his gaze forward. The ravine was just ahead, its deep chasm cutting through the land like a wound. He smirked. “Jump over it.”

Melina’s head snapped toward him, disbelief etched into every inch of her blushing face. “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR WITS ENTIRELY?!”

A piercing howl echoed from their right, chilling and inhuman. A large, pale beast lifted its head, its rotting sockets locking onto them with something akin to hunger. 

The moment it saw them, a violent screech ripped from its throat, and suddenly, nearly a dozen more Monstrous Dogs surged from the crimson fog, moving like streaks of death across the wasteland.

There was no more time.

Tarnished leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something softer, yet undeniably firm. “Trust in me.”

Melina clenched her jaw, eyes narrowing. “There is no trust here, you madman!”

The ravine was getting closer.

The monstrous dogs were almost upon them.

The edge of the cliff loomed before them, and there was no turning back now.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Tarnished leaned in just a little closer, lowering his voice to an almost teasing whisper. “Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith.”

Melina froze and shivered slightly. Then for a moment, she seemed as if she wanted to throw him off of Torrent right then and there.

Then, with a frustrated growl, she snapped the reins. “Fine.”

Torrent let out a sharp whinny, gathering strength in his legs as they shot toward the ravine at full speed. The beasts behind them lunged, closing the gap, their claws raking against the dirt.

Then, they jumped.

For a moment, the world seemed to still.

The howls behind them faded.

The wind ceased.

And for a fraction of a second, it felt as though they were weightless.

Then, just before gravity could reclaim them, Torrent ignited a burst of spectral energy, kicking off the very air itself in a second jump that sent them soaring across the chasm. The moment his hooves met solid ground once more, a small shock rippled through them. 

The impact was sudden, but they had landed safely. Tarnished and Melina turned in unison, looking back across the ravine. The monstrous dogs stood at the very edge, snarling, their empty maws snapping wildly at the air, but they were unable to reach them.

A long silence stretched between the two of them.

Then, simultaneously, they let out a shared sigh of relief.

Melina turned to Tarnished, her expression unreadable for a brief moment. Then, before he could react, she suddenly pinched his cheek.

Tarnished yelped. “Ow, ow, ow—HEY!”

Her voice, though flustered and exasperated, carried a distinct frustration. “That was utterly reckless! Were thy senses not intact, Tarnished?!”

Tarnished rubbed his cheek, laughing. “Oh, come on. Everything worked out, didn’t it? Look on the bright side!”

Melina huffed, arms crossed, her face still noticeably flushed. “The ‘bright side’ is that thou art alive. But that was by sheer chance, not sense.”

Tarnished smirked. “I’d say it was a mix of skill, luck, and a healthy dose of insanity.”

Melina exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temple. “Agh… I fear I may regret this arrangement already.”

Tarnished chuckled, patting Torrent’s neck. “Oh, you definitely will.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Also, I thought I’d just come out and confirm it since a lot of you were asking, the MC does know about the DLC and is well versed in most of its lore.

…

Next Chapter Title: Road to the Elder Dragon.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarnished leaned back slightly, keeping his hands resting loosely at his sides as Torrent carried them forward. The spectral steed moved at a steady pace, its hooves barely kicking up dust as they passed through the desolation of Caelid. 

The sky was a sickly red, clouds of rot-infested fog swirling over the land like a suffocating shroud. The groans of dying creatures echoed in the distance, but neither he nor Melina paid them much mind.

Seated in front of him, Melina sighed before speaking. “Where now, thou reckless fool?” Her tone was even, but there was a distinct note of exasperation beneath it.

Tarnished chuckled, his smirk evident even though she couldn’t see it. “There’s a Site of Grace just ahead. Let me grab that first, then we’ll get started on my checklist.”

She nodded in acknowledgment, adjusting her hold on Torrent’s reins. She was still somewhat unused to guiding the spectral steed, but she handled it well. He could feel the subtle shifts in her posture as she focused, the slight tension in her back as she concentrated on keeping their course steady.

After a few moments, Tarnished tapped her shoulder lightly. “Hold up.”

Melina slowed Torrent to a stop, and Tarnished hopped off, stretching slightly before heading toward the Site of Grace nestled beside a crumbling stone pillar. The familiar warmth of golden light pulsed beneath his fingertips as he activated it, a soft hum resonating through the air.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

He exhaled, turning back toward Torrent—only to find Melina shifting in her seat. She scooted backward slightly, making space for him at the front.

Tarnished raised an eyebrow. “What’s this about?”

She looked away, her expression unreadable but with a faint pink tinge dusting her cheeks. “Thou art the one choosing our path, are thou not? It would be most logical for thee to guide Torrent as well.”

He blinked, processing her words for a moment before realization dawned on him. A slow, smug grin crept onto his face.

“Oh?” He said as he covered his mouth in mock shock, amusement dripping from his voice. “So you want me in front?”

Melina’s blush deepened slightly as she turned her face away. “I… I simply see the practicality of it!”

Tarnished didn’t even try to hide his amusement. 

“Sure, sure~...” He said teasingly, playing along as he swung himself onto Torrent. As soon as he was settled, he took the reins, flicking them lightly to get Torrent moving again.

Behind him, Melina huffed softly but eventually relented, wrapping her arms around his waist with a small pout. He smirked but chose not to comment, simply enjoying the rare, comfortable silence between them as they rode onward.

They veered left, following the path up a hill. Rotten husks lined the roadside, their feeble, decayed limbs reaching for them as they passed. Tarnished barely gave them a glance, but Melina shifted slightly, casting a wary gaze toward the dying creatures.

Then, at the crest of the hill, a rundown shack came into view. Tarnished’s smirk widened.

Melina peered over his shoulder. “What couldst thou possibly want from that forsaken hovel?”

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Many things.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”

His grin widened. “A smart man is also a man of many plans.”

She stared at him for a long moment before deadpanning, “…What in the Lands Between dost that even mean?”

Tarnished let out a loud laugh. “Dunno. I just said it to sound cool!” He nudged Torrent forward. “Did it work?”

Melina let out a slow breath, clearly debating whether to respond before ultimately muttering, “I refuse to dignify that with an answer.”

And with that, they rode toward the shack, the journey ahead still long, but never dull.

The monstrous dogs prowling just beyond the road snarled low, their twisted, rot-slicked forms watching the spectral steed pass from the shadows of Caelid’s dying trees. But they did not chase. Whether out of fear or habit, none dared approach the nearby shack.

Tarnished guided Torrent slowly up the final incline, the ruined wooden hovel rising before them like a forgotten memory. A faint flicker of gold pulsed just inside, and the scent of old smoke and dried herbs clung to the air.

They entered without a word. Melina remained seated, arms loosely around his waist, gaze drifting cautiously to the beasts behind them. Tarnished swung off Torrent with practiced ease, landing in a soft clink of armor. He walked toward the golden shimmer, kneeling slightly as his fingers brushed the cool stone floor.

[Site of Grace Discovered]

The hum of restored energy rolled through him, the fatigue of battle and rot momentarily washed away.

“Ah… it's been an age since I've seen a customer…” a raspy voice drawled, pulling his attention toward the far end of the shack. An old wandering merchant sat cross-legged by a makeshift counter, wrapped in tattered furs and armor that had clearly seen better days. 

His pale eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Two at the same time to boot, as well. How can I help, here at the ends of the earth?”

Tarnished flashed him a crooked smile while Melina, still perched on Torrent, gave the merchant a polite nod but said nothing. Her gaze flicked between the two quietly.

The merchant grunted a laugh. “Got a wide spread of wares, I do. Something for the road, perhaps?” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Or something for your fair maiden?”

Melina's eyes widened slightly, a faint pink blooming on her cheeks as she opened her mouth—no doubt to deliver a cold refutation—but Tarnished beat her to it, laughing loudly.

“Just picking up a few things while we’re out and about,” he said easily, hand resting on his hip. “Got any ritual pots or a beast-repellent torch? Those mangy dogs outside seem suspiciously well-behaved near your shack.”

The merchant grinned, tapping his nose. “Keen mind, lad. I’ve both in stock. Figured someone sharp’d come by eventually.”

“Perfect!” Tarnished nodded. “Let’s make a trade.”

He focused briefly, and a familiar sensation pulsed through his chest as he let the required runes flow from his soul into the merchant’s waiting hand.

[-1,500 Runes]
[Acquired Item: Ritual Pot]
[Acquired Item: Beast-Repellent Torch]

He tucked both items into his pack, flashing a grin. “That’s all for today.”

The merchant inclined his head, offering a rare smile of his own. “Stay safe, friend. And take care of your maiden—those’re hard to come by. Loyal ones as fair as her? Even rarer.”

Melina’s eye twitched. For a brief, dangerous second, her hand flickered toward the hilt of her blade, and the faintest lick of flame coiled at her fingertip.

Tarnished just laughed, low and amused. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He turned, walking back toward Torrent. Melina still looked vaguely murderous, but said nothing as he mounted again, reins in hand.

As Torrent moved into a slow trot, the dogs still keeping their distance, Tarnished leaned slightly to glance back at her with a teasing smirk. “He didn’t mean anything by it. Take it as a compliment.”

Melina grumbled something unintelligible.

Then his voice dropped slightly, eyes locking with hers for a fleeting heartbeat. “Still… if it makes you feel any better, he was right on one thing.”

She blinked. “…And what might that be?”

He grinned. “You are a fair maiden.”

Her cheeks flared scarlet but before he could savor the reaction, her fist shot forward and slammed into his side, right between the ribs.

“Gah!”

“Keep thine eyes forward, fool!” She snapped as she crossed her arms and looked away to the side. “And do not ride us into monsters again!”

The breath left his lungs in a sharp cough, but he chuckled through the pain, clutching his side.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Tarnished exhaled sharply, rubbing the spot where Melina had punched him. “Damn, Melina. You’ve got an arm on you.”

She sniffed dismissively but said nothing, still clearly annoyed.

“Speaking of monsters…” he muttered, digging into his satchel. With a flick of his wrist, he produced the newly acquired beast-repellent torch and held it out to her. “Here. Keep this lit and hold it steady. It should keep those oversized mutts off our backs.”

Melina glanced at it skeptically, her brows narrowing, but took it with a soft sigh. “If thou insist.”

She raised her hand and, without a word, summoned a spark from her fingertips—a small but natural flame dancing at her touch. It leapt to the torch’s head with ease, catching immediately and bursting into a steady, earthy flame.

Tarnished blinked, his eyes lingering on her fingers. 'A spell? Or maybe it’s from her latent Demigod blood? Who knows… Well, Marika would, but she’s currently ignoring me while ‘thinking’ I guess..' 

He decided not to comment on it.

A curious scent drifted from the torch—a mix of herbs and something almost sweet, like wet bark and lavender. The shift was immediate. The massive, grotesque dogs that had lingered near the trees—half-rotted flesh and bone, their teeth slick with red—began to pull back. 

Their ears flattened, noses wrinkled in distaste, and one by one, they began to wander away, growling low but retreating nonetheless.

“Good, working just as intended…” Tarnished murmured. He flicked the reins, guiding Torrent down the eastern slope. “We’ll head right, toward the Divine Tower.”

Melina leaned in slightly, torch raised high. “Is that our destination?”

“Nah.” he replied casually. “Just some loot near it. We’ll be back to raid its insides later. Way later.”

She frowned, but didn’t press further.

As they neared the edge of the plateau, the massive silhouette of the Divine Tower of Caelid loomed above them—broken and crooked against the blood-colored sky like a dead god’s finger. But Tarnished’s attention shifted elsewhere.

A faint twinkle caught his eye. A wandering Teardrop Scarab, rolling its shimmering white ball across the cracked stone path. It glowed ominously, pulsing with barely contained energy.

Tarnished grinned. “Oho~! Found you~!”

Without warning, he kicked off from Torrent’s saddle.

Melina barely had time to shout, “Wait, what art thou-!”

Too late.

Tarnished soared through the air with a manic warcry, both Uchigatanas drawn in a blinding flourish of steel.

The scarab looked up just in time to witness its doom: a shirtless madman descending upon it with twin blades and murder in his eyes. It tried to roll away—futile. One blade pierced clean through its shell, the other slicing into the ground as Tarnished landed in a crouch.

“Gotcha!” He cackled, grinning like a goblin as he hacked at the white orb, ichor splashing across his chest.

Melina stared in stunned silence, still atop Torrent, the flaming torch casting eerie shadows across her face. She looked like she was witnessing a man possessed.

The orb began to flicker. A high-pitched whine built in the air.

“’Tis going to explode-!” She shouted.

Tarnished just smirked. “I know .”

He grabbed the orb, jumped back, and hurled it into the sky like a discus.

BOOM!

The ball detonated mid-air, showering the area with shrapnel—but somehow, miraculously, none of it struck him. From the glittering fallout, a single object spiraled downward.

[Acquired Item: Somber Smithing Stone (8)]

Tarnished caught it one-handed, raising it above his head like a trophy. “I GOT IT!”

Melina, still slack-jawed, blinked slowly… Then let out a tired sigh and shook her head. “Good for thee, I suppose...”

He turned back with a stupidly wide grin. “Hehe~…”

Tarnished jogged back toward Torrent, dust still clinging to his boots from the scarab ambush. With a quick swing of his leg, he mounted smoothly, giving the reins a subtle tug to guide the spectral steed to the right.

The lowlands ahead opened up into a wide, shallow lake—its waters murky and still, disturbed only by the occasional ripple of shifting scales. Two dragons slumbered across the basin, their grotesquely long necks curled like massive serpents, breath rising in steady clouds of steam.

Melina’s voice was quiet but firm, laced with caution. “We should avoid them. I see no value in provoking such ruinous beasts.”

“For once,” Tarnished replied, “I agree with you. Not worth the headache.” He nudged Torrent left, angling away from the beasts’ territory.

Without warning, he spurred Torrent forward into a sudden leap off a nearby incline—angled just enough to drop them onto a narrow, hidden side path below. The jolt caught Melina by surprise.

“Warn me next time, fool!” She snapped, gripping his waist tightly to avoid slipping off.

Tarnished laughed under his breath. “My bad. I’ll give you a countdown next time.”

Melina huffed but said no more as Torrent trotted into the quiet enclave tucked beneath the Divine Tower’s shadow. Mist rolled in soft spirals across the ground, and a strange silence hung heavy here.

Before them sat a circle of stone chairs—most broken or tilted, some still upright despite the skeletal remains perched upon them. A scattered arrangement of gleaming objects caught Tarnished’s eye.

Melina frowned slightly. “What is this place?”

He dismounted and wandered into the circle. 

“A goldmine.” He said with a grin, crouching to scoop up the spoils.

[Picked-Up Item: Rune Arc]
[Picked-Up Item: Somber Smithing Stone (9)]
[Picked-Up Item: Dragonwound Grease]
[Picked-Up Item: Arteria Leaf]

He tucked each one away, clearly pleased, then swung himself back onto Torrent. Melina still had a faint crease in her brow, watching him with a flicker of unease in her expression—but she said nothing, and Tarnished, oblivious, rode on.

As they exited the side path, he glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. “Hold on tight. Next stretch, we’re gonna need to haul ass.”

Melina didn’t question him this time. She simply nodded and wrapped her arms more firmly around his waist, her hands, just as one would expect from a fair maiden, they were warm and supple, comforting.

“I am ready.” She said softly.

Tarnished’s smile deepened—just for a moment—and then he lightly kicked Torrent’s side. The spectral steed burst forward in a blur of gold and ash.

The wind roared past them as they raced down into the scarlet haze of the lakebed. The dragons stirred faintly, nostrils twitching, but Tarnished veered sharply right, seizing the tattered map from its resting place in one smooth motion.

[Picked-Up Item: Dragonbarrow Map Fragment]

Neither of the slumbering titans reacted in time. Within seconds, they were gone—Torrent carrying them past claws and teeth and into the next stretch of wild, blighted land.

They tore across the unbeaten path, Torrent’s hooves barely making a sound against the cracked earth. A few more dragons lay scattered in the distance, draped across ridges and stone arches like forgotten gods. None stirred.

Melina leaned closer, her voice raised just slightly to be heard over the rush of wind. “Why dost these not notice us? We are near them, and yet…”

Tarnished shrugged. “If I had to guess? Scarlet Rot’s gotten so bad, it’s robbed them of their senses. Maybe even their sight.”

She was quiet for a beat, then murmured, “I suppose… that makes a grim kind of sense.”

Then, as the path crested a low rise, the land opened into a hollow. At its heart lay an enormous, unmoving figure—her pale scales dulled by age and rot. It was the Elder Ancient Dragon Greyoll. 

She sprawled like a felled monument, wings limp, throat quivering faintly with shallow breath. Around her rested five smaller dragons, curled in close formation, guarding her in perfect silence.

Tarnished’s grin returned. Melina couldn’t see it, but somehow— somehow —she felt it, crawling down her spine like cold steel.

“Tarnished…” She said slowly. “Surely, that is not why we are here.”

He didn’t respond.

He only chuckled. A laugh low, dark, and filled with mischief.

And that chuckle made her skin crawl.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Have ya’ll been playing Nightreign? I have! Why do you think this chapter took so long to come out? I am now 3 trophies away from the Platinum :3

…

Next Chapter Title: How to Kill a Godbeast via Papercuts.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Torrent’s hooves made only the faintest sound as they approached the towering, sleeping form of Greyoll. The massive Elder Dragon loomed like a collapsed mountain, each shallow breath rattling from her throat like a dying storm. Around her, five younger dragons—if they could still be called that—slept with slow, coiled menace, their wings draped protectively over her form.

Melina's voice broke the tense quiet. “Dost thou… have a plan here?”

Tarnished chuckled, low and cocky. “Who do you think I am? Of course I have a plan.”

That wasn’t particularly reassuring.

They veered carefully to the right, staying low and close to the overgrown ruins and gnarled, rotted tree roots that littered the path. The dragons stirred occasionally—tails twitching, wings flexing—but none seemed to notice the spectral steed or its passengers.

Using a low ridge and some rotted stone outcroppings as cover, they approached the far side of the lakebed. Then, with a tap to Torrent’s flank, Tarnished spurred them into a leap. The spectral steed soared over a smoldering wall of collapsed stone, flames licking beneath them but never touching, and landed cleanly on a sloped path beyond.

Ahead, bathed in the sickly red glow of Caelid’s rot-sickened skies, loomed Fort Faroth . Ancient. Filthy. And dangerous.

But just before it, a flickering golden light shone on the edge of the road.

“There it is,” Tarnished said, grinning wide. “Here’s where the magic happens.”

Melina narrowed her eyes. “And by magic , thou mean…?”

“This,” he said, hopping off Torrent and striding toward the Site of Grace. “Is where I start leveling up.”

“…‘Leveling up?’” she echoed, eyebrow raised.

“Oh. Right,” he said with a grin, like he’d forgotten she wasn’t also from the land of endless save files. “I mean, turning my runes into strength. You know—more power, less dying.”

“Hmm,” Melina replied, clearly unconvinced, but she watched silently as he knelt at the Grace.

[Site of Grace Discovered]

Golden light pulsed up through him, and he turned to look at her with an inviting smirk. “C’mon. You know the drill.”

Melina sighed softly and dismounted. She gave Torrent an affectionate pat, running her fingers along his mane. The spectral steed nickered softly before vanishing into a soft swirl of blue smoke.

She approached slowly, her expression unreadable. “Very well. Lead on, Tarnished.”

He straightened, brushing dust from his hands. “Alright. Strap in. We’re going into a real shit fest.”

She exhaled sharply. “If thou say so…”

He gestured toward the looming entrance of Fort Faroth, dark and gaping like the maw of some long-dead beast. Even from this distance, the stench of decay and bat droppings wafted out, thick enough to sting the senses.

Melina wrinkled her nose. “I can smell the filth from here.”

Tarnished just grinned wider. “That’s the smell of opportunity. And well… What’d ya expect from Caelid?”

“...Fair enough.”

The stone stairs groaned beneath their feet as Tarnished and Melina approached the gaping mouth of Fort Faroth . Cracked banners fluttered limply in the wind, and the reek of rot and guano rolled out from the entrance like a living thing.

Tarnished stopped just shy of the threshold, the open gate casting deep shadows ahead. He turned to Melina, expression unusually serious. “Stick close to me.”

She gave a silent nod, green eyes sharp.

Then they ran.

The moment they crossed into the fort, shrill screeches echoed overhead as a swarm of grotesque bats dropped from the rafters. Worse still, a pair of winged, wailing figures—harpy-like dames with long limbs and hollow eyes—floated down from the rafters, their chants clawing at the mind like nails on stone.

Melina’s voice was terse. “Where-?”

“No time!” Tarnished barked, grabbing her hand without hesitation and dragging her forward.

They sprinted deeper into the fort, dodging flailing claws and flapping wings, past collapsed staircases and half-broken corridors swallowed by rot. Darkness consumed everything ahead, pierced only by the faint golden shimmer of his Grace-sight.

Eventually, they skidded to a stop near the base of a tall, rusty ladder that rose into another level of the fort.

Tarnished turned to her with a crooked grin. “Pretty ladies first.”

Melina scoffed, rolling her eyes—but the faint blush rising on her cheeks was hidden by the dark. 

“Fool.” She muttered, but she obeyed, beginning to climb.

Tarnished spun, slashing at two bats that dove at her from behind. Their shrieks were silenced in a quick double slice of his Uchigatanas, and he only sheathed them once the space below was clear.

“Alright,” he muttered. “My turn.”

He grabbed the ladder and started climbing—but partway up, a thick miasma drifted from the vents lining the wall. A violet haze. Instantly, a bar appeared at the edge of his vision.

[Status: Poison Buildup]

The bar filled rapidly.

“Shit.”

Tarnished coughed, then louder, rasping as the poison filled his lungs and began eating at his flesh.

“Fuck you, Miyazaki!” he wheezed. “You and your annoying ass obsession with poisoning me!”

He kept climbing, each rung slower than the last. By the time he pulled himself up over the ledge, he was pale and half-sputtering, poison visibly eating away at the corners of his vision.

Melina was waiting.

She knelt the moment he collapsed beside her. “Are thou… alright?”

“Peachy,” he coughed. “Just.. Got poisoned… By those harpy fucks.”

She sighed heavily. “Stay still, fool.”

Raising her hands, soft green magic swirled around her fingertips. She pressed her palms to his chest, her voice low and steady as she chanted the cure.

“Cure Poison.”

The magic pulsed through him—gentle, warm, almost soothing. He exhaled deeply as the poison bar shrank and disappeared entirely, and the fog in his mind cleared.

“You idiot.” Melina muttered, scolding without venom. “What was thy plan, had I not been here to mend thy recklessness?”

Tarnished grinned, still sprawled across the floor. “Chug flasks and pray to RNGesus.”

Another sigh. “Then ‘tis good you convinced me to come along. Knowing you, you would’ve found a way to permanently die despite Queen Marika’s damn Grace.”

“Maybe that’s true,” he chuckled, pulling himself upright with a groan.

A faint glimmer caught his eye to the side. A small stone chest sat tucked in the corner of the chamber, half-hidden behind some broken crates. He approached it and knelt down, flipping the lid open with one smooth motion.

[Acquired Item: Dectus Medallion (Right)]

Tarnished smiled to himself, slipping it into his inventory with a soft chime.

Melina stepped beside him, brow raised. “That… is quite lucky. Those medallions are rare. With this, our entrance into Liurnia shall be far smoother.”

He nodded, still looking at the chest for a moment longer than necessary.

“Yeah…” He said softly. “Quite lucky indeed…”

Tarnished motioned wordlessly, a glint in his eye as he tilted his head toward a narrow tower exit. Melina followed without complaint—though she was growing all too familiar with his version of "just one more thing."

They scaled a short stairwell, emerging onto the crumbling ledge of a tower. Below them stretched the rotten tiled roofs of Fort Faroth , and without hesitation, Tarnished leapt down onto the shingles with a clatter of metal and soft grunt on impact. Melina landed beside him with more poise, cloak fluttering in the wind—just in time for the air to turn ice-cold.

Ghostly armor shimmered into view.

A trio of spectral knights materialized from thin air, summoned by some ancient curse or lingering duty. Their visors glowed faintly, and without warning, they lunged.

Tarnished drew his twin Uchigatanas, metal singing as he met the first knight’s blade mid-swing. Sparks flew from the clash, the force knocking him back slightly. Melina ducked the blade of another, her expression sharpening as she retaliated with a sharp incantation.

A blaze of flame erupted from her palm, engulfing her target.

The knight screeched unnaturally, armor burning red-hot—and before it could recover, Melina closed the gap, her dagger flashing once in the dim light.

SHNK.

The knight’s head tumbled free, vanishing into ash before it hit the roof.

With a synchronized finish, Tarnished severed the last knight’s arm and buried his blade in its chest. The spirit dissipated into curling smoke.

He turned to her, panting lightly. “Still got it.”

Melina arched an eyebrow. “I always had it.”

They shared a breath, then turned toward a shattered section of roof. Tarnished led them forward and jumped down through a gaping hole, landing on a wide support beam within the upper rafters of the fort. Melina dropped in after, frowning as her boots squelched against the filth.

“This place reeks,” she muttered, waving a hand to dispel a few bats fluttering too close. “We’ve returned to this… filthy hovel .”

“Trust me, not my first choice,” Tarnished replied, swatting away a string of dangling mold. “Place is like a poison and batshit casserole.”

He walked along the beam, carefully balancing on the decayed wood until something glimmered at the edge. He crouched and reached for it.

[Acquired Item: Golden Rune (12)]

A soft chime echoed as he pocketed the precious rune, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Melina’s voice cut through the dim silence.

“Can we leave this place now ?”

“Almost,” he said, turning toward a narrow platform jutting out to the side. He pointed. “Just one more thing. You think you can make that jump?”

Melina examined the distance, judging it with a quick glance. She looked back at him and nodded once.

“Alright then,” Tarnished grinned. “Follow me!”

He leapt first, landing hard with a roll that nearly knocked him over. He recovered and turned to watch.

Melina’s cloak fluttered behind her as she sailed across the gap in a single graceful bound, landing with silent precision.

Tarnished shrugged. “I could’ve done that too, y’know.”

“ Sure you could have,” she replied dryly.

They walked along the rafters, weaving through crumbling beams until they reached a narrow corner. A ladder dropped into a shadowy chamber below.

Tarnished peered over the edge, then looked at Melina. “Hey, can you throw something down there?”

She squinted. “Why?”

“Just… humor me.”

With a soft sigh, she pulled a spare throwing knife from her belt and flicked it downward. It clattered against stone, echoing for a beat of silence.

Then came the sound of shifting, wet flesh.

Two rats slithered from the dark—one oversized and foul, the other easily the size of a horse , its beady eyes gleaming red in the gloom.

Melina took an instinctive step back. “By the Erdtree… how did thou know ?”

Tarnished didn’t answer immediately. His gaze glazed over—like he was looking through her, not at her. In that moment, countless memories surged forth: ambushes in sewer tunnels, poison bites in dim catacombs, sudden deaths in rat-infested pits… 

From Dark Souls to Bloodborne to now, it was always rats.

Always.

He blinked. The moment passed.

“…Gut feeling.” He said simply.

Tarnished unsheathed both Uchigatanas in a clean, practiced motion, their steel catching the sickly red light of Caelid like fangs bared.

“I’m going for the big fat one.”

Melina nodded, already forming fire in her palm. “Then I’ll take care of the smaller one.”

He didn’t wait. With a grin, he dove through the hole, wind howling past his ears as he plummeted like a dagger from heaven.

He landed directly on the massive rat—its bloated body squelching beneath him. Both blades drove home with brutal precision, one piercing clean through its neck, the other pinning it to the ground with a grotesque squelch.

The beast let out a high-pitched, guttural squeal , writhing violently under his weight.

Its smaller kin shrieked and darted forward, fangs bared—but a searing spear of flame streaked down from above, slamming through its side and out the other, silencing it mid-charge.

Tarnished snarled as he twisted the blade still lodged in the rat’s neck, then yanked it free and drove it straight into the creature’s eye.

The rat let out one final convulsion before going still beneath him.

For a moment, the only sound was his breath—heavy, winded, and satisfied.

He stepped off the corpse, blood trailing down the curve of his blades. With a flick of each wrist, he cleaned the steel, then slid them back into their sheaths with a satisfying click .

From above, Melina crouched, one knee braced on the edge of the drop. “Need help?”

He shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow. “Nah. I got it from here.”

He turned toward the side of the chamber, spotting a glint of something nestled within a half-rotted corpse. He crouched, brushing away the decay, and his fingers closed around a familiar sigil-inscribed talisman.

[Acquired Item: Radagon’s Soreseal]

A soft chime echoed in his mind. Tarnished stared at it for a moment—feeling the raw, crackling strength radiating from the artifact. A smile tugged at his lips. "Nice."

He turned slightly, about to call out to Melina-

“Ah… my champion.”

The voice returned like a velvet dagger to the spine. Cool. Amused. Watching.

“Thou hast been… enjoying thyself with my daughter in my absence, I see.”

Tarnished blinked. ‘Oh great. You’re back.’

He cleared his throat mentally. ‘Yeah, sorry about not calling. Cell reception’s terrible in poison castles.’

“Mmm… And what’s this?” Her voice purred in his mind, dripping with an edge of knowing sarcasm. “Thou hast acquired quite the… artifact.”

‘Artifact?’ he echoed. ‘You mean this talisman? From it’s name, it seems like something Radagon left behind. What about it?’

A pause. Then her tone changed—sharpened, like glass hidden beneath silk.

“That... is no mere trinket. That is his seal—his flaw, his penance.” Marika materialised before him once more, her ever breathtakingly beautiful form almost brightening up the dark room around him.

“Radagon was ever the fool who believed pain was strength. He etched his guilt into that seal, branded it with power, and cast it adrift.”

Tarnished furrowed his brow, turning the talisman in his fingers. ‘So he punished himself?’

“So he thought .” Marika’s voice lowered, and something heavier stirred beneath it. “But in truth… he made others suffer in his stead. A burden passed on, not lifted. Typical of him.”

‘You sound real warm and fuzzy about the guy. I’m a bit shaky when it comes to the lore, but aren’t you two basically the same person?.’

“Thou art correct, to an extent. He was me , and yet not. A mask I wore. A chain I bore. Wouldst thou wear his shame upon thy neck, my champion? Or art thou merely drawn to raw strength like every other beast in this forsaken world?”

Tarnished raised an eyebrow. ‘Bit of both, maybe.’

A chuckle—dry, bitter, fond.

“Of course it is.”

From above, Melina’s voice cut through the psychic haze. “Tarnished? Art thou well?”

He looked up and waved. “Yeah. I’m fine. Got what we came for.”

“ Thank the Erdtree, ” she muttered, barely audible.

Marika chuckled softly with a breathtaking smirk on her face.

“Indeed, sweet child. Thank the Erdtree… and pray it forgives what cometh next.”

 …

The heavy doors of Fort Faroth groaned open behind them, a sick chorus of hinges and wind. Tarnished and Melina stepped out into Caelid’s rot-blasted air, the castle’s stench of poison and bat droppings mercifully left behind.

As they descended the stone stairs, Tarnished flicked two fingers upward, pulling open the glowing interface that hovered faintly in his vision. Transparent golden light bathed his peripheral, and with a thought, he opened his Stats Page .

[STATS PAGE]
Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Level: 9

Vigor: 12 (Truly? I hath seen scrawnier knights in my court.)
Mind: 11 (Let us see how much wit doth fill thy skull.)
Endurance: 13 (Mayhaps thou shalt not collapse like a babe with naught but a breeze.)
Strength: 12 (Ah, the might of a warrior? Or merely the grip of a stableboy?)
Dexterity: 15 (Astonishing. Truly, the swiftness of a crippled crow.)
Intelligence: 9 ('Tis fitting, mayhaps.)
Faith: 8 (A heathen, I see.)
Arcane: 8 (No great miracles shall be wrought by thee.)

Tarnished groaned internally. ‘Your… riveting commentary is still here.’

Marika giggled softly in the back of his mind, her voice velvet-smooth and smug. “Why wouldn’t it be? I find thy struggle... endearing.”

He sighed. ‘I suppose that does make sense.’

With a thought, he flipped open the talisman interface. The comforting pulse of the Green Turtle Talisman still thrummed faintly against his chest—stamina bubbling like a hidden spring.

But he unequipped it.

The effect disappeared instantly. His limbs felt heavier, slower, and his inner energy dulled like a faded ember. For a moment, he hesitated.

Then he moved on.

Radagon’s Soreseal slid into place with a resonant hum—like a forge lighting in his blood. Power surged through him, tendons tightening, muscle coiling with unnatural strength. He shivered as the sudden pressure filled every inch of him, head to toe.

A small hum of near-pleasure escaped before he caught himself.

He flipped open his updated stats again.

[STATS PAGE – With Radagon’s Soreseal Equipped]
Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Level: 9

Vigor: 14 (Oh? A second breath in thy lungs. Will wonders never cease.)
Mind: 11 (Still untouched. 'Tis no surprise.)
Endurance: 15 (At last, something resembling stamina. Try not to waste it.)
Strength: 17 (Now this is strength. Thy stableboy hath grown teeth.)
Dexterity: 17 (A crow no longer—perhaps a falcon, though one yet half-blind.)
Intelligence: 9 (Alas. Still tragically dumb.)
Faith: 8 (Still a heathen. But now a stronger heathen.)
Arcane: 8 (I remain unimpressed.)

‘As witty as ever…’ He thought with a mental eye-roll.

“Why, thank you, my champion,” Marika replied sweetly, golden hair no doubt flowing in some unseen wind as she preened in his mind.

They approached the slope overlooking the shallow lake. The massive, collapsed form of Greyoll —Elder Dragon, Mother of All Dragons—lay ahead, breathing in ragged, seismic rhythms. Around her, five drakes slumbered, wings twitching faintly in dreamless sleep.

Melina slowed beside him. “…What is thy plan, exactly?”

He smiled.

“We’re going to kill it.”

Melina stared at him, jaw hanging slightly. “You wish to what ?”

He turned to her, utterly calm, even cheerful. “Kill it.”

“…How.” She asked slowly. “Dost thou intend to slay Greyoll , Mother of all Dragons?”

“It’s quite simple, you see.”

He unsheathed both Uchigatanas with a soft metallic shiiing , their edges gleaming red.

Then he pulled a weapon from his pack—a spiked flail, its iron ball rusted but brutal—and offered it to her.

“We’re going to bleed it to death. ”

Melina stared at the weapon in her hands like it had personally insulted her ancestors. “And… What of the five dragons guarding her?”

He gestured to the distant beasts with his chin. “Scarlet Rot’s robbed them of their sight, probably most of their senses too. They won’t even notice us.”

She watched him for several long, quiet seconds. Then she tightened her grip on the flail.

“I have a very bad feeling about this.”

Tarnished laughed and patted her lightly on the back. “Don’t worry. What’s the worst that could happen? I’m practically immortal, and you can disappear whenever you want. It’ll be fine!”

Melina let out a long, slow sigh of deep spiritual regret.

He led her along the ridge, down the slope, to an exposed flank of the great dragon’s side—its scales cracked, old, vulnerable. The breath that left Greyoll’s maw was like hot mist rolling across the earth.

Tarnished cracked his knuckles.

“Alright,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Start swinging that flail or get comfy. This might take a while.”

Marika’s voice whispered in his mind again, amused.

“Truly, mine champion… only thou wouldst wage war on a god-beast via mild inconvenience. ”

The rhythmic shunk-shunk-shunk of Uchigatanas slicing into ancient dragon flesh echoed across the crimson wastes. Tarnished and Melina stood side by side, their strikes slow but methodical, carving into the massive, motionless flank of Greyoll . The Elder Dragon groaned—an otherworldly, earth-shaking screech that shattered the quiet and made even the wind falter.

Immediately, the five slumbering dragons scattered across the cliffs awoke with shrieks of their own, wings flaring, eyes blazing.

Melina tensed. “Tarnished…”

He held up a hand. “Just watch.”

The dragons roared into the sky and began attacking… everything. Stone, wind, tree, the shadows cast by each other—they clawed at the air blindly, rage-filled and directionless. As Tarnished had guessed, the rot had robbed them of not only their vision, but their senses.

“Damn, I’m good…” He muttered.

They kept slashing.

After a few moments of bloody repetition, a shimmer of gold appeared at Tarnished’s side—Marika, her astral projection leaning elegantly against Greyoll’s colossal flank. She crossed her arms, golden eyes unreadable.

“Art thou truly content to butcher a godbeast like a common hog?” She mused, amused and faintly pitying. “And tell me, my champion… Dost thou know why Malenia fought Radahn? What could drive the Goddess of Rot to bloom —on her own brother no less—and doom Caelid to this fate?”

Tarnished grunted, not slowing his swings. ‘Not exactly a lore expert, but… far as I know? It all ties back to Miquella.’

Marika raised a brow. “Miquella? What had he to do with that battle?”

He stepped back to wipe blood from his blade, flicking off the clinging rot ichor. ‘Miquella wanted Radahn as his… ‘consort.’ To pull his soul free from the influence of the stars. So he had Malenia fight him to the death. To break him.’

Marika’s smile faded. She looked away, thinking.

“…To seek Radahn as a consort… is Miquella striving for godhood?”

Her voice was quiet now, touched with genuine disbelief.

“I always knew he was the secretive sort… but this ? This magnitude of manipulation? Even I…” she paused, expression unreadable. “Even I did not see this coming.”

Tarnished’s gaze darkened. ‘Yeah. Miquella’s a little wolf in sheep’s clothing. The death, the rot, the manipulation... All to create his age of mindless ‘compassion.’ A twisted dream of a golden world. But it’s soaked in blood and ruin.’

He stepped forward again, blades gleaming red.

‘If I ever see him with my own eyes… I won’t stop until I know for a fact he’s dead. Permanently.’

Marika was quiet for a long time.

Then, voice low and sharp:

“If he is as thou say… then I shall strike him down beside thee. I’ve had enough of traitors in my bloodline.”

Tarnished turned, about to speak—but a sudden spurt of foul, corrupted blood exploded from Greyoll’s side with a wet splat , catching him full in the chest and sending him flying backward into the dirt.

He hit the ground hard, sliding through the muck. Scarlet rot clung to him like oil. The blood sizzled on contact, and a familiar bar began to fill in the corner of his vision.

[Status Ailment: Scarlet Rot Buildup]

And yet... he grinned .

Greyoll’s health bar dipped visibly, a full sixteen percent , from that one instance of bloodloss.

Melina looked over, eyes wide. “Art thou well?!”

Tarnished sat up, spitting rot-tainted mud from his mouth. “Fine! That was just the first of many. A few more like that, and Dragon Momma’s dead.”

Melina sighed. “At least we know thy insane plan is working.”

“I never doubted it,” he said, smirking through the filth.

“Yeah,” she replied flatly. “I didn’t think you would.”

He staggered to his feet, armor soaked and stained as the sting of rot pricked at his skin. “Hey, uh… Melina?” he asked, glancing down at himself. “You wouldn’t happen to know any rot cleansing spells, would you? Apparently Greyoll’s been so thoroughly rotted, even her blood’s more disease than blood.”

Melina gave him the world-weary stare of a maiden pushed to her spiritual limits.

“Must all maidens work so tirelessly?” she muttered, stepping closer.

Tarnished grinned. “Probably not. But I love you all the more for it.”

Her face went crimson.

WHAM.

Her fist sunk into his gut, folding him in half with a wheeze.

“Shut up.” She hissed.

He stumbled back, laughing through the pain as she stepped forward, raising her hands. A gentle golden flame—soft, not destructive—flickered to life in her palms.

“Hold still.” She muttered.

The flames gathered, glowing with a rare warmth. Not fire to burn—but fire to heal . The rot hissed and smoked as it fled from the blessed light.

“Flame, Cleanse Thee.”

[Rot Buildup: Cleansed]

“Thanks,” he said, exhaling as he patted his now cleaned abdomen. “You gotta teach me that at some point.”

Melina’s eyes narrowed instantly. “No. Thou wouldst find a way to burn thyself to death with it.”

He placed a hand to his heart, feigning offense. “ Come on~! Give me a little more credit than that!”

She didn’t even blink. “No.”

Tarnished blinked back at her.

“…Wow. Not even pretending to consider it?”

Melina shook her head, turning away and raising the flail again. “I value mine sanity.”

Behind them, Marika chuckled softly, her astral form still leaning casually against the side of Greyoll.

“She knows thee well, my champion.”

Tarnished rolled his shoulders, a grin returning to his face as he re-drew his blades.

“Alright, alright. Back to dragon stabbing.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

That Elden Ring Nightreign Platinum Trophy is mine. Also, Wylder is the Goat.

…

Next Chapter Title: Leveling 101.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

FYI, I somehow managed to fuck up adding 5 to the right stats in the previous chapter but I have fixed it from this point on and accounted for it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Melina sat hunched on a rock, arms resting on her knees, hands stained crimson. The spiked flail lay beside her, equally soaked in blood—most of it Greyoll’s, some of it from the occasional bat that had dared get too close. Her expression was a mixture of exhaustion and slow-burning regret, the kind of look only a three-hour dragon bleed farm could inspire.

Tarnished, meanwhile, was still going.

Shirtless and covered head to toe in blood, his upper body was slick with red, the light sheen of sweat and old dragon ichor making him gleam in the sunlight like some unhinged pagan war god. His pants were now nearly black from hours of gore. 

He stood at Greyoll’s massive, unmoving flank, swinging his Uchigatanas with the determination of a man who had long since passed the threshold of reason and was now powered purely by spite and muscle memory. Melina’s rot-cleansing flame had saved him from corruption more times than he could count.

In his system display, Greyoll’s health bar was now a paper-thin sliver—maybe ten percent left, if that.

Behind him, Melina groaned. “When art thou going to finish this madness? It’s been three hours! ”

Tarnished just chuckled cheerfully, not breaking rhythm. “Shouldn’t be much longer. Last bleed proc was twenty minutes ago. Can’t be that far now!”

Melina groaned louder and slumped back down.

He finally paused for a moment, wiping some dragon gunk off his forehead and reaching into his pouch. From it, he retrieved a familiar golden item, a Gold-Pickled Fowl Foot . The one he had… Appropriated from Patches not too long ago.

‘Wonder where that bald bastard is now,’ he mused. ‘Was what I did to him a bit much?’

There was a brief pause as Tarnished considered that question, before he shook his head with a self satisfied smirk.

‘Nah. The bald-headed bastard deserved it.’

He bit into the fowl foot.

[Status Effect: Rune Acquisition +30%]

A faint golden glow surrounded him, humming near his health bar as the debuff from Greyoll’s ancient scream lingered just below it.

Marika’s voice purred into his thoughts, amused and skeptical.

“If he is truly as important as thou claimed… then thy constant may become quite the thorn in our side. I should hope thou art ready to reap what thy bullying hath sown.”

Tarnished smirked internally. ‘Let him try. I know all his tricks.’

He resumed slashing.

Greyoll let out a guttural, trembling groan —a sound so deep it rumbled the air around them. The Elder Dragon cried out once more, her voice rolling across Caelid like a thunderclap.

Melina sat up, alert. “Is it done?”

Tarnished turned mid-swing to answer when another geyser of blood erupted from Greyoll’s side, catching him full in the chest and launching him across the dirt like a cannonball. He hit the ground with a muddy splat , rolling several feet before groaning.

“Ugh…”

Rot clung to him immediately, its toxic presence burrowing beneath his skin.

“Hold still.” Melina appeared at his side, kneeling quickly and placing glowing fingers against his chest. 

“Flame, Cleanse Thee.”

[Scarlet Rot: Cleansed]

She began to ask, “Is it-” but trailed off as they both turned to look.

Greyoll’s body trembled.

Then, slowly… she began to disintegrate .

Cracks of golden light split across her flesh as her colossal form broke apart like ancient stone, fading into dust and Grace. The runes inside her soul, unspent and godlike, burst free in a blinding explosion of light.

Tarnished’s eyes widened as hundreds— thousands —of rune fragments shot into his body like falling stars. He staggered back, forced to close his eyes from the sheer brilliance of it.

Golden light surged into his chest, overflowing with warmth and power. His body trembled under the strain.

Melina shielded her eyes. “I think… I think that’s all of them.”

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking as the last bits of golden dust faded into the air. His system pinged with a sound more dramatic than usual.

[+134,420]
[Item Acquired: Heart of the Ancient Dragon Matriarch]

His jaw dropped.

“What-?! I… is that…?” He fumbled for words. ‘Wait, even the heart drop is different. I didn’t just get 5 normal dragon hearts, what the hell is this?!’

Marika’s voice was calm, as she appeared in front of him with her hand at her hip to look over at where the Elder Dragon used to lay. 

“Thou didst just slay Greyoll. The Greyoll. Mother of all dragons. Quite frankly, I’m surprised thou didst not earn more. But I suppose her soul hath dwindled rather significantly over the millennia since the Shattering.”

Tarnished stared at the number on his screen, a small, almost shaky grin spreading across his bloodied face. “This is… this is more than twice what I expected.”

Melina exhaled beside him, a rare smile ghosting across her lips. “Well… thy madness paid off. We gained more than we bargained for.”

He turned to her, curious. “What do you mean?”

She pointed forward, he followed her gaze.

And there they were.

All five dragons.

Perched atop the rotten hills that Greyoll used to lay on and looking down at the two of them, their hollowed eyes burning with rage.

“Oh…” Tarnished muttered.

Melina sighed. “Turns out… they’re not completely blind.”

Tarnished stood slowly, never breaking eye contact with the five dragons glaring down at them. Their massive forms shifted with mounting fury, wings twitching, talons scraping the earth. The low rumble of their growls echoed like distant thunder. He rose to full height, back still slick with Greyoll’s blood, and turned his head ever so slightly toward Melina.

“I have a plan.”

Melina blinked. “Okay… what is this plan?”

He took a deep breath, still watching the dragons as he spoke. “It’s a plan passed down through generations of my family. A time-honored technique that has never failed me… or any of my ancestors.”

From behind him, Marika's astral form flickered into view, arms crossed, leaning forward with amused curiosity. “A technique passed down through thy bloodline, thou say? I am intrigued. What plan could boast such legacy?”

Melina, however, was less patient. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait… don’t you have amnesia?! ”

He frowned and barked at her. “Does that really matter right now?!”

She threw her arms up with an exasperated groan. “ Well, what is it?! Hurry up, I don’t think they’re thrilled about us butchering their mother!”

He finally turned to her, raising one bloodied finger and lowering his voice dramatically.

“Listen… and listen well since I won’t say it twice. You must follow this plan to your final breath. ”

She shouted over the rising screeches behind them. “ Out with it!! They’re coming down on us any second now!”

A shadow passed over Tarnished’s face as the sun was blotted out by massive wings. Then… he chuckled.

Melina raised an eyebrow. “What-?”

Before she could finish, Tarnished suddenly reached forward and grabbed her hand tightly . She flushed, eyes widening in confusion.

“Wh-what are you-?”

“RUN. THE FUCK. AWAY!!”

He spun on his heel and sprinted , dragging her along with him as five dragon roars exploded behind them. Melina shrieked in fury as the ground quaked under the dragons' charge.

“This is your plan?! This is a TERRIBLE PLAN!! ”

“ BAHAHAHA! IT NEVER FAILS!! ” He shouted giddily as he pulled her up the nearest hill, dodging rotten roots and jagged stone. Their blood-covered footprints smeared the slope as they bolted upward, the dragons tearing through the ruins behind them.

Melina glanced ahead and immediately knew what was coming next.

“Mine champion, I fear you have quite the strange yet amusing obsession with jumping off of cliff sides~!” Marika commented in his head, her complete and utter amusement at their current predicament was quite obvious in her voice.

“Oh no… No no no no…” she said, breathless. “Why do I feel like you’re about to tell me we’re jumping off that cliff?!”

Tarnished flashed her his signature grin —the kind of grin that got people killed in every timeline.

“I am about to tell you that. Hold tight.”

She gaped at the sharp drop that loomed over the other side of the hill. “There’s no way! I am not jumping down that, this is  insane-!”

“Hey!” He called out cheerfully, his voice barely audible over the rabid screeches of the dragons behind them, squeezing her hand tighter as they neared the edge. “It’s either this or we try reasoning with five very pissed-off dragons!”

“ I HATE YOU!! ”

“ BAHAHA! I LOVE YOU TOO!! ”

Together, hand in hand, they launched off the hilltop just as a searing gout of dragon flame scorched the path behind them. 

They slid down the decline at breakneck speed, dirt and rot kicking up in wild clouds. Tarnished laughed maniacally the whole way down, the echo of dragons shrieking overhead and the absolute madness of it all trailing in their wake.

The two of them hit the bottom of the hill hard, tumbling into a heap of blood, dirt, and breathless adrenaline. A fine spray of rot-dusted soil kicked up around them before settling quietly in the still air. 

As the dust cleared, the familiar, comforting glow of a Site of Grace pulsed just ahead—the same one Tarnished had activated hours ago at the edge of Dragonbarrow. Both of them groaned, limbs aching, heads pounding, pride very much intact.

Slowly, they rolled over and looked up at the cliff they had just launched from. High above, silhouetted against the fading red sky, the five dragons screeched and flapped in frustration, still scanning the air, searching… but clearly unable to locate their prey.

Tarnished let out a long, grateful sigh. “Looks like the overgrown lizards lost us.”

Melina let herself collapse fully into the grass with a tired grunt. “Never… Never do that again.”

He laughed, eyes still on the sky. “Oh come on, it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

She turned her head slowly, dead-eyed, and smacked him hard on the back of the head.

“ Why -” smack “-didn’t thou simply summon Torrent and ride us away?!”

Tarnished blinked, then rubbed the back of his skull sheepishly. “You know… That is a great question. And a fantastic idea that I really, truly wish you had told me before I had to outrun five very pissed-off dragons.”

Melina stared at him, face utterly blank. “Idiot.”

A familiar golden shimmer flared beside her, and Marika appeared in her usual posture—arms crossed beneath her chest, hips cocked to one side and golden hair cascading over one shoulder. Her smirk was slow and lethal, her tone drenched in amusement.

“An apt description,” she said, her eyes flicking over Tarnished like a cat watching a toy mouse skitter.

Despite himself, Tarnished smiled at the sight of her. He turned to Melina and shot her a finger gun, completely undeterred. “But I’m a lovable idiot, right?”

She stared at him for a long moment… then blinked.

“…Idiot.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “So blunt! You wound me, Melina~!”

“Careful, my champion,” Marika purred. “I fear a few more jabs with thy meager level of Vigor and thou might just keel over dead.”

Tarnished laughed aloud, the sound echoing faintly through the otherwise silent grasslands. In his head, he muttered, ‘On the topic of Vigor…’

He turned to Melina and grinned. “Alright. It’s about time. Let’s turn my runes into strength. ”

Melina blinked, then nodded. “About time.”

Together, they stepped toward the glowing Site of Grace. As they sat down beside it, the warmth of Grace enveloped them like a low-burning fire. Melina turned to him gently.

“Give me thy hand.”

He offered it wordlessly. She cradled it with both of hers—soft, comforting, steady. A quiet, warm light began to form around her palms, threading into his soul. The moment was still, the sky quiet, the dragons far above silent now in their rage.

She then whispered softly, like a prayer between breaths.

“Share them with me: your thoughts, your ambitions, the principles you would follow.”

He closed his eyes and felt the runes take root within the deepest reaches of his soul, their path guided by his will and Melina’s magics.

[STATS PAGE – Level 34 with Radagon’s Soreseal Equipped]

Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Level: 34
Talisman: Radagon’s Soreseal

Vigor: 28 (Ah, thou finally resembleth someone difficult to kill. A milestone, truly.)
Mind: 11 (Still not one for thinking, I see.)
Endurance: 26 (At last, enough breath to fight like a man instead of wheezing like a sickly hound.)
Strength: 23 (Impressive, for a stablehand. When thou canst lift a Colossal blade without weeping, we shall speak again.)
Dexterity: 26 (Nimble, yes. Much like a particularly determined squirrel.)
Intelligence: 9 (Still a dunce.)
Faith: 8 (Piety remains a foreign concept, unfortunately.)
Arcane: 8 (A fitting neglect. Even thou must realize it is wasted on thee.)

[-130, 764 Runes]

The runes entered him like a tidal wave of warmth and weight, flowing into his bones, reshaping muscle, deepening breath. His body tightened —not bloated, but compressed and refined. His arms grew thicker, his core stronger, every fiber honed. 

When the Strength increase hit, he felt his tendons twist and fortify like coiled springs. When Endurance surged, his breathing deepened, more efficient. His lungs felt like bellows. And Vigor… oh, Vigor spread like fire through his veins, steady and unshakable.

Tarnished let out a low, satisfied chuckle, a wide grin spreading across his blood-and-ash-streaked face. The sensation was incredible . It was like being reborn, one sinew at a time.

To his left, Marika manifested with her usual regal air, her arms folded tightly beneath her chest as she arched a golden brow.

“Truly? Still thou refuseth to level Faith ? I hath instructed thee time and again—how can I teach thee the proper magicks of the Golden Order if thou remainest a heretic with naught but brute strength and squirrel-souled dexterity?”

He cracked an eye open and smirked at her. ‘As nice as that would be, I need to cover all my bases first. I’m not even sure if the soft caps are the same or even exist in this universe, but I made sure to hit both Strength and Dex soft caps. Then I pumped the rest into Vigor . It’s leveling 101 : if you haven’t hit the caps yet, always level Vigor.’

Marika blinked once.

Then again.

“…Nerd.”

He sat bolt upright slightly, mock-offended. ‘Excuse me?!’

She only stared at him, eyes half-lidded and smug.

He shook his head, chuckling under his breath again. The rush of transformation settled into his limbs like cooling steel. He opened his eyes—just as Melina opened hers, a moment behind.

Her face was dusted with pink, her hands still gently cradling his, though she quickly let go and looked away. “Art thou… happy with the results?”

He smiled at her— genuinely , warmly, no teasing behind it for once. “Yeah. Thank you so much, Melina.”

She blinked, then turned her face farther away. “I merely perform my duty as thy maiden...”

He grinned wider, not letting go of the moment. “Not just for that. But for putting up with all my nonsense.”

She scoffed and stood, shifting her hair behind one ear in a subtle but telling gesture. 

“It is nothing,” she murmured. “It is… simply my duty.”

Marika let out a long, almost despairing sigh, her projection hovering just behind Melina.

“How… How is my daughter so easy to court? And thou … Thou art a demon , to worm thy way into her heart with such foolishness.”

Tarnished laughed to himself as he stood, brushing dust from his greaves. ‘Hey, my grandma always said the girls would be fawning after me one day. Looks like she was right… just not in the way she thought she’d be.’

He snapped his fingers and summoned Torrent, the spectral steed manifesting in a flicker of gold and ash. He mounted with ease, then turned to Melina, extending a hand down to her.

She stared at it for a moment, then sighed—and took it. He pulled her up behind him, and she settled in with quiet resignation.

Behind them, Marika tried—/ tried —to sound disinterested.

“She simply hath not had much romantic experience. Thou just… got lucky.”

He smirked as Torrent began to trot forward.

‘Nah.’ He replied with a sly grin on his face. ‘I got Rizz now. ’

There was a beat of silence from the astral goddess.

“…What in the name of mine Order is a ‘Rizz’?”

Tarnished just laughed, steering Torrent into the crimson horizon like the chaos-propelled gremlin he was.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

If you know before this fic existed, you would know that I am physically incapable of not adding references and memes into my works.

Some may call it crack, I call it PEAK!

…

Next Chapter Title: An Old Friend.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Torrent leapt high into the air, hooves briefly suspended against the blistering sky as they cleared the ravine that separated Dragonbarrow from the rest of Caelid. 

Below them, the rot-infested chasm loomed like a festering wound, but the spectral steed landed cleanly on the other side, dirt and dead grass kicking up around them as they bolted forward.

Tarnished leaned low, guiding Torrent with practiced precision as he pulled them sharply to the left. In the distance, two monstrous dogs snapped their heads toward them. 

The moment they saw the approaching riders, they let out distorted barks and gave chase, claws tearing into the red earth.

“Melina!” Tarnished called over his shoulder.

“I know! ” she snapped, already digging into her pouch. She pulled out the Beast-Repellent Torch, fingers sparking to life with practiced ease as she lit the flame.

The moment it ignited, an oddly pleasant scent radiated outward—sweet, earthy, and sharp. The monstrous dogs screeched to a halt as if they’d run into a wall. Their snarling heads lowered, eyes flickering with confusion and fear. 

Then, slowly, they backed away, whining low in their throats before retreating into the dying woods.

Tarnished let out a low whistle. “Man… what the hell is in that torch? These things look like they haven’t eaten in weeks, and that was enough to make them tuck tail?”

“I do not know,” Melina admitted, holding the torch high, “but I am glad it works.”

Marika’s voice chimed in, calm and thoughtful. “I recall… one of my advisors told me of this effect, long ago. I believe it may be of perfumer origin.”

Tarnished hummed at that. “Huh… yeah. That does make sense…”

Melina tilted her head slightly. “What was that? What makes sense?”

He stiffened. “Ah-! N-Nothing. Just... the smell. Kinda floral, so it makes sense. Got that weird noble-chemistry vibe to it.”

She blinked, then nodded after a moment. “Mm. I suppose so.”

“Fool.” Marika said dryly. “Thou nearly revealed thyself like a dullard, much like I instructed thee to not.”

‘I know. I know, my bad…’ he muttered internally, cheeks flushing just a little beneath the dried dragon blood.

They rode in silence for a while, the strange wind of Caelid brushing past their faces, carrying rot, dust, and the low groans of dying beasts far off in the crimson fog. Tarnished let the silence stretch for a moment, his thoughts churning.

Eventually, he spoke again—but only in his mind.

‘Marika.’

“Hm?”

‘Would it be that bad if she knew?’

“…Knew what, my champion?”

‘About you. About this. That you're with me. That you’re my ‘guide’, I suppose.’

She didn’t respond at first.

Tarnished continued, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. ‘ I plan to keep her with me. Even after I free you. She’s already part of this. She deserves to know. And honestly? If I told her that you were guiding me through the Lands Between, it’d explain a lot of things. Especially why I seem to know more than I should.’

A golden shimmer flickered in his peripheral vision. Marika appeared beside them once more—floating slightly above the ruined road, arms folded beneath her chest, expression contemplative as her long hair rippled in the windless air.

“I do not mind, truly. If that is thy will, then tell her. But…” She added with a smirk, “if thou mean to convince her, it will fall to thee . She can neither see nor hear me. If thou art to claim such a thing, thou must make her believe —without proof.”

Tarnished frowned in thought. ‘ What if I told her something that only you two would know? Something personal. Private. She’d have to believe me then.’

Marika rubbed her chin, nodding slowly. “Hmm… yes. That could work. Though… My dear daughter's memory seems fragmented. Some things may not surface in her mind as easily as others.”

“But…” She added after a moment, her voice warming, “I may yet recall something fitting. I shall think on it and return to thee when I do.”

Tarnished nodded subtly, a small smile curling at his lips.

‘Sounds like a plan.’

Torrent huffed with strain beneath them, spectral hooves pounding against the rot-stained earth as they galloped past the broken remains of the Caelem Ruins. The air was thick with scarlet spores and the ever-present stench of death, but Tarnished barely flinched. 

He guided the steed forward, weaving around half-sunken structures and shattered stone as around them, the world was at war.

A convoy of Redmane soldiers—clad in deep crimson armor emblazoned with the lion sigil of General Radahn—fought tooth and nail against an endless tide of corruption. Rotten husks clawed up from the ground like weeds, flailing with broken limbs and oozing sores. 

Monstrous dogs, their bodies twisted and bones exposed, lunged with ravenous hunger. Overhead, giant scarlet crows swooped down like nightmares, their cries echoing across the ruined plain as they tore through man and beast alike.

Fire lit the battlefield. The soldiers held tight to makeshift barricades, launching flaming bolts, alchemical jars, and streaks of incantations. 

A Redmane knight cleaved through two husks with a greatsword only to be dragged screaming beneath a swarm of writhing insects spilling from a bloated corpse. Still, they fought —with grit, desperation, and a discipline forged in the name of a long-lost general.

Marika’s voice broke through the clamor, a rare tone of approval threading her words. “I am glad… Someone still dares to quell the infection. Those banners, that armor… They are of my son Radahn’s army, are they not?”

Tarnished nodded slightly, keeping Torrent steady as they circled wide around the battlefield. ‘Yeah. That’s them. Even after their general’s… let’s say, indisposment , they’ve kept fighting. Kept burning back the rot. As far as I’m concerned, they’re the only thing keeping this nightmare from spreading beyond Caelid.’

“Mhm…” Marika hummed thoughtfully. “Such loyalty. Such perseverance. They deserve recognition… Perhaps even reward. And yet they receive nothing.”

 ‘Yeah…’ Tarnished’s eyes lingered on a soldier impaled by a rotting crow’s talons—still stabbing upward with his dying breath. He nodded grimly. ‘They really do...’

There was a pause before Marika’s voice returned, quieter now. “Thou didst say Radahn is indisposed… What became of him, after Malenia’s foolish blooming ? You hath told me of their duel and its subsequent end, but not the aftermath.”

Tarnished sighed heavily in his head, dragging a bloodstained hand across his brow. ‘The Scarlet Rot’s got him… and it’s got him good . The proud general? He’s not even a man anymore. He’s a rabid beast—howling at the sky, lost in madness.’

He tightened his grip on Torrent’s reins. ‘I remember some people said it’s his Great Rune keeping him alive. Just… barely. Stretching out the suffering. Like a leash on a war dog.’

Marika went quiet for a long moment. Then he heard her exhale a weary sigh, one nearly identical to his own. “…The more I hear of what became of my children after the Shattering… After my imprisonment… The more world-weary I become.”

Her voice turned sharp with bitter sarcasm. “What next? Wilt thou tell me Rykard fell to blasphemy and let himself be devoured by the Blasphemous Serpent for its power? Or some other absurdity?”

Sweat began to form on Tarnished’s forehead as his grip on Torrent faltered slightly.

‘Erm… About that…’ He thought awkwardly.

“Be silent. ” She snapped before he could say more. “I do not wish to hear it. Whatever became of my other son, we shall deal with it when we arrive at his new domain. For now, let us finish in this rotted hellscape and leave it behind. ”

He chuckled awkwardly in his head, wincing slightly. ‘Y-Yeah… Good call…’

Melina leaned forward, gently tapping Tarnished on the side. The quiet press of her fingertip through the blood-dried fabric of his side snapped him from his thoughts. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, brow raised.

“What’s up?”

She tilted her head, the torchlight casting warm shadows across her face. “Thou hast been quiet for an awful long time. Usually, thou would be muttering of some absurd plan… one fraught with far too much risk and very little logic.”

Tarnished blinked, mock-offended. “Wow. Is that really what you expect of me now?”

Without missing a beat, she nodded. “Thou did just kill the Ancient Dragon Matriarch before five of her living children not ten minutes ago. There is very little I expect thee not to try anymore.”

He barked out a laugh, shoulders shaking. “Okay, that’s fair.”

His eyes shifted forward again, Torrent’s hooves pounding against the cracked earth of the Caelid highway. “Well… I’ve been thinking. Might take that detour I mentioned earlier. To Fort Gael. There’s something there I might want.”

Even as he said it aloud, his mind wandered inward, his tone in his thoughts shifting.

‘Marika.’ He murmured internally, ‘Did you come up with anything yet? You know, to prove you’re real to Melina? I’m… not great at lying. In case it wasn’t immediately obvious...’

A soft shimmer to his right marked Marika’s arrival, her astral form drifting beside him, golden hair glowing in the Caelid haze. She crossed her arms beneath her chest with a soft, almost pitying sigh.

“I do have… Something .” She said, tone pensive. “But I am not yet certain it will strike the right chord. Best to wait. Unless, of course, thou desireth to be seen as a madman.” Her smirk curled upward. “Well, more of a madman than thou already art.”

He hummed under his breath, a quiet “fair enough” , then pivoted topics with a glance back at Melina.

“Hey… you wouldn’t happen to know any spell that boosts physical and fire attack potency, would you?”

Melina blinked, caught off-guard. “I… do, actually. One called Flame, Grant Me Strength. Why?”

Tarnished grinned slightly. “Would you teach it to me? Once I, you know, get good enough with Faith and all that. Can’t cast much yet, but I’m working on it.”

Torrent sprinted down the highway, the decaying wind of Caelid sweeping past them as the red sky deepened above. To their left, a crimson shimmer rolled across the rotted horizon—the Aeonia Swamp, stretching wide and filled with abominations of nature.

Marika’s voice returned, her tone suddenly much heavier.

“There… that place.” Her gaze lingered over the still waters. “That is where they ended it, is it not? Radahn and Malenia. That is where she… bloomed. ”

Tarnished nodded silently. ‘Yeah. That’s the spot. She bloomed right there… and nearly killed them both.’

Marika sighed, long and tired. “I shall need to have… quite the conversation with my daughter. Her recklessness nearly consumed all of Caelid. And Radahn…” She trailed off.

Tarnished didn’t speak aloud, waiting instead for Melina’s answer. The silence lasted a few seconds, then she sighed.

“It would be useful,” she admitted. “So I shall teach it to thee—but only if thou follow my instructions to the letter. Shouldst thou prove too troublesome a student… I shall never attempt it again.”

Tarnished turned halfway in the saddle, grinning. “ Deal. ”

They rode in silence for a few moments, the rot-soaked landscape flickering past them like a fever dream.

Then Melina leaned forward again, eyeing him suspiciously. “…How didst thou know I would possess such a spell?”

“I, uh… I figured you would,” he said quickly. “Since you had the one that cleanses rot and all. Educated guess , I suppose!”

Melina narrowed her eyes at him, her suspicion thick as fog. She didn’t speak, but her gaze didn’t waver.

Tarnished felt sweat begin to bead at his temple as they rode. Marika giggled in his mind like a fox who had just watched a wolf trip over its own paws.

He jerked his eyes forward, scanning the horizon—until something blessed caught his attention.

“Hey look!” he shouted, pointing ahead. “Literally anything else! There’s a merchant next to a Grace—let’s see what this guy’s got in store!”

Melina squinted at the merchant, then back at him.

She squinted harder.

Tarnished kept smiling like nothing was wrong.

And all he could hear in his mind was Marika’s uproarious laughter, ringing like temple bells in the middle of a war.

Tarnished hopped off Torrent with a fluid motion, boots crunching into the dry rot-stained dirt as he made his way toward the glowing Site of Grace just ahead. He brushed his fingers across its ethereal flame and felt the soothing warmth of Grace flow into him, the familiar pulse of the system humming at the edges of his mind.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

Behind him, Melina sat astride Torrent a few paces back, watching in silence as he approached the crooked, weather-beaten form of a wandering merchant hunched beside a small fire and tattered tent. The merchant’s head lifted the moment Tarnished neared, face half-hidden beneath layers of cloth and grime.

“Ahh, welcome… dear customer. Yes, right this way… Right this way… Welcome… Valued customer…” His hands trembled slightly as he gestured to his wares, his voice ragged and wavering with a hint of desperation. 

“Come trade, in my wandering emporium. Please, buy something… I’m hungry. I’ve been hungry so long. Please.”

Tarnished blinked, a bit taken aback. ‘How does buying something help you get food…?’

Still, he didn’t press the question. He glanced over the wares—dusty jars, worn gear, tattered scrolls—and hummed thoughtfully.

‘Huh… Now that I think about it, I could eat something too.’ His stomach didn’t ache, but the thought lingered. ‘Didn’t even consider needing to eat here, to be honest.’

A golden shimmer beside the merchant marked Marika’s arrival, her arms crossed as she examined the merchant with mild disdain. She raised one delicate eyebrow, voice dry.

“What didst thou think thou would do, my champion? Everyone needs to eat. Even mortals in a cursed land. Well, except me, of course. I am a Goddess.”

Tarnished shrugged slightly, eyes still scanning the merchant’s offerings. ‘Dunno. Never really occurred to me. Maybe I just figured eating wasn’t part of the equation in a world like this.’

Marika sighed like a tired teacher. “A ridiculous assumption. And yet… fitting, somehow.”

Among the items, one caught his eye—Preserving Boluses, three in total. He nodded to himself, then reached inward, pulling the necessary runes from his soul.

[-7,500 Runes]
[Acquired: Preserving Bolus x3]

The merchant bowed profusely, his voice hoarse with relief. “Ahh… thank you. Thank you, dear customer. May the stars shine kindly upon you.”

‘I’m kinda broke now, though. Only a few hundred Runes left, how annoying…’ Tarnished thought as he turned around and waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

He turned and made his way back to Melina, who was still seated atop Torrent, arms crossed and an inquisitive look on her face.

“Why wouldst thou buy those?” she asked. “I can cure Scarlet Rot with ease.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but… you never know. What if we get separated or something? Better to have a backup plan.”

Melina considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I understand. It is… pragmatic.”

Tarnished swung into the saddle, fingers steady on Torrent’s reins as they continued their steady gallop down the Caelid Highway, the sky a blistered red and the wind thick with the stench of rot and burning carrion. The horizon ahead shimmered in waves of sickly heat, but he kept his eyes focused.

To his side, Marika’s voice drifted into his mind, amused and suspicious.

“The Cathedral of Dragon Communion… that is thy destination, is it not?”

He nodded slightly. ‘Yeah. Why?’

A pause. Then her tone sharpened— not quite angry, but certainly displeased. “Tell me, champion. Dost thou truly intend to partake in the Communion?”

He scoffed lightly. ‘Duh. Do you have any idea how useful that’ll be once I actually have enough Faith to wield it properly? Dragon Communion’s powerful. It’s not just flashy, it’s downright broken. The amount of bosses I’ll be able to cheese with Rot Breath alone is insane…’

Marika’s astral form flickered into view on the roadside ahead, arms folded, lips pursed with visible disdain.

“Tis a barbaric rite,” she said coolly. “To consume the hearts of dragons and become them… It spits in the face of the Order. Of all I built. But…” She looked away, golden eyes narrowing toward the horizon. “Its strength is undeniable.”

Tarnished smirked knowingly, but stayed quiet.

“Very well…” She sighed. “I shall allow it , for now. We lack many clean paths forward, and I need thee as strong as possible for the challenges ahead. Just… Do not lose thyself in it.”

He gave a faint chuckle. ‘Don’t worry. I’m good at walking the edge.’

They soon reached the end of the broken highway, where a glowing Site of Grace shimmered like a small sun beside the road. Tarnished guided Torrent toward it, slid off the saddle, and let his fingers brush the flame.

[Lost Grace Discovered]

Torrent snorted softly and carried them further south, the road eventually giving way to gnarled hills and decaying brush. As they crested one small rise, a sudden gust carried a low, wet growl across the valley. Tarnished stepped forward cautiously, then paused, eyes narrowing.

Below them, nestled in a field of bone-white ash and corrupted earth, loomed the Church of Dragon Communion—its silhouette dark and ominous, half-consumed by rot and time. But it was what lay before the church that caught his attention.

A dragon, slumped but massive, lay half-curled in the dust. Decaying Ekzykes.

Its flesh was cracked and pitted, its wings crusted with hardened scarlet rot that pulsed like slow heartbeats. Thick smoke leaked from its nostrils as it twitched in restless slumber, fangs bared even while unconscious. A corrupted, half-dead sentinel—more disease than beast.

Tarnished crouched at the hill’s edge, scanning it carefully. Melina slid off Torrent and stepped beside him, arms folded tight.

“I do not believe that is a creature we can fight,” she said grimly. “Whatever its state… it would not simply allow us to pass.”

Tarnished gave her a small, crooked grin. “I know. That’s why we’re not gonna fight it.”

She blinked.

“We’re just gonna ride right past it and hit the Grace inside the church. Easy.”

Melina stared at him, then— for once —nodded in relief. “For once… thou art not a madman.”

Tarnished chuckled, standing up and brushing his hands off. He stepped toward Torrent, one hand on the saddle—when a low, familiar hum drifted through the air beside him.

“Hmm… Hrmmm…”

His fingers froze on the leather reins, he turned slowly.

There, seated on the edge of the cliff overlooking the slumbering dragon, was a knight clad in round, bulbous armor—polished yet worn. 

His chestplate protruded in a comical oval, his helmet shaped like a segmented onion with a slit just wide enough to reveal gleaming eyes behind it. A broad, heavy zweihander rested across his lap.

The knight swayed slightly as he hummed, clearly deep in thought.

Marika appeared beside Tarnished again, golden brow raised. “Another of thy… strange old friends, perhaps?”

Tarnished didn’t answer. He stepped forward, slow, uncertain, as if approaching a memory.

The knight looked up as he noticed the approach. His voice, warm and round as his armor, rang out cheerfully.

“Oh-hoh! Forgive me. I was absorbed in thought.”

He stood slightly, placing a hand over his rounded helm.

“I am Siegmeyer of Catarina. Quite honestly, I’ve run up against a wall. Or… the dragon , I should say.”

Tarnished stared at him quietly for a moment, a few seconds later, his lip trembled slightly and a single tear formed in the corner of his eye.

“… Onion Bro? ”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Hm? 

What do you mean “Why is Siegmeyer here?”

Onion bro has always been part of this world, keep up will ya?

…

Next Chapter Title: Jolly Cooperation and Communion.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreader: Bakenekon. For he is the one who points out mistakes and acts as a good wall to bounce ideas off of.

Tarnished stared, eyes wide with disbelief, as the round figure of a knight hummed peacefully at the edge of the cliff. The wind carried the low, rhythmic sound of his voice as if it had no place in Caelid—this war-torn, rotting land. Yet there he was, sitting comfortably in armor that looked more like a barrel than a breastplate, sword resting beside him.

“…Onion Bro?” Tarnished whispered, almost to himself.

Marika’s voice echoed softly in his mind, her tone laced with confusion. 

“Onion… bro ? What title is this? And who is this strange creature? I know of no Catarina, nor any knight of such absurd form.” Her astral form shimmered into existence beside him, brow furrowed, golden eyes fixed on the knight in question. “Mayhaps a new land born after my imprisonment and flourished under the cover of the Shattering’s Chaos?”

Melina stepped forward as well, cautiously approaching the seated figure. Her gaze shifted between the two of them. “Thou knowest this man?”

Tarnished blinked several times, unsure of what to say. The man standing before him was a ghost from another world, one that didn’t belong here in the Lands Between.

Lordran was a far cry from Caelid after all…

Siegmeyer tilted his head slightly as he looked at Tarnished and chuckled again. “And what was that you called me? ‘Onion Bro’? What a quaint nickname to think of on the spot, my friend! Back home, some called me an Onion Knight because of this… Well, you can see why.” 

He gestured to his armor, letting out another hearty laugh. “But this ‘Onion Bro’ is new! I like it.”

Tarnished rubbed the back of his head, still trying to process the moment. “Y-Yeah, don’t mind that. It’s just your armor. I’ve got a bad habit of saying things without thinking.”

Marika chuckled softly in his mind. “A bad habit? That’s putting it mildly. Thy thoughts leap from thy lips like water from a shattered chalice.”

Tarnished’s eye twitched slightly, but he let the jab go. “Anyway… I’m just a Tarnished of no renown, chasing after the Elden Ring. And this is Melina, my companion and, uh… spiritual babysitter.”

Melina gave Siegmeyer a small nod and a wave, her expression still cautiously polite. “Well met, Sir Siegmeyer.”

“Well met indeed!” Siegmeyer said warmly. “It is truly a pleasure to meet such friendly faces in a place like this.”

Tarnished finally allowed himself to laugh, the absurdity of the moment washing over him. “You can say that again. I’ve been to a lot of horrible places, but Caelid? Caelid is something else. Have you seen those crows? Absolute nightmares in feathered skin.”

Siegmeyer laughed louder this time, throwing his head back. “Oh, you’re right about that, my friend! Vicious beasts, they are. Quick and relentless!”

Tarnished grinned. “Honestly, when I become Elden Lord, the first thing I’m doing is ordering them all hunted into extinction. Every last one.”

Marika sighed, though there was almost a note of reluctant amusement in her voice. “Well… there are worse decrees, I suppose.”

Melina, however, simply narrowed her eyes further in suspicion.

Still grinning, Tarnished crouched beside Siegmeyer, shifting his gaze toward the great decaying dragon that lay in the valley below.

“Well then, Onion Bro,” he said, voice softening just slightly. “What brings you here?”

Siegmeyer gestured toward the slumbering beast with a sweep of his arm. “That dragon blocks my path. I must get past it for the next leg of my journey, but… Well, I’ve yet to find a reliable way around. I have no cure for Scarlet Rot, and the beast is steeped in it. I fear a direct assault would end rather poorly. So, I’ve remained here, thinking, waiting. Hoping for a solution.”

Melina nodded, stepping closer. “A wise decision. We had planned to simply ride past it ourselves. There is little glory in battling a rotted beast when survival is our aim.”

Siegmeyer chuckled kindly. “You are quite wise indeed. Our friend here is lucky to have such a clever and courageous maiden at his side.”

Melina blinked at the compliment, her expression shifting slightly as her cheeks gained a subtle pink hue. She looked away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I… thank thee.”

Tarnished rubbed his chin for a moment, then turned to her. “Hey, Melina… can you cast Golden Vow?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I can. Why?”

He gave her a winning smile. “Mind casting it on us real quick?”

Still confused, she gave a slight nod. “Very well…”

Her hands glowed as she raised them to the sky. A golden wave of light pulsed outward, enveloping them all in a blessing of power and resolve.

Tarnished nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect. Now… Flame, Grant Me Strength?”

Melina frowned. “No. That one only works on the caster.”

She looked at him carefully, the gears turning in her head. “Why dost thou ask…”

Then her eyes widened in sudden realization.

“Tarnished, no…”

“Hah… You wouldst think she would expect this by now…”

He grinned back at her. “Tarnished, yes!”

Before she could stop him, he turned on his heel and sprinted toward the cliff’s edge.

“Tarnished, wait!”

He didn’t.

He jumped.

He soared through the rot-choked air and landed with a heavy thud just a short distance from Decaying Ekzykes. The dragon’s massive, sickly frame shifted, groaning as it roused from slumber. The corrupted flesh along its back split open as rot oozed and hissed, its eyes glowing red with fury.

It screeched, a sound that shook the very earth, and its health bar appeared before Tarnished followed by thundering boss music.

[Decaying Ekzykes]

Tarnished reached for his blades, grinning like a madman. Behind him, Melina groaned and began moving down the hill, muttering curses under her breath.

Siegmeyer sprang to his feet, his armor clanking with every step.

“No! You should have waited!” He called out to Tarnished worriedly as he then lifted his massive sword from the ground and pointed it toward the valley. “Very well then! I, Siegmeyer of Catarina, vow to help you against this beast!”

And then with a powerful shout, he charged down the hill. “Hyaaaa!!”

Tarnished reached into the pouch at his belt, pulling free a vial of dark, oily liquid that shimmered with a faint orange glow, it was the Fire Grease. He’d picked it up just a bit ago, almost forgotten in the chaos of his relatively short journey. 

But now, as the hulking, rot-infested form of Decaying Ekzykes bore down on them, he remembered one key detail:

Dragons usually love fire. But this one? It despises it, probably on account of the rot that had taken it whole. He specifically took 100% more damage from all flame based attacks.

He popped the cap with a flick of his thumb and smeared the grease across his right Uchigatana, the metal hissing as the blade ignited in a streak of crimson flame. The fire reflected in his eyes—wild, eager.

Melina reached him seconds later, her boots skidding in the dust and rot. She immediately rounded on him, expression tight with exasperation.

“Art thou mad?! That thing is not some common beast—it is rot incarnate! To charge in without a proper plan is suicidal! ”

Tarnished turned, still smiling, and rested his burning blade on his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be fine. Our friend up there needs passage. So we’re gonna give it to him. By killing this thing.”

Melina’s brows furrowed, lips parting as if to argue, but Siegmeyer arrived before she could. The jolly knight skidded to a halt beside Tarnished, panting lightly beneath the weight of his armor.

“Do you have any plan, my friend?” he asked, voice still cheerful even as Ekzykes’ monstrous frame unfurled before them.

Tarnished’s grin widened as the dragon screeched and began its slow, thunderous march toward them.

“Yeah. You and I take charge—keep its attention. Melina supports us from the back with fire magic. If we work together, this should be easy!”

Melina folded her arms tightly. “This is still extremely stupid and reckless.”

Siegmeyer chuckled heartily. “Well, a plan is better than no plan at all, young maiden!”

She let out a low groan as Ekzykes snarled, its decayed wings rising with a spray of rot and filth. The air itself seemed to wilt around the creature.

Tarnished drew both blades, fire licking up the right one as he stepped forward. “Let us engage in some jolly cooperation! ”

“HAHA! Well said, my friend!” Siegmeyer cheered, lifting his zweihander and stomping forward at his side.

Behind them, Melina muttered under her breath, “By the Erdtree, I am surrounded by fools…”

Marika’s voice chimed in like a bell of mischief. “Haha~! An apt description, mine dear daughter~!”

And then, the battle began.

Ekzykes lunged forward with startling speed, maw open wide as it spewed forth a cloud of scarlet rot, painting the ground in sizzling, toxic ichor. Tarnished rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the breath, and retaliated with a rapid one-two slash from his katanas, the flaming blade carving deep into the dragon’s side.

The beast howled , jerking its head to the side and swiping at him with a rotted claw. Tarnished ducked under the strike, Quickstepped behind its leg, and plunged both blades into the joint behind its knee. The damage was good—fire truly was the key—but not enough to stagger it.

Siegmeyer charged with a roar, swinging his massive zweihander in a wide arc and slamming it into Ekzykes’ shoulder. The knight fought with surprising speed, using well-timed sidesteps and powerful overhead slashes to keep the dragon occupied.

From afar, Melina raised her hand, a small flame forming in her palm. She launched a fireball, striking the beast in its neck. It didn’t stagger, but the impact drew a low, guttural snarl as the rot-slick scales blackened from the blast.

Tarnished darted forward, sliding between the dragon’s legs and slashing upward along its stomach. The rot-covered skin split like bark, oozing foul pus and black smoke.

Ekzykes screamed and leapt into the air—not far, but far enough to slam its weight back down with a shockwave that knocked Tarnished off balance and sent Siegmeyer stumbling back.

“Steady!” Siegmeyer called out. “Its weight alone could crush a fortress!”

“I noticed!” Tarnished shouted, rolling to his feet and charging in again. He slashed at its exposed flank, fire trailing from every blow.

The dragon twisted suddenly, its tail sweeping like a scythe. Tarnished ducked under it, but Siegmeyer was mid-swing and couldn’t move fast enough. The tail struck his side with a heavy clang , sending him rolling across the ground.

Melina raised both hands and sent out another fireball, then another, covering their retreat as Tarnished reached his ally.

“You good?!” he shouted, panting.

“Never better!” Siegmeyer replied, hauling himself to his feet with a laugh. “This is the thrill of true battle!”

“Glad you’re having fun!” Tarnished muttered, spinning to intercept another claw swipe. He parried the limb just enough to redirect the blow, then slashed it twice across the knuckles.

Ekzykes let out another ground-shaking roar, wings flaring wide as it launched itself upward in a burst of putrid wind. The shockwave rippled across the decaying battlefield, kicking up ash and dust thick enough to blur vision. 

Tarnished shielded his face with his arm and skidded back a few feet, boots digging trenches into the rot-blackened earth.

“Watch the wings!” he shouted, barely audible over the screeching gale.

Siegmeyer braced himself with both hands on his greatsword, anchoring his weight. “Right! No flying away from us, old lizard!”

Ekzykes came crashing back down like a comet, rot bursting from the point of impact. Tarnished dashed left, avoiding the brunt of the explosion, and circled around the beast’s side. He waited for the right moment, then Quickstepped under its arched wing and went to work.

His flame-greased katana hissed as it met decayed scale and sinew, cutting deep. The fire sizzled with every impact, searing through Ekzykes’ unnatural flesh, sending plumes of rot-black smoke into the air. 

Every strike brought a snarl of pain from the beast, and Tarnished moved like a ghost—rolling, weaving, striking again.

Meanwhile, Siegmeyer charged in with a booming laugh, raising his massive zweihander overhead and slamming it into the creature’s left hind leg with a loud clang . The sheer force of it cracked through a layer of rot-crusted scale, drawing a reaction from the dragon as it buckled momentarily.

“Well struck!” Tarnished called over his shoulder.

“Haha! I do try!” Siegmeyer answered, lifting the blade once more.

From her perch atop a small rock formation, Melina raised her hand and launched a searing flame dart, striking Ekzykes just beneath the jaw. It wasn’t a devastating hit, but it drew its gaze— and its ire.

The dragon’s head twisted in a blur of rage, maw opening to unleash a wide sweeping breath of rot, coating the battlefield in glowing crimson decay. Tarnished dove behind a cracked stone slab as the rot bar surged upward on his system HUD. The ground hissed, melting into a corrupted sludge beneath the cloud.

“Melina, back!” Tarnished shouted. “Don’t let that hit you!”

“I know!” she called back, already leaping down from her perch and rolling to safety.

Siegmeyer, still close, raised his blade in one hand and sprinted toward the dragon, somehow avoiding the thickest part of the breath. With a rallying cry, he brought the zweihander down once more—this time on Ekzykes’ forearm, where flame damage had weakened the plating.

The beast screeched in pain, wings flapping wildly as it reared back.

Tarnished surged forward. Both his katanas sang as he slashed in tandem—first across the flank, then the hamstring, and finally a spinning cut across its snout as it lunged. His movement was fluid, precise, a blend of controlled aggression and nimble footwork. 

With the fire coating, each cut drew more smoke, more blood, more burning. Ekzykes thrashed in place, rot-infested wings lashing outward and nearly clipping Tarnished as he ducked low, pivoted, and struck again. The dragon’s health bar steadily dropped 75%… 70%…

Melina’s voice rang out again as she cast another fireball, this one catching Ekzykes along its neck. It staggered, briefly turning toward her—but Siegmeyer saw the moment and took it.

With a mighty roar, the knight of Catarina charged , his greatsword glowing faintly golden in the sun’s light.

“For honor, and for victory!”

He leapt, his blade cutting downward in a perfect arc that slammed into the dragon’s right shoulder. The sheer impact caused Ekzykes to stumble, claws digging furrows in the ground as it struggled to stay upright.

“Good hit!” Tarnished called out, catching his breath.

“Didn’t even scratch the paint!” Siegmeyer replied cheerfully, twirling his sword once before setting his stance again.

Tarnished lunged in from the opposite side, slicing at Ekzykes’ exposed ribs. The beast turned too slow to stop him, and the fire katana plunged into the gap between two plates of necrotic scale. He twisted the blade, pulled it free, and rolled back just as the tail came swinging.

He heard the air shift before it came, and ducked in time—but barely.

Ekzykes was faltering, wounded, and angry . Its growl deepened to a low rumble as it crouched down, wings folding in tightly. Tarnished’s HUD showed the health bar dipping just past 60%.

Then the dragon’s chest began to expand.

Tarnished’s eyes widened.

“No, no! Shit, Siegmeyer! MOVE!”

But the warning came too late.

Ekzykes opened its jaws wide and expelled a torrent of rot breath, not in a sweeping arc this time—but focused, like a lance of pestilence.

The cloud hit Siegmeyer full-on.

The knight screamed—not in fear, but in pain—as the rotted air poured over him. His armor hissed, steaming as the infection seeped into every crevice, corroding flesh and steel alike.

He staggered, coughing violently, sword slipping from his grip as he fell to one knee.

Tarnished’s HUD lit up with a red status warning:

[Siegmeyer: Scarlet Rot – Critical]

Tarnished felt something sharp twist in his gut.

“ONION BRO!”

The moment Siegmeyer collapsed, Tarnished’s eyes flared wide with something sharp—rage, panic, resolve . Without hesitation, he threw himself forward, sprinting straight through the lingering cloud of rot breath. Scarlet mist clung to his skin, burning his lungs, but he didn’t falter. He didn’t care.

He only had one target.

Boots struck the earth with brutal rhythm until he spotted a jagged boulder near Ekzykes’ flank. He angled his body, leapt onto the stone, and kicked off with explosive force—launched into the air like a war-hardened meteor.

He soared upward just as Ekzykes turned to face him, wounded eye glaring with molten hatred. Tarnished drew back his right flaming katana, the fire grease still hissing along the blade’s edge.

And then he slammed it down with both hands—straight through the dragon’s eye.

There was a wet, sickening crunch. A shriek of pain ripped through the valley like a thunderclap. Ekzykes staggered backwards, the force of the blow piercing deep into its skull, the fire now burning from inside.

The bleed proc detonated, a geyser of rotted blood and steam bursting from the wound as 30% of the dragon’s healthbar vanished in an instant.

Tarnished leapt away mid-fall, landing and rolling across the rot-slick ground. His katana still jutted from the dragon’s eye, flames licking the beast’s face as it thrashed and screamed.

He didn’t wait to admire the damage.

He turned and sprinted, ignoring the way his skin blistered and burned under the effect of the Scarlet Rot, now ticking relentlessly through his veins. His vision flickered slightly at the edges, but he focused only on Siegmeyer.

Melina was already there, hands glowing with gold as she knelt beside the fallen knight. Tarnished skidded into place beside her, heart pounding, rot gnawing at his healthbar with every second.

“Lord Heal!” Melina whispered, her voice calm but urgent.

A soft, brilliant wave of light burst outward from her palms, enveloping both him and Siegmeyer. The rot hissed and recoiled, but did not vanish. Their bodies shone for a moment as the incantation restored them from the brink of death, the pain dulling into a distant throb.

Siegmeyer coughed, then looked up with wide eyes, his breathing heavy but stable. “Ahh! You’ve my sincerest thanks, my lady!”

“Thank you…” Tarnished echoed, still panting.

But Melina shook her head, her voice firm. “There’s no time. That was the last of my mana. I cannot cure the rot—you’re still infected, and the dragon will recover within seconds!”

Tarnished didn’t hesitate. He reached to his side, pulling out his blue Flask of Cerulean Tears, and handed it to her. “Then use mine. I don’t need it. You’re more important here.”

She blinked in surprise, then—sensing the urgency—nodded and drank.

Mana flooded back into her system like fresh breath after drowning. She pressed her palms to the ground and whispered the next incantation.

“Lord’s Aid.”

A flash of golden magic rippled outward again, cleansing. Tarnished’s lungs finally loosened as the rot vanished from his system, and Siegmeyer let out a deep sigh of relief as the disease melted away from his skin.

Melina rose, fire suddenly blooming in her hands.

“I’m not done yet.”

She snapped her fingers forward, and flame danced across Tarnished’s outstretched uchigatana, his surviving blade now wreathed in golden-red flame. She turned to Siegmeyer and did the same to his zweihander, the fire licking up the blade in graceful arcs.

“Now, finish it! ”

A fresh screech cut through the air. Ekzykes had found his footing again, his wings stretching wide, blood and smoke billowing from his shattered eye socket. He bellowed a war cry and charged, claws digging into the earth as the ground trembled underfoot.

Tarnished looked back at Melina with a wild grin.

“Remind me to kiss you after we kill this dragon!”

Melina’s face exploded into a deep crimson. She recoiled a step, hands clenching into fists that shook up and down with every flustered word.

“I-I will do no such thing, d-dumbass! ”

Siegmeyer roared with laughter as he stood tall beside Tarnished, greatsword flaming in his grip.

“You two are such adorable partners!”

“I- That is- We are- Silence! ” Melina sputtered, her voice jumping an octave as her heart pounded in her chest, faster than she could control. 

She pressed a hand over it, blinking. Why was it doing that?

Why did her face feel so warm?

But the two men didn’t wait. They charged as one, fire-wreathed weapons raised high, laughter and fury on their lips.

Melina stood frozen for a moment, cheeks burning, then exhaled slowly and watched them rush headlong into a clash with a dragon.

Ekzykes roared, flame-burned flesh hissing with every movement as he lunged again, wings flailing in fury. But Tarnished and Siegmeyer didn’t falter. They danced around the beast like twin flames, blades flashing and steps seamlessly. 

Siegmeyer moved with surprising speed and control for someone clad in such heavy armor—his greatsword sweeping wide to push the dragon back while Tarnished rolled in from the opposite side, landing precision strikes with his blazing katana.

Melina, watching from a safe distance now, couldn't help but be impressed. Their rhythm was undeniable. Reckless, yes—but their timing, their coordination, their trust in one another... It was flawless.

“Push it!” Tarnished shouted, sliding under Ekzykes’ tail and slicing across the back of its leg. The dragon howled, staggering under its own weight.

Siegmeyer responded with a mighty two-handed overhead slash to the wing joint, sending the beast toppling with a thunderous crash.

“Now!” Tarnished shouted, pointing toward the head as Ekzykes collapsed in a tangle of wings and rot. “Together, friend!”

“Right!” Siegmeyer called, eyes shining behind his visor.

Tarnished sprinted toward the dragon’s face, leaping onto its snout and running up the slope of its scaled head until he reached the eye— the same one he’d stabbed before. His flaming uchigatana was still lodged deep in the socket, but he drew his second and drove it home, right beside the first.

At the same time, Siegmeyer reached the other eye and thrust his fire-wreathed zweihander straight into the socket with a shout.

There was a brief pause, a heartbeat of silence.

SHHRRRRIP .

Another bleed proc detonated. Rot-tainted blood sprayed into the sky like a geyser, and Ekzykes let out one final, deafening screech before its head sagged low and collapsed into the dirt.

The world slowed.

The system chimed.

[GREAT ENEMY FELLED]
[Rotten Dragon Ekzyke’s Heart Acquired]
[Runes +46,000]

Tarnished dropped from the dragon’s snout and landed in a crouch, panting, covered in blood, soot, and dragon ichor. Siegmeyer stumbled toward him, grinning beneath his helmet.

The two clasped hands with a loud metal clack , both of them laughing.

Siegmeyer dropped to all fours a second later with an exaggerated groan. “Ahhh! What a battle! After such an encounter, I dare say… we’ve earned a bit of rest. And perhaps a celebration!”

From beneath his armor, he produced three small, familiar-looking bottles. “A special brew, passed down in Catarina. A little something to warm the soul, Siegbräu! ”

Tarnished’s eyes lit up, he had always wanted to try it for the longest time. “Hell yes.”

Melina had just arrived beside them, and blinked down at the bottle handed to her. “...I do not drink with fools.”

Tarnished waggled his eyebrows at her. “You just fought beside two of them. Might as well commit.”

She sighed, deeply , and accepted the drink with narrowed eyes.

Siegmeyer raised his bottle. “To dragon-slaying! And jolly cooperation! ”

They clinked bottles. Even Melina, albeit begrudgingly, touched hers to theirs.

They drank.

Tarnished wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So… where to next, friend?”

Siegmeyer hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm… I believe I’ll be heading toward that swamp of rot—Aeonia, I believe it’s called. I made a promise, long ago. One I intend to keep.”

“I promise to be there when you need me, friend.” Tarnished nodded solemnly. “Till then, stay safe. And don’t you dare go hollow.”

Siegmeyer laughed his deep, hearty laugh. “You as well, my friend.”

Melina and Tarnished began walking with a wave, making their way toward the Cathedral of Dragon Communion. Its shattered tower loomed in the distance, half-crushed, yet still standing against the storm.

Marika’s voice returned in a thoughtful hum. “A fine battle. I did not expect thee to win so cleanly. And… that man. Another of thy ‘friends’ from a parallel world?”

Tarnished nodded subtly. ‘ Yeah… that’s him.’

Inside the cathedral, the wind seemed to still. Rot lingered in the air, but here, it felt muted—as if the cathedral was separated from the rest of the lands.

He touched the glowing Site of Grace.

[Grace Discovered]

Then he turned toward the blackened altar.

A massive, pulsating dragon heart sat in his inventory, Greyoll’s. It was heavy. Too large to hold comfortably in his hands, yet he did. It thumped once, like a dying echo, before he raised it toward the altar.

A pale mist rose around it. Tendrils of unseen force began to wrap around the heart, pulling it forward.

Tarnished blinked. “Guess I’m supposed to… eat it?”

Marika was silent.

He shrugged and he bit in.

The texture was somewhere between raw beef and burning oil. The taste—metallic and ancient and distinctly wrong . It slid down his throat like swallowing living coals. He gagged, but finished it.

A system panel bloomed in his vision:

[Commune with the Dragons]
[Choose Gifts: Rot Breath | Dragon Fire | Dragon Ice | Dragon Claw]
[Confirm?]

“Yeah,” he muttered hoarsely. “Let’s go with the full set…”

The rest of the immortal heart dissolved into light. Power crackled through his veins, gold and crimson entwining as he stumbled back from the altar.

His muscles twitched.

His skin shimmered.

He opened his mouth to speak but immediately collapsed.

“ Oh. Goodbye, muscle control… ”

Melina’s scream cut through the void as he fell.

“TARNISHED!”

Marika’s voice overlapped, panicked and divine. “My champion-!”

His eyes fluttered as his limbs went numb, his vision blurring to white.

And then, the system whispered to him.

[An Ancient Draconic Bloodline Stirs Within You.]

[The Essence of your Existence is being Rewritten.]

All faded to black.

Author’s Note:

I wonder what this could mean? Hmm… 

Dissect the next chapter’s title for a fun easter egg and a big hint :3

…

Next Chapter Title: Dracúl Aeternum.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

I know, I know. Been a while. I blame my ADHD and pathological need to procrastinate even though I wanna write.

A low, pulsing warmth spread through his body—deep in his chest, like embers nestled within his ribs. It wasn’t painful. If anything, it was... comforting. He stirred with a slow exhale, arms resting limply at his sides, muscles still tingling as though his veins had been replaced with fire.

Something soft brushed against his cheek.

Something... warm?

He blinked slowly, his vision coming into focus. His head wasn’t on the cold stone floor of the cathedral. No—he was lying on something much softer. Silky, warm, firm... and moving ever so slightly with each breath.

He looked up.

Melina.

Her face hovered above his, framed by a curtain of soft, light-brown hair, her sea-green eyes filled with concern. She looked tired—no, worried. Her brows furrowed, and her hand was resting just beside his cheek.

“…Melina’s giving me a lap pillow…” He muttered, voice hoarse but steady, though much deeper and more gravelly than usual which he attested to his passing out. “Huh… Did eating that heart kill me and this is heaven?”

Melina’s expression froze. A single, twitching breath passed through her nose. Her lips pulled into a barely restrained flustered frown.

“…At the very least.” she said flatly with an unimpressed stare, a blush strewn across her cheeks. “it seems thy brain is still intact.”

Tarnished smirked a little, already settling further into the plush comfort of her thighs, shifting his head until he found an even better angle.`

Perfect.

He opened his mouth to say something else—only to feel that familiar divine chill brush the back of his mind.

Marika appeared beside Melina in her usual astral shimmer, arms crossed and golden eyes gleaming with cold disapproval. She sat primly, one leg crossed over the other, hair flowing like sunfire in a nonexistent breeze.

“Not only dost thou partake in dragon communion, and scare my daughter half to death...” She said, voice sharp. “Then thou awakest evolved, and somehow manage to be a pervert.”

Tarnished blinked and raised an eyebrow internally. ‘How does thinking I died and went to heaven make me a pervert?’

Marika tilted her head, smirking ever so slightly.

“The fact that thou must ask tells me all I need to know.”

He paused.

“…That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Exactly.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples as he turned his attention back to Melina—who still hadn’t moved, though her fingers now hovered above his brow. A faint blush dusted her cheeks, but she wasn’t pushing him away. In fact, she brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes with a gentle, distracted motion.

“How long was I out?” he asked, shifting again, just enough to get comfortable.

Melina looked down at him, expression softening slightly.

“Three hours.”

His eyes shot open. “Seriously?”

She nodded, then glanced away quickly, as if embarrassed to have been watching him that whole time.

And then the earlier words finally clicked.

‘Wait… What do you mean “evolved”?’ he asked, shifting his focus to Marika again.

She hummed, tilting her head ever so slightly as her eyes glowed brighter. They were almost proud , though she would never say it aloud.

“See for thyself, I did some basic scans of thy body via the system..”

A familiar system prompt blinked to life in his vision, floating just above Melina’s lap like a divine message scrawled in light:

[Through a special reaction formed by baptising in the blood of one of the highest class Ancient Dragons, followed by communion with the Ancient Dragon Matriarch’s Heart, a never before seen bloodline has awakened within you.]

[You are now the Progenitor of a new Dragon Kin race.]

[Would you like to name your Bloodline?]

Tarnished blinked at the floating panel, stunned.

‘...Seriously?!’

Marika sighed with clear disdain. “Aye. I wish it were not so. I should have forbade thee from eating that acursed heart…”

He stared at the message for a long moment, then, with a casual breath, he mentally tapped YES.

The text shifted.

[Please input name for new race.]

He smirked slightly and typed it in:

[Dragonborn.]

The moment he confirmed, Marika immediately side-eyed him, gold eyes narrowing like a disappointed schoolteacher.

“…‘Dragonborn’?” She repeated, voice dry as ash. “Thou art not the most creative soul, are thee?”

He scoffed mentally. ‘Well, you try naming a new species on the spot, alright? It’s harder than it looks!’

Marika sniffed, looking away dramatically, arms folded once more. “I would have chosen something elegant. Something poetic. Not ... that.”

Tarnished rolled his eyes up at the sky, still half-cradled in the warmth of Melina’s lap, her hand occasionally brushing through his hair. He shifted slightly, arms folded behind his head as he sighed aloud.

‘Alright, alright,’ he thought lazily, letting the words drift toward Marika. ‘If you’re gonna give me that look… what would you have named it then, huh?’

Marika shimmered into clarity beside Melina again, still in that elegant seated pose, her astral robes flowing around her like sunlit mist. She didn’t answer right away—just tapped one slender finger against her chin, expression unreadable.

Then she looked down at him, golden eyes gleaming with quiet authority.

“Hadst thou asked…” She said in that low, lilting voice, rich with an ancient rhythm, “I would have named it Dracúl Aeternum —a name for an immortal legacy of strength, born from Rot and Fire. A lineage not of Beasts… but of Kings.”

Tarnished blinked once, then again.

‘…Woah.’ He thought, a genuine flicker of awe blooming behind his eyes. ‘That’s… yeah, that sounds cool as hell.’

His mouth twitched into a small grin, and he tilted his head ever so slightly in Melina’s lap. She seemed content, unaware of the divine banter playing out beside her, still brushing a lock of hair away from his brow with a light, rhythmic motion.

‘What does it mean?’ He asked silently, eyes narrowing slightly at the unfamiliar tongue.

Marika’s voice in his mind was almost softer now, though she’d never admit it aloud.

“It is High Speech,” she explained. “ Dracúl , meaning Noble Dragonblood. Aeternum , the Eternal. Together… The Eternal Dragon Bloodline.”

He whistled softly under his breath.

‘Yeah... Okay. Yours is better.’

With a flick of his hand, he brought the system prompt back up in his vision.

[Rename Race?]
[Current: Dragonborn]
[New: Dracúl Aeternum]
→ Confirm?

He smirked and tapped YES.

[Race Successfully Renamed.]
[Progenitor of the Dracúl Aeternum: John Elden Ring]

Marika gave a quiet, pleased exhale as she rested her chin on her fingers, still watching him from the side of Melina’s grace-lit form.

“Better, a name fit for the future Elden Lord’s lineage.” she said in that smug, composed tone of hers. “Now thou may carry the name of thy legacy with pride.”

Tarnished chuckled silently to himself. ‘Still think Dragonborn sounded punchier.’

Marika narrowed her eyes slightly, unimpressed.

He turned his head just a bit and closed his eyes again, sighing softly into Melina’s lap, her fingers still faintly moving through his hair.

Melina glanced down at him briefly, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

“…Art thou smiling to thyself again?”

“Nope~!” He said out loud, eyes closed, the grin refusing to leave his face. “Just enjoying my life.”

Marika muttered dryly, “And dragging divinity into foolishness with every breath.”

Tarnished opened his eyes, turning toward Marika with a quip already forming on his lips. Something about dragging divinity into foolishness, maybe a “you love it” or two. But as he tilted his head, something strange caught his attention— a single lock of hair, drifting into view at the edge of his vision.

It was white.

He stared at it for a moment, blinking once. Then twice.

“…The hell?” he muttered, reaching up and tugging the strand between his fingers. “Is that strand of my hair white ?”

Melina hesitated, her breath catching for a moment. Then, quietly, she nodded. “Aye. Since thou didst fall unconscious… some of thy hair began to lose its color. But that…” she paused, glancing away briefly, “...That is not the only change thou seemeth to have undergone.”

Tarnished’s brow furrowed. The teasing tone in his voice vanished.

“What else changed?”

Melina coughed softly into her hand, her cheeks tinted pink. She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she pointed downward, toward the rest of his body.

He lifted his head off her lap with some reluctance, sitting up slightly for the first time. His limbs felt… heavier. Denser. Stronger.

The moment he looked down, his eyes widened.

The torso that had once held the beginnings of a toned, athletic build was now completely transformed. Thick cords of muscle pressed against his skin, sharply defined like they’d been carved from marble and sun-hardened steel. 

His abdomen was no longer just “fit”, it was etched with the kind of definition that looked like it belonged on a Greek statue. The kind that would take a normal man decades of brutal training and zero distraction to earn.

His pants that once comfortably fit, now clung tightly to his hips and thighs, barely holding together under the strain of new growth. His legs had grown longer, his frame larger. Taller. More imposing.

He blinked down at himself, lifting his arms and holding them aloft to study them. His forearms had thickened. Veins lined the hardened musculature like rivers of power beneath the skin.

“…My body’s grown,” he muttered, stunned. He flexed experimentally, watching the muscle strain beneath his skin. “And I feel stronger. Like I could throw a dragon.”

“Aye,” Melina said softly. “But… there is more. Look closer—thy chest, thy throat.”

He tilted his head, trying to glance downward, but the angle was off. Before he could ask, Melina reached into her satchel and pulled free a small polished mirror.

She held it up to him, tilting it gently toward his chest.

There, pulsing just above his sternum, was a low molten glow, faintly orange-gold. It beat in perfect rhythm with his heartbeat. Each thrum was like the low, slow strike of a war drum. It wasn’t just a glow, it was alive . 

It was almost like Greyoll’s Heart had fused into him, its presence etched into his soul and flesh alike.

Tarnished stared at the heartbeat for a long moment, words caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

“...It changed me.” He whispered. “More than I thought.”

Tarnished blinked at the mirror, then paused as he processed something else.

“…My voice.” He said slowly, realizing it now. “It’s deeper... rougher.”

Melina didn’t speak. She simply adjusted the mirror again, this time upward.

His breath caught in his throat as a faintly familiar notification popped up, though it was ignored entirely.

[It’s still you!]

His face was still his —but different. The soft edges of his jaw were gone, replaced by clean, angular lines. His cheeks were more defined, the faint remnants of travel-worn face fat seemingly melted away. There was a handsomeness now that felt carved by fire and legacy, not vanity.

From the corner of his lips, he could see his teeth, they were longer, sharper. His canines had also elongated just slightly, now unmistakably fangs, ones sharp enough that they could probably pierce stone.

But that wasn’t what made his breath hitch.

It was the eyes.

Though his irises retained their familiar brilliant azure, the golden embers of Marika’s Grace still flickering at the edges, his pupils had changed entirely. They were now vertical slits, visibly draconic, like something pulled from the ancient depths of the Lands Between.

A Predator’s eyes. A Sovereign’s eyes.

And yes, the white hair strands—several now—were plainly visible, the exact shimmering color of immortal dragon scales.

“That…” he whispered, staring into the mirror. “That’s me?”

Marika’s voice spoke gently in his mind, but with clear weight.

“Thou art no longer simply Tarnished. Thou art the Progenitor of the Dracúl Aeternum. This change is now thy birthright… And thy burden.”

Tarnished lowered the mirror, his hands now visibly trembling. Whether it was from shock or quiet anticipation, even he wasn’t sure.

He exhaled, slow and shaky.

“…Cool.” He muttered, voice hoarse.

Melina blinked. “…Thou art impossible.”

He cracked a grin, eyes glinting like a storm of gold and flame.

“Yeah.” He said. “But now I’m impossible with dragon eyes.”

Melina groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as Tarnished muttered his joke beneath his breath, still staring at his reflection in the mirror with a mix of disbelief and awe.

“Truly, thy humor remains as dreadful as ever.” she said, voice dry as Caelid’s wind.

Tarnished finally pushed himself up, sitting upright and inspecting his newly transformed body one last time. Every motion felt... Refined. Heightened. Even his breath came easier. More purposeful. Controlled. Like his very lungs had evolved.

He exhaled, rising to his feet with barely a sound, no strain or stiffness. The strength he now felt humming in his bones was electric. He stretched slightly, standing tall at his now 6’3 foot tall frame, up from 5’10.

He glanced toward Marika, who was still seated just behind Melina, looking up at him with her arms crossed and a deep, weary sigh pulling from her lips.

'So,' he muttered, cracking his neck once with a grin. 'Anything else I should know? You know, since I apparently turned into a one-man apocalypse while unconscious.'

Marika closed her eyes for a beat. Then sighed again. “Aye. Of course there is.”

A system prompt shimmered into view before him:

[Due to the awakening of the Dracúl Aeternum bloodline, numerous innate abilities have manifested.]

Another prompt followed swiftly:

[You may now channel any acquired Dragon Communion incantation directly through your body.
No external catalysts or communion rituals required. It is unclear if this applies to other incantations as well.]

[Devouring the Hearts of Dragons will grant you even more untold power. It is unclear if there is a limit.]

Tarnished blinked, eyebrows rising. “Wait, seriously?”

A fourth notification snapped in immediately after:

[You have absorbed the full might of Greyoll’s Heart.]
[Unique Draconic Ability Acquired: Greyoll’s Roar.]

Tarnished stood frozen, lips parting slightly.

‘Greyoll’s Roar?’ he thought, nearly breathless. ‘I thought I’d have to get it specifically, but I got it for free…?’

Marika’s expression shifted slightly, her gaze sharp. “Thou hast consumed the heart of a God-Beast, fool. What didst thou expect? A nap and some indigestion?”

She stood slowly, folding her arms beneath her chest with a weary shake of her head.

“Thou hast gained far more than thou bargained for. And while I would be more livid at thy recklessness, the power it hath granted thee will prove... instrumental.” She sighed. “So I shall hold my tongue. For now.”

He turned toward her slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Surely that’s it though, right? No more unexpected surprises?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she simply lifted a hand, and snapped.

The stat screen materialized in his vision once more.

[STATS PAGE – Level 34 | Radagon’s Soreseal Equipped]
Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Race: Progenitor of the Dracúl Aeternum
Talisman: Radagon’s Soreseal
Burden: Light Burden
Level: 34

Vigor: 38 (Well now. Thou finally resembleth someone capable of surviving more than a stiff breeze. A true improvement, begrudging though it be.)
Mind: 21 (Still dim, but at least now thou hast the capacity to remember thine own plan mid-battle.)
Endurance: 36 (Now thou art not merely breathing, but thriving. Impressive. Almost Dragon-like... Almost.)
Strength: 33 (Hmm. Very well. Mayhap thou canst now swing a proper blade without toppling over.)
Dexterity: 36 (Agile as ever. I daresay... slightly less squirrel-like now.)
Intelligence: 9 (Still a dunce, I could not be less surprised if I tried.)
Faith: 18 (At last, a flicker of piety. It’s shocking, truly.)
Arcane: 18 (Mmm, even this thou hast begun to embrace. Perhaps not entirely wasted on thee after all.)

Tarnished blinked, then chuckled.

He stared at the screen in awe, hands twitching with fresh energy, his pulse steady even as his heart thundered with dragon-fueled might.

“That’s… +10 to all Stats except Int… Holy shit…” He muttered under his breath, lips twitching into a slow, satisfied grin that showed off his new fangs. “I’m... I’m fucking OP . Horrifically overleveled.”

Melina looked up at him, clearly catching the tail end of his whisper.

“…Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

Marika’s voice cut through the quiet, firm and cold as a whetted blade.

“Do not be deceived by thy newfound strength, my champion.” She stepped closer, arms folded beneath her chest, golden eyes boring into him with sharp clarity.  

“Thou hast been reborn, aye—but even now, any one of my children could still reduce thee to naught more than bloodstained phlegm with relative ease. Do not dare to think otherwise.”

Tarnished hummed thoughtfully, stretching his neck slightly as he mulled it over. 

‘Fair.’ He thought while nodding in agreement. ‘ I doubt they’d be as weak as they were in the game. If they’re anywhere close to lore-accurate in strength, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than this to get anywhere.’

Marika, perhaps for the first time in a long while, let out a soft breath of relief. “Good. At least thou hast not let thy arrogance swell with thy veins.”

He chuckled softly, his body still warm and alive with power, when suddenly his stomach growled loudly with impatience.

“Man,” he muttered, one hand resting against his toned abdomen, “I could eat a horse right now… Guess being reborn costs a lot of calories.”

Melina, seated beside him with her legs tucked gracefully beneath her, let out a quiet hum. “I could fetch us rations. There is little edible in this cursed land… I doubt we shall find sustenance here.”

He blinked toward the fading horizon, the amber sun melting into Caelid’s sickly red skyline. The land looked worse in this light, like a rotting wound left open for too long.

“That’s... an idea.” he muttered distantly, but his gaze drifted as a stray, more reckless idea came to his mind.

It had shifted toward the altar of Dragon Communion again.

Melina noticed it instantly, her eyes widened. “Thou canst not be serious…”

A shimmer marked Marika’s sudden arrival beside him, her arms already crossed as she watched him with a narrowed glare.

Tarnished raised his hand.

In it, the heart of the Rotten Dragon Ekzykes appeared, summoned from his inventory with a low hum of ancient power. He turned it in his hand slowly, the texture pulsing faintly with lingering rot, heat, and something older than memory.

‘You said it yourself…’ He spoke to Marika in his mind, not taking his eyes off the heart. 

“I’m nowhere near strong enough to defeat those Demigods. Not like this. Not yet.” He raised the heart slightly. “These hearts… they’re the key, aren’t they?”

Marika’s frown deepened. Her gaze lingered on the heart, not with awe, but with old, bitter knowledge.

Melina only heard part of his thoughts, but it was enough. She stepped forward slightly, brow furrowed, voice soft but laced with warning.

“I understand why thou would do this… but Dragon Communion is a slippery slope.” Her hand hovered in the air for a moment before falling to her side. “To devour the flesh of ancient beasts… To steal their power… ‘Tis no simple act. Shouldst thou go further, thou must consider what it may cost.”

From the side, Marika watched her daughter with what could only be called approval. Though her expression remained stern, a slight softness touched her features. 

“Wise counsel, my dear daughter.” She murmured, though Melina could not hear her.

Tarnished considered their words, nodding slowly.

“I understand,” he said aloud. “But this is a risk I’m willing to take. Who knows what’s coming? What lies down the line? I need to be strong enough to face it head-on. ”

Inside, his thoughts continued, darker and more grounded.

‘Especially if anything changes from what I remember. If any of the demigods are as strong as you imply, Marika… And if Siegmeyer is here…? Then there is no telling what else could be out there. My usual plans won’t be enough. Not even close.’

Marika was silent for a long moment.

Then, finally, she sighed. “Very well. I shall watch over thee, as I always have. But if I sense thee slipping, if I see thee begin to fall to this power’s thralldom… Thou wilt obey mine orders. Properly , this time.”

He smirked slightly, inclining his head.

‘…Deal.’

Turning toward Melina, he stepped closer and extended a hand lightly.

“Thank you. I’ll need you to keep me in check, Melina. If I lose sight of myself… Will you be the one to stop me?”

Melina blinked, then smiled softly, a warm smile reaching her eyes. “I shall be the first to beat sense into thee. That is my duty, is it not? As thy maiden?”

Tarnished laughed, a loud, deep belly laugh that echoed through the broken cathedral.

“Damn right it is.”

And with that, he turned fully toward the altar, Ekzykes’ heart still pulsing faintly in his hand. He stepped forward, raising it slowly toward the stone pedestal, the mist already beginning to swirl in anticipation of the next communion.

The path he walked now was far from safe.

But it was his.

And he would walk it through fire, rot, and ruin. For power and for freedom.

And for whatever fate awaited him at the end of this broken world.

Author’s Note:

Kind of went a bit hot n loose with the lore here, but we don’t really know what the consequences of eating a lore accurate Dragon Heart at the level of Greyoll’s after being baptised in their blood for a while would be, so I chose to be creative with it to make a more fun and enjoyable story.

But I guess that’s the plus of working with From Soft lore, right? They don’t explain much, so a lot can go up to your own interpretation. This is mine. I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

And I know some of you were thinking that his new bloodline would come from Dark Souls, but unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Hopefully you’re not disappointed too much. Not my fault From Soft decided to name the ‘advanced’ dragons in this world ‘Ancient Dragons’ lol

In other shocking news, in the next chapter, our protagonist will finally put on a shirt! 

THE HORROR!

…

Next Chapter Title: The Chapter Where He Puts on a Shirt.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW  

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

Tarnished stared down at the gnarled, pulsing form of Ekzykes’ Heart resting heavy in his palm. It still radiated with the faint stench of rot and ozone, the essence of a beast steeped in ancient decay. Without ceremony and without hesitation, he brought it to his lips and bit into it.

It surprised him.

Unlike Greyoll’s Heart, which had the texture of flame-hardened obsidian and took effort just to bite through, this one…

Crunch.

Felt like biting into a particularly crisp apple. Tart. Faintly metallic. But disturbingly easy.

As he chewed, a familiar system prompt flickered before his eyes.

[Commune with the Dragons]
[Choose Gifts: Dragon Maw]
→ [Confirm?]

Tarnished tilted his head, considering his options. ‘I thought about Ekzykes’ Breath... or maybe Glintstone Breath,’ he mused internally. ‘But if I got Greyoll’s Roar just from eating her heart... then chances are good I’ll get Rotten Breath from this one too.’

Besides, he wasn’t planning on spec’ing into Intelligence anytime soon. Waste of stats, really.

With a silent command, he hit Confirm, and took another bite—juices dripping down his fingers as the heart began to dissolve into mist.

The power came immediately.

A crackling surge raced through his veins. He hunched over, gripping his chest as his core burned —not from pain, but from a primal, searing energy taking root inside him.

His draconic eyes flashed bright crimson, his throat rumbling with an involuntary growl that echoed like an animal warning a rival predator.

“Tarnished!” Melina’s voice called out sharply, worried.

She reached out, grasping his shoulder to steady him as his body trembled under the sudden surge.

“Tarnished, art thou-?!”

“My champion!” Marika’s voice rang clear and fierce in his mind.

And then, just as suddenly, the sensation passed.

He exhaled, breath shaky, standing upright as the mist of communion faded. The dragon’s power had settled into his bones, its strength folded into his being like an old friend sliding into place beside his soul.

He opened his hand slowly, feeling the raw vitality surging beneath his skin. The thrill of it. The potential .

With a grin, he summoned his stats page again.

[STATS PAGE – Level 34 | Radagon’s Soreseal Equipped]
Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Race: Progenitor of the Dracúl Aeternum
Talisman: Radagon’s Soreseal
Burden: Light Burden
Level: 34

Vigor: 41 (My, my. Look at thee, practically a walking fortress now. What next? Shall I crown thee Lord of Fat Rolls?)
Mind: 25 (Astounding. Thou can finally remember what spell thou meant to cast. Mayhaps I should throw thee a parade.)
Endurance: 40 (Ah, finally. Thou can sprint for longer than five steps without gasping like a drowning carp. Miraculous.)
Strength: 37 (So brutish now. What wilt thou do next, my champion? Punch a dragon into submission? Wait, thou might actually try...)
Dexterity: 40 (Swift, deadly, and yet still might somehow manage to trip over pebbles. Such impressive consistency.)
Intelligence: 9 (…Nope. Still vacant behind the eyes. I’ve seen goats with more academic promise.)
Faith: 22 (A flicker of reverence at last. I was beginning to think you’d never figure out what a chapel was for.)
Arcane: 22 (Look who’s trying to uncover secrets now. Be sure not to explode thyself, curious little beast.)

Tarnished whistled low under his breath, his fanged grin widening with awe and satisfaction.

“Holy shit...”

Marika gave a soft sigh beside him, one hand pressed against her temple as she spoke dryly.

“I do hope thou art happy now. Heresy upon heresy, committed with such cheerful abandon… What have I gotten myself into?”

He grinned wider, the crimson gleam still flickering in his dragon-slit pupils. ‘Damn right I’m happy.’

Melina, who’d been silently watching him recover, leaned forward just slightly. “Art thou alright? That… looked most unpleasant.”

Tarnished chuckled, voice still rumbling with faint heat. “Oh~ I’m more than alright... I feel incredible~!”

Melina raised an eyebrow. “Then I assume… the communion was successful?”

“Yep…” he said, pivoting toward her. “Worked wonders.”

Another prompt slid across his vision.

[Due to devouring the heart of the Rotten Dragon Ekzykes, you have acquired the innate Draconic Ability: Ekzykes's Decay.]

Tarnished let out an almost giddy laugh, baring his teeth in a grin that showed off the new fangs now adorning his mouth.

Melina simply shook her head, exhaling softly as if she had no strength left to argue.

Marika, meanwhile, crossed her arms tighter and muttered under her breath.

“A fool and a heretic. And yet… somehow, my champion.”

Tarnished just laughed at her exasperation, taking great joy in the situation, not to mention his already wonderful mood. Melina followed behind him with a quiet sigh, her arms loosely crossed, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

“Art thou always like this after devouring ancient beasts?” she asked dryly, her voice laced with tired amusement.

“Only when it goes well~!” Tarnished grinned over his shoulder.

As they stepped down from the cathedral altar and into the broken courtyard, the last light of day bleeding crimson over Caelid’s ruined landscape, they passed a slumped corpse resting beside the cracked stone path.

A once-proud Banished Knight. His armor, battered and cracked. His blade still clutched in hand, blood crusted over the edge.

Tarnished paused and blinked at it, confused. “Huh? Was that guy there before…?”

Melina, hands behind her back, calmly replied, “He arrived shortly after thou collapsed. Tried to strike thee down while thou wert unconscious.”

She said it so casually, like commenting on the weather.

Tarnished blinked again, pulling out the Exalted Flesh Alexander had given him from his inventory. He took a bite, chewing while staring at the knight.

“And you killed him?” He asked, slowly turning to her.

She looked away, a faint flush brushing her cheeks. “Of course I did. ‘Tis only natural. I am thy maiden. It is my duty to protect thee.”

His grin widened into something damn near wicked.

“Hehe~… That’s why I like you, Melina~!”

Her head jerked slightly at the word like , the blush on her cheeks instantly deepening as she clenched her fist—and promptly drove it into his stomach.

Tarnished doubled over with a wheeze, laughing even as he clutched his abs. “Ow-! Okay, okay, I deserved that!”

Melina huffed, flustered. “Do not jest like that,” she grumbled, eyes turned away. “And for the love of the Erdtree, wouldst thou please find something more fitting to wear?”

She waved vaguely at him with a deeply unamused look. “Walking beside thee half-dressed is bad enough. ‘Tis even worse when thou bare fits within thy clothing, simply embarrassing. ”

Tarnished wheezed out a few more chuckles, his golden eyes shining. The punch hadn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have—not since his body had evolved. He straightened, rubbing his ribs and flashing her a grin.

“What, this?” He gestured to his bare torso. “You sure? I’m rockin’ it. Besides, I can’t help that my pants barely fit anymore. I grew , remember?”

Melina turned her face even more to the side, clearly trying to hide her blush and not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

He let out a snort. “You’re such a tsundere. ”

“A what ?”

“A tsundere.” He repeated cheerfully.

“I do not even know what that means.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, grinning as he popped another bite of Exalted Flesh into his mouth.

Melina scoffed, muttering something incoherent under her breath as they walked further down the ashen hill. And beside them, Marika shimmered into view just long enough to sigh and shake her head.

“I feel I hath joined a traveling theatre troupe rather than a divine quest…”

The two of them walked side by side, the soft crunch of dead grass and cracked stone underfoot as they made their way back onto the Caelid highway. The once-blistering sky was cooling into the murky reds and purples of dusk, the final rays of sunlight spilling through the dense rot-fog like spears of fire fading into ash.

Tarnished glanced upward, his golden-draconic eyes catching the last light. “Almost night again, huh…” he muttered, his tone casual but thoughtful. “We should probably find somewhere to sleep… and maybe get some food while we’re at it. I’m still starving.”

Melina, her posture graceful even amidst the desolate landscape, turned to him with a faint tilt of her head. “Then perhaps it is time we journey to the Roundtable Hold.”

He blinked, glancing sideways at her. “Oh?”

She nodded, the faintest smile touching her lips. “There, we may find both food and rest. Along with that, thou may encounter others like thyself—Tarnished upon their own journeys. Some are merchants. Some are warriors. And shouldst thou seek guidance... the Two Fingers await.”

Tarnished hummed, tapping a clawed finger to his chin in mock contemplation. “A hub of lost warriors and weirdos? Sounds like my kind of place.”

He smirked, then added, “Also, fingers that talk? That’ll be something. I just hope they don’t ask to see my search history.”

Melina blinked, confused. “Thy what-?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She chose not to press further, merely shaking her head.

He chuckled, nodding to himself as they continued along the ruined road. “Alright then. Roundtable Hold it is. I wonder if we’ll find me some actual clothes there.”

At that, Melina giggled softly behind her hand, her voice light with amusement. “At the very least… we should be able to find thee new pants .”

Tarnished laughed cheerfully, arms swinging as he walked down the Caelid highway with a bounce in his step. “Hah! As long as they look good on me, I can’t be walking around without good fashion! Imagine what they’d think of me?”

Melina raised an eyebrow, her steps falling in beside his. “Since when dost thou care what others think of thee?”

A shimmer of golden light overhead preceded the appearance of Marika, floating lazily through the air on her side, supported by her elbow as if reclining on an invisible chaise. Her long hair drifted with the windless breeze, her expression unimpressed.

“Indeed. Since when did thy reputation matter to thee, my champion? Perhaps the dragon hearts hath afflicted thy mind with something unnatural.”

Tarnished shrugged without missing a beat. “Well, I’m gonna be the Elden Lord , aren’t I? Gotta start building the brand.”

Both women stopped walking.

Melina turned to face him slowly, her brows raised in genuine surprise. “That… was actually rather forward-thinking.”

Marika blinked, her smirk vanishing momentarily in shock. “Didst… Didst thou just utter two sensible thoughts in succession?”

Melina stepped in front of him, placing a gentle but firm hand against his forehead. Tarnished leaned back slightly, caught off guard.

“Uh… What’re you doing?”

“I am checking for a fever.” She said flatly. “Thou hast now said two reasonable things. Back to back. That is… unnatural.”

Marika floated closer, crossing her arms under her chest as she hovered just above the road. “Indeed. Be thorough, daughter. This is clearly a matter of some urgency. Perhaps he should lay down. Something may have infected his brain. ”

Tarnished’s eye twitched, his expression caught somewhere between amused, annoyed, and indignant.

“Oi… I’m not that stupid…”

Before either of them could continue piling on, the sound of hooves cut through the air. Heavy, deliberate, and rhythmic.

All three of them turned toward the source.

From the gloom of the road ahead, a Night’s Cavalry rider emerged, cloaked in darkness even with the sun still casting its final light. The black-clad figure rode tall atop an armored steed, halberd gripped tightly in one gauntleted hand. Its obsidian armor gleamed in the twilight, reflecting rot-lit skies and the last dying rays of the sun.

Marika frowned instantly. “The Night’s Cavalry…”

Tarnished raised an eyebrow. ‘You know these guys?’

“Aye,” she said, her voice lowering slightly. “They were once the hidden hand of the Golden Order, executioners cloaked in shadow. Loyal to the law… and to me.”

He blinked. ‘So they worked for you ?’

“For a time, yes. But after my imprisonment?” Her expression darkened. “Who knows what leash they now follow? From the looks of it... none.”

Melina gently tugged on Tarnished’s arm. “Come. We need not fight him. Let us simply return to the Roundtable Hold.”

Tarnished hummed. “Hmm…”

Then, turning toward Marika, he asked silently in his mind: ‘Hey, do you think that Night’s Cavalry guy is about the same height as me?’

Marika tilted her head, eyes narrowing at the distant knight. She looked him over once, then turned her gaze back to Tarnished. “Roughly… yes. Why?”

He grinned.

“Oh no…” Marika froze midair, her eyes widening as she cursed aloud. “Thou wretched fool, not again! ”

Melina sighed, her grip on his arm falling away. “I suppose, instead of simply leaving… Thou intend to fight him.”

Tarnished’s grin widened, fangs glinting. “Oh, Melina~... When have I ever taken the easy path? ”

The knight noticed him. With a sharp tug of the reins, the dark steed launched forward, hooves thundering across the ground as the black knight lowered his halberd, intent on trampling the approaching madman.

Melina stepped back with a sigh, already casting Golden Vow, her hands glowing with soft light as she pulled her dagger from her hip.

“You are insufferable.” She muttered as the Golden Order spell enveloped them both.

Tarnished planted his feet, cracking his neck, and stretched out a hand while reaching deep within.

Deep into himself. Into that primal, molten core that now pulsed just beneath his sternum.

The dragon within.

All Tarnished needed was to reach within to the roaring, molten wellspring in his chest and pull.

He felt it immediately. That blazing force. Like a nuclear core set deep behind his ribs. Magic churned within him like a wildfire starved of air, begging to be unleashed. He drew in a sharp breath, inhaling until his lungs ached.

His draconic eyes burned crimson .

'Now... which one to use?' he thought, coolly watching the mounted knight charging toward him at full gallop.

He smiled. ‘That armor will look good on me... if I don’t ruin it first.’

The Night’s Cavalry lowered his war hammer, spectral steed thundering beneath him.

‘Too slow.’

Tarnished opened his mouth, and exhaled.

A torrent of Dragon Ice Breath erupted from his throat in a freezing spiral, engulfing the approaching knight and his mount in a blast of piercing frost. The whole road was coated in white, the very air turning to shards as the fog burst into shimmering mist.

The cavalry screeched his spectral mount to a halt, staggering, nearly bucked off. The knight grunted in pain as frostbite bloomed across his limbs, joints stiffening beneath the blackened armor.

“What devilry?!” the knight rasped, teeth clenched. “Dragon Communion magic?! But there’s no seal and no spectral Dragon-!”

Tarnished didn't let him finish.

He sprinted directly into the ice storm, grinning wildly as the world around him blurred into fog. He took a long drink from his Cerulean Flask, and the mana returned to him in a rush.

He ran straight through the icy haze, completely unaffected. He was unaffected by his own Dragon breath after all.

‘Useful.’ He thought. ‘Real damn useful.’

The knight had barely recovered when Tarnished emerged from the swirling breath, eyes glowing through the mist like two dying stars.

But he didn’t reach for his blades.

No.

Instead, he grinned wider, showing all his fangs and pulled something new from his inventory.

A hilt wrapped in cracked leather. A blade of steel so massive it looked like a slab of iron forged for a god.

The Greatsword. A weapon he’d picked up from a shattered caravan just yesterday. One he shouldn't have been able to wield.

Until now, until he had awakened as the Progenitor of the Dracúl Aeternum.

The Night’s Cavalry’s eyes widened behind his helm.

But it was too late.

CRACK.

The Ultra Greatsword slammed into his abdomen with the force of a crashing boulder. Blood burst from the knight’s mouth as he was launched from his steed, which vanished in a shudder of blue smoke.

He hit the ground hard, tumbling.

Tarnished followed, running after him as hard as physically possible.

He raised his right arm, tapping into his Draconic power again.

‘Dragon Claw!’

His right limb twisted, flesh tearing, muscle expanding as black scales formed down to the fingertips. His arm became that of a dragon, clawed and monstrous.

Tarnished reached the downed knight just as he staggered to rise and slammed the Greatsword into his gut, driving it deep with a perfect critical strike, one significantly enhanced by his Draconic arm.

[-35% HP]

The Night’s Cavalry screamed as blood sprayed from his helm.

Tarnished twisted the blade, then let go, swapping hands as he lunged forward and wrapped his draconic claw around the knight’s throat—the only part not covered in iron.

The knight choked, struggling violently, but Tarnished didn't stop.

‘Dragon Claw!’

His left arm shifted next. The same transformation, the twisting, surging, burning transformation—and another massive claw grew to match the first.

Both hands gripped the knight’s neck like a vice.

And he squeezed.

The knight thrashed, kicked, slammed fists into Tarnished’s body but the new strength of the Dracúl Aeternum bloodline proved far too much. Every second the pressure mounted. His health bar ticked downward.

Tarnished’s own mana bar also began to shrink, drained by maintaining both arm transformations at once.

“Melina!” he roared, gritting his teeth. “Finish him! This form’s burning mana like crazy!”

“Right!”

She sprinted forward, her flame-coated dagger igniting in her grasp. As she neared the struggling knight, she dropped to a slide across the ash-covered ground and brought the dagger up and stabbed it straight into the eye slit of his helmet.

Squelch.

The knight jolted violently. For a heartbeat, he tried to move. Then...

He went limp in Tarnished’s grasp.

Tarnished and Melina stood side by side, panting softly in the silence that followed the Night’s Cavalry’s death. Frost still clung to the edges of the ruined road, glittering in the fading twilight. 

Tarnished’s arms, now returned to their usual human form, sizzled faintly with residual crimson mist before fully settling—though they ached, sore like a muscle pushed past its limit. A reminder that even a draconic body needed time to adjust.

“While unsightly and brutish,” Marika drawled from above, her voice echoing through his thoughts, “at the very least, thou made swift work of that rabid dog. The boons of thy heresy seem to bear fruit, my champion. It would have taken thee far longer to reach such strength through orthodox means.”

Tarnished smirked, pride quietly blooming in his chest.

A familiar golden flash swept across his vision.

[Great Enemy Felled]
Runes Gained: 24,287
[Acquired: Ash of War – Poison Moth Flight]

Melina turned to him, her hair gently tousled by the night wind, and rested her hands on her hips. “He is dead. What now? Shall we head to the Roundtable Hold?”

Tarnished just grinned.

“Nope. We haven’t taken our prize yet.”

Melina arched an eyebrow. “What prize?”

He chuckled, reaching down and giving the dark armor of the fallen knight a satisfied pat. “This guy’s gear, of course. That armor is way too good to pass up.”

She stared at him in disbelief, deadpan expression unchanging. “…Really?”

He shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one that said I needed clothes. He’s about my size, and you’re not gonna find armor that badass and actually protective just lying around.”

Melina exhaled slowly through her nose and rubbed her temple. “I knew thy streak of reasonableness would be short-lived…”

Tarnished just laughed. “C’mon, enough yapping. Let’s get this guy outta this armor. I need to see if it even fits me.”

A golden shimmer appeared ahead of him as Marika materialized, floating lazily midair, lying on her stomach now with both hands tucked under her head, her long legs floating behind her. Her long hair draped down toward the ground, and her eyes glinted with bemused contempt.

“Be careful,” she said sweetly. “I am not entirely convinced any armor could contain thine idiocy.”

Tarnished grinned wider, giving her a mock mental bow. ‘Noted, my Queen.’

Marika smirked. “If it bursts at the seams, thou shan’t say I didn’t warn thee.”

Melina just sighed and walked past him, muttering, “I shall see if I can find a quiet corner to rest while thou strip a corpse for fashion.”

Tarnished, already kneeling and undoing buckles, waved her off cheerfully. “You’re gonna love how I look in this!”

“I doubt that very much.”

But even as she turned her back, a tiny smile ghosted across her lips.

Author’s Note:

Yes, yes, I know. The title is kind of a lie, he doesn’t actually put on a shirt in this chapter but I couldn’t think of a better title and-

…

Next Chapter Title: The Roundtable Hold I.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW  

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

Yo. Sorry this took a while, let’s blame it on seasonal depression and move on, yeah?

Tarnished tightened the strap of the second gauntlet, giving it a firm pat to ensure it was secured. The Night’s Cavalry wrist armor gleamed darkly in the dying light. 

It was sleek, ominous, and oddly elegant in its layered design. Charred silver bands wrapped around his forearms like sinuous cords, each plate blackened at the edges from years of shadowed duty and ghostly rides beneath the moon.

Across from him, Marika sat atop a nearby boulder with one leg crossed neatly over the other, her expression amused as ever. “Art thou sure thou dost not wish to don the helm as well?”

Tarnished followed her gaze to the helm lying in the dirt nearby, still faintly dripping with blood from where the knight’s head had been. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

‘Nah. I’d rather not have the smell of brains and blood clog up my nostrils for the next however-many-days I wear it. Besides, killing a guy then wearing his clothes is already distasteful enough, I’d rather not steal his entire look.’

Marika arched a golden eyebrow. “So… thou art willing to kill the man in cold blood without a second thought, but thou draw the line at wearing his helmet because of its hypothetical smell and general distastefulness?”

He paused. That… actually hadn’t occurred to him.

‘I guess so?’ he thought. ‘Is that weird?’

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against her hand with a smirk tugging at her lips. “No. Not for thee. ‘Tis exactly the kind of asinine logic I have come to expect of thee.”

Tarnished blinked a few times, finishing the last strap on his gauntlet. “...I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He stood up fully, rolling his shoulders to test the fit. The Night’s Cavalry armor hugged his form well, it was dark as obsidian, with crimson stitching along the edges and long coattails that shifted slightly with each breeze. 

Despite its heavy look, it flowed well with his movement, and the crimson accents matched the ember flicker still glowing faintly in his draconic pupils. He wore no helmet, leaving his chiseled features, piercing eyes, and now distinctly sharp fangs visible beneath his wild hair. 

Behind him, Melina stood with her back against a nearby ruined wall, arms crossed loosely. She turned her head slightly at the sound of him finishing. “Art thou done yet?”

He turned, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

As she stepped away from the wall, he struck a pose with his left hand splayed across his face, two fingers angled to frame one eye, the other arm stretched outward dramatically.

“How’s this? This armor suit me?”

Before she could answer, he shifted, sliding one foot forward into a deep lunge, the other extended back. He twisted his torso, raised one arm in a horns gesture, and pointed the other downward in perfect symmetry.

“Don’t I look cool as fuck ?” he declared proudly.

He wasn’t done. In a fluid spin, he crossed his legs, wrapped one arm tightly across his torso, and bent the other toward his head in an exaggerated dramatic pose.

Melina stared, expression blank as he cycled through pose after pose, each one somehow more Bizarre than the last.

From the side, Marika blinked in total confusion. “What… in the Lands Between… art thou doing?”

‘I’m doing JoJo poses , you uncultured swine!’ He shot back mentally, still mid-pose with his arm bent backward and one leg pointed. Then paused, realization hitting. ‘...Oh wait. You wouldn’t know what those are. You can’t watch JoJo’s here… I weep for you. Truly. ’

He smirked and turned his attention back to Melina, now leaning slightly to the side with one hand at his hip.

“What’s this? Nothing to say?” He pointed directly at her with all the dramatic flair of a seasoned anime protagonist. “I know! You’re so impressed that you’re speechless! ”

Melina blinked once. Then again. Finally, she sighed with a helplessly amused smirk.

“Very well... Let us say that is the case.”

“We must work on thy decorum and common sense at some point…” Marika sighed, rubbing her temples.

Tarnished tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing. ‘Hm? What’s wrong with my decorum and common sense?’

Another long, tired sigh echoed through his mind like thunder through a canyon.

“Everything, my champion. Everything.”

Melina arched an eyebrow as Tarnished finished tightening the chest straps of the Night’s Cavalry armor, her arms folded neatly across her torso. “Why didst thou not don the helmet as well?”

Tarnished grinned, running a hand through his hair as if to emphasize the point. “And rob you , and the rest of the world, of the pleasure and privilege of laying your eyes upon this handsome visage~?” 

He caressed his cheek smugly. “I wouldn’t dare~!”

Melina blinked once. Then let out a soft, melodic giggle behind her hand, head shaking slightly in amused disbelief. “If thou sayest so.”

Marika, now floating lazily behind them with her chin resting in one palm, rolled her eyes in silence, but a ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips nonetheless.

Melina tilted her head gently. “Then… art thou ready to depart? Shall we make our way to the Roundtable Hold now?”

Tarnished nodded once, a warm smile playing across his face. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Her expression softened further, and she stepped toward him with quiet grace, stopping just inches away. “Very well then,” she said softly, her voice like a distant song. “Let my hand rest upon thine, for but a moment.”

He lifted his hand without hesitation, offering it to her with a boyish grin. She took it gently, her fingers brushing his palm with a delicate touch before her eyes fluttered shut.

A heartbeat passed, then, a flash of golden light erupted around them, blinding and beautiful.

The world bent and twisted around their forms as Grace itself reached out, taking hold.

And the two vanished.

...

Tarnished and Melina now stood at the center of a vast, circular chamber. The air was still, solemn. A massive roundtable occupied the center, and above it burned a quiet but radiant flame of Grace, suspended in the air like a divine heart. 

The table was marked with scars. Nicks from blades, burned edges, dried blood faded into the wood. A place meant for warriors… and those waiting to become legends.

Melina gently pulled her hand away, stepping forward.

“This is the Roundtable Hold,” she said softly. “A haven for Tarnished guided by Grace. Beyond the reach of the Erdtree’s light, where few things may follow.”

Atop the table, leaning back against the golden flame itself, sat Marika. Her legs were crossed with one hand idly twirling a lock of hair. She examined the place with narrowed eyes, gaze drifting slowly across its walls, statues, and gathered remnants of lost purpose.

“So this is the so-called ‘Roundtable of Grace’…” She murmured with something close to solemn nostalgia in her voice. “A memory cast adrift in the void. A hollow echo of what once stood in Leyndell.”

Tarnished raised a brow, glancing between her and the hall. ‘Wait, you knew of this place? Even before the Shattering?’

Marika smiled faintly. Not fondly. “Aye. Though it was… different then. A place of meeting and making, a place of tone and steel. I had it forged myself. Not this empty dream of it.”

Before he could press further, a voice interrupted.

“Oh, this is a rare occasion…” Came a calm, measured tone from across the room. “I can’t remember the last time a new Tarnished made their way to the Roundtable…”

Tarnished turned, already knowing the voice before his eyes confirmed it.

Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing.

He was tall, draped in stately white robes marked with gold, the man carried himself with the arrogance of royalty and the gravitas of a man convinced of his own invincibility. He leaned slightly on a dark staff inlaid with runes, the rings on his fingers catching the firelight. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Tarnished said flatly. “The Odin wannabe. Gideon Ofnir.”

Gideon’s head tilted, intrigued, but his gaze didn’t waver. “You know me?”

Tarnished nodded once, placing a hand at his side as he turned slightly to look Gideon in the eye. “Not a lot of people go around calling themselves the ‘All-Knowing’ while knowing so little.”

Behind him, Marika’s eyes sharpened, her voice curling like velvet laced with venom as she eyed Gideon down with a tilt of her head. “A mortal Tarnished who claimeth to know all? Hah… Hubris most divine. I’d almost be impressed by his gall, were it not so… Detestable.”

Gideon’s brow twitched as his eyes narrowed further. “I beg your pardon?”

Before Tarnished could say more, Melina stepped forward quickly, placing a hand gently on his arm. Her grip wasn’t tight, but the message was clear.

“Mayhaps thou shouldst not start making enemies within a place of refuge,” she said, looking into his eyes. “We just arrived.”

He paused, eyes flicking toward her… then toward Marika, who looked on in mild amusement.

Gideon adjusted his staff slightly and offered a thin, professional smile, one barely visible through his helmet.

“You would do well to listen to your Maiden,” he said smoothly. “As your senior, I shall forget this lapse in judgment and bid you welcome. It is safe here. You may let down your guard.”

His tone cooled like a blade drawn across ice as he turned to walk away.

“But allow me a word of advice.” He said without looking back. “You are a mere visitor to the Roundtable. A guest… who has yet to earn their keep. Remember your place, newcomer.”

He paused at the edge of the table, voice quiet but sharp as a knife’s whisper.

“Arrogant fools tend to meet rather abrupt, and unpleasant , ends to their journeys.”

He walked away, his staff tapping softly against the stone floor. The echo lingered long after he was gone.

Tarnished exhaled slowly, expression filled with mild annoyance and disdain which was shared by Marika as she smirked faintly from her perch above the flame.

“ Charming . I see the spirit of the old court lives on in all the worst ways...”

Melina’s hand tugged at his arm the moment Gideon walked out of hearing distance, pulling Tarnished closer with a subtle but undeniable force. Her eyes, now sharp and narrowed, met his with that quiet intensity she only pulled out when she was genuinely vexed.

“What in the Lands Between possessed thee to pick a fight in a safe haven?” she asked, voice low, her tone wasn’t angry but undeniably firm. “We just arrived. It is meant to be a place of peace, not a battleground for thine petty pride.”

Tarnished shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “I hate smug know-it-alls. They annoy me.”

Melina didn’t buy it. Her expression didn’t soften, if anything, it grew more skeptical. Her lips parted to challenge him further but was cut off.

“Sir Tarnished!” came a bright, bubbly voice from off to the side. “It really is you! I almost didn’t recognize you!”

“Hm?” Tarnished turned, blinking for a second before his face broke into a grin. “Oh! Roderika! You made it!”

She jogged over, her face lit up with joy. The once-nervous girl from Stormhill Shack looked more confident now, wrapped in a simple cloak and travel leathers, her red-gold hair slightly windswept from the road.

“Yeah!” she giggled. “All by myself, too!”

“I knew you had it in you,” Tarnished said with genuine warmth, beaming at her.

Melina watched the interaction in silence at first, her teal eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Something… twitched at the edge of her thoughts. An odd tingling sensation flared in her mind, and the faintest vein bulged near her temple.

“…Huh.” She muttered under her breath, barely audible. “...Why do I have the odd urge to kill this woman?”

Atop the table, Marika visibly slumped. The spectral goddess sank backward against the bonfire’s golden heart, a groan escaping her as she buried her face in one palm.

“My daughter… falling for a complete moron… and so painfully unaware of it… Perhaps I really have failed her.” She muttered as a moment later, she vanished into golden mist without another word.

Meanwhile, Roderika tilted her head, stepping closer. Her bright green eyes widened slightly as she looked him up and down.

“What happened to you since yesterday?” she asked, fascinated. “You got so tall! And your hair, it's has white strands now! And your eyes are… a little scary! Oh, and this armor! You’ve been busy, huh?”

Tarnished chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, sheepish but amused. “You could say that again. And yeah, about all that… it’s kind of a long story.”

She clasped her hands behind her back, leaning in with a faint blush, eyes shining with excitement. “Well, I’ve got time! I’d love to hear all about your adventures!”

He laughed again softly, and for a second, he imagined a pair of soft golden retriever ears and a tail wagging behind her. The mental image was enough to make his grin widen.

That’s when Melina stepped in. Literally.

She moved just slightly to stand between them, subtle but deliberate, tilting her head as she turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“And who might this be, my companion?” she asked with just the faintest edge in her tone. “Wouldst thou care to introduce us?”

Tarnished’s smile twitched. Just for a moment. He recognized the shift. Subtle venom disguised as grace. Carefully, he cleared his throat and gestured between the two of them.

“Melina, this is Roderika. We met back near Stormveil. She’s… a good friend.”

Roderika beamed and extended a hand cheerfully. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Melina took the offered hand and shook it with a grip that was just a touch too firm to be polite. “Likewise,” she said tersely.

The moment hung there, quiet and a little tense.

Tarnished resisted the urge to whistle. Instead, he glanced between the two and thought to himself: Oh boy… this’ll be fun.

The air between Melina and Roderika crackled for a brief moment, silent but unmistakably tense. To Tarnished, the image was almost comical. He could easily picture the scene as a black Maine Coon cat, sleek and composed, trying to maintain its regal disdain while fending off an overeager golden retriever wagging its tail at full speed.

Still smiling, Tarnished stepped forward toward Roderika, rubbing the back of his head slightly as he spoke. “Hey, I don’t mind telling you the full story. Hell, it’s a pretty wild one. But it’s getting kinda late, and we’re trying to find a place to sleep. And maybe stock up on supplies for the road. You wouldn’t happen to know where we can find either of those, would you?”

Roderika blinked for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but then nodded and perked up. She gestured behind them toward one of the stone archways. “If you go that way and take the left passage, you’ll find a merchant who sells food, water, and travel supplies. He's a bit… intense, but his collection’s amazing.”

Tarnished followed her finger with his eyes. That hallway led to where the Twin Maiden Husks usually were. Though, curiously, the entire wing looked far more populated than he remembered. More ‘NPCs’ milled about, and there were branching passageways that hadn’t existed in the game’s Roundtable Hold.

Roderika then pointed down the hall that led to Smithmaster Hewg’s forge. “Down that way, past the anvil, you’ll find a clerk near the old library staircase. He manages the sleeping quarters. The bigger rooms are expensive, but there’s a basic one. It’s just a bed and a bathroom but it’s pretty cheap. That’s what I use.”

“Perfect,” Tarnished nodded, flashing her a bright grin. “Thanks for the advice.” 

And, without hesitation, he reached over and ruffled her hair again.

Roderika squeaked slightly but didn’t stop him. A blush spread across her cheeks like wildfire, though she smiled shyly, clearly pleased.

“It’s no problem, really,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t be here if not for you. Without your advice back in Stormhill, I would’ve never made it…”

Tarnished chuckled. “Nonsense. You had it in you. With or without my help.”

Melina’s sharp, purposeful cough into her hand snapped the moment like a twig. Tarnished turned toward her instinctively and found her already stepping closer, her gaze firm.

“As thou didst say earlier,” she began coolly, “we have little time. I shall acquire the provisions so that we shall eat well tonight. Thou, meanwhile, go seek out sleeping quarters.”

Tarnished gave her a nod and reached into his soul, summoning a familiar golden shimmer into his palm. 

[–10,000 Runes]

“Here,” he said, handing the shimmering essence to her. “Get us some food and use the rest on… whatever. Meet me back here when we’re both done?”

Melina accepted the runes, giving him a subtle nod of approval. But before turning away, she shot Roderika one last hard look. Her lips curled downward ever so slightly, and she gave a sharp “ Humph ,” before pivoting and walking briskly down the hall.

Tarnished stood there for a second, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned. He turned to Roderika and offered a sheepish grin. “Well, you heard the boss. Gotta get us a room before she comes back and bites my head off.”

Roderika giggled into her hands, her eyes twinkling. “That’s okay. I’ll be around the Roundtable for a while. If you ever feel like talking… I’d really love to hear more.”

He smiled at that and, without thinking, reached over and ruffled her hair one last time. Her face flushed a deep crimson, and she stood frozen in place as he turned and walked off.

From somewhere deep in his mind, Marika’s voice let out a long, tired sigh.

“I swear… I cannot tell whether thou art more oblivious than my daughter, or she more than thee. Perhaps I’ve failed her as a mother… Truly, what God could prepare for such mortal foolishness?”

‘Huh? What do you mean?’ Tarnished asked, brow furrowing.

“Pay me no mind. Go. Do as thou must.”

He shrugged and kept walking.

Tarnished stepped into the right-hand corridor, the quiet clang of a hammer immediately catching his attention. He looked up and spotted Smithmaster Hewg, hunched over his anvil, sweat gleaming across his weathered bald head as he worked in tireless rhythm. Flames flickered around the forge, casting sharp shadows against the stone walls.

But it wasn’t just Hewg that caught his eye, there were others here. Several, in fact. Men and women in various forms of attire, moving about the stone halls, muttering amongst themselves or resting in quiet corners. It was far more populated than he ever remembered. Too many faces he didn’t recognize.

‘Since when are there this many people here?’ he thought.

“What didst thou expect?” Marika’s voice spoke up dryly, her tone tinged with bemusement. “From what Grace whispers to me, this place, this spectral refuge, is built as a reflection. An echo of the Roundtable that once stood in Leyndell’s heart. A fortress, built to house not just wanderers, but an army, if needed.”

‘A fortress…’ he echoed, eyes wandering. ‘So it’s not just this main chamber…’

“Indeed. Kitchens, barracks, sanctums, armories… All integrated into the bones of this place. And yes…” she added, almost with a sigh, “…even Hewg. As was necessary.”

Tarnished’s gaze shifted back to the hunched blacksmith, hammering endlessly into steel.

‘So it’s true then,’ he muttered in his mind. ‘You’re the one that imprisoned him here?’

“Aye. I did.”

‘Why?’

“‘Twas not for punishment, ‘twas for preparation,” she answered solemnly. “He alone possessed the hands to forge what might one day be needed.”

‘A weapon to kill a God?’ He asked, repeating the line he'd once heard from Hewg himself.

“A weapon to kill Me. Should it come to that.” She admitted without hesitation. “Or worse. There are fates more vile than mine death, mine champion. This was my insurance. And now… Now, we live in the worst-case outcome. Or at least, the closest one this world could bear.”

Tarnished said nothing to that, there wasn’t much to say.

His eyes wandered again, then landed on a door.

It was the one from his memory. Fia’s room. Though unlike the game, the door was shut tight. Curiosity gnawed at him.

He stepped toward it and placed a hand on the cool wood. The hinges creaked gently as he opened it, and there she was.

Fia sat quietly on the edge of her bed, delicate hands resting on her lap, her soft green eyes gazing into the crackling fireplace to her right. Her skin was porcelain-pale, soft and immaculate. Her long golden-brown hair flowed like a shadowed waterfall over her shoulders, contrasting the softness of her simple black gown that clung gently to her form. 

She was stunning, an ethereal kind of beauty that made time seem to pause for a moment.

She looked up when she noticed him enter, her lips curving softly.

“Greetings, great champion called by Grace. I am Fia.” She said with a quiet, elegant warmth.

Tarnished stepped forward, bowing his head slightly. “I’m just a Tarnished of no name and no renown.”

“I see,” she said with an understanding nod. “I am not one to judge the circumstances of one’s life, I bid you welcome. Hopefully you enjoy your stay. …My own circumstances have compelled my stay at the Roundtable Hold.”

There was a slight pause as she shifted on the bed, seeming suddenly more hesitant. Her fingers played with the edge of her gown as a subtle blush touched her cheeks.

“Great champion…” she said softly. “Would you allow me to hold you, but briefly? Doing so will grant me the warmth of a champion…”

She looked up at him through her lashes, voice growing quieter.

“Do you think it vulgar, perhaps? Where I come from, it is a sacred act…”

Tarnished stared at her, unmoving. Fia’s smile faltered slightly under his silence, and she began to shift nervously.

Then, with barely a flicker of motion, he blurred forward into her arms, wrapping himself around her like a drowning man finding the shore.

Fia gasped faintly but smiled, embracing him with open arms. Her hands gently ran through his hair, her breath warm against his ear.

“Ah… My thanks, great champion. You are… very warm.”

Tarnished sank into the hug with a heavy sigh, tension rolling off his shoulders. The silence that followed was soft and sacred, until it was shattered by a familiar voice.

“…Seriously?”

Marika’s tone was a perfect mix of disbelief, judgement, and tired resignation.

Tarnished didn’t respond. He just melted further into Fia’s embrace, hiding the amused grin playing across his lips.

Author’s Note:

To hug or to not hug, that is the question…

Our protagonist says hug!

…

Next Chapter Title: The Roundtable Hold II.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW  

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

Tarnished shifted slightly in Fia’s embrace, letting his head rest more comfortably against her chest. The fabric of her dress was cool and smooth beneath his cheek, but her body radiated a soothing warmth. Her hands, soft as silk and steady as a heartbeat, stroked his hair gently, like he was some precious thing in need of calm.

A low, pleased hum rumbled from his throat as he let his eyes fall shut for a moment. It was… oddly comforting. A rare moment of stillness amidst the chaos.

Behind him, leaning lazily against the archway with one hand resting on her hip and the other tapping against her elbow, Marika appeared in her ethereal form, looking completely unimpressed.

“So this is what brings thee solace? Collapsing into the bosom of a maiden?” She muttered, voice dry enough to parch desert sand.

A system prompt appeared across Tarnished’s vision.

[You have received: Baldachin's Blessing]
[Status Effect: Max HP -5% until used]

Tarnished peeked one eye open to see it and gave a small mental shrug. 

‘Worth it.’

“Why of course thou wouldst consider a curse such this worthy enough to keep. So long as it came from a maiden’s embrace.” The Goddess’ voice was filled to the brim with dry and humourless amusement.

Fia’s voice, quiet and soothing, reached his ears again as she kept stroking his hair, a faint flush on her pale cheeks. “What you felt light up inside you was a Baldachin's Blessing. Though it is but a fleeting thing, I am afraid.”

She took a soft breath and spoke again, her voice like mourning veils in the wind.

“I was known as a Deathbed Companion, where I come from. After I received the warmth and lifely vigour from a number of champions, I was to lay with the remains of an exalted noble, to grant him another chance at life. To do so… is the purpose of my being.”

Marika scoffed softly from behind, crossing her arms. “Hmph. I suspected as much. A ritualistic clinging to death’s coattails. To cradle what ought to be conquered… is to embrace weakness.”

Tarnished gave a small, noncommittal hum in response, it was half agreement, half dismissal. He didn’t much care. It felt good, so he let it be.

Marika narrowed her eyes and huffed in annoyance. “Thou could at least pretend to care about such things, my champion.”

But Fia continued, gently brushing a stray strand of his hair from his forehead.

“But before I could bear the noble into new life, I was awakened by the guidance of grace… and chased from my birthplace. Pray, be kind.” She said softly, her thumb brushing over his temple. “Despite all that… I still wish to be a Deathbed Companion.”

There was a pause, a moment of quiet comfort where the fire crackled and the warmth of her embrace threatened to lull him into a true sleep.

Then, Fia leaned down close, so close that her breath touched the shell of his ear, and whispered in a tone that made goosebumps rise across his skin.

“…Should you desire, great champion… I would lay with you. Properly.”

Marika blinked once. Then again. Her arms slowly dropped to her sides as her jaw shifted, caught between dropping and locking tight.

“…Seriously?”

Tarnished sat frozen for a moment, his thoughts swirling like a whirlwind. Part of him screamed to accept, Fia’s offer was tempting in every sense of the word. Her voice, soft and sultry, her hands that cradled him with warmth, and her gaze full of longing… 

It was enough to make any man falter. Especially one who'd walked the desolate, blood-soaked lands of Caelid, where comfort was as rare as hope.

But another part of him, the quieter and steadier half, held him back.

He felt his arms tighten around her instinctively, drawing a soft gasp and a quiet moan from Fia’s lips. Her breath hitched as his fingers gripped her waist briefly before releasing her with a sigh.

He slowly raised his head from her lap, meeting her eyes. She looked… breathtaking. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling with a warmth that made him ache. His gaze lingered on her parted lips for a second too long, and for a moment he considered kissing her right then and there.

He cursed himself inwardly.

Still… he made his choice.

Reaching up, he gently cradled her face in one hand, his calloused fingers brushing against her soft skin. 

“Fia…” he murmured. “I’m sorry. You’re… incredible. And I won’t lie to you, I was tempted. I am tempted.” He gave her the faintest smile, tinged with regret. “But I’ve already given my heart to another.”

Fia blinked in surprise, then gave him a bittersweet smile tinged with sadness. “I understand. We all carry our commitments. I would never ask you to betray yours.”

Behind him, Marika had reappeared, standing just beside the doorway with a hand on her hip. Her expression, once deeply unimpressed, now shifted to something more surprised… and, curiously, respectful.

“...He actually turned her down.” She muttered aloud to herself, almost as if she couldn’t quite believe it. “Hm. Perhaps I judged thee too harshly, my champion.”

Fia tilted her head as her smile grew ever so slightly. “That said… if your arms are ever tired, your mind burdened… I will still hold you. As many times as you wish.”

Tarnished felt the knot in his chest loosen. He hadn’t ruined anything. He gave a small chuckle and nodded in gratitude, staying in her embrace a little longer, just long enough for the heat of temptation to pass.

Eventually, with some reluctance, he stood up.

Fia rose slightly, brushing off her skirts with practiced grace. “You are welcome back anytime. For comfort…” she paused, her eyes glinting with mischief as she winked sultry at him. “Or… if you ever change your mind.”

Tarnished’s soul damn near left his body as he stuttered on breath alone, managing only a choked cough as he nodded stiffly. “R-Right. I’ll… keep that in mind.”

She giggled sweetly as she waved him off. “Farewell, great champion~ Until we meet again.”

He stepped out of the room and gently closed the door behind him, exhaling as if he’d just walked out of a boss arena. Despite the temptation, he felt lighter, like he’d passed a test he didn’t know he’d been taking.

Marika appeared at his side, lounging on a glowing spectral throne with her legs elegantly crossed. She studied him with narrowed eyes and a faint smirk. “I must admit… I’m impressed. I fully expected thee to stumble face-first into that woman’s lap in more ways than one. What stopped thee?”

Tarnished sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… yeah, I wanted to. But I’m not the kind of guy who lets himself be guided by lust alone.”

Marika blinked once. Then gave him a look. A long, unimpressed look.

He clicked his tongue, muttering in his head, ‘I’m not! As beautiful as Fia is, she’s not you. Or Melina. Or Ranni, for that matter. And I’ll be damned before I do anything that could screw up my standing with any of you. I might be greedy, but I’m not that stupid!’

Marika stared for a moment, then burst into laughter, elegant and mocking in equal measure. “Hah! That’s more like it! The exact inane, ridiculous logic I’ve come to expect from thee.”

His right eye twitched in annoyance. ‘I’m taking that as a compliment.’

“Take it however thou wishest. It is no less true.”

Tarnished didn’t bother replying as he made his way toward the hallway Roderika had mentioned, heading to find the clerk that would get him and Melina a room for the night.

Tarnished made his way down the polished stone corridor of the Roundtable Hold, passing unfamiliar faces as he went. A few knights in varying states of rest, some Tarnished fresh from battle, others clad in robes muttering over tomes. 

He made a mental note to swing by Hewg once he was done arranging a room, his weapons could use a bit of love after the last few fights.

Eventually, he found what he was looking for: a modest desk to the side of the hallway with a small sign perched on top reading “Inn Reception”. 

Behind it stood an old man with thick, round glasses and the type of aged calm that comes from decades of dealing with weary wanderers. Tarnished walked up, placing his hands on the counter.

“Evenin’. I’m looking to book a room for two.”

The old man looked up from his paperwork, adjusted his glasses with a slow, practiced motion, and nodded. “Of course, young man. And where’s your companion?”

“She’s off fetching us some food for the road,” Tarnished replied casually. “Should be back shortly.”

The old man hummed and jotted something down on his parchment. “Would you prefer a single bed or two?”

Tarnished considered this for a beat, then tapped the wood of the desk with his finger. “Two beds.”

The old man nodded again, scribbled more notes, then spoke while flipping through a ledger. “We’ve got one room with two beds and a private bath. Includes a shower, too. That one’s 2,000 runes a night.”

Tarnished smiled, knowing they could more than afford it with the spoils of recent battles. “I’ll pay for a week up front.” He reached into his soul and willed forth the runes. 

[–14,000 Runes]

The clerk accepted the payment and continued writing. “Under what name should the room be listed?”

He thought for a moment, then said with a grin, “Melina.”

The old man blinked, clearly unsure if he’d heard that right, but eventually just shrugged and wrote it down anyway. A few seconds later, he reached beneath the desk and retrieved a brass key attached to a chain with a small wooden tag. The number 69 was carved into it.

Tarnished took one look at the number and smirked. “...Nice.”

The old man scratched his balding head, grumbling under his breath as Tarnished turned away. “Why does every damn customer say the same thing when I hand ‘em that key…”

As Tarnished walked away, amused by the small victory, Marika shimmered into view at his side, arms crossed and golden eyes half-lidded with a mix of judgment and curiosity.

“I must admit, I’m surprised. I expected thee to request a single-bed room and feign innocence, all in an effort to lure my daughter into thy embrace.”

He chuckled at that, wagging a finger. ‘Everyone knows that trick. Even Melina, as dense as she is, would see it coming from a mile away. That’s why I didn’t do it.’

He leaned in slightly and rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain plotting something nefarious. ‘See, I’m playing the long game. I figure Melina’s probably not used to sharing a room with a guy, let alone a bed. But if we spend enough time in the same room in separate beds, yet still side by side… Eventually, when she gets comfortable with my presence. Used to it.’

He chuckled again, his grin widening. ‘Then, one day… We go to get a room and ‘Oh no!’ they only have singles available! Of course I offer to take the floor like the gentleman I am, but Melina? The kind, sweet, guilt-ridden little maiden that she is won’t let me. So we’ll share a bed. And from there... I’m sure you can see where the plan leads.’

Marika gave him a long, deadpan stare, her expression unimpressed with just a faint twitch of amusement behind her eyes. “Truly, thy perversions are only matched by thy creative foresight. If only thou wouldst dedicate half as much wit to noble pursuits as thou dost to seduction.”

Tarnished gasped in mock offence. ‘Hey! I’ll have you know I’m plenty smart when I want to be!’

“Aye.” She said, sighing as she turned her head, golden hair catching the light. “And therein lies the problem.”

He simply laughed, shaking his head as he made his way toward the forges.

Tarnished strolled down one of the long, torchlit halls of the Roundtable Hold, muttering to himself as his boots echoed softly against the stone floor. 

“Alright, got a few thousand runes left… Need to find some smithing stones if I’m gonna get this greatsword up to snuff. I wonder if there’s some merchant around here selling ‘em. I mean, if this world’s more fleshed out than the game version, it’s gotta have a proper vendor somewhere…”

Just before he rounded a corner toward the forge, a deep, gravelly voice called out to him.

“Over here, stranger!”

Tarnished froze mid-step and turned, eyes widening in surprise. Standing just a few feet away in the shadows was a tall man cloaked entirely in dark fabric. A rich purple cloth mask covered the lower half of his face, and beside him were bulging bags and crates filled with an assortment of trinkets, weapons, and glowing stones. 

His eyes glittered beneath the brim of his hood as the man leaned slightly forward and nodded. “Apologies for intrudin’, but I over ‘eard ya mentionin’ somethin’ about needing some smithing stones to upgrade ya weapons?”

"Wait a second… you look awfully familiar." Tarnished muttered under his breath as he blinked in disbelief, his mind was already buzzing and drawing comparisons to someone he never expected to see here.

“What, in the name of grace, is a ‘Resident Evil’?” Marika’s voice echoed dryly in his mind as she read his thoughts. “And why are there four of them?”

‘Not the time, I’ll tell you later.’ He shot back mentally, waving the thought away as he approached the merchant.

The cloaked man chuckled and turned slightly, pulling open one of his larger sacks to reveal neat stacks of glimmering smithing stones nestled among bundles of cloth and twine. “Then I bet I got somethin’ that might interest ya’!”

Tarnished knelt down, brows arching as he inspected the wares. “Holy hell… Speak of the devil and he really does show up…” 

“What kinds you got?” He asked more seriously. “Any somber stones?”

“Got Smithin’ Stones up to the fifth tier,” the merchant said with a grin in his voice. “Freshly mined and cleaned. As for the somber kind, I’ve got up to the third tier. Not much demand, but a rare treat when I get ‘em.”

Tarnished bit the edge of his thumb, thinking fast. ‘Twelve stones from each of the first two tiers, that should be enough to get the greatsword to +6. But how much would that actually cost…?’

“184,800 Runes for tiers one through six.” Marika said in his mind, not missing a beat. “But for tiers one and two alone, you will need precisely 21,600.”

He blinked, mildly impressed. ‘You just… knew that?’

“Didst thou think a Goddess would lack the grace of arithmetic? Please.”

He chuckled softly, standing up and checking his rune count. 30,000 left. It was enough… barely. He reached for his pouch when he suddenly felt a very distinct intent smack the back of his mind.

‘Ow-!’ He thought, rubbing the back of his head instinctively. ‘What was that for? And how the hell did you do that?!’

“Do not pay full price like a common fool. Haggle.”

‘...You want me to haggle ? Seriously?’

“Thou art not swimming in riches, are you? Use that silver tongue of yours for something other than seduction for once.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the grin forming. ‘Fine, fine. I’ll give it a shot.’

Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms and looked at the merchant with an easy smirk. “Twenty-one thousand, huh? How about you knock a bit off the top for a first time client? Maybe… twenty percent?”

The merchant tilted his head. “Hah! A cheeky one, eh? Mmm…” He eyed Tarnished for a few seconds, then nodded slowly with a sly grin. “Alright, stranger. You got yourself a deal. Twenty percent off, but only this once!”

“Deal.” Tarnished reached into his soul and drew forth 17,280 Runes, passing them over. The merchant nodded and tucked the payment away before handing him a neatly bundled set of Smithing Stones. Which he immediately shoved into his inventory for later.

“Pleasure doin’ business. Don’t forget, I’ll be around if ya need more.”

Tarnished gave him a nod and a finger gun. “You bet I will.”

As he turned and began walking toward the forge, Marika floated beside him with arms crossed.

“I must admit, I am surprised. I didn’t expect thy haggling to work so efficiently. Well done.”

Tarnished chuckled smugly. ‘What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.’

“A womaniser and a merchant. You’ll be running a marketplace by the time you reach the capital.”

‘Don’t tempt me.’

Author’s Note:

Figured it would be better to have him just buy the majority of his Smithing Stones instead of needing to scurry around the world and collect them, more seamless for the story and we don’t have to ruin the pacing!

Also this is more of a downtime chapter, I’m aware. Next ones will be better, promise.

…

Next Chapter Title: To What Would You Pray To?

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW  

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

Tarnished made his way through a stone corridor, his boots echoing over old, bloodstained flags. Nearby, a group of battered warriors nursed their wounds, their conversation full of groans and curses about a dragon somewhere on the outer plains.

The sound of heavy hammer-blows rang from the next chamber. They were deep, rhythmic, and oddly soothing.

He passed beneath a wide archway, stepping into the familiar glow of the forge. There, hunched beside an anvil twice the size of any normal man’s, sat Smithmaster Hewg. The Misbegotten smith was a strange, almost pitiable figure.

He was huge, stooped with sinewy arms thick as tree trunks and a twisted, leonine face framed by grizzled hair. His fingers were long and deft, more talon than hand, and his bare feet gripped the stone floor like claws. The iron shackles around his ankles were scuffed but unbroken.

Hewg’s sharp, intelligent eyes darted up from the sword he was working on as Tarnished approached, greatsword slung over his shoulder. The smith’s gaze lingered for a moment, shrewd but not unkind.

“Huh, you’re a new face...” Hewg grumbled, his voice like gravel tumbling in a bucket.

Tarnished gave a friendly nod. “That I am.”

The smith gave a dismissive shrug, his great shoulders rolling beneath his tattered smith’s apron. “Hm. No matter, it’s all the same. I assume you’re here for that weathered blade of yours, if you could even call it that anymore. Lay out your arms. Let’s get smithing.”

Tarnished couldn’t help but chuckle, setting the battered greatsword onto the anvil. “Promise I didn’t wear it down this much. It was like this when I got it.”

Hewg snorted, not looking up from his inspection. “Mhm... I’m sure you did.”

He turned the greatsword over, his long fingers running the length of the blade, prodding its edge and flexing the tang. Satisfied, he looked up, his eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. “I’ve got much work to do with your blade. You got smithing stones ready? I’ll need a fair few to get started, and some runes too.”

Tarnished grinned, pulling out the bundle of smithing stones he’d bought from the merchant and stacking them neatly by the anvil. He then focused, pulling out about 4,000 runes and offering them up. The runes glimmered in his palm for a moment before fading into Hewg’s.

Hewg studied the supplies for a moment, then nodded gruffly. “That’ll do. I’ll get to work on your blade as soon as I finish a few other projects. As you can see…” He gestured around at the stacked weapons, “my hands are quite full at the moment.”

Tarnished, slightly surprised but understanding, nodded. “No problem. When do you reckon it’ll be done?”

Hewg hefted a straight sword from a pile, checking its balance before setting it aside. “It’ll be done by next morning at the latest. If it takes any longer, you’ll have my apologies.”

Tarnished’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. I’ll leave you to it then, Hewg!”

Hewg nodded, already distracted by his work as Tarnished turned to leave. As he crossed the threshold, he barely missed the smith muttering under his breath, “I never told him my name… How did he know it?”

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. “Must’ve heard it from some other Tarnished.” Hewg rumbled, then turned his focus back to the steady rhythm of his hammer.

Tarnished made his way back into the main hall of the Roundtable Hold, his footsteps echoing off the polished stone floor. The warm, golden glow of the great bonfire of grace cast long shadows across the ancient table. There, standing with her back half-turned, was Melina. She watched the crackling flames, her expression soft with introspection.

He called out as he approached, a faint teasing note in his voice, “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

Melina turned, a subtle smile gracing her lips as she shook her head. “No, not at all. I had an… interesting conversation while you were gone. Insightful, in a way.” 

She gestured back over her shoulder, and Tarnished followed the motion to see Brother Corhyn at the far end of the hall, deep in the midst of instructing another Tarnished on the finer points of Two Fingers incantations.

“Oh? Made a friend already?” Tarnished asked, grinning.

Melina rolled her eyes, “Acquaintance at best. We merely exchanged a few thoughts on Faith and Incantations. He’s quite… traditional.”

Tarnished snorted, “That tracks. Was any of it actually useful?”

Melina hummed, thoughtful. “Some insights were of value. But… Brother Corhyn lacks the vision to see beyond the dogma of the Golden Order. He is clever, but not brave enough to consider the world outside those lines.”

Marika’s voice drifted in, dry as ever. “Blind faith. How utterly predictable, though useful. Still, I suppose a flock must have its shepherd, however short-sighted.”

Tarnished shrugged. ‘He’s not the kind to handle anything that might shake his world, anyway. He’s all conviction—until you show him something that doesn’t fit. Then, well, the collapse is… impressive. In a sad way.’

“Hmph. Typical. Too many of those in the Order.” Marika mused, her tone sharp. “Men who’d rather die than admit they could be wrong. A sorry lot to say the least.”

Melina glanced at him. “Did you find us a room?”

He nodded, fishing the key from his pouch and flashing it with a smirk. “Got us set up for a week, room 69. Two beds, a real bathroom. 2,000 runes a night, but considering our haul, we’re doing fine.”

Melina raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object. “A rather expensive, but prudent. At least we can rest properly. Thank you.”

He grinned and motioned for her to follow. As they walked, Tarnished took in the sprawl of the spectral fortress around them. There were new wings and corridors, unfamiliar faces, more rooms and hallways than he remembered from the game.

‘This place is massive… Looks more like the capital’s Roundtable than the one I remember. Except, you know… even bigger.’

“It would have to be.” Marika chimed in, appearing for a moment at his side as they moved through a pillared hall. “When the Two Fingers seek to gather every blade and mind of promise to their cause, a mere council chamber will not suffice. This is a reflection of what I built, once. But ‘tis been reshaped by their power. An anchor for the desperate, the faithful, and the lost.”

Tarnished nodded, eyeing a few new NPCs and a couple of doors he definitely didn’t remember. ‘Makes sense. You want an army, you build a fortress.’

They reached their room at the far end of a lantern-lit corridor, stopping in front of a sturdy door marked with a brass “69”. Tarnished smirked, stifling a laugh as he twisted the key in the lock. Marika, appearing as a golden shimmer perched atop the lintel, sighed with a long-suffering look.

“Truly, I shall never understand the peculiar humor of mortals…”

He chuckled as he moved to push the door open. “Come on in, Melina. Home sweet home for the next week.”

The door to their new room swung open, and Tarnished took a moment to appreciate what his runes had paid for. The space was comfortably large by any standards, especially compared to the cramped inns and tumbledown ruins they’d slept in before. 

Two sturdy beds, wide and inviting with thick blankets folded at the foot, sat against opposite walls. A small round table stood between them, with a battered but well-cushioned couch flanking one side. To the far end was a door leading into a private bathroom, the telltale clink of old pipes echoing faintly within.

Soft light from a pair of enchanted lanterns gave the room a golden, gentle glow, somehow both welcoming and quietly lavish.

Melina stepped inside, looking around in silence. She strode across the room and, after briefly patting both beds to test their softness, picked the one further from the door. 

She sat with a sigh, crossing one leg over the other. Her shoulders visibly loosened, the weariness of the day slipping from her for just a moment.

Tarnished followed, grinning. “Not bad, huh? You like the room?”

She pressed a hand into the mattress again, as if testing its comfort for a second time. “It will do. Better than most places I’ve rested, at least.” 

There was a small smile there, barely visible, but it lingered for a beat.

He let out a low chuckle and started stripping off his Night’s Cavalry armor, shaking out his shoulders. “Perfect. Hey, after you’re done settling in, want to teach me some magic? Or am I still too much of a dunce?”

Melina tilted her head, considering him. “After I take a bath,” she said, rising and heading toward the bathroom. She paused in the doorway, squinting at him. “I am sure I don’t need to say this, but if you even think about peeking… I’ll gouge out those draconic eyes of yours and make you eat them.”

Tarnished laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “C’mon, Melina! What do you take me for? I’m not some pervert with nothing better to do!”

She lingered in the doorway for just a moment, giving him one last warning look, before closing the door firmly behind her. The faint sound of running water soon followed.

Marika materialized, lounging languidly atop Melina’s freshly chosen bed. She looked the picture of casual royalty, golden hair tumbling around her as she propped herself up with an elbow. “I could teach you everything she knows, and far more, my champion. The breadth of my wisdom is… How would you put it? ‘Built different’ from the rest.”

Tarnished paused halfway through unstrapping his gauntlet, looking over at her with a wry grin. “Yeah, you probably could. You’re a Goddess, after all…”

He resumed undressing, setting his armor neatly at the foot of his bed. “But nah. I want Melina to teach me. You know, bonding exercise and all that.”

Marika arched a delicate eyebrow, shifting on the bed as though trying to get comfortable. “I think I’ll regret even asking, but why?”

He smirked. “It’s an excuse to get closer to her, obviously. Why waste a golden opportunity like that?”

She gave him a long, silent look before shrugging. “Figured as much. If you ever get tired of trying to court my daughter, let me know. I can teach you actual incantations. After all, I taught her, and everyone else in these lands, what they know.”

Tarnished found himself almost hypnotized by the casual, goddess-like ease with which she lay there, her effortless grace somehow both regal and approachable. He realized he was staring and quickly looked away, muttering, “Uh-huh…”

Marika giggled, the sound like wind chimes over crystal. “Careful now, my champion. Save your ogling for later. You wish to court my daughter, don’t you? Try to keep your eyes on the prize.”

He glanced back at her with a faint blush, half-amused, half-flustered. “That’s kinda hard with you around, y’know?”

“If there’s one thing I like about you, my champion,” she teased, “it’s that it’s not that hard to guess what you’re thinking most of the time.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he tossed his chest piece onto the bed. “Not that hard when you can just read my mind.”

Her smirk grew, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I could tell exactly what you’re thinking, even without it.”

He sighed, half-exasperated, half-impressed. “Can you blame me? You’re literally a Goddess.”

Marika’s laughter chimed again as she turned onto her back, gazing up at the ceiling. “No~… I suppose I cannot~…”

Just then, the faint sound of running water stopped, and the bathroom door creaked open. Melina emerged, her hair still damp, looking refreshed and, despite herself, a lot more relaxed. She met his gaze, quirking an eyebrow in silent question.

Tarnished straightened up as Melina stepped out of the bathroom, his fingers running through his wild hair as if to collect himself. 

“Alright, my turn! I think there’s still some dragon blood in my hair.” He said, brushing past her with a smirk.

Melina just shrugged, arching an eyebrow in silent amusement, and moved to sit at the table, running a comb through her damp hair.

He closed the bathroom door, quickly peeling off the last of his armor until only his Land of Reeds grieves remained. The small room filled with steam as he twisted the taps and waited for the water to run hot. While it warmed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the misty mirror.

He paused, tracing a finger across his chest, over the new molten glow of his draconic heart. Each pulse shimmered beneath the skin. His veins were glowing with a low, volcanic orange, proof of his transformation. He watched it for a moment, mesmerized by the steady, powerful rhythm. Draconic and undeniably alive.

Then his eyes flicked down, curiosity getting the better of him. He hesitated, then lifted the waistband of his pants and peeked inside. His grin widened. “Haha! Nice! I’m bigger in this world too!”

Just as he basked in that small victory, Marika’s golden astral form materialized right over his shoulder, her expression was curious with eyes glinting with mischief. “Godfrey was bigger.”

Tarnished’s satisfaction dissolved into a deadpan stare. He let his hand drop, glancing back at her with a flat, unimpressed look. “You and I both know that’s not a fair comparison. That man’s built like if a brick shithouse had a baby with a bear, which then had a child with a particularly good-looking giant. He’s barely human!”

Marika only tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. “And after what you’ve done with Dragon Communion… Neither are you, my champion.”

He rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “Alright, enough outta you for today.” 

“Shoo, shoo!” He waved a hand through her spectral face. “Go on, let a man have his privacy in the bathroom, will ya?”

Marika’s laughter trailed after her as she faded from view, her voice teasing and light. “As you wish~! But don’t do anything indecent in here while I’m gone~”

He slumped under the hot water, letting it pour down over his newly draconic form, muttering tiredly under his breath, “Freakishly hot bitch…”

Her voice echoed in his mind, playful and just a little smug. “I heard that~!”

He snorted and called out in exasperation, “I fucking know!”

…

Tarnished strolled out of the bathroom, a towel draped around his neck, beads of water still glistening on his bare chest. He wore only his pants, casually drying his hair with one end of the towel as he entered the room. Melina, seated on the edge of her bed, turned to look at him, and immediately her face was swept over by a deep crimson blush.

He paused, quirking a brow and flashing a fanged smirk in her direction. “What?”

Without missing a beat, Melina tossed a neatly folded bundle of clothes straight at his face. The shirt and trousers thudded against him, making him stumble a step or two. He peeled the clothes away, staring at them in mild confusion before looking back to her for explanation.

She crossed her arms and glared, though her cheeks were still tinged with pink. “Have some shame and put on a shirt, will you? It’s… Embarrassing…”

Tarnished just grinned, giving her a sly, teasing look in return. She shot back a death glare, one that could have melted steel if she’d had the magic for it. He surrendered with a shrug and slipped on the shirt, taking a bit more time than necessary just to watch her face.

Melina exhaled and shook her head. Then, collecting herself, she stood and moved to the center of the room. She lowered herself gracefully to the ground, sitting cross-legged and patting the floor in front of her.

“Well? Come here,” she said, her tone softening into something almost eager, almost teacherly. “If you’re truly set on learning magic, you’ll need to focus. Sit down, Tarnished.”

He obeyed, dropping cross-legged to the floor across from her, ready for his first lesson.

Melina gathered herself with a breath, and the flickering firelight from outside the window played over her delicate features. “Very well, listen closely.”

She lifted her hand, palm up. A small golden spark danced briefly in her palm. “Magic, here in the Lands Between, is not one simple thing. It is not simply shouting strange words or waving a staff. It is the shaping of the world’s hidden forces—sometimes through reason, sometimes through faith, sometimes even by blood.”

She closed her hand, letting the golden spark fade. Her tone became more thoughtful.

“There are different ways to wield magic. Sorcery, for instance, is a study of the stars, the moon, and the very laws of reality. The scholars of Raya Lucaria use Glintstone, crystallized fragments of the stars themselves, as a vessel for their ‘Primeval Current.’ Sorcery is a thing of the mind. The stronger your intellect, the greater your control over it. It is magic shaped by logic, study, and understanding.”

She drew a soft breath, then let her hands rest together in her lap. “Incantations are… different. They are rooted in faith, not logic. They are prayers, invocations, bargains. When one calls on the Erdtree, or on dragons, or on the power of rot or fire, they do not shape the world: They beg for a miracle.”

“The strength of your faith determines how much the world listens. There are incantations for healing, for fire, for rot, for blood, even for blasphemy.” She demonstrated such by summoning a small flame within the palm of her hands. “The power you channel depends on what you serve.”

Melina’s eyes then became serious. “There are forbidden magics too. The power of Destined Death, drawn from Death itself. The blood magics of Mohg’s ilk, which bargain with life essence. The Frenzied Flame, madness and chaos incarnate. And of course, Dragon Communion, which you know all too well. These magics often use the body itself as a vessel, or special catalysts like seals or staves.”

She leaned closer, her expression focused. “The true source is always the wielder’s soul. Magic in the Lands Between is not just a tool, Tarnished. It is a pact. It asks a price. Sometimes that price is devotion, sometimes knowledge, sometimes your very own being. Every spell you cast is a bargain with the forces you invoke.”

She sat back, studying him with a clear hazel eye. “So… Which wellspring will you choose to drink from first? And are you willing to pay the price it asks?”

Tarnished eyes were glazed and his head spinning from the absolute torrent of magical theory Melina had just poured into him. Behind him, Marika lounged with a graceful ease on his bed, an amused and warm smile tugging at her lips.

She watched her daughter for a long moment, then nodded in clear approval. “How proud I am of thee, Melina… Even without my guidance, thou art as sharp as any scholar in the Royal Capital. If only we could reawaken thine Demigod blood and restore thy memories, and thy powers…”

Tarnished, still a little shell-shocked from the lesson, looked over his shoulder and mumbled, ‘Tell me what these powers are, then. Maybe I can help you brainstorm something.’

Marika hummed thoughtfully, reclining a bit further. “Add it to our ever-growing list of tasks, my champion. Hm… So much to do, so little time…”

He looked back to Melina, shaking off his confusion. “Alright. I’ll start with the fire monks’ incantations. That’s the type where I can eventually learn ‘Flame, Grant Me Strength,’ right?”

Melina arched a brow at him, surprised by his decisiveness along with something else, then nodded. “It is. But…”

He leaned in, eager. “Can you teach me?”

She nodded again, but her tone grew more solemn. “I can. But first, as with all faith-based magic, you must choose something, someone, or some force, to place your faith in. Incantations require Faith for a reason: to cast them, you must devote your belief to a concept, and offer a prayer to it.”

She gestured, ticking off her points on her fingers. “Some Tarnished pray to the Erdtree, some to the Golden Order, some to the Two Fingers, and some even to Queen Marika herself… or to the Greater Will. Before you can walk the path of incantations, you must choose what you will pray to.”

Melina’s eyes softened with understanding. “Take your time. It isn’t a small thing. Speak to me when you have chosen.”

Tarnished nodded and fell silent, deep in thought. He tried to summon any sort of reverence for the familiar forces of this world, but nothing stuck. 

The Erdtree meant little to him. The Golden Order? Not exactly a source of inspiration. The Two Fingers? Please.

Marika, still lounging on his bed, watched his inner debate with a blend of amusement and anticipation. Then she stood, drifting up beside him. “Hello? Thou hast an actual Goddess in thy company. What other being in this world could be more deserving of thy prayer?”

Tarnished blinked, looked up, and then smirked. ‘Come here for a sec. Stand in front of me.’

She raised a delicate brow, surprised by the directness, but stepped in front of him regardless, one hand placed unconsciously beneath her breasts, accentuating her natural poise and grace.

He looked her up and down, his gaze pausing at her chest. Marika glanced down, then back at him, suddenly catching on. “No… Surely not… Right?”

Tarnished just grinned, eyes glinting with mischief as in that moment, made his decision. With all the seriousness he could muster, he offered his prayer to “Marika’s Tits”, picturing them adorned with the radiant Elden Ring.

He felt something fundamental shift deep in his soul. An overwhelming energy surged within him, followed by the sharp ping of a system prompt.

[Congratulations! You have chosen your Concept of Prayer and Faith: The Divine Bosom of Queen Marika the Eternal, adorned with the Elden Ring. You have unlocked your innate wellspring of faith magic.]

Another prompt flashed:

[Notice: You have chosen an extremely compatible and holy concept to offer your prayers to. As a result, your Faith has been dramatically enhanced.]

A final notification appeared, stating:

[+10 Faith!]

Marika stood utterly dumbfounded before him, her face cycling through shock, disbelief, reluctant amusement, and a trace of irritation. “I do not know whether to be impressed by thy shamelessness, humiliated by thy perversion, or flattered by thy honesty… I am, genuinely, at a loss for words…”

Author’s Note:

Let’s be honest for a second now, if you had the opportunity… Wouldn’t you also pray to Marika’s Tits?

I know I would!

As for the explanation on Elden Ring’s magic system, it's the best I could think of. Hopefully you like it :3

…

Next Chapter Title: There is a Goddess Living in my Head.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW 

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

Marika stared at him dumbfounded, utterly speechless as the wild surge of faith magic still radiated through his soul. The force of it was so potent that even Melina felt it, a faint tingle making her draw a sharp breath. She eyed him, puzzled. “Didst thou choose what to pray to already?”

Tarnished fought hard to keep a straight face. He nodded, hiding the bubbling laughter that threatened to burst forth. Inside, he savored the sweet taste of victory, and the fact that his petty vengeance of praying to Marika’s, well… Divinity had worked, and spectacularly so. 

Marika could only mutter in his mind, “The very fact that such a thing worked, and thou were rewarded for it, makes me question why I became a Goddess at all…”

He snickered silently, while Melina tilted her head, still feeling the aftershocks of his decision. “Whatever it is thou hast chosen, it must be dear to thee. The power within thee is impressive.” She gave him a searching look, genuinely curious.

Tarnished couldn’t help but giggle aloud. Marika, thoroughly mortified, let out an exasperated groan and facepalmed before her astral form fizzled away in a golden haze, leaving him to deal with Melina’s growing suspicion.

Melina eyed him keenly. “Who didst thou choose to pray to?” she asked, genuine curiosity threading her tone.

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh… I chose to pray to Marika.”

She blinked in surprise. “Marika? Of all things? Considering thine ‘amnesia’, what compels thee to place thy faith in her? And how can thy faith be so…overwhelmingly strong?”

Tarnished swallowed, unsure how to answer. 

Melina didn’t let up, voice lowering as dots kept connecting in her mind. “A lot of things do not add up, Tarnished. How couldst thou know all that thou dost know, while still claiming amnesia? If thy memories had returned, surely thou would have told me, no?”

A cold sweat prickled his forehead. In his mind, he called out desperately. ‘Marika, have you finally thought of something to convince her?!’

“Hm.. Yes, I did, actually.” Marika replied, relishing his panic. “Go on. Tell her, in full.”

Melina stared at him, expectant. He coughed, then sat up a little straighter. “Alright, I’m just going to rip the bandaid off…”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He took a breath. “There is a Goddess living in my head.”

Melina’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “…Eh?”

He pressed on, keeping his face as straight as he could. “She is your mother, Queen Marika the Eternal.”

“Huh?!”

He could hear Marika snickering in his mind, but he pressed forward. “She has chosen me as her champion, and guides me throughout the Lands Between.”

Melina looked at him as though he’d sprouted a second head. “…What? How-? I’m sorry?!”

Inside, Marika was practically doubled over with laughter, and he felt his own eye twitch. 

Still, he forged on, voice earnest, “I never told you this outright before because I wasn’t sure how to do so without sounding completely insane. And while I recognize that I probably still do sound insane, I assure you, I am in my complete right state of mind.”

Tarnished sat quietly, letting Melina process the avalanche of truth he’d just unleashed. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. At length, Melina drew in a slow breath and spoke, her voice thoughtful but faintly disbelieving.

“You don’t seem the type to lie about this, and I can’t see what you’d gain from it… But out of all the menagerie of insanity that has come out of your mouth these past days, this might be the most insane yet.”

Tarnished let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “Wouldn’t I know it?”

She studied him, searching his eyes for a long moment. “Let’s take this one at a time… Why tell me now?”

He shrugged, honestly. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I hate lying. Was never any good at it for as long as I can remember. Sooner or later, it would come out anyway. I’d rather you know the truth.”

She tilted her head, expression softening. “Tell me truly, dost thou truly not know thy name, or was that but a lie?”

He swallowed, a faint bead of sweat trickling down his temple. “Yeah. I don’t know my name. For real.”

She nodded slowly, then pressed on, her tone gentler. “Thou claimest Marika to be my mother… Why art thou so certain of this?”

He pointed to Marika, who had appeared, sitting beside them on the bed, her golden hair glowing softly in the dim room. “She said so herself.”

Melina frowned, skepticism lingering. “Dost she- Dost thou possess any proof?”

Marika leaned forward, propping her chin in her palm, her eyes full of memory and an old ache. "Back when you were just a child, Melina, I taught you a specific incantation. One only a handful of beings in this world even know exists."

Tarnished relayed the message. Melina furrowed her brow, uncertainty giving way to curiosity. Marika reached out, summoning a faint golden image. It was a miniature spectral Erdtree, radiant and softly shimmering, blooming in her hand.

Tarnished’s eyes widened in recognition. ‘That’s it. The Minor Erdtree incantation, she was the only person I ever saw cast that in the game. You could only find it if you reached the Shaman Village in the Shadow Realm.’ 

He looked at Melina. “Your mother taught you how to summon a minor Erdtree. It heals anyone in its presence. That’s not something you can just pick up anywhere.”

Melina stared, her face growing pale as she immediately realised the spell he spoke of, then quietly awestruck. “I… I remember…” She closed her eyes, clutching her hand to her chest. “It stirred something in me. A memory I had long since forgotten.”

He softened his voice. “Can you tell me about it?”

She nodded slowly, the scene coming back to her. “I remember sitting in a quiet village. Across from a woman… She was bigger than me, blonde, and there was warmth… but her face is lost in fog. All I remember is her teaching me, her hand guiding mine.”

Marika’s face softened, her smile tinged with bittersweet nostalgia as she watched her daughter recall the past. "I remember it well. It was one of my happiest moments, a rare day of peace. I am glad it lingers in you, even if only as a shadow."

Tarnished relayed Marika’s words, and Melina looked down, summoning a few golden sparks to dance across her palm. “I suppose we don’t all choose how our lives go…” She looked up, her smile small but genuine. “Neither do we choose who we end up journeying with.”

Tarnished’s lips curled into a smile as he gave her a small shrug. “Not for nothing, but I’m glad it was you who offered me that accord.”

Her eyes softened, and her smile grew, a subtle warmth in her gaze. “I am glad to have offered it as well.”

Melina sat cross-legged on her bed, hands folded in her lap as her brows knitted in thought. She glanced up, golden eyes sharpening. “Thy arrangement with my mother… How didst thou come to it? Wouldst thou share the terms of such an accord?”

Tarnished leaned back against his own bed, arms loosely folded as a half-grin spread across his face. “Ah, well… I bargained with more arrogance than sense, let’s say, with a certain bastard who shall remain nameless. Through him, Marika and I were… put into contact.”

“She made me her champion. The terms are simple: Only I can hear her. I see her astral form sometimes, but she can’t interact with the world otherwise. She guides me, and in return, I’ll become strong enough to free her from her binds in the Erdtree and, with luck, become Elden Lord.”

“That… is much.” Melina’s hands stilled, her expression drawn into shock as she processed his words. She shook her head with a soft, disbelieving smile. “I knew there was something special about thee, but to be chosen by Queen Marika herself to be the next Elden Lord… I suppose I chose well when I offered thee my accord, Tarnished.”

Tarnished’s grin widened as he looked over at her, stretching his arms behind his head. “Heh. Stroke of luck for both of us, I’d say. Fate must have been smiling when our paths crossed.”

Melina allowed herself a genuine, quiet laugh, her fingers brushing nervously through her hair as she averted her gaze, warmth lingering in her eyes. “I suppose it was…”

A gentle hush settled between them as Marika, watching from the edge of the room with a small, almost proud smile, faded quietly from sight to leave them to their peace.

Tarnished suddenly clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “So! About that ‘Flame, Grant Me Strength’ incantation. Shall we get started?”

Melina shook her head in amused resignation and let a little laugh slip out, shifting her weight as she moved to sit facing him properly on the floor. “Very well. Let us begin, then.”

Melina began by handing him a basic two finger seal, then summoning a warm, flickering flame in the palms of her hands, the light casting gentle shadows across her face. 

She drew in a steady breath, her gaze focused and calm. “This flame, Tarnished, is not born of the Erdtree or Golden Order, but from the legacy of the fell giants, the exiled enemies of the Erdtree. The Fire Monks serve their memory, channeling their rage and passion into flame.”

Tarnished nodded along, eyes intent. He watched as Melina willed the flame from her own palm to drift across the air toward him like a living, golden ember. His heart skipped as he hurriedly reached out and cupped his hands to catch it.

The flame landed in his palms, but instead of igniting, it flickered and sputtered, its light rapidly withering, as if starved of oxygen. 

Panic flickered in his eyes, but Melina quickly shuffled closer, her face tinged pink with a blush as she wrapped her slender fingers gently around his larger hands. 

“Calm thyself.” she said softly, guiding his grip. “The flame’s fading is only natural. You are not yet feeding it with thy own faith. Close thine eyes.”

He obeyed, shutting out the world. Her hands remained warm atop his, steady and reassuring.

“Now… search within,” Melina whispered, voice low and sure. “Feel for the wellspring of faith that lives in thy soul. Reach for it, Tarnished.”

Tarnished focused, picturing a golden core pulsing deep within his chest, a spiritual energy he had never touched before. The flame in his hands seemed to flicker in time with his heartbeat as he willed himself to connect with it.

“I feel it…” he murmured, brows furrowed in concentration. “What now?”

Melina’s voice was a gentle hush. “Direct that power into thy spell. Offer a prayer, not with words, but with thy will and belief.”

Awkwardly, he channeled that inner energy toward the dying flame. The effect was instant—the ember in his palm burst into brilliant life, heat flaring, color blooming anew. He opened his eyes, astonished to see the fire reborn.

Melina gave him a proud, almost shy smile. “Well done. You’re nearly there, Tarnished. Now… envision the giants’ wrath. The Fire Monks’ devotion. Will that power, that rage, to surge within the flame you hold.”

He nodded and closed his eyes again, this time picturing towering giants wreathed in fire, their fury made manifest. He focused all that imagined strength and intensity into the flame in his hands.

The little fire changed: its color shifted from a soft orange to a deep, wild crimson, and it roared up like a miniature inferno blazing in his palms, its heat licked his skin but didn’t burn him.

Tarnished stared, awestruck, at the spectacle. In that moment, a system prompt flashed before his eyes:

[Congratulations! You have learned the incantation: ‘Flame, Grant Me Strength’!]

His grin was so wide it threatened to split his face. Melina giggled, still holding his hands, her eyes sparkling with pride. “Well done, Tarnished. Congratulations on your first faith incantation.”

He turned to her, grinning. “Thank you, Melina. Seriously.”

She smiled back, demure and pleased. “Think nothing of it. It is… my pleasure.”

But Tarnished shook his head, letting the fire gently fizzle out in his hands. Instead, he held onto Melina’s hand, using it to pull her suddenly and firmly into a tight hug.

Melina’s face turned scarlet as she sputtered in protest. “T-Tarnished? Let me go! Idiot-!”

He only laughed, squeezing her a little tighter. The air left her in a soft, involuntary moan before he finally relented and let her go.

Standing up and stretching, Tarnished gave a satisfied sigh. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”

Melina remained on the floor, nearly dizzy with embarrassment and confusion, clutching at her sleeve as she watched him turn out the lantern and settle into bed. She exhaled in a huff, cheeks still burning. 

“Dumbass…”

…

The Next Morning…

A flash of golden light heralded their arrival at the Cathedral of Dragon Communion, the familiar sanctum of scale and shadow. The ruined stones glimmered faintly in the dawn as Tarnished reappeared, his newly reforged Greatsword propped against his shoulder. 

The blade’s battered, cracked edge was gone. Master Hewg had worked wonders, reforging it and binding its hilt with sturdy leather straps for a firmer, more reliable grip. The weapon felt heavier in his hands, yet perfectly balanced, ready for whatever awaited.

Beside him, Melina stood quietly, the early light catching in her hair. They took a final look around the silent cathedral, then turned to leave, boots echoing off ancient stone. As they passed the altar, Tarnished reached down and snagged a weathered tome from the floor.

[Picked-Up Item: Ancient Dragon Apostle’s Cookbook (3)]

He rubbed his chin, glancing sideways at Melina. “Now that I think about it, the runes I gave you for rations, were they enough?”

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “They were. I procured enough provisions for the next two weeks, as well as… a few other supplies we may need along the way.”

He hummed, satisfied, then summoned Torrent with a sharp whistle. The spectral steed appeared in a burst of mist and golden sparks. Tarnished swung himself up, then reached a hand down to Melina. She took it with her usual grace, mounting behind him and wrapping an arm securely around his waist.

With a gentle nudge, they set off across the open Caelid highway, the sun rising slowly over the blood-red landscape.

As they rode, Tarnished found himself musing aloud. “You know, I’ve always wondered, if you don’t use a Cerulean Tear Flask like I do to restore mana, how do you recover it? Does it just… come back on its own, or what?”

Melina nodded thoughtfully, the wind tugging at her cloak. “A good question. In truth, for those without flasks, the main method of replenishing one’s magical reserves is rather mundane. Barring starlight shards, special potions, or arcane rituals, it is meditation.”

He raised an eyebrow, shifting his grip on the Greatsword. “Meditation? Seriously?”

She offered a small, knowing smile. “Indeed. Through focused meditation, a practitioner can calm the mind and spirit, allowing one’s inner pool of magic to slowly refill. It is slower than drinking a flask, but it is reliable, especially in the absence of alchemical aids.”

He hummed, curiosity piqued. “Makes sense. Never really tried it myself, but maybe I should.”

They reached a battered waymarker, where Tarnished dismounted briefly to snatch up a dusty, battered map fragment, Caelid’s regional chart. He flicked it open, taking in the twisted roads and blighted ruins marked in faded ink.

With a sigh, he opened his status menu, double-checking his stats and taking a look at his spell slots.

[STATS PAGE – Level 34 | Radagon’s Soreseal Equipped]
Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Race: Progenitor of the Dracúl Aeternum
Talisman: Radagon’s Soreseal
Burden: Medium Burden
Spells: Flame, Grant Me Strength
Level: 34

Vigor: 41 (My, my. Look at thee, practically a walking fortress now. What next? Shall I crown thee Lord of Fat Rolls?)
Mind: 25 (Astounding. Thou can finally remember what spell thou meant to cast. Mayhaps I should throw thee a parade.)
Endurance: 40 (Ah, finally. Thou can sprint for longer than five steps without gasping like a drowning carp. Miraculous.)
Strength: 37 (So brutish now. What wilt thou do next, my champion? Punch a dragon into submission? Wait, thou might actually try...)
Dexterity: 40 (Swift, deadly, and yet still might somehow manage to trip over pebbles. Such impressive consistency.)
Intelligence: 9 (…Nope. Still vacant behind the eyes. I’ve seen goats with more academic promise.)
Faith: 32 (Thy piety is finally on the rise, yet… At what cost?)
Arcane: 22 (Look who’s trying to uncover secrets now. Be sure not to explode thyself, curious little beast.)

He blinked in mild surprise, he now had two extra spell slots despite never acquiring a single Memory Stone. Even more curious, his new dragon communion magics didn’t need to be equipped at all.

He could feel the latent power thrumming in his veins, ready to be called forth at a moment’s notice, he assumed it to be courtesy of that draconic bloodline burning in his chest.

Marika appeared beside him, materializing with her arms folded and her golden hair glinting in the wan morning light. “That is because you have upgraded your mind,” she explained, a faint smirk curling her lips. 

“With every ten levels you invest, you gain what you call a ‘spell slot.’ In reality, it is your mind’s capacity expanding, able to remember and channel more spells at once. Memory Stones only serve to bypass that limitation, storing spells for you and acting as a conduit.”

Tarnished nodded thoughtfully, mulling over her words. “That… Actually makes a lot of sense. So it’s about mental discipline, not just picking up rocks.”

Melina glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Who are you talking to- Oh...” 

She caught herself, exhaling in resignation. “Marika again?”

He grinned sheepishly and nodded. “Yeah. Still getting used to having a goddess as a backseat driver, I guess.”

She shook her head with a soft laugh. “It will take some time for me to get used to it as well.”

He just laughed, nudging Torrent to veer off the road. They came to an exposed root of the Erdtree, pulsing with golden sap. Tarnished hopped down, snagged a shining golden seed from the tangle, then hopped back onto Torrent. 

[Picked-Up Item: Golden Seed.]

They pivoted north, and soon found themselves in a small pit, where the crystalline Windy Crystal Tear shimmered at the bottom, guarded by a monstrous, malformed crow.

Without hesitation, Tarnished slid from Torrent’s back and scooped up the crystal tear, just as the bird lunged at him with its beak wide. 

[Picked-Up Item: Windy Crystal Tear.]

Before it could even reach its prey, a flaming spear whistled through the air from Melina’s hand and pierced the monster’s eye. The crow let out a ghastly shriek, staggering away, its one good wing flailing as it writhed in pain.

Tarnished barely looked back as he vaulted onto Torrent. They then rode off without a second thought, leaving the beast to its misery as Marika’s voice echoed in his mind. “Pitiful, disgusting creature. May the Rot take it.”

They pressed north, the swamp’s stench thickening in the air. Melina turned to him, curiosity evident in her voice. “Why are we heading towards the Heart of Aeonia? That place is cursed, it is nothing but Rot and death.”

He flashed her a sly grin as they neared the Southern Aeonia Swamp Bank, where the sickly red water glimmered beneath the ruined sky. On the edge, Siegmeyer of Catarina stood with his arms crossed, gaze steely as he watched the heart of the infestation.

Tarnished pointed ahead, voice grave but excited. “There’s a man in there who holds an artefact that could save the Lands Between from certain doom.”

Melina stared at him, clearly taken aback. “What could possibly be that important?”

Marika appeared again, tone sharp and demanding. “Indeed, what could be so vital in a festering pit like this?”

Tarnished’s grin widened with anticipation as he dismounted. “What we’ll find in there is an artefact left by the Demigod Miquella, the Unalloyed Gold Needle. The only thing in this world capable of sealing away the influence of an Outer God.”

Author’s Note:

Very fun things are close, I promise :3 

…

Next Chapter Title: A Battle for Unalloyed Gold.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW  

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

Tarnished stood still beside Torrent, the crimson haze of the Aeonian swamp wafting in the air like rot-scented mist. Marika’s voice hummed in the back of his mind, low and troubled.

"An Unalloyed Gold Needle… Forged by Miquella, to block the influence of an Outer God?"

He gave a small nod, turning toward the rust-colored winds. “Yeah. He made it for Malenia, to keep the Rot from claiming her completely.”

Melina narrowed her eyes and turned slightly to face him. “How do you know that?” she asked, skeptical.

A heartbeat later, realization bloomed across her face. “Ah… right. Queen Marika is in your head.”

He said nothing and just nodded along with a casual shrug. It wasn’t entirely true… But it saved him from explaining too much, a lie by omission seemed better than a straight up lie.

Ahead of them, standing atop a warped cliff overlooking the festering heart of Aeonia, was the broad figure of a knight clad in rounded, bulbous armor. His great helm gleamed dully, his arms crossed as he stared into the swamp like a watchman at the end of days.

Tarnished raised his hand. “Siegmeyer! Hello there!”

The knight turned, pausing at the sight of them. His posture stiffened slightly before recognition hit.

“Oh-hoh! Tarnished? Is that you?” Siegmeyer’s voice rang out like old bells, joyful and surprised.

Tarnished laughed, hopping off Torrent. “Yes, it’s me. Things got… a little interesting after the Cathedral.”

Siegmeyer chuckled heartily and stepped forward. “That’s putting it lightly, my friend! I hardly recognized you. What in the world happened?”

Tarnished clapped a hand to his chestplate. “Turns out eating the heart of a particularly ancient dragon like Greyoll for Dragon Communion has a few side effects. Unexpected ones.”

“By the flames…” Siegmeyer muttered beneath his helm. “You really do go all in, don’t you?”

Marika’s voice returned, sharp and pensive. "Something doesn’t add up."

He blinked and tilted his head slightly. ‘What is it?’

"If the Needle lies here, at the Heart of Aeonia. Where Malenia bloomed. Then she must have had it before her bloom. That means Miquella gave it to her and she accepted it."

His expression slowly dropped, the weight of realization starting to settle over him. ‘Which means… She was already cured. She had a way to suppress the Rot. But she willingly threw it away…’

"She cast it aside." Marika’s voice grew heavier, almost sorrowful. "My Malenia… Forsook the one thing that could save her, the one thing she had been searching for her entire life, freedom from the Rot’s corruption and influence. For what? To win? To match Radahn? To scorch the earth for pride?"

Tarnished looked out across the swamp, eyes locking onto the sickly bloom that stretched across its center like a scar. ‘I… I don’t think it was her choice.’

There was silence. Even the wind seemed to pause for a few moments before Marika whispered softly. "Surely not…" 

Tarnished clenched his jaw, his draconic eyes growing cold. ‘From what I know of Miquella… The things he’s done… I wouldn’t put it past him. Not for a second...’

Marika’s voice echoed into his thoughts like a sigh drifting through stone corridors, low and pained.

"Miquella… to have charmed and enslaved the mind of his own twin sister? For how long hath she been under his thrall? Since the very beginning…?"

Her tone faltered slightly, barely audible through the shame curling beneath every word.

"I have failed even more as a mother than I had thought I had…"

Tarnished responded in his mind, his tone firm yet oddly gentle. ‘It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known he was this kind of monster from the start. No matter how much you think yourself this flawless goddess, no one can bear the weight of the entire world alone… And you shouldn’t expect yourself to.’

A pause followed. Though she said nothing, Marika’s hum of reflection softened through the bond. Not agreement, not yet.

All this, his thoughts, her guilt, his reassurance, happened in less than a breath, mind to mind, faster than lips could ever move.

Siegmeyer’s voice cut in, grounding the moment in the world again.

“Regardless of all that’s happened, you are still a comrade most valued,” he said, turning to face Tarnished, steel clanking softly with his movement. “And I would be honoured if you’d help me fulfill my promise.”

Melina tilted her head in curiosity. “What sort of promise?”

Tarnished stood quietly behind her, nodding along.

Siegmeyer took a moment before speaking. “I made a vow to my old friend… Commander O’Neil. Should he lose his way, I would end his journey myself, with a warrior’s death.”

Melina’s expression changed. “Commander O’Neil? One of Godrick’s old generals?”

Tarnished blinked. “Wait, O’Neil was one of Godrick’s men?”

She nodded. “Aye. His hatred of Radahn was… well-documented. After Godrick fled his castle—which was later renamed Redmane Castle in Radahn's honour, abandoning it when he heard Radahn was coming, O’Neil stayed behind. He followed Malenia into the field. Even after his Lord cast him aside.”

Tarnished blinked, brow furrowing. “Hold up. Redmane Castle used to be Godrick’s?”

Melina nodded again. “Yes. One of many fortresses he tried to hold across the Lands Between. But Radahn's arrival was enough to make him flee, tail between his legs. He abandoned everything.”

Tarnished scoffed, he wasn’t surprised. It was typical of Godrick to be a coward. “Then why did O’Neil hate Radahn, why even fight?”

Siegmeyer stepped forward, his voice tinged with weighty reverence. “Because that fortress had been his home for decades. He stayed. With his best men. Ready to die rather than let it fall without a fight.”

Tarnished looked between them. “And what happened?”

Melina’s voice dropped. “Radahn came. And his army broke them. Slaughtered nearly everyone. Then, from what eye witness accounts I recall, O’Neil was the only one left standing.”

Tarnished raised an eyebrow. “Why spare him?”

She shrugged faintly. “There are whispers that Radahn offered him a place among his own.”

Tarnished let out a low whistle. “Damn. Kill the man’s brothers-in-arms, then offer him a job? That’s cold. I didn’t expect that from Radahn.”

Siegmeyer folded his arms and shook his head. “I would not hold it against the General. He saw death in battle as the highest honour a man could wish for. Perhaps, in his mind, he was doing O’Neil a kindness. But I am unsure of the reason myself, you would need to ask the Starscourge himself for an answer.”

Tarnished snorted at the idea. “Yeah? Doesn’t sound like O’Neil saw it that way. Then why does he want to die in battle?”

Siegmeyer gave a heavy sigh. “Because, my friend… What we desire for ourselves and what we believe others deserve are often very different. I think my old companion saw Radahn’s mercy not as honour, but as pity… Humiliation . The shame Hollowed him.”

“And following the battle between Malenia and Radahn; he alone continued to brandish his flag in the devastation of the rot-eaten field of battle, the sole veteran who remembered that battle with pride. As it was the day his self-proclaimed mortal enemy was brought low.” Melina concluded, drawing a solemn nod from Siegmeyer.

The Onion Knight’s voice grew firmer. “Indeed. Now, I wish to honour our vow. But I do not believe I can best him alone, even after all this time. Will you help me grant him that final glory?”

Tarnished grinned wide. “Do you even have to ask?”

Siegmeyer laughed loudly and heartily. “Hah! I suppose I don’t! Then let us go, friend! TO BATTLE!”

Tarnished laughed, raising his sword. “LET’S!”

The two men sprinted off, side by side into the red haze of the Aeonian swamp without a care in the world, right towards the festering heart of rot and memory.

Melina stood there, hand on her brow, letting out a long and tired sigh.

“Reckless fools… the lot of you.”

“Well said, mine dear daughter…”

…

5 Minutes and Several Lord’s Aid uses later…

Tarnished stepped onto the fungal shore of the Heart of Aeonia, boots crunching through petals and decay. The air tasted like rust and mold, thick with the hiss of unseen spores dancing in light that didn’t seem to come from the sky. 

Behind him, the faint splash of another footstep announced Siegmeyer’s approach, his armor clanking gently with each careful stride. Beside them, Melina walked in silence, arms crossed as her hazel eye scanned the haze.

They stopped at the edge of the battlefield.

“I feel obliged to ask this,” Melina said wearily as she looked from the grotesque bloom in the distance to the two warriors flanking her. “But do either of you have a plan?”

Tarnished blinked and turned toward her, head slightly tilted. “Uh… Attack and dodge when needed?”

Siegmeyer pounded a fist against his plated chest. “I shall face him head-on in a glorious battle!”

Melina sighed, a long-suffering sound muffled slightly by the hand she pressed to her brow.

Tarnished shrugged. “If it matters that much to you, I can think of a quick plan that should make it simple. But honestly? I don’t think this guy’s all that tough to kill. Worst comes to worst, we throw him into the rot swamp and wait for him to die from it.”

She turned her gaze on him flatly. “I doubt someone who has endured this long in the very Heart of Aeonia, where the Bloom of Malenia herself occurred, would be so easily felled by rot.”

‘Okay, point to her. I suppose cheese from the game wouldn’t always apply here…’ Tarnished thought, rubbing the back of his head. He closed his eyes for a few moments in thought, then opened them again. “I have a plan.”

Melina arched an eyebrow. “That quickly?”

He set a hand on his hip and gave her a lopsided grin. “Do you wanna hear it, or do you just plan to be a party pooper about it?”

Siegmeyer raised a gauntleted hand. “I, for one, would love to hear your plan, friend!”

“Thank you!” Tarnished exclaimed while pointing at the cheerful knight, then shot Melina a pointed look. “See? Positive reinforcement.”

She exhaled through her nose. “Go on, then.”

Tarnished pointed at the battlefield ahead. “Siegmeyer and I charge in. You stay back and support us with your high-level Faith incantations. Honestly, you’re cracked, you should be more arrogant about it. If O'Neil summons anything, you and I tag-team them while Siegmeyer holds the line.”

Siegmeyer nodded thoughtfully, then turned his full helm to Melina. Tarnished mirrored him with a wide, stupid grin.

After a brief pause, she muttered, “A plan is better than no plan.”

They pressed forward.

The Heart of Aeonia yawned open before them like the festering maw of a great god, rotten blooms swaying in the breeze like the limbs of drowned trees. Craters of scarlet muck oozed and hissed. 

In the center of it all stood Commander O’Neil, his halberd buried into the red-marbled earth. Both hands rested upon its hilt, head lowered, as though asleep on his feet.

Siegmeyer came to a halt. His voice, soft and sorrowful, escaped behind his helm. “That is him… That is my old friend, Commander O’Neil.”

Tarnished cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. “Alright. Melina, hit us with a Golden Vow, would you?”

She sighed once more, raising her hand. Gold light swept over them like a blessing from a forgotten god, filling their bodies with holy strength. 

“Golden Vow.”

[Attack +15%, Defense +10%]

“Flame, Grant Me Strength.” Tarnished whispered with a grin, flame blooming from his palm before sinking into his muscles like living magma.

[Physical Attack +20%, Fire Attack +20%]

He reached into his inventory and pulled forth his Greatsword with a flare of light. Beside him, Siegmeyer hoisted his Zweihander with both hands and stepped forward into the miasma-soaked field.

“Commander O’Neil! I am here to honor our vow.” Siegmeyer called out, loud and proud. “And grant thee the end thou once wished for, old friend!”

The still figure twitched. Slowly, Commander O’Neil raised his head. A rumble escaped his throat, a laugh, deep and distant.

“A vow from an old friend?” His voice sounded like dead leaves dragging against stone. “How wistfully tragic. I scarcely remember meeting anyone like you, Vagrant Knight.”

Siegmeyer flinched, his voice wavering slightly. “I feared such a thing could happen… Has the rot taken you?”

O’Neil opened his eyes, they were milky, yet burning from within. “It has taken its toll on me, yes. However, I remain Commander O’Neil, proud Warrior and mortal enemy of the Starscourge. And afflicted though I am, I remain far more than enough to handle some whelp in bulbous armor.”

His gaze flicked over Tarnished and the maiden at his side, then back to the Onion Knight.

“So… What say you?”

“Of that I am aware, I am no match for you, even now.” Siegmeyer sank into a battle stance, blade poised. “And that is why I brought comrades to help me.”

Tarnished and Melina stepped up beside him.

O’Neil’s expression twisted into something that could have once been a smile. Now, it was emptied of joy and filled with weary malice. 

“Very well then…” He muttered wearily as he yanked his halberd from the muck with one arm and raised it high.

Ash-gray wisps curled from the rot around him. With a sweep of his halberd, a dozen spectral soldiers emerged beside him, crossbows leveled and gleaming in the miasma. His former comrades, once fallen in battle against General Radahn’s mighty army, now reborn as spectral ashes under his command.

“Have at me, vile heathens!”

Tarnished drew a slow, deliberate breath as he eyed up the battlefield, counting the crossbow soldiers. His throat began to glow from within.  First it was orange, then gold, then white-hot like molten iron. A faint, crackling tremor rattled up from his chest as a dull hum filled the air around him.

Melina’s eyes widened. She’d seen that glow before. “Siegmeyer, dodge now!”

Without question, the knight leapt to the side, heavy armor groaning as he rolled through the muck with surprising grace.

A split-second later, Tarnished parted his jaws and the world erupted in frost.

A surge of ancient frost burst forth from his mouth in a blinding wave, the roar of dragon breath transformed to a piercing howl of cold. Crystalline shards cut through the miasma like spears of winter, blanketing the battlefield in freezing mist and shimmering death. The spectral soldiers, ghostly and brittle in the face of primordial power, were caught in the onslaught.

O’Neil slammed his halberd into the ground, teeth clenched as he steadied himself against the arctic tide. Ice crept up his limbs, fracturing his armor, gnawing at his nerves.

“How…” He growled through chattering teeth. “Impossible… No dragon communion. No altar rites. How… does a mere Tarnished breathe frost? ”

The last of the ashen crossbowmen disintegrated, their forms turned to glittering dust in the freezing gale.

‘That must have proc’d frostbite since his health bar lost a big chunk at once at the end. He should be slowed and more vulnerable now…’ 

Tarnished’s breath came ragged and shallow as he stumbled a step back. The heat in his throat faded to a dying ember. Mana drained, he fumbled for his flask and downed the shimmering blue liquid in a single swig.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and eyed the battlefield. The frost cleared slowly, unveiling Commander O’Neil, heavily frostbitten, his limbs sluggish, his stance compromised. Cracks spiderwebbed across his armor. A chunk of his health was gone, but more importantly, he was slowed.

‘That’ll buy us a window… frostbite should make him die faster. We have to press the advantage. I’ve only got juice for one more of those.’

“Siegmeyer! Go! He’s open!” Tarnished shouted.

The knight blinked, still shaken from the display. “R-Right!” he said, regaining composure as he charged forward, Zweihander raised high.

O’Neil let out a breath of his own, white and shaky, more mist than roar. “Accursed mongrels, the lot of you…” he rasped, muscles twitching under the weight of cold and decay.

Tarnished took off beside Siegmeyer, dragging his Greatsword through the rot as sparks danced across its edge. The two met O’Neil in unison, blades flashing in mirrored arcs.

Steel clanged, staggered, rebounded.

Tarnished stepped left, slashing low but O’Neil parried with his halberd and swung upward. Siegmeyer was already there, catching the haft with the flat of his greatsword and shoving it aside. They fought as if they’d trained together for years, two massive weapons dancing in tandem, one sleek and brutal, the other wide and thunderous.

Melina remained behind, hands glowing with faint flame. She waited for the briefest openings, and then struck. A Flame Sling caught O’Neil in the side, shattering a shoulder pauldron.

The commander roared and swept his halberd in a massive arc. Tarnished ducked under it, sliding across the slick ground and slashing upward into O’Neil’s ribs with his massive Greatsword. The blow was blunt and heavy against the veteran’s armour, causing him to gasp slightly in pain.

“Come now, Commander!” Siegmeyer bellowed, striking from the other side. “Show me the fire I once knew!”

“I’ll show you ash, Vagrant!” O’Neil hissed, driving the haft of his weapon into Siegmeyer’s chest and sending him skidding backward. Melina raised her hand, and a glowing Flame Spear appeared above her.

She hurled it just as Tarnished distracted O’Neil again. The burning projectile slammed into the commander’s thigh, igniting the rot-laced flesh beneath his armor.

O’Neil staggered, one knee nearly buckling under the pressure. Tarnished pressed in, not relenting as he withdrew his uchigatana from his inventory and ran it straight through the commander’s exposed side.

Steel tore through leather as the commander’s grunts became strained growls. He bled rot and something darker, older, into the battlefield as his life drained visibly.

Tarnished watched the faint crimson glow of Commander O’Neil’s lifeforce drain beneath the halfway mark. The rot-slicked warrior staggered slightly, shoulders slumping, grip loosening on his halberd as if the fight was finally slipping from his grasp.

‘Is that it?’ Tarnished thought, letting out a short breath. ‘Didn’t even need to kill him. Maybe I can just grab the Unalloyed Gold Needle now-’

‘ FOOL! ’ Marika’s voice crashed through his thoughts like a warhammer against glass. ‘Do not turn thy gaze away! Finish it, now! ’

His heart skipped, but it was far too late.

O’Neil’s head jerked up. The shadows under his helm split into a vicious grin. 

“Amateur!” He hissed as in one blinding movement, the halberd shot upward.

Metal pierced flesh.

Tarnished barely registered the moment O’Neil’s hand closed around his throat, lifting him into the air like a broken puppet. The halberd skewered him clean through, and a pulse of corrupted energy surged from its core. His body convulsed as the sickness took root.

[Status Effect: Scarlet Rot]

He choked, eyes wide, blood running down his lips.

Scarlet rot bloomed inside him.

Melina screamed. “Tarnished!”

“My friend!” Siegmeyer shouted his name, voice cracking through the mists like a thunderclap.

O’Neil snarled with rising rage, the calm edge of his pride now shattered. “I’ve had enough of you hapless children!”

The blade of an Uchigatana was still jutted from O’Neil’s side, forgotten and buried deep but the commander didn’t care. He lifted the impaled Tarnished higher and flung him like trash. The force sent Tarnished sailing across the battlefield and crashing onto a sloped ridge of the swamp. 

His body skidded to the edge of the rot-pool below, just shy of sinking in.

Pain surged through his body as every muscle screamed at him in agony. 

‘Damn it… Forgot what game I was in for a second there…’ He thought, fading fast as more blood than breath left his mouth.

His health plummeted, first from the impalement, then the landing, and now, the rot gnawing deeper with every second. The curse burned under his skin like living acid.

He couldn’t move.

He could barely think.

“Tarnished!!” Melina’s voice cracked through the chaos again as she broke into a sprint, tears shimmering at the corners of her eyes.

But O’Neil was faster.

The frost was gone and his movements, once sluggish and weighed by decay, now blurred with terrifying speed.

He lunged forward, his halberd sweeping toward Melina’s neck.

She barely twisted in time, parrying with a slender dagger. Sparks flew as steel met steel, her arm trembling under the force of the blow. She leapt back instinctively, eyes never leaving the motionless figure on the shore.

“Stay with me,” she whispered under her breath. “Please…”

Siegmeyer roared in defiance and charged in, but the commander was ready.

O’Neil dropped to a knee and the swamp wind around him shifted, within a split second, the very air turned violent. Rot churned beneath his boots as the winds screamed in circles.

“ Back!! ” Melina called, already moving.

Siegmeyer dug in his heels, but the moment was lost.

O’Neil’s halberd swung in a wide, brutal arc.

Once, Twice and then a third time.

The storm that surrounded him was no mere wind, it was blight incarnate. The land itself was torn apart beneath the weight of it. The air was filled with slashing force and rotting fog, forcing both Melina and Siegmeyer to retreat beyond the radius or risk being torn apart.

The distance between them and Tarnished widened again. Too wide.

He lay still, breath shallow. The world pulsed red.

O’Neil exhaled harshly, his body trembling from the frost wounds and the strain of battle, but his grin widened, smeared with blood.

“That draconic brat will die soon,” he rasped. “And the two of you will very soon follow.”

Melina's hands shook, with sheer rage. Her voice dropped low, shaking with heat. “You’ll die before that happens.”

“I swear it,” Siegmeyer said beside her, voice firm. “I will not let him die for my vow alone.”

O’Neil's smirk grew more twisted. “Then allow me to show you true despair.”

As O’Neil raised his halberd, the spectral forms of 3 towering Exile Soldiers burst from ashes, their massive cleavers gleaming like executioner’s blades, faces frozen in wrath as if torn from the memory before death ever took them.

The commander lowered his weapon, pointing it toward them.

“Come.” He said. “And witness your painful demise. ”

Darkness clouded the corners of Tarnished’s vision, his breath rattling in his throat as he watched his own health bar tick down to a mere 7% now. Every limb was drenched in rot, his armor fused to his wounds, and even the cold mud beneath him felt like knives digging into every nerve.

Marika appeared before him, kneeling gracefully, her eyes filled with impatience. Her divine presence shimmered like golden mist, yet her expression was anything but ethereal.

“Get up.” She snapped, eyes narrowed. “Thou cannot die here. Not like this.”

Tarnished coughed, a wet, rattling noise that brought up more blood than breath. His chest burned, he could barely breathe. The halberd had pierced deep, pierced straight through his lungs, most likley. Every breath was agony. His fingers twitched as he reached for his satchel, shaking, useless.

‘Everything hurts.’ He thought through the haze. ‘Feels like every part of my body is shitting itself simultaneously.’

Marika’s eye twitched. “Charming as ever. But thou still possess thy Crimson Tear Flask. Use it. Finish the battle.”

And he did, or atleast he tried to do so.

His body wouldn’t listen to him, not after his internal organs had been minced by the Veteran's Halberd. He rolled partially onto his side, chest rising in shallow, pitiful gasps, fingers fumbling blindly for the flask he couldn’t yet see. Blood matted his lips, his armor, the ground beneath him.

6%.

‘Where is it…?’ His hand scraped across stone, dirt, rot. He hissed through clenched teeth, vision blackening at the edges. ‘My lungs… Can’t breathe-! Can’t see… Can’t-’

5%.

Marika stood still for a moment, watching Melina and Siegmeyer fight for their lives, watching Melina’s flames gutter, watching her back exposed.

Then she turned back to him, and sighed. Her expression shifted, it was soft, but with a hint of slyness. A glint sparked in her gold-ringed eyes. She leaned down beside his broken body, close enough for her whisper to crawl inside his ear.

“Think how much Melina would love thee more… if thou cheated death and saved her.” Her voice turned silken, coaxing, mocking. “Thy sweet little damsel in distress might even give thee a kiss in gratitude~!”

His eyes snapped open.

“Can’t die yet!” He wheezed, fumbling for his flask with blood-slick fingers, his body reinvigorated with new-found strength. “ Not missing that kiss! ”’

“Unbelievable…” Marika muttered as she rubbed her temples, annoyed that it had even worked and that she had even worried about her fool of a champion for a moment. “For fuck’s sake…”

With a ragged gasp, he chugged the Crimson Tear Flask, the liquid gold searing down his throat and into his veins. His wounds sealed and, like a divine miracle, even the hole in his abdomen closed up entirely. 

He staggered upright. He was swaying, burned, rotting, but standing nonetheless.

Across the battlefield, Siegmeyer was locked in a brutal 3-on-1 against the spectral Exiles, deflecting blow after blow as he bellowed to keep their attention. Melina was holding her own against O’Neil, but barely. Her expression was pure fury, her flames desperate and wild, her footing weakening.

Tarnished stumbled forward, ignoring the rot gnawing at him, throat already glowing again. A dull, familiar hum rose up from deep in his core.

Across the field, O’Neil caught her. One gauntleted hand snapped around Melina’s throat as he lifted her into the air. She kicked and struggled, her dagger falling from her fingers. The halberd came up, its point aimed at her chest.

But then she saw it.

Through watery eyes, from her place above the battlefield, she saw him.

Tarnished.

Standing again, alive. Throat burning with dragon magic.

Her lips parted in surprise, then curled into a grin; causing O’Neil to narrow his eyes in suspicion. 

“What are you smiling at?” He growled. “I have you dead to rights!”

He paused when a breath of cold touched his back, the veteran let out a tired, almost wistful sigh. “…He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

Melina’s grin turned feral. “In words that he’d use: ‘You’re fucked, asshole.’ ”

The last thing O’Neil heard was the sound of a dragon drawing breath.

The frost hit him point-blank in the spine.

He screamed as the gale tore through his armor and flesh alike. Melina dropped from his grasp, shielding herself behind the veteran’s own body as the frigid blast carved into the battlefield like a storm of daggers.

When the breath finally ceased, O’Neil was frozen near-solid, arms raised, body encased in thick ice, steam rising from his joints. His health bar had all but collapsed to a mere 15%.

Tarnished stood behind him, smoke rising from his lips. His eyes narrowed.

He summoned his Greatsword, bringing it up beside him, blade humming with his rage. “You should have gone for the head!”

He swung.

The sword struck the very spot where his Uchigatana had once been lodged, splitting O’Neil from his waist down. Ice cracked around him as his flesh split and his armor buckled.  The commander let out one final, breathless grunt as he was cleaved brutally in half.

[GREAT ENEMY DEFEATED]

Tarnished dropped to his knees.

Breath came in gasps, each one a fight of its own until soft arms wrapped tightly around him.

Melina pressed herself to him, forehead resting against his as she held him tight, shaking slightly, her voice both furious and tender. “You absolute idiot! You almost died! ”

He coughed a weak laugh. “Couldn’t leave you to die… Melina. You’re too important to me.”

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, her own shimmering with tears. “Shut up. Just… Be quiet…” she whispered, hugging him tighter still.

She raised her hand, radiant light gathering around her fingers. Her seal flared with the last of her mana.

“Lord’s Aid. Lord Heal.” She muttered. “Don’t move.”

Warmth flowed through him. It was gentle, golden, and divine. The pain dulled and the rot receded.

But he barely noticed.

Because all he could feel was his teary eyed maiden’s warm embrace.

Author’s Note:

Been waiting a while for this chapter to come out :3

Also did y’all hear? Silksong is finally coming out!! I’ve been waiting so fuckin long!

…

Next Chapter Title: One Final View.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW 

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

Tarnished let out a tired breath and gently patted Melina’s back as she remained clung to him, her arms tense despite the warmth of her embrace. He gave a quiet, raspy chuckle. “Hey… I’m the one who almost died back there. Why do you look like the one most affected here?”

Melina stiffened immediately, pulling back from him just enough to shoot a sharp glare, her cheeks already turning a dangerous shade of pink.

Before she could retort, Siegmeyer threw his head back with a booming laugh. “That’s because she was worried for your life, my good friend!” he declared, thumping a gauntleted fist to his chest. “It is only natural for a fair maiden to fear for her knight’s safety!”

Tarnished smirked and turned his head toward Melina, that all-too-familiar teasing gleam dancing in his eyes. “Ohhhh, I get it now. You’re scared for me because you’re obviously in love with me.”

The words had barely left his mouth before her fist shot out and buried itself into his gut.

The blow would have doubled a lesser man over, but his Night’s Cavalry armor absorbed most of the impact, turning it into a mere shove. He stumbled back, lost his footing, and collapsed flat onto his back with a loud clang, laughing all the way down.

Melina stood over him, arms crossed tight across her chest, head turned aside in pure denial. Her lower lip stuck out in a full, mortified pout, the flush on her face betraying her every unspoken word.

Siegmeyer chuckled softly and shook his head at them, stepping forward with that familiar, jovial gait. “Ah, young hearts…” he mused. “But alas, my friends, I must be off.”

Still lying in the dirt, Tarnished propped himself up on his elbows. “Off where?” he asked, still grinning.

The Onion Knight let out a low sigh and slid his Zweihander back into its holster. He shrugged with a faint rattle of his massive pauldrons. “I know not… Wherever the wind shall take me, I suppose. Perhaps I shall attend that Festival of Combat they speak of over at Redmane Castle, when the time comes for it.”

At that, Tarnished’s eyes lit up with boyish excitement. He scrambled to his feet. “Wait, seriously? I wanna go too! Do you know when it starts?”

Siegmeyer hummed in thought, rubbing at the chin of his great helm. “Ah… I do recall it being said that the festival happens once every full moon. A most glorious gathering of warriors under the night sky.”

Melina, still facing away and red-faced, begrudgingly confirmed in a quiet, slightly flustered tone. “That is… correct.”

Tarnished couldn’t help but laugh again, his eyes darting to Melina’s side-profile as she stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. Her embarrassed pout only deepened.

Siegmeyer placed a heavy hand on Tarnished’s shoulder and gave him a nod. “Farewell, my friend. Let us meet again some other day, if the morning sun wills it so!”

With that, the great knight turned and strode off through the fading mists, his silhouette soon swallowed by the red haze of Caelid.

Melina let out a long, exasperated huff, finally turning to Tarnished with narrowed eyes. “Can we please leave now? This place smells horrible. Like the rest of Caelid, but somehow even worse. How much longer must we stay in this hell?”

Tarnished chuckled under his breath and sent his greatsword into his inventory for convenience. “Relax, we’re past the worst of it. Just a few more things to tick off the list, and then we’re out of here.”

She sighed in pure relief, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Finally…”

Tarnished approached the commander’s broken form, the once-proud warrior’s torso barely clinging to the rest of his body amidst a pool of slowly darkening blood. Heat still radiated from his corpse, a grim reminder that death here never quite arrived cleanly.

Tarnished knelt down beside him, eyes scanning for the one thing that mattered now. ‘Where is it…? The Unalloyed Gold Needle should’ve popped up by now.’

Just as his gauntleted fingers reached out toward the commander’s ruined chest, O’Neil coughed, a jagged, wet sound that splattered blood across his breastplate. He gasped for air, a death rattle turned into something almost sentient.

“Motherfucker-!” Tarnished yelped, falling back onto his rear as his hand instinctively reached for the closest blade. Melina cried out in surprise, already conjuring a flaming spear and aiming it directly at the commander’s frost-crusted helm.

Tarnished scrambled, hand slapping across the mucked ground until his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his discarded Uchigatana. He swung it up, tip poised just above O’Neil’s remaining eye, teeth clenched as he prepared to drive it straight through.

But O’Neil weakly raised a trembling hand. “S-Stop… wait…” he rasped through gory lips.

Tarnished hesitated, glancing at Melina. She gave him a tense nod but didn’t lower the spear—its burning tip hovered inches from the commander’s temple, a warning and a promise.

O’Neil exhaled, the sound almost a sigh of relief despite the agony etched into every line of his body. His eyes slowly opened, dull but strangely calm.

‘Poor bastard…’ Tarnished thought, his grip on the blade loosening ever so slightly. ‘Living through this? That’s worse than dying outright.’

“Thou should not worry thyself over that.” Marika’s voice coiled into his mind like velvet over steel. “Thy frost breath likely froze most of his organs, that must be why he’s still alive. He will not last long. A minute or two at most…”

Tarnished relaxed a fraction. “You good?” he asked bluntly, arching a brow at the half-dead commander.

O’Neil turned his head just enough to give him the most deadpan glare possible under the circumstances. 

Tarnished shrugged. “Just checking…”

With great effort, O’Neil shifted his head to face the sky. His voice came low and rough, nearly drowned by the shallow wet gasps between every word. “I… bear no grudge against you, brat. Nor your maiden. Though… not the fairest of circumstances… you still bested me.”

He coughed again, blood flecking his lips as his eye drifted upward. “Strange thing, that. The younger generation… growing stronger.” His breath caught painfully in his chest. “At least… some hope still lingers in this mad world.”

Tarnished shifted uncomfortably, fingers still tense on his sword hilt.

But then O’Neil’s lone eye turned back toward him, sharp despite the clouding haze of death. “But… before I go… I would offer you a warning.”

That drew Tarnished’s full attention. His gaze narrowed. “Warn us? About what?”

O’Neil sucked in a thin, ragged breath that rattled ominously in his chest. For a long moment, he just lay there, his gaze distant as if sifting through a lifetime of memories. Then, in a voice almost too soft to hear, he spoke:

“I still remember… the faces and names… of every comrade and brother I ever lost to this cursed land.” His head tilted slightly. “But that Onion Knight…? He was never amongst them.”

The words hit the air like a thunderclap admist the silence.

Tarnished blinked hard, eyes darting to Melina. She turned to meet his gaze, surprise flashing behind the embers of her still-summoned flame. Neither of them spoke, but the implication hung between them like a sword on a fraying thread.

O’Neil let his head fall back against the blood-soaked ground, his voice quieter now, fading. “Do with that what you will… Believe me… or don’t. Matters not. But… before I die…”

He shuddered, his lips trembling. “One final favor… Please… move me. Let me gaze upon the Erdtree… One last time. Grant me this mercy.”

For a moment, Tarnished stood motionless, eyes wide. Then slowly, he nodded.

He sheathed his Uchigatana and crouched down, gently hauling O’Neil’s battered form against the nearby stone wall, propping him upright with his back supported, his face turned toward the distant golden beacon.

And there it stood, The Erdtree.

Its divine form soared beyond the corrupted skies of Caelid, untouched by the rot and ruin that plagued every inch of this land. Even from here, its colossal branches stretched across the heavens like the arms of a god, golden leaves swaying gently against an unseen breeze. 

Light poured from it, it was not sunlight, but something older, purer, as if the grace of the Greater Will still lingered despite the festering chaos below.

O’Neil’s eye glimmered faintly as he stared at it, a small, broken smile curling his bloodied lips. “Just as beautiful… as the first time I laid eyes upon it… Mayhaps… even more so…”

His chest rose one final time, breath shallow, eyes glazing over.

“Oh… Queen Marika… Why hath thou forsaken us…?”

His head lolled to the side. The light faded from his eyes. And at last… he was still.

[Runes Acquired: 58,000]
[Item Acquired: Broken Unalloyed Gold Needle]
[Item Acquired: Commander’s Standard]

Tarnished stayed there in silence, watching the life slip away from the veteran who had, in his final moments, found peace not through victory—but through the simple grace of a final view.

He exhaled slowly. “Rest easy, old man.”

“Forsaken…?” Marika’s voice echoed through his thoughts, low and hollow before curling into a bitter, humorless laugh. “Haha~! What naïve cruelty… that in his final breath, he still believed I would answer. That I could still answer.”

She sighed, the sound filled with centuries of regret wrapped in fading defiance. “What a dismal state of affairs…”

Tarnished remained crouched next to O’Neil’s cooling body, fingers brushing the fabric of his ruined cloak. ‘She sounds… tired.’

“Hey… You good?” he asked aloud, his voice low, unsure.

Marika’s voice returned, softer but carrying that ever-present weight of command. “I am fine. Just… I hope thou understand by now how important thy quest is. How vital thy purpose as my Champion. Far too much relies on thee. Failure…. Is not an option. It can not be.”

Tarnished remained quiet, eyes lingering on the peaceful, lifeless stare of the old commander. For all his fury in life, O’Neil looked almost content now.

“I understand.”

Melina’s soft footsteps approached, her presence a quiet warmth against the cold air. She knelt beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” she asked gently. “And… How is Marika? My… Mother?”

She said the last part hesitantly, almost as if she was testing if it even felt right coming from her mouth. And by the sound of it, it did not, not yet.

Tarnished pushed himself to his feet, letting out a breath and forcing a small smile. “She’s fine. And we need to keep moving.”

Melina studied him for a second longer, then returned the smile with a quiet nod. Together, they turned from the battlefield.

With a flick of his hand, Tarnished sheathed his Uchigatana into his inventory. He approached the center of the blood-soaked field, fingers brushing the faint golden shimmer in the air. A Site of Grace flickered to life beneath his touch, its warmth radiating out and washing over him.

He sat on it, feeling the familiar rush of healing as his flasks refilled and the grime, blood, and every painful trace of battle simply melted away. His armor shone clean, the gaping hole that had been torn through his chestplate, and through his body, not even a scar now.

For a long moment, he simply sat there, pressing a hand over his stomach where the wound had been. The flesh was whole. Perfect. ‘Like it never even happened…’

“In truth, ‘tis a miracle thou survived at all,” Marika muttered, her voice low and even. “Scarlet Rot hath claimed countless lives swifter than breath, yet thou didst endure. Mayhaps… the devouring of that blighted Dragon’s heart – Ekzykes, was it? – Granted thee some innate resistance to its curse.”

He chuckled at his Goddess’ usual analysis, simply choosing to be glad to have survived despite how interesting the potential of such a change was to him. He shook his head to shoo the lingering disbelief away, then stood and fell into step beside Melina.

After a minute of walking, he asked aloud, “Hey, Marika… Why can’t you just, y’know, activate any Site of Grace for me remotely? Wouldn’t that save me a lot of trouble?”

Golden light shimmered before him, and Marika materialized, lazily reclining on a cloud of radiant grace, propped up on her elbows with her chin resting in her palm. 

“It does not work like that.” She drawled, voice lilting and faintly amused. “What thou dost when ‘activating’ a site is creating an anchor, a beacon, for my Grace to latch onto. From there, I can craft the pathways thou knowest as Sites of Grace.”

Tarnished tilted his head thoughtfully. “Huh… So is there any way I can just teleport myself around without needing your help? Or a waygate?”

She gave him a sly little smirk. “Obviously, teleportation and translocation spells are far from rare. However…” 

Her smirk seemed to deepen with amusement. “At thy current level, thou hast neither the Intelligence nor the Faith to wield such spells. And the mana cost… Fufu~! Best leave that fantasy for when thou art truly worthy.”

Tarnished blinked, then let out a bitter sigh.. “Well, at the very least I got a clear answer… Still too dumb and weak to do any cool magic…”

“Mhm~! And do not forget heretical as well, my Champion~!” Marika’s voice rang sweet and mocking. “Too stupid and too much of a lost little blasphemer to perform even the simplest of magical dignities. How very sad~!”

Tarnished exhaled sharply through his nose. “Uh-huh… You sound real broken up about it.”

Beside him, Melina shot him a flat look as they walked. “It is… peculiar, watching thee speak at length to nothingness. Should we not find a way for me to hear her as well? I fear this will grow tiresome before long…”

Marika and Tarnished both turned their heads to stare at her.

Then slowly, as if by unspoken agreement, they turned back to each other and burst into laughter.

Melina narrowed her eyes, her arms crossing again as that familiar dangerous pout returned to her lips. Her fingers twitched faintly, whether toward violence or setting something nearby on fire was anyone’s guess.

Tarnished and Melina crested a low rise of sickly fungus, the bulbous growths squelching faintly beneath their boots as they hugged the crumbling shoreline. Just ahead, a leaning, weathered tower loomed over the beach, its stone worn smooth by age and the endless caress of rot-laden winds.

They passed beneath its broken shadow and found themselves on a road of fractured stone, the worn path leading directly toward the pale, spectral ruins ahead. Selia, the Town of Sorcery.

Tarnished nodded to the right, gesturing casually. “We wanna head that way.”

Melina offered a faint shrug, her cloak swaying as she followed in quiet step, her gaze lingering on the eerie, flickering lights that danced like will-o’-the-wisps over the broken town.

From just over his shoulder, Marika lounged comfortably atop her floating cloud of grace, eyes half-lidded but sharp as ever. “I do not mean to ruin the mood,” she drawled lazily, “but art thou truly content to pretend thou didst not hear the warning that commander left thee?”

Tarnished sighed. “Oh… that.”

Marika arched an elegant brow. “Yes, that. Art thou not concerned in the slightest about thy supposed friend’s potential betrayal? Mayhaps he is not the same man thou rememberest from another world. Not like that… other constant. What was his name? Patches, was it?”

Tarnished hummed thoughtfully, hands clasped behind his head as he walked. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s no Patches, that’s exactly why I’m not worried.”

Melina tilted her head toward him, her eye narrowing slightly. “Worried about what, Tarnished?”

Without missing a step, he replied, “Marika’s asking about O’Neil’s little parting gift, his warning about Siegmeyer.”

Melina’s lips parted, her expression shifting with concern. “Ah… yes. I had intended to speak of that just now. What do you propose we do?”

Tarnished tapped a finger against his chin in mock contemplation, then grinned. “Absolutely nothing.”

Both Melina and Marika turned to him in perfect sync, eyes mirroring the exact same flat, unimpressed stare.

He barked a short laugh. “Hah! Like mother, like daughter, indeed…”

With a shrug, he continued. “Look, no matter the circumstances, I just can’t picture Siegmeyer betraying us. It makes no sense. And really, would you trust the dying words of a man whose mind was half-eaten by Scarlet Rot, and who I personally had to help into the afterlife?”

Melina pressed her lips together, her brows furrowing. “I suppose… not. But…” Her voice grew quiet, uncertain. “What reason would he have to lie?”

Tarnished spread his hands. “Good question. What about Siegmeyer? What does he stand to gain by lying?”

Marika rolled her eyes and offered in that familiar, scathing tone. “Mayhaps he wished to lead thee into battle before thou wert ready. A convenient death for two troublesome souls?”

Tarnished waved a hand dismissively. “Please. The man fought beside us without faltering once. If he wanted us dead, he had every opportunity to let it happen. And even if he tried, what would it accomplish? I’m practically immortal, and Melina could just disappear into the Aether whenever she likes. No… Whatever is going on with Siegmeyer, I just don’t see it being malicious.”

Melina glanced aside, unconvinced. 

“And you are certain of this?” she asked softly, almost hopeful despite herself.

Tarnished gave her a warm smile, reaching out to pat her lightly on the back. “Positive. Trust me. All will be well.”

Melina sighed through her nose, a faint blush dusting her cheeks despite her best efforts to appear calm. She looked away, hiding the small smile curling at her lips. “Very well… I shall trust in your confidence. For now.”

As they continued along the road toward the haunted spires of Selia, Tarnished smirked to himself. ‘Besides… if it’s who I think it is behind that onion helmet… this could be really funny.’

“And who might that be, I wonder?” Marika teased, her golden cloud drifting lazily alongside him as she leaned closer with a knowing smirk.

He raised a mental finger sharply. ‘Ah-ah! No peeking! You’ll ruin the surprise!’

Marika’s eyes gleamed with faint amusement as she lounged back on her cloud. “Fine~! I shall allow thee this one indulgence. But know this, my Champion… I shall have my answers in time.”

Tarnished grinned wider, the mischief almost radiating off him. ‘Hehe~… knew you loved me too.’

Her smirk deepened, her golden eyes half-lidded and dangerous. “Careful now, my Champion. Do not press thy luck.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Tarnished muttered aloud, hands resting lazily on his sword belt as he walked on through the fading light.

Behind him, Melina sighed heavily, her eye closing in long-suffering exasperation. “Truly… the two of you are impossible…”

As they followed the worn road past the edges of Selia, a low, guttural growl rolled through the thick air. Sitting rigidly at attention near a rotting shack was a monstrous hound, its flesh stretched too tight over exposed muscle and jagged bone. Pale, blind-looking eyes locked onto them, and though it didn’t lunge immediately, it cast them a warning glance, lips curled back over teeth like daggers.

Tarnished, of course, started walking directly toward it.

Melina let out a sigh heavy with practiced exasperation, already preparing the incantation for a Flame Spear in her palm. “Must thou always approach danger as if it were a dear friend?” she muttered under her breath.

The hound tensed at Tarnished’s advance, growling louder, body coiling like a spring ready to snap.

But just before the beast pounced, a weathered voice called from within the shack. “Easy now, my friend. Calm yourself.”

Instantly, the monstrous hound settled, growling under its breath but retreating slightly. From the shadows of the shack, a hunched figure emerged, his gait slow but deliberate.

Gowry appeared, his aged form swathed in a ragged scholar’s robe that had long since lost any trace of its original color. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken yet alight with a strange, almost fanatical clarity, and his thin fingers trembled slightly as he reached out to pat the beast’s snout.

“Oh, a pleasure to see you. A pleasure indeed,” he said with a strained smile. “I am Gowry. A great sage… in my day anyway.” He folded his hands, peering at Tarnished with barely restrained curiosity. “I’d hoped to ask a favor. You are the one who battled the Commander in the heart of Aeonia, yes?”

Tarnished laughed, his smirk cocky. “What gave it away?”

Gowry’s eyes glimmered faintly with something like hope. “Who wouldn’t hear such a battle when it raged so near? And by your survival, I take it you achieved victory over the commander?”

Tarnished crossed his arms and offered a satisfied grin. “That I did.”

For a moment, Gowry seemed almost overcome with relief. His voice turned hushed, almost reverent. “Tell me… did you perhaps find a certain kind of needle upon his body? I seek it… to heal a young girl. Millicent is her name. You’ll find her beyond Selia, resting in the church atop the cliff. She suffers terribly from the rotting sickness. If you have it… I would be eternally thankful.”

Tarnished smirked and reached into his inventory, pulling out the two broken halves of the Unalloyed Gold Needle. “This what you’re after?”

From her perch on a cloud of light nearby, Marika arched a golden brow. “Why art thou so willing to hand over such a valuable artifact, even if it lies broken?”

Tarnished answered her silently, his thoughts calm and certain. ‘He’s the only one I know who can fix it. And besides… I already want to save Millicent.’

Marika gave a soft hum of consideration, eyes narrowing faintly. “This girl… what is she to thee, I wonder?”

Tarnished fought down the grin threatening his lips, deliberately refusing to respond. Marika chuckled softly, reclining further into her cloud. “Very well, Champion. I shall indulge thy little drama for now.”

Before him, Gowry’s eyes had gone wide at the sight of the needle fragments. “Yes… yes! This is exactly what I needed.” He beckoned them closer with a shaking hand, his voice trembling with sudden urgency. “Please… give it to me, and I shall do all I can to mend it. Together, we might yet save the poor girl.”

“Wouldn’t have come here otherwise.” Tarnished nodded as he handed over the broken pieces without hesitation.

Gowry took the fragments as though they were sacred relics, turning them over gently in his hands. Without another word, he disappeared back into the shack, his voice echoing faintly through the broken boards. “This will take time… an hour or two at least. The needle’s design is impossibly complex… I mustn’t be hasty or risk marring it further. Please… wait until I have finished.”

Tarnished turned away from the shack, stretching his arms overhead. “Guess we’ve got some time to kill,” he muttered, already rubbing his chin in thought.

Melina walked beside him, her expression cautious. “Art thou certain it is wise to part so readily with something so precious?” she asked softly. “Do you truly trust the old man?”

Tarnished shrugged with that same reckless grin. “It’ll be fine. Besides…” He snapped his fingers suddenly, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I got it! Who here wants to kill a dragon and then pay a visit to Maliketh, the Black Blade?”

Melina stared at him in stunned disbelief. Then sighed, a deep, tired, and utterly resigned sigh. “Why do I know I am going to regret this…”

And yet, despite the protest, she followed without hesitation. As always.

Author’s Note:

Sorry for the wait. Silksong, am I right? Shit's so peak, though, they did up the arbitrary difficulty dial ALL the way up.

Who the hell makes a boss run back across an entire region with only one checkpoint??? Sadists, istg.

…

Next Chapter Title: How to Cheese a Dragon.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW 

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

A dead silence followed Tarnished’s bold declaration, the air itself seeming to hold its breath. Both Melina and Marika stared at him, one with wide-eyed shock, the other with a raised brow and sceptical scrutiny.

Melina’s voice broke the silence first, soft but filled with disbelief. “Prithee… what dost thou mean by paying a visit to Maliketh, the Black Blade?” Her eye sharpened as she stepped closer. “Thou… knowest where he is?”

Tarnished simply nodded, all casual bravado. “Yup. And since we’ve got an hour or two to kill, I figured… why not drop by and check in on him?”

Marika’s voice entered his mind, thoughtful and heavy with distant memories. “It would be… somewhat comforting to see my shadow again. It hath been far too long since last I laid eyes upon him. I had feared the worst… for the longest time…”

For a brief moment, Tarnished’s cocky grin faltered. He exhaled, his voice softer when he answered. “He’s… not in the best state, Marika. But considering everything? It’s the best we could hope for.”

“Mmm…” Marika hummed in quiet contemplation before releasing a long, tired sigh. “Him living is… Better than the alternative.”

Tarnished straightened his shoulders, forcing the grin back in place. “Right then.” He turned to Melina with a quick nod. “Come on. Let’s move.”

Melina returned the nod, her cloak brushing against his arm as they both stepped into the golden shimmer of Grace. In a flash of radiant light, they vanished.

…

The golden light flared again as they reappeared near the Isolated Merchant’s Shack, tucked away in the shadowed wilderness of Dragonbarrow. The merchant sitting by the low-burning campfire looked up with a start, his single, tired eye gleaming faintly from beneath his heavy hood.

“Oh… it’s you two again?” he muttered, his voice rough but familiar. “Come back for more wares, have we?”

Tarnished laughed lightly, waving a hand. “Actually… on second thought, I’ll take what you’ve got in the way of mushrooms. And all the cracked pots you’re carrying.”

The merchant raised his head slightly, a faint gleam of curiosity in his eye. “Aye? Cleaning me out, are you?” He rummaged through his satchel and battered crates, setting down a bundle of mushrooms and exactly seven cracked pots at Tarnished’s feet. “That’s the lot. Seven pots.”

Tarnished tossed him a casual salute and made the exchange. “Pleasure doing business.”

As he stowed the items into his inventory, Melina tilted her head and asked softly, “And… What purpose doth all this serve?”

Tarnished’s grin sharpened as he turned back toward the path ahead. “You’ll see.”

“How delightfully vague,” Marika’s voice hummed from above, lounging back on her radiant cloud with a smirk. “Resorting to underhanded tactics now, are we? How very noble of thee, my Champion~.”

Tarnished chuckled under his breath, resting a hand on the hilt of his Greatsword. “Hey, as long as they work, that’s all that matters.”

“And they say chivalry is dead…” Marika sighed dramatically.

Tarnished strode toward open ground and summoned Torrent in a burst of spectral light. The ghostly steed snorted and pawed the earth, its form faintly luminous in the gloom. Tarnished mounted smoothly, and Melina climbed on behind him, her arms circling his waist with practiced ease.

“Ready.” She whispered softly, her breath warm against his ear.

He smirked. “Hold on tight.”

With a sharp nudge, Torrent took off down the ancient Dragonbarrow road, spectral hooves striking sparks against the crumbling stone. They rode swift and steady, veering left at the towering silhouette of the Divine Tower of Caelid. Leaping cleanly over a yawning chasm, they pressed on along the cliffs, the distant roars of slumbering lesser dragons rumbling like distant thunder near the shallow pond below.

Rather than follow the path toward Greyoll’s Roost and Fort Faroth, Tarnished pulled Torrent left again, hugging the cliffside. Before long, a narrow path emerged, winding up through jagged stone and choking vines.

Ahead, a lesser dragon crouched low, its massive head sweeping slowly over the ground as it searched for prey. Its wings hung useless at its sides, too heavy, too cumbersome for proper flight.

Melina leaned forward slightly, her voice low. “Is… that the dragon thou spoke of?”

Tarnished barked out a short, dismissive laugh. “That oversized lizard? Nah. That’s not the one. That’s just some miserable overgrown iguana that can barely keep its own weight up. I don’t respect it for shit.”

As if understanding the insult, the dragon’s head snapped toward them, its yellowed eyes narrowing as a deep, guttural growl echoed through the ravine.

Tarnished grinned wide, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Actually… you know what? I think I’m gonna punt this overgrown lizard right off this cliff.”

Melina arched a skeptical brow. “Prithee… how dost thou intend to accomplish such a thing?”

With a grin so wide it was almost feral, Tarnished dismounted Torrent and reached into his inventory. In a flicker of light, his massive Greatsword materialized in his hands.

He threw a glance back over his shoulder, teeth bared in a half-crazed grin. “Just sit back and prep one of those Flame Spears of yours. This’ll be over quick.”

Melina crossed her arms and leaned slightly against Torrent, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite herself. “Very well, then. Show me thy madness, Tarnished…”

Tarnished planted his feet firmly near the cliff’s jagged edge, his Greatsword held low and to the side like a batter stepping up to the plate. Muscles tensed, eyes gleaming with that reckless, maddened grin he wore far too often in situations like this.

Ahead, the lesser dragon let out a guttural, feral roar and charged full tilt, maw snapping wildly at the air, its cracked claws scrabbling against stone as it barreled toward him.

Tarnished didn’t move. Not an inch.

The beast closed in fast, its breath foul with rot and decay. But still, he stood there, motionless, his arms locked, waiting.

Just as the dragon’s slavering jaws lunged toward him, that’s when he moved.

With a mighty roar of his own, Tarnished swung the Greatsword in a brutal, sweeping arc, the sheer force behind it enough to create a shockwave as the flat of the blade crashed against the side of the dragon’s skull like a titanic sledgehammer.

CRACK.

The beast’s eyes rolled wildly as its head snapped sideways, momentum carrying its entire bulk off-balance. Before it could recover, its massive body hurtled straight off the cliff, claws flailing uselessly at the open air.

Tarnished threw his head back in uproarious laughter, nearly doubling over, slapping his knee with a gauntleted hand. “HA! Look at you! Can’t even fly straight, you overgrown, useless lizard!”

The lesser dragon thrashed its wings desperately, trying to claw its way back up toward the ledge, wings trembling under its own bloated weight.

Melina, standing gracefully nearby with one hand raised, conjured a glowing Flame Spear with little more than a flick of her fingers. Her single eye sparkled with faint amusement as she let the fiery weapon loose.

The spear arced through the air in a perfect, blazing line, piercing one of the beast’s wings clean through.

With a pained screech, the dragon spiraled out of control, vanishing into the abyss below.

[Runes Acquired: 6,000]

Tarnished nearly collapsed from laughter, gasping for air between wild fits of mirth. 

“Oh that’s rich! Absolutely pathetic!” he managed between gasps, pointing over the cliff’s edge like he couldn’t quite believe how easy it had been.

“My, my…” Marika’s voice echoed through his mind, light and teasing. “Art thou always so fond of bullying children, or dost thou simply delight in the suffering of the weak?”

Tarnished wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning like a fool. “If they make it this easy, who am I to say no?”

Melina simply stood nearby, a small, rare smile playing at her lips as she watched him laugh himself breathless. Her arms crossed loosely over her chest, and for just a moment, her weary composure softened.

At last, Tarnished took a deep breath and gathered himself, his wide grin still firmly in place. “Alright,” he muttered, hopping back onto Torrent’s saddle. “Let’s keep going, our actual prey is still waiting.”

Melina climbed up behind him, her hands resting lightly at his waist once more, and together they continued along the winding path.

The road twisted upward, the air thickening as they climbed toward a plateau. At the summit stood a massive, withering Minor Erdtree, its branches darkened and slick with rot. The golden light that should have shone from it was corrupted, a sickly amber glow leaking between twisted roots.

Scattered across the clearing were the broken remains of massive jars—cracked, shattered pottery, some still faintly glowing with residual magic, as if their occupants had only recently met their end.

And there, standing sentinel beneath the decayed tree, loomed a foul construct.

Its massive body was cracked and oozing with congealed scarlet rot, the golden designs etched into its bark-like flesh corroded and blackened. Foul mist rose from its form, and chunks of decayed wood had rotted away entirely to reveal gaping wounds filled with festering rotblossoms.

The Putrid Avatar’s malformed staff, once a holy symbol of the Nerdtree, had split apart at the top, leaking a viscous, glowing rot that hissed and steamed as it dripped onto the ground.

It stood motionless for now, but its head twitched unnaturally toward them the moment they crossed the threshold into the clearing.

In reality, what stood before them was an Erdtree Avatar, though a corrupted version of the previously divine construct.

Erdtree Avatars are colossal, living effigies of the Erdtree, crafted from ancient wood and animated by divine grace. Originally guardians of Minor Erdtrees, they served as holy protectors, dispensing blessings and punishing those who threatened the Golden Order’s sanctity.

Now, much like the one that they are facing, some stand corrupted, twisted by rot and decay, mocking the purity they once embodied, their hollow forms leaking foul grace and their staves cracked and defiled by the very sickness they were meant to repel.

Tarnished leaned back slightly, flashing Melina a grin over his shoulder. “Well, well, well… Looks like the welcoming committee’s here.”

Melina nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the grotesque thing ahead. “Indeed. And I suspect… this one will not fall quite so easily.”

Tarnished chuckled under his breath, cracking his knuckles before gripping the hilt of his Greatsword. “Wouldn’t be so sure this’ll take long. Looks intimidating, sure. But much like that sad excuse for a dragon, this thing’s a pushover.”

Melina raised a single, perfectly skeptical brow. “And what makes thee so certain?”

Grinning wide, Tarnished gestured toward the looming abomination. “Simple. Might be the avatar of this Minor Erdtree, but in the end… it’s still made of wood. Doesn’t matter how magical it is, we’re not exactly running low on fire over here, are we?”

Melina blinked once. Then again, slower this time as the realization hit. She specialized in flame incantations. He wielded dragonfire. And with Golden Vow and Flame, Grant Me Strength?

“Oh…” She muttered quietly, her eye widening slightly.

Tarnished barked out a triumphant laugh. “Yup!”

“At the very least.” Marika mused from above, reclining lazily on her cloud of light. “It is but a corrupted avatar thou art about to burn to ash. We would have needed to weed it out eventually… Might as well enjoy the process.”

Tarnished shot a feral grin toward her ethereal form, all teeth and dangerous amusement. Marika simply shook her head with a rare, indulgent smile despite herself.

Without another word, Melina raised her hand.

“Golden Vow.” A radiant aura bathed them both, warm and holy.

[Attack +15%, Defense +10%]

Together, they clasped their hands, calling forth the flames from deep within.

“Flame, Grant Me Strength!”

The searing red-gold energy swept through their bodies, their eyes momentarily glowing with raw, incendiary power.

[Physical Attack +20%, Fire Attack +20%]

Tarnished held his Greatsword out toward Melina, the blade already radiating dangerous heat. She moved her hands gracefully along its length, weaving flames into its very steel until it blazed like a weapon forged in the heart of a dying star.

He smirked. “One of these days, you’re gonna have to teach me how to do that.”

Melina allowed herself a faint smile, her voice calm even in the rising tension. “Should we find some downtime after this madness… I would be happy to.”

Tarnished nodded once before pivoting sharply and breaking into a dead sprint, charging straight at the Putrid Avatar. His flaming blade trailed embers in the air like a comet.

The Avatar rumbled to life, its staff slamming down with sickening force, but too slow. Tarnished rolled past the massive blow, closing the gap in an instant.

With a savage roar, he slammed his burning Greatsword into the creature’s side. Fire roared across its rotted bark-flesh as a massive chunk of its health bar disappeared.

“HAH! How’s that feel, tree stump?”

Before the Avatar could recover from its sluggish attack, he swung again, cleaving deep into the same scorched gash and stripping away another chunk of its corrupted form.

The Avatar howled in a mechanical, grinding growl and tried to crush him with its malformed staff. But he was already rolling clear, the weapon crashing uselessly against the dirt.

From the high ground of a nearby boulder, Melina raised her palm.

A blazing spear materialized in her hand before shooting through the air, slamming directly into the Avatar’s side. Flames erupted from the impact, causing the corrupted guardian to stagger, turning toward her in pained confusion.

Tarnished laughed wildly, circling back behind it. “Hey! Over here, lumber pile! Where do you think you’re lookin’?”

With a running leap, he sprinted up the length of the Avatar’s staff as it struggled to lift it, slamming the polearm back into the dirt with his full weight. Using that momentum, he vaulted into the air and brought his Greatsword crashing down into the burning wound Melina had opened.

The blade tore through rotted wood and corrupted flesh, ripping free a massive chunk as flames consumed the Avatar from within.

The monstrosity howled in agony, swiping wildly at him to force distance. Tarnished landed smoothly, backflipping away from its thrashing limbs.

The instant he was clear, Melina released another incantation. A fireball streaked through the air and exploded directly against the Avatar’s warped, half-melted face, sending chunks of flaming rot scattering into the blackened earth.

Tarnished barely had time to relish the satisfying crunch of his strike before the Putrid Avatar lashed out again, its malformed staff ripping free of the ground with a groaning screech. The towering abomination swung it in a wide arc, but Tarnished ducked low and rolled beneath the swing, his flaming Greatsword flashing upward as he rose, another brutal slash carving deep into the Avatar’s side.

Chunks of blackened bark and congealed rot rained down like sick, fetid snow. Its health bar plummeted further, settling just above the halfway mark.

“You’re slowing down, tree stump!” Tarnished barked out a laugh, stepping back just as Melina hurled another Flame Spear. The blazing projectile slammed into the Avatar’s twisted knee, detonating in a burst of golden fire that splintered the joint and caused the massive creature to sag with a guttural, grinding groan.

The beast turned its cracked helm toward Melina again, but Tarnished didn’t give it the chance to act. With a battle cry, he charged. He leapt forward, planting his foot on the Avatar’s lower limb and driving his weapon deep into the smoldering cavity left by Melina’s last strike.

The Avatar howled, a sound like stone tearing against stone, as its corrupted body flared brighter with the consuming fire.

But the Avatar was not yet finished.

It lifted its staff high into the air with a slow, almost ceremonial motion, the rotting ground beneath its feet glowing faintly with sickly yellow light. Tarnished’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, I don’t like that…”

With a thunderous slam, the Avatar drove its staff into the earth, sending a shockwave rippling out through the clearing.

From every crack and fissure in the broken earth, a foul, glowing rot erupted in boiling, bubbling pools. Thick, yellow pus hissed up through the ground, spreading rapidly in a wide radius.

“Shit! Melina, back!” Tarnished shouted, already leaping away from the creeping tide of rot.

Melina had seen the danger the instant the staff rose; she was already in motion, leaping gracefully from her vantage point as a pool of rot hissed and seethed where she had just stood.

[Putrid Avatar Health: 20%]

For a brief moment, the entire clearing reeked of festering decay, the air thick with toxic mist. Tarnished skidded to a stop near the edge of the spreading filth, his boots kicking up dust as he caught his breath.

“Ah… there it is…” He muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “Knew you had something disgusting left in you.”

“Do not rush back in, fool.” Marika warned sharply in his mind. “Let the rot settle… or thou shalt drown in it.”

Melina landed gracefully beside him, eye narrowed and voice low. “The beast weakens. We need but endure this final madness…”

Tarnished cracked his neck, flashing her a grin. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Just letting it simmer before we burn it properly.”

The Putrid Avatar stood amidst the roiling pools of filth, its fractured body trembling, steam rising from the rot leaking from every wound. Its time was nearly up.

And Tarnished was already planning exactly how to finish this in spectacular fashion.

The last of his empowered strength faded, the blazing red aura dimming around his fist. With a low grunt, Tarnished slammed his hand to his chest.

“Flame, Grant Me Strength!”

The power surged through him again, veins thrumming with molten heat as fire roared to life beneath his skin. But he didn’t stop there, he threw every last drop of his mana into the Draconic Heart, his throat burning like molten iron as his body prepared for the final, devastating strike.

He watched his mana bar drain completely. Zero. Nothing left.

‘Time to end this.’

Tarnished sprinted straight into the roiling mire of rot and puss, the burning agony in his throat barely registering against the adrenaline flooding his senses.

“Tarnished, wait!” Melina called from behind, her voice tight with worry. “The rot, it hast not faded yet!”

But he was already moving too fast, already committed.

The Putrid Avatar sluggishly raised its mangled staff in a desperate attempt to swat him down. Too slow. Tarnished leapt onto the haft and charged along its length like a ramp, boots striking sparks as he closed the distance.

With a snarl, he launched himself from the staff, landing point-blank before the rotting beast’s face.

Then he opened his jaws wide, and the world erupted in fire.

A torrent of ancient, searing dragonflame blasted forth, point-blank and unrelenting. The corrupted Avatar’s body burned with horrifying speed, the rot and puss igniting like oil-soaked tinder. Its health bar melted away before his eyes, and in mere heartbeats, all that remained was ash and embers swirling in the toxic air.

[GREAT ENEMY FELLED]

[Runes Acquired: 91,000]
[Item Acquired: Opaline Hardtear]
[Item Acquired: Stonebarb Cracked Tear]

Tarnished staggered back, shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths. He reached for his flask, downing half of the cerulean liquid in long, burning gulps. His mind turned immediately to the next fight.

“How much will it take to cheese that dragon…?” He muttered, eyes narrowing. “Think I’m fine, shouldn’t take much if my little plan works…”

Melina approached carefully, her face still filled with concern. “Art thou well?” she asked gently.

He shot her a lopsided grin, wiping sweat from his brow. “M’fine. That thing was a chump.”

Without further ceremony, he whistled for Torrent, climbing onto the spectral steed and motioning for Melina to join him. She hesitated just a moment longer before nodding and settling in behind him, arms wrapping gently around his waist.

They rode uphill for several quiet minutes, the golden light of the Erdtree dimmed against the sickened sky.

“And will thou share this grand scheme of thine now?” Marika’s voice hummed with dry amusement from above.

Tarnished smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll see.”

As they crested the hill, a massive stone bridge stretched out before them, its crumbling arches silhouetted against the storm-dark horizon.

Marika’s voice turned contemplative. “Ah… I know this place. The bridge to the Bestial Sanctum…” A long, weary sigh followed. “Of course. This must be his safe haven after my imprisonment. It all makes sense…”

Tarnished swung down from Torrent beside the bridge, dusting off his gauntlets.

Melina blinked, confused. “Why stop here?” Her words trailed off as she spotted the towering figure on the far side of the bridge. It was a massive, fully grown, non-rotted dragon, standing vigil like a living monument of ancient might.

Her gaze snapped back to Tarnished as he crushed a teardrop scarab underfoot.

[New Incantation Learned: Bestial Constitution]

Melina’s voice was hesitant, worried. “Is… is that the dragon?”

Tarnished just nodded, smirk widening. “Yup.”

“…And what pray tell, is thy plan?” she pressed, stepping closer with concern etched into her expression.

“Come here,” he said, motioning her to sit. She complied hesitantly, settling beside him on the dusty stone.

With a practiced flick, Tarnished summoned twelve cracked pots from his inventory, arranging them carefully on the ground. He pulled out his remaining Trina’s Lilies, counting them off and tucking all but five back into his satchel. Mushrooms followed, gathered from the merchant earlier.

Melina watched in fascination as he combined them with practiced hands, sealing the pots and shaking them vigorously. Faint, hauntingly sweet mist began to leak from the seams.

Marika drifted closer, curiosity lighting her golden gaze.

Melina furrowed her brow. “What… are you doing?”

Tarnished flashed her his most mischievous grin yet. “Ah, my dear maiden… I don’t blame you for not knowing this little trick, but when you mix Trina’s Lilies with a few choice ingredients…”

He held up one of the now-smoking pots, the sweet, cloying scent drifting up into the air.

[New Crafting Recipe Unlocked: Sleep Pot]

“…You get something very interesting indeed.”

He giggled with satisfaction, rolling one of the pots between his hands like a cherished treasure.

Then he turned his smirk toward Melina, eyes gleaming with dangerous delight. “This is the plan. We’re going to force-feed that dragon a lovely bedtime snack… and once it’s deep in its little dreamland…” 

He gestured with his thumb across his throat, his smile never fading. “We make sure it doesn’t wake up.”

Melina blinked, stunned by the sheer audacity of it.

Marika chuckled darkly above them. “My Champion, thy plans grow more devious and underhanded by the day. I almost admire the villainy of it.”

Tarnished threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, just wait till you see the execution!”

Author’s Note:

Icl, I didn't count how many cracked pots he gathered, so let's pretend it was 12, k?

…

Next Chapter Title: How Strong is a Dragon’s Maw?

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW 

Glory to my Proofreaders: Bakenekon and Solare. For they are the ones who point out mistakes and act as my favourite walls to bounce ideas off of.

Melina took a few careful steps back, arms crossed, her cloak billowing faintly in the dusty wind as she watched Tarnished roll his shoulders and stretch his arms like he was preparing for a casual stroll rather than a confrontation with a fully grown dragon.

“Art thou truly… certain about this?” she called out, her voice a rare blend of concern and sharp incredulity. “This plan of thine sounds dangerously like a death wish. And if memory serves, dragons tend to devour fools whole.”

Tarnished twisted his torso with a satisfying pop, glanced back over his shoulder, and flashed his signature reckless grin. “Hm? Oh, yeah, totally fine! What’s the worst that can happen?” He held his arms wide, stepping back dramatically as if awaiting applause. “I’m immortal, remember? If I die, I just pop right back up. Thanks to Marika’s Grace!”

High above on her swirling cloud of golden light, Marika raised a spectral glass of deep crimson wine in a perfectly timed mock toast, her lips curling into an insufferably smug smile. “Do remember to say ‘thank thee,’ mine Champion~.”

Tarnished gave her a quick two-finger salute in response before turning back toward the bridge. But Melina wasn’t so easily convinced. Her brow creased, worry softening her usual composure.

“And… what of the toll such things might take on thee?” she asked quietly. “Death may be but a temporary inconvenience, but canst thou truly say it leaves thee… unchanged? Are the long shadows of such things something thou wish to carry?”

Tarnished paused at that, his grin faltering just a hair. He blinked down at his gauntleted hands, turning them over slowly, almost like he was checking to see if they were still entirely his own. His fingers curled into tight fists.

‘Hadn’t really… thought about it like that.’

“Marika?” he asked aloud, head tilted.

She took a long, leisurely sip of her wine before offering a casual shrug. “The body suffers not. Thy flesh remains whole each time. But thy mind?” 

She leaned forward on her elbow, golden eyes glinting. “Any… Scars left behind will be thine to bear. Should thy will falter… then perhaps the echoes of death may linger. But with a mind as stubborn as thine?” She smirked knowingly. “I think thou hast little to fear.”

Tarnished let out a low breath, then nodded as if that settled the matter completely. 

Physical consequences? None. 

Mental consequences? 

A problem for his future self to deal with. 

And that’s good enough for him.

He turned back toward the slumbering dragon, his smirk curling wide again.

For just a moment, his eyes lingered on his clenched fists before relaxing, arms falling to his sides. He turned back toward Melina and flexed his bicep with exaggerated bravado, shooting her a grin that was entirely too pleased with itself.

“Don’t worry about me!” he called, his voice filled with that familiar, maddening confidence. “I’ll be fine! As long as I’ve got you two lovely ladies watching my back, what could possibly go wrong?”

Melina let out a long, exhausted sigh, her shoulders visibly sagging under the weight of his ridiculous optimism. “That…” she muttered under her breath, “…is precisely what worries me.”

And with that, she could only stand there, one hand pressed to her forehead in weary resignation, as Tarnished, completely unbothered by the very real threat of being reduced to charred scraps, marched toward the dragon in broad daylight, not even pretending to hide his approach.

“By the Erdtree…” Melina murmured to herself, watching him go headfirst into a dragon’s jaws recklessly. “One day… this madness will be the end of thee.”

As Tarnished walked away from her, Melina raised her hand and murmured the incantation under her breath. A radiant gold light surged from her palm, coiling around his form like a ward from the gods themselves.

“Golden Vow.”

[Attack +15%, Defense +10%]

Just before the golden warmth could fade, Tarnished replied in kind, his voice carrying down the wind.

“Flame, Grant Me Strength!”

[Physical Attack +20%, Fire Attack +20%]

The red aura returned to his limbs in a wave of roaring heat, cloaking his frame in raw, aggressive power.

Across the bridge, the dragon stirred.

Its massive body shifted, wings unfurling slightly as it rose from its long rest. The ground trembled with every motion. With deliberate grace, the beast stood tall, far taller than any lesser kin, and locked its burning, golden eyes on Tarnished.

It didn’t roar immediately. Instead, it growled, the sound low, rumbling, almost personal. 

Tarnished blinked. “…That’s new.”

“Mm.” Marika’s cloud drifted closer beside him, her golden gaze narrowed in thought. “From what I recall, such a reaction is… rare. That intensity? That posture? It’s not looking at thee as prey.” 

She floated a little nearer, inspecting the dragon’s stance. “It may be displaying behavior typical of territorial aggression. In short…” She tilted her head, smirking faintly. “It sees thee as a rival.”

Tarnished slowly turned his head left and right, as if half-expecting another dragon to be flanking him. “Huh?”

A second later, the dragon, Greyll, roared as its boss health bar appeared before him, slamming its claws against the bridge with enough force to rattle the entire span. Chunks of aged stone cracked beneath him.

Marika rolled her eyes. “Thou art the Progenitor of the Dracúl Aeternum. A new, rival draconic bloodline walking upright and breathing the flame of ancient beasts. Who else would it be angry at?”

Tarnished stared, stunned. “Wait… I’m the reason he’s pissed?”

Marika’s smirk widened. “Congratulations, mine Champion. You are the unwanted heir to a hostile dynasty.  I mean, for my sake, you, and presumably the rest of your future kind, quite literally become stronger by devouring Dragons. Thou art basically a Dragon’s natural predator at this point…”

Tarnished, instead of being shaken, broke into a wide, gleeful grin. “Is that right…?”

He summoned his Greatsword with a burst of silvery light, slinging it over his shoulder with a one-handed grip. With his free hand, he extended a finger toward Greyll and beckoned him forward with a cocky flourish.

“Come at me then, big guy. I’ll turn your hide into my next pair of pants.”

“You could not if you tried,” Marika said flatly, sipping spectral wine from her conjured goblet, “but I do admire the confidence.”

He grinned. “It’s what I do best.”

“What, lying?”

He barked out a laugh. “Doing the fucking impossible!”

With that, Greyll lunged.

The dragon’s claw slammed down, but Tarnished twisted and brought his Greatsword up in a two-handed swing, deflecting the blow just enough to throw the claw wide and avoid getting flattened.

Greyll snarled, lunging to bite. Tarnished backstepped cleanly, his boots skidding across the stone, and immediately countered with a rising arc of his blade that smashed across the dragon’s jaw.

Steel clanged. Flame flared. The two titans clashed with a furious rhythm.

Tarnished ducked beneath a tail swipe, rolled through a plume of dragonfire, and answered with a searing slash to Greyll’s leg, ducking under its wings as they slammed downward like battering rams.

‘Shit, he’s strong as fuck! But…’

‘Marika…’ He said in his head, weaving through another bite. ‘I’m just checking, but the sleep pots? I can’t just throw them, right? He has to breathe them in?’

“I would presume so.” She said, now floating just above his head. “There’s no way they could seep through a dragon’s hide. It's thick enough to shrug off lightning. If the fumes don’t enter through his nostrils or lungs, they’ll do nothing. And good luck getting him to sit still for that.”

“Got it…” Tarnished muttered aloud, dodging another crushing slam by the width of a blade. “No pressure…”

Then, an idea sparked in his mind just as the dragon went for another swipe.

He rolled out of reach, cracked his neck loudly, and stood tall with a wicked grin.

“I got it.”

Marika’s expression froze as she looked down to him with an arched brow. “Coming from thee, that sentence is either the herald of brilliance… Or the prelude to unmitigated disaster.” She floated lower, bracing her chin on her hand. “Do go on. Surprise me.”

Tarnished licked his lips, firelight dancing in his draconic eyes as Greyll prepared for another charge.

“Oh, I plan to.”

Tarnished planted his Greatsword into the ground beside him with one hand and waved the other at Greyll in open provocation, his shit-eating grin practically glowing with anticipation.

“Come on then, lizard breath…” He muttered. “Let’s dance.”

From above, Marika floated slowly closer, her arms folded as she stared down at him with growing confusion. “Uhh… my foolish Champion, he’s charging right at thee?”

“Uh-huh,” Tarnished said casually, never moving from his spot.

“And thou art not planning to dodge?”

“Nope.”

She blinked. “…This is going to be good.”

He dismissed his Greatsword with a flick, freeing his hands. Fire surged across his form again as he cast Flame, Grant Me Strength a second time, his limbs pulsing with draconic might. 

He then reached into his soul towards the gift, or more accurately the blessing, he received from Fia. With a flick of his will, and poured some Mana into the Baldachin’s Blessing. The effect was instantaneous as a flood of power rushed through him, reinforcing his body.

[Physical Attack +20%, Fire Attack +20%]
[Physical Damage Negation +35%, Poise + 34%]

Greyll barreled toward him, maw wide open, golden flame building deep in its throat.

At the last possible moment, Tarnished roared and lunged forward, planting both feet on the stone bridge and throwing his arms upward, catching the top of the dragon’s mouth and shoving his feet against its lower jaw to hold it open.

His entire body trembled violently under the dragon’s crushing force.

“NGH-!”

“Art thou insane?!” Marika shouted, eyes wide in horror. “The bite of an adult dragon can shatter a fire giant’s spine! What in the Erdtree’s name do you think it’ll do to thee?!”

Tarnished groaned as his limbs shook, the pressure nearly enough to snap his bones like twigs. Melina shouted his name from the other end of the bridge and started running toward him.

“Stay back!” he snarled through clenched teeth. “I’ve got this!”

Melina and Marika both froze, stunned into silence.

He growled deep in his chest. “Dragon Claw!”

Golden flame flared from his arms as they warped and twisted into scaled, draconic limbs. Strength rushed through him, ancient and primal. He roared into Greyll’s face, fangs bared, as he began forcing the dragon’s maw wider, inch by agonizing inch.

Greyll growled, trying harder to clamp down, but Tarnished could feel it now, his heart thundering like a storm, his blood boiling with raw power. Crimson sparks of draconic lightning danced up his arms.

Something else stirred inside him. Something new.

His whole body surged with burning adrenaline as he shouted with wild laughter as he opened the dragon’s maw wide. But just before this new sensation could blossom into something complete, his eyes caught the flash of flames sparking within the dragon’s innards.

His grin froze. “Oh no…”

Crimson fire surged forward.

Thinking fast, he summoned his Greatsword in a flash of light and rammed it down between the dragon’s jaws, using it like a wedge to keep the mouth pried open. In the same motion, he grabbed the blade with one hand and used it as a pivot to swing himself up and over the top of Greyll’s head.

The dragonfire exploded beneath him. He could feel the searing heat scorching the edge of his black and white hair.

“SHIT!”

He barely scrambled forward in time, reaching into his pouch and yanking out all five of the sleep pots he had prepared. With one last burst of strength, he hurled them all down into the dragon’s flaming throat, watching the pots vanish into the inferno of Greyll’s gullet.

The Greatsword glowed red-hot from the fire, but it held long enough for him to grab it and throw it back into his inventory with a relieved gasp.

The dragon snapped its jaws shut, breath cut short by its own power, and Tarnished leapt down, wrapping his arms around the beast’s horned skull and clinging on for dear life.

“GO TO SLEEP! GO TO SLEEP! GO TO SLEEP-!” He chanted under his breath like a man possessed.

Greyll roared in panic, flapping his wings violently and lifting off the bridge in a fury. Tarnished held tight, dragged through the air as the dragon thrashed and kicked. His limbs ached, lungs burning, but he refused to let go.

The sky wheeled around him in a dizzying blur, until suddenly, Greyll faltered. The mighty beast’s movements grew sluggish, its wings stiff. A guttural growl escaped its throat, and then…

The dragon plummeted.

Tarnished tumbled free mid-air and hit the ground hard near the base of the bridge with a crunch and a groan.

[Item Acquired: Somber Smithing Stone (9)]

“…Huh,” he breathed, face down in the grass. “Where the hell did that come from…?”

“That… that was perhaps the single stupidest thing I’ve ever witnessed in all my immortal years,” Marika said from above, still hovering on her golden cloud. “And I’ve lived for countless centuries, so that says something.”

Tarnished gave a raspy chuckle. “Impressed?”

Marika held her stomach and burst out into hysterical laughter. “Absolutely!”

Melina ran up moments later, panting, her eye wide with exasperation and relief. “You… absolute moron!”

Tarnished rolled over onto his back, grinning like a lunatic. “You’re preaching to the choir, Melina. Marika already called me that.”

Melina huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Then mayhaps you need to hear it twice. You’re a fucking idiot.”

“HAH!”

Despite herself, she smiled, annoyed and amused all at once. She crouched beside him, brushing ash from his armor.

“…What now?” she asked, warily eyeing the dragon’s sleeping form nearby.

He lazily raised a hand and pointed. “Now? We figure out how to kill this bastard.”

Melina blinked. “…You didn’t think of a way to kill him?”

He shrugged with zero shame. “Didn’t think that far ahead.”

She stared at him for a long moment with a deadpan glare. “Typical.”

Marika giggled from above. “I do wonder if thou even think at all, sometimes…”

Tarnished lay there, laughing breathlessly. “Thinking is your job! I just bring results.”

…

5 Minutes Later…

A thunderous roar burst from Tarnished’s lungs as he raised his Greatsword overhead and brought it crashing down with everything he had.

Steel met scaled flesh. There was a sickening crunch, and a gout of blood erupted into the sky as Greyll’s head was severed clean from his shoulders, crashing down beside his slumbering body with a heavy thud.

For a moment, the only sound was their breathing.

Tarnished dropped to one knee, bracing himself on the hilt of his sword. Melina stood beside him, equally breathless, a fine sheen of sweat clinging to her skin despite the cold winds of Dragonbarrow.

They watched in silence as the dragon’s body shimmered, the golden light of death overtaking it. Slowly, gracefully, Greyll’s body dissolved into pale dust, fragments scattering into the wind like forgotten history.

[GREAT ENEMY FELLED]
[Runes Acquired: 87,000]
[Item Acquired: Greyll’s Heart]

Tarnished let out a long, wheezing laugh, dragging open his inventory and pulling out the glowing, still-beating Greyll’s Heart, a massive, leathery organ radiating crimson heat and ancient power.

He stared at it for a heartbeat, then grinned wildly.

“Down the hatch!”

Without hesitation, he bit into it, tearing into the sinew and meat with the ease of a starving beast. The flavor was familiar, it was ancient, metallic, bitter, like charred blood and iron left to ferment in time. His eyes flashed bright as the power hit him like a tidal wave.

[Stat Boost: All Stats (except INT) +4]

He grinned wider, letting the last of the heart dissolve in his grip before pulling up his stat screen.

[STATS PAGE – Level 34 | Radagon’s Soreseal Equipped]
Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Race: Progenitor of the Dracúl Aeternum
Talisman: Radagon’s Soreseal
Burden: Medium
Spells: Flame, Grant Me Strength
Level: 34

Vigor: 46 "Oh? Look at thee, finally built like someone who doesn’t explode on impact. A true walking fortress, or a very well-dressed boulder."
Mind: 29 "Impressive. Thou might even cast two whole spells without crying for mana. A miracle worthy of documentation."
Endurance: 44 "At last! Stamina worth more than a common mule. Perhaps now thou shalt stop wheezing like a nobleman after mild exertion."
Strength: 41 "So brutish now. Doth thou intend to lift entire buildings next? Or just punch the world into compliance?"
Dexterity: 44 "Elegant and deadly. Yet somehow, I suspect thou still manages to get stuck on furniture. Consistency is thy true stat."
Intelligence: 9 "...Still tragically untouched. A number so low, it echoes when one knocks on thy skull."
Faith: 36 "Thy growing piety is almost respectable. Almost. Try not to set thyself alight by accident."
Arcane: 26 "Curious, aren’t we? Just be sure thou doth not pry too deep. Some secrets do bite back."

Tarnished tilted his head slightly, still staring at the display. “Huh… That’s the same amount I got from Ekzykes. But he felt stronger, way stronger.”

Marika, now lounging more languidly than ever on her gilded cloud, tapped a glowing nail against her temple. “Likely because much of Ekzykes’ essence was consumed by the Rot long before thy battle.” 

She sat upright, her tone growing thoughtful. “Even the heart of a dragon, immortal though it may be, has limits. Prolonged corruption eats away at their inner fire. Thou consumed what little remained.”

Tarnished rubbed his chin. “Makes sense… And Greyoll?”

“Ah, Greyoll…” Marika mused, crossing one leg over the other. “She, too, was fading. Far, far more than Ekzykes had. The rot had eaten away at the Godbeast’s very core. Had she been at full strength, I daresay thou wouldst have received far more.”

He sighed, finally rising to his feet and stretching his arms with a groan. “Shit, I’ll still take it. No complaints here.”

Melina crossed her arms gently, watching him with a mixture of awe and concern. “Was that… truly worth the risk?” she asked softly. “Charging into the maw of a dragon…?”

Tarnished looked at her, grin still wide despite the bags under his eyes. “You tell me.”

She looked like she wanted to scold him again, but instead, she just shook her head and let out a breathy, exasperated laugh. “I suppose… You are still alive.”

Marika chuckled darkly. “By some miracle, or madness.”

Tarnished and Melina walked side by side beneath the towering shadow of the cliffs, the sky above darkening into a bruised violet. The winds of Dragonbarrow carried the scent of blood and old rot, but the road ahead had never been clearer. Behind them, Greyll’s ashes scattered in silence.

They passed a twisted tree near the trail, its roots gnarled around a small glowing object nestled within the rot-cracked earth.

Tarnished reached down and pulled it free.

[Item Acquired: Golden Seed]

Further along the path, near a crumbling watch post, they found a faint shimmer rising from the ground—one of Marika’s scattered flames. Tarnished brushed his hand across it, and the Site of Grace flared to life beneath their feet.

[Lost Grace Found]

He sat briefly, taking in the warmth and letting it cleanse the lingering ache in his muscles. Then he stood, and they kept moving.

Along the broken stone trail, malformed figures watched them from the cliffside shadows, the Beastial Vulgar Militia. Gnarled weapons in their hands, faces twitching with animalistic suspicion. But none of them moved.

Melina noticed too. “They are… hesitant. As if watching a predator pass by their den.”

“Or maybe,” Tarnished muttered, “they saw what happened to Greyll and decided they’d rather not be turned into soup.”

The militia vanished into the haze, giving them a wide berth.

And then the Sanctum came into view.

The tower loomed black and unyielding, carved from obsidian stone veined with silver. Its doors were sealed tight—guarded by a hulking, unmoving sentinel clad in onyx armor. The Black Blade Kindred. Its twin blades shimmered with dull obsidian light, and it stared directly at them with hollow eyes of death.

Tarnished sighed, already pulling out his Greatsword. “Welp. Guess we’re doing this.”

Melina mirrored him, her hand already glowing with flame.

But Marika’s voice stopped them cold.

“There’s no need for that.”

Tarnished paused mid-draw, blinking. “What?”

“However long it hath been, the Black Blade Kindred are the sworn soldiers of my Shadow. They shall obey me, and mine commands.”

Tarnished turned toward the golden specter floating beside him. “Yeah, okay. Problem: I’m not you.”

She gave him a long-suffering sigh. “No, but thou art my Champion, art thou not?”

Without waiting for his answer, she raised her hand. Golden light gathered in her palm, weaving through the air like silk. A glowing rune began to form, an archaic symbol of loyalty and bondage: two crescent moons bound by a vertical spear of light, coiled by a ring of thorns.

“This,” she said, “is the Sigil of the Shadowbound Oath. Visualise the wellspring of Faith within thee and latch on to it. With it in thy hand, etch this symbol into the air with thy hand. And repeat after me.”

Tarnished squinted. “This is gonna be embarrassing if it doesn’t work.”

“Just do it.”

He exhaled slowly, looking deep within himself to find that hidden power within. It responded to him eagerly, instinctively. Digging his will into the wellspring felt natural, as if it wanted to spill out. 

His hand drifted up, drawing his finger through the air. The first try fizzled. The second twisted. But on the third attempt, the symbol solidified, humming with warm, ancient power.

The Kindred raised its blades ever so slightly, as if sensing a shift.

Marika’s voice dropped to a regal whisper. “Repeat it now.”

Tarnished nodded, stepped forward, and shouted with all the force he could muster:

“By Queen Marika’s decree, the Shadowbound Oath endures. Let her Order be still within thee, Kindred of the Black Blade!”

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then, the Black Blade Kindred froze.

Its body went rigid, twin blades still poised for battle. Then, slowly, it dropped one knee to the ground, placing the blades before it like offerings. Its head bowed low.

A voice emerged from its throat, gravelly and resonant like a tombstone speaking through wind.

“…We have awaited her call for countless centuries. Has our Queen… truly returned? Has she come again for her Shadow?”

Tarnished, stunned but doing his best to recover, began walking forward. “Marika’s return is close. Her Grace rises again within the Lands Between, and I will see it restored.” 

The Kindred exhaled, the sound dry and heavy like dust. “Then… you must hurry. There is little time.”

It stood tall once more, then turned and reached for the massive gate behind it.

With a groan of ancient stone and rusted hinges, the Black Blade Kindred pushed the doors open, the light from within faint and pulsing with sickly grace.

“Do as you must, Chosen of the Queen. But know this, our master, Maliketh… is fading.”

Author’s Note:

Next chapter should be full of fun reveals. 

Also, sorry for being a day late, moved to the UK for uni and was technically homeless for a few days (That was fun). See y’all next week!

…

Next Chapter Title: The Queen’s Shadow.

Chapter Text

There is a discord for this fic. It has Live Updates about chapter progress and when they are completed, among other things. I’m also very active there and am likely to respond to any message sent there. Join at discord.gg/aWZ9qX9mAW 

Glory to my Proofreader: Solare. For he is one who points out mistakes and acts as my favourite wall to bounce ideas off of.

The Black Blade Kindred stepped aside, their massive, obsidian form bowing slightly to Tarnished and Melina. The motion was silent, ceremonial, and deliberate. It felt less like a gesture of submission, and more like one of old respect.

Tarnished nodded toward him in acknowledgment, casually tossing, “Appreciate it, big guy,” before turning his gaze to the large doors ahead.

He walked slowly, the silence inside the sanctum heavy as ancient stone. Melina walked close beside him, her steps light but alert.

Marika floated at their side atop her golden cloud of grace, unusually still.

Tarnished turned his head slightly toward her. “How you holding up?”

Marika groaned and rolled her eyes in a snap of frustration.

“I am about to stand before my sworn Shadow. My brother. Whom I all but left abandoned for millennia. And who, you informed me, is no longer in his right mind.” Her voice sharpened with every word, the golden light around her crackling ever so slightly. “How do you think I feel, you blithering fool?! I am feeling incredible!”

“...Sarcasm is unbecoming of you, my Goddess.”

“Oh, stop being a prick!”