Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Southward Bound
My hands graze over golden flames, and the mortal shackles that cement me unbind, if only for a moment.
It's a strange feeling, like being shocked. But this current violently swirls around my wounds, as if the skin itself is being twisted closed.
My bones shake, blood speeds up to such an extent that I can feel it like feeling water traveling through a hose all throughout my body. In the torrent of anatomical chaos, pain saps away, fatigue and sickness get lifted like a veil off my head.
It lasts for only a second, and I'm back to pristine condition once it's done. I'm still covered in fresh bandages I looted from the town's supplies, but now they're mroe for appearance than necessity.
I check my hands, grimacing a little.
Seems the golden light counts calluses as injuries; my hands are back to being baby smooth. It's always gonna hurt to wield a weapon; I guess I'll have to get used to the stinging feeling.
But my hands are stronger, if only a little. I can see small changes from how I've always looked since high school, small increases in the muscle on my arms, steeper contours on my hands.
I'm still a twig; pretty sure I'll be like this for a long time. I tried to gain muscle at the gym near my home before; I went every other day. No change, and I tried for months.
Yet only a couple weeks in this world, and I'm already seeing change.
Why is that I wonder?
My eyes wander from my hands, up to a massive gate looming overhead. It's shrouded in the night; I can't see anything past it. It looks like a gateway to death; an opening into the void.
Gives me a bad feeling, but I can't help but stare.
I really am in a different world.
It's never really set in; I still think I'm on Earth.
This is just too real, yet too strange to be true. This sight, this gate. It feels real, looks real, but I continue to get thrown off by it's existence. Above that gate, peeking out over the heights of the plateau, golden branches of the Erdtree light up the heavens. It looks like the branches of a tree, yet it's massive, the highest branches might even rise above the Stratosphere. Higher than jets fly, higher than Everest, higher than the weather balloons go; a golden lifeform that scratches space itself.
Surreal.
Impossible.
Fake…
Yet it's right there, no figment of my imagination.
…
Why am I in a video game?
I haven't thought about it, but… how do I even think about it?
Did From Software base their game off a real place?
If that was the case, how does dying get me here? This could be the afterlife. Maybe I was sent to hell. This could be a form of torture, a place I'll be forever stuck until the end of time.
With a sudden shiver, Melina's face flashes in my mind.
No.
If this was torture, I wouldn't have help.
I wouldn't have Melina.
I would be stuck alone, in a world that wants me dead. That all sounds like this place, but she is here. Kalé is more or less an acquaintance too, and neither of them seem like people that would be in hell in the first place.
I can't accept that this place is purgatory.
Yeah, it's not.
I'll convince myself it isn't.
So what is it?
I heard a famous author wrote Elden Ring's backstory; did he know this world existed? Is it coincidence? Did he create this place?
I don't know, and I'm getting the feeling I'll never know.
I stare up at the visible branches of the Erdtree, giving them a complicated expression.
I'm starting to realize it; there's more to my goal than going home.
I want answers. I need them.
I'm in a world that wants me dead, and there's more than enough kinds of ways to die here.
Poison entering me, sharpened metal entering me. Falling to my death, burning to death, starving to death. Decapitation, asphyxiation, evisceration. Bleed to death, rot from sickness, or simply fall to madness. Death could come for me at any moment, and it's all because I'm here, against my will.
I was sent here, for reasons that I don't know.
I'm stuck here, for reasons I don't like.
And, even though they're stuck in my head, I have memories of this place locked away, for reasons I don't understand.
I need answers, and when I become Elden Lord, I'll get them.
I will.
I let out a sigh, shivering a little from the cold. These clothes of mine are much too worn out, my shirt has enough holes that it looks like swiss cheese. Despite our efforts today, Melina and I couldn't find armor, or even clothes that fit me. The gloves I wear are too big as well, and I've even tightened them with fabric. I took them off, and they're currently drying by the fire after being washed in the well water; they were soaked crimson.
My hands may be without calluses, but I can still see blood on them. I don't think I'll ever see otherwise.
"Lance."
Melina, who was kneeling by the Site of Grace, rises to her feet, giving me that expressionless face she usually has.
I nod.
"Yeah, we should go." I turn to leave. "Kalé's probably wonder what's taking so long."
"Wait."
I stop, turning my head back.
"Yeah?"
"…"
Melina is furrowing her brow, looking away. It pains me that I never know what she's thinking; I can't read her thoughts. Her eyes never have a reading either; I see nothing but a solemn stare, like she's always looking up at the stars.
But it's obvious she's hesitating, and after a moment, like a cord breaking, the stress leaves her body.
"No. Pay me no heed." She says. "It is not important."
I want to blurt out that she should say it. I really want to.
But I don't press it.
She does so much for me; I'm fine if she keeps a secret or two. Mine are all laid bare to her, so I feel cheated. But there's no helping it since I don't have a choice in the matter. If she doesn't want to say something, that's her choice. Just because I don't get the choice, doesn't mean I'll demand her to stoop to my level. Though, I really want her to-
"What's up?"
…well, there goes my conviction. I ended up blurting it out after all.
Melina shakes her head.
"Do not trouble yourself."
She walks past me, reducing to a speck once she leaves the light of the Site of Grace.
It will not be an issue.
Doesn't look like she intends to stop; I follow her.
Felt a twinge of pain that I was turned down, but that's nothing new for me. The day something goes my way, exactly as I want it, will be the day the world ends. 'When pigs fly" as the saying goes. So, the sting doesn't last long, and I'm moving past the exchange.
Still, I wonder what's being unsaid.
Well? I think, switching to internal dialogue. What do you think of Kalé?
She takes a moment to answer; we move down the darkness of the town's main street.
I think that we can trust him. He has his own motives, of course, but he can be beneficial to us.
We move toward a spot near the southern end of town, where the small light of a campfire can be seen, like a beacon in the night.
By that light, a shadow hunches over, fiddling with something.
I think he's just what we need.
How do you reckon?
Well, we can make an ally, make some money, and get stronger too.
I gesture behind us, toward an unsee castle resting high and far away in the distance.
I know we'll be heading in the opposite direction of our goal, but I feel like getting prepared first is the better outcome.
…You are rather optimistic about this.
Truthfully, I don't want to face a castle just yet; that sounds like a magnitude harder than the head of a garrison, or even the Sentinel. What's more, they definitely know I'll be coming; they'll be waiting.
Taking a detour, scrounging up equipment, and training; Preparing first is important.
Trips take time; I'll need more time to tackle Castle Stormveil.
Not enough time to be ready, never enough time.
But I want to develop the mindset, not the move set. I want to prepare myself mentally; think that I may just have a chance. When I have armor, supplies, and greater power; I'll feel ready.
That's when I'll tackle the castle, that's when I'll face this first demigod, Godrick. Melina said he's barely considered a deity of any sort, yet he has a Great Rune, and Melina says I need it.
My first real step to Elden Lord is Godrick; I need to be ready to take that first step.
So, in reality, I am optimistic. I found a way to delay the inevitable.
We reach the light of Kalé's campfire; he looks right at home resting by it.
He's fiddling with that string instrument of his; one of the things that he was able to recover from his confiscated items. One of the strings has snapped from maltreatment; he's currently trying to fix it. The rest of his items, and new ones he 'appropriated', are stuffed in a sack next to him; the sack is nearly the same size as he is. He has his hat back; he looks like an off-brand Santa Claus.
This Santa Claus has his 'steed' next to him, who gives Melina and I an empty-headed stare.
This horse has a really dopey face; it looks like a donkey that's eaten nothing but twigs its whole life. It has the impression that it'll fall over if I blow on it; though it seems like it can hold Kalé's weight and more.
As Kalé put it: "There's no better horse for travel, especially over rough terrain."
A single note that makes me wince whines from Kalé's instrument; he winces too. With a grunt, he messes with a tuning knob near one end of the strings, before he tries it again.
He notices me, as I plop down across from him at the fire. Melina's light fits in with the embers that spout from the crackling flames, though her golden glow and larger size gives her away to a trained eye.
"Took a while." Kalé remarks absent mindedly, looking over his instrument with one of those trained eyes. "Find something in the lonely dark?"
"Went to the restroom."
I say, releasing myself of my sword's scabbard.
I lay it down next to me, before laying down myself.
Kalé gives me a skeptical eye, until recognition flashes across them.
"Ah, dug yourself a latrine, eh?" He immediately singles out Melina amongst the rising and falling embers. "How's that work, with your friend there?"
Kalé seems to have caught on that Melina has a conscience, or at least that she can speak to me. As to how, he probably doesn't know. But I guess I'm too obvious, I'll need to work on that. Simply going quiet and staring at a speck only looks weird a few times, before someone could guess I'm talking with it. Especially when the speck starts flashing, and I make a physical reaction to something not audible a moment or two later.
I seriously need to work on that, figure out how to keep talking and listening to Melina simultaneously.
It would be bad if enemies knew Melina could talk; Roard figured it out pretty quickly.
I try to play dumb, though it's probably useless.
"Nothing different. Melina just keeps watch for me."
Honestly, I haven't needed to use the bathroom since coming to this land. I feel like a bottomless pit, eating everything I can, but that's it. No cycle, no circle of life or whatever; I'm like a dead end, or a black hole.
"That a thing? Can she fight?"
Roard's dying screams echo in my mind.
"More or less."
Kalé lets out a broken cackle, assessing his work on his instrument.
"Seems I have two guards then, what a bargain." He goes to strum the string again but stops. "Oh, but I've only got coin for one, you see. Might have to give me this favor. I'll be sure to pay you back someday."
I eye him up.
Honestly, he's a little intimidating. But compared to everyone else I've met in this land, he's mild and only slightly off-putting. I don't know how I should talk to him; he seems to take info from every word coming out of my mouth.
That's info he can sell.
He's opportunistic, sly, and natural at his craft. A merchant, through and through.
I'm being much too revealing in the first place, spouting out secret after secret. I guess only talking with Melina, who already knows all about me, has loosened my tongue a little.
I should be careful.
I've only just begun to know this world's Kalé. He doesn't sit in a chapel and offer dialogue; he can move, make decisions, and think for himself. He could slit my throat tonight and make off with my stuff. He could sell me out after we part ways, or just extort me.
I really need to be careful.
I consider my words, then speak.
"Well, it goes both ways. Personally, I've never been to the south. I intended to go, but I needed a guide." I point at him, laying sideways on the ground. "You're my guide."
Kalé eyes me, before his eyes crack a smile. I made it up, but I gave my best solemn expression, copying Melina with my best effort. Turns out it's a good 'cover your lie' face; that or Kalé's playing along.
"Like I've gone and been sent by the Greater Will. Seems our meeting was fated."
He strums his string as he talks, dipping his head a little when the tune comes out high pitched. He messes with it a little more, then plucks. The noise sounds like a deep thrum, as if someone plucked a taught rubber band. He grabs a bow that ends with a small hand from his lap and slides it across the repaired string. That deep noise resonates, echoing out into the murky black like distant thunder.
"There's a clean tune."
He slides the bow across the two other strings, each makes the sound jump up an octave.
"You know, travel is a tiresome thing, but music makes it all the sweeter." He points the bow at me, that little hand reaching out to me. "Friends too, it's a pain if you travel alone."
He then gestures to my right, where a second sack lies near the edge of the firelight.
"Seeing as you need a guide, and I in need of a guard; it's safe to say our interests align, eh?"
I join him in pointing at the sack.
"And that is?"
"Downpayment; and taking care of my 'favor' ahead of time."
I work up to sitting, and I drag the sack my way.
It's heavy.
It sounds like thousands of coins, and when I open it…
It's chainmail.
Kalé starts to play a solemn tune, as I reach into the sack, and lift a curtain of metal rings. They glitter in the firelight. It's obvious at a glance that this mail has been used, but it's in a better condition than the mail the soldiers wear. What I've lifted out is a mail coif, with a hole for my head. The interlocking rings are small, a blade can't pass through easily. Arrows might still do the job, and a hammer is always devastating.
But this… this is exactly what I've been wanting.
It's far from what I really want; it's not plate.
But it's a start.
"How much do I owe you?"
Kalé continues his slow song, dropping the volume so we can talk.
"No payment needs retribution. I'd rather my guard look the part."
The bow jumps strings, and the melody drops an octave. It's a seamless transfer; it's obvious he's played this instrument often.
"But I'd like to think we're on even terms after this. For my rescue, and for the spirit you carry about. And hey, if it tickles your fancy, you can call it 'a token' of friendship."
I notice Melina's light peeking over my shoulder.
This mail is expensive, whoever crafted it was exceptional as well.
Really?
Looks like average chain mail to me. Then again, I've never actually held mail before, much less worn it.
Though, now that Melina mentions it, the rings are uniform in size, and they are small. Tightly packed; not much room for anything to slip through. Someone made this by hand and got each ring to take the same shape.
Looking at it like that, it's impressive.
But all chain mail is like that, so how's this different?
I take out more pieces of the set; covers the whole body from the looks of it. It comes with gambesons underneath, which act like an initial layer for the chains to lace into. That, and an extra layer to stop anything that slips past the mail.
Looks form fitting, meaning it's my size. A great gift, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to immediately try it on.
First a sword, then a spear, and now chain mail; I'll be a real knight yet.
What's more, this mail isn't just for show, not to just hang up on my wall or wear just for fun. It'll protect my life; I wear it with the intent that it'll save me when I need it most.
It feels like an upgrade.
It makes me feel excited.
I want to thank Kalé, but I hesitate.
"To be honest, I was getting tired of being sliced up."
My red tinted bandages hide that my wounds have healed. I'd need to try and talk my way out of my sudden revitalization otherwise. I'm currently in peak condition, but this new armor will definitely help keep me that way.
Kalé nods.
"I found it strange that a man of your caliber was fighting naked. With this, you'll at least start to look the part."
I stuff the mail back into the sack; that can wait until tomorrow.
"Don't know about you, but I'm famished."
I say with a laughing undertone, speaking over the quiet song Kalé plays. I feel weird talking like this. But it feels like the right way to act here; my usual quiet self won't do me any favors.
"I'll leave the cooking to you."
Kalé remarks; his bow jumps between two strings, before drawing long on the lowest one. His grey fingers dance across the upper half of the three strings, as he plays a slowed down version of a melody that's sounds vaguely familiar.
"Despite my years sitting by a fire; I'll be lucky if my meals are edible."
"How did your last guard fare?"
Kalé halts his song, his look slightly amused.
"…Let's just say, he preferred his meat raw."
As time went on, and the moon began to rise past the horizon, I was left to my thoughts.
Kalé seems like quite the talker, but he can go silent at the drop of a hat. He seems to enjoy the silence; I find it uncomfortable.
Melina keeps me company; she teaches me how to cook to the best of her ability.
I don't know how to cook something past using a microwave or air fryer, but when I cook some strange form of meat with the fire, Kalé seems to enjoy it. When he is, I get another look at that scar of his. Kalé notices me this time.
"You interested in my eternal smile?"
A strange name for a scar.
Seeing his whole face, I'm realizing that he smiles a lot. Not with bravado, but a simpler kind. A smile that says he's happy to be alive, a smile that you'd see on a war veteran when they're back within the borders of their own country.
I give a crooked nod, keeping up my act.
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued."
Kalé shrugs. He slips his cloth back up to conceal his mouth and nose.
"That's a story for another night, best we catch hours before dawn."
The night continues, and Kalé completely passes out. No sleeping bag, no cot or bedding to speak of. He just went down where he sat; his dopey looking horse joined him.
I'm laying on my back, staring up at the stars, at the Erdtree's branches overhead. I shift a little, trying to get comfortable.
I ended up using the sack of chain mail as a pillow; it's surprisingly comfortable.
Don't think I'll ever get used to sleeping on the ground, it's harder than I thought it would be.
In honesty, I haven't slept in nearly four days. I'm not even tired. The breaches take fatigue away, and I only slept during my week of spelunking because it's what I'm used to, and it gives me a break. I could stay awake indefinitely if I stayed near Sites of Grace. But I'm with someone else now, and per Melina's request, I won't let him know about my relationship with the breaches.
In other words, I'm going analog again.
I watch as a shooting star streaks across the sky, only duly noting that it had a purple hue to it. My mind starts to wander to the usual places: home, parents, friends. But it goes other places too. It relapses on my thoughts of being in a video game, but then it goes deeper.
The strips of meat, the bandages, even the sword and fuel for the fire; none of it is mine.
I've stolen it all.
I stole a handful of knives, field rations, and bandages. A change of footwear; even a satchel for storing it all. I appropriated Roard's partisan, helped myself to the well water, even helped Kalé take trinkets and wares that he plans to sell.
I feel like a robber.
I get that it's normal in this world, I do. To the winner goes the spoils, resources are slim so take what you can. In the game, I wouldn't think twice about taking stuff I find on the ground, help myself to loot from dead enemies or locked chests. It's normal to take from those you defeat, those who retreat or die by your hand. It's normal.
But I feel sullied.
I've murdered, I've stolen. I lied to Kalé, I feel like I'm taking advantage of Melina, and worshipping her in a sense at the same time. I might as well make the Ten Commandments a checklist at this point; I've broken so many that I'm starting to question my salvation.
I try to justify murder; I've taken part in stealing from the unfortunate.
Just what am I doing?
What pains me more: Melina is listening to my thoughts.
I know she is, and she knows I know.
She doesn't console or correct me; she just listens. I can't see her light, but she's nearby.
She says nothing.
I get a weird feeling of abandonment. I get the feeling she's mad at me.
As to why, I have a few guesses. Going on this 'side quest', getting distracted from our main goal. Pressing her to answer me earlier when she didn't want to.
She still won't say anything, I guess that means I'm right.
Sorry Melina.
I don't know when I finally fall asleep, but my worries plague me into my dreams.
Three days later…
I stand out at the edge of a sharp cliff, peeking into a pearl-white spyglass.
The morning sun rises to my left, the castle and town where our journey began has already disappeared behind the northern horizon.
I'm dressed in my chainmail armor, with my shirt, pants, gloves and boots fashioned over it.
The mail coif that goes on my head; it has a cloth coif that's worn under it like a bonnet or beanie. It's to keep my hair from getting snagged in the rings; needs to be worn if you don't want to basically fuse your head to your mail.
Thing is, it's itchy, and I think it makes me looks silly.
I gave up on the coif, and I just forced my head through the face opening. The coif hangs around my shoulders, the excess hanging down my back. It makes me look like I'm wearing a metal hoodie.
I know I should protect my head; I promised myself that I'll wear it once I get a helmet.
Besides, chain mail can only do so much, and I don't intend to let anything touch my head. A hammer strike does me in either way, and a full power swing of a sword from the seven-foot soldiers here would probably knock me out, if not just go through my mail and h*-ead completely.
What's more, Roard's spear.
If spears can go through stone like nothing, what's a layer of metal rings gonna do?
Imma wear it around my shoulders for now. It at least bunches up about my neck, so that part's covered.
As for my shirt and pants; I'm wearing them at the request of Kalé. The mail is great, though it makes me stick out like a glittering sore thumb in any light. My t-shirt, the one hanging on my back since I came to this world, is a dark blue color, with no design to speak of. Same goes for the pants; they're your average black exercise pants, with three white stripes running down the sides on both sides.
The shirt is full of holes and gashes, washed just recently but still stained with blood. The pants are in a better condition, but they still look worn in. Before, wearing these clothes made me look ragged.
But now, with shining metal peeking out from the holes and gashes, continuing down the exposed elbows to fastened leather gloves; I look more like a seasoned warrior. Don't feel like one, but looks can be everything. With the sword, and the partisan I took from Roard, I at least look like one.
As for now, I'm fulfilling my role as guard.
I survey the land ahead, keeping an eye on the game trail that we've been taking this way south as I go. For three days, we've circumnavigated the large lake of Agheel by the southern route, making our way to a narrow neck of land that connects the land here, called Limgrave, to the Weeping Peninsula.
We needed to stray away from the main road, as soldiers patrol it. My Merchant counterpart might now be recognized, but I would. Even if the soldiers knew nothing of what happened at the town in front of Stormhill Gate, which they surely do, they would still be able to tell that I'm a Tarnished. That would be reason enough to attack me.
This game trail takes longer, but it's safer. Soldiers don't patrol it, and our only issue would be bandits, or as they're called in this world, highwaymen.
This trail continues along below in an almost snaking direction, dodging formations and ruins until it finally connects to a small settlement a few hours ahead by foot.
A settlement, a real one.
It's smaller than the town of Roard's garrison, but it's sizable. I'd say 70 people could live in a town that big comfortably, and apparently, it's nothing compared to the city that surrounds Castle Morne on the Weeping Peninsula.
It's a merchant's stop, and it's where Kalé, Melina, and I are heading next.
We're running low on provisions, and none of us are handy with a bow. Unless we want to partly starve while living off wild berries, we'll need to stock up. I'm nervous to visit the town, but I've begun to realize something.
I'm wearing mail, and I've got a sword on my hip. Roard's partisan is strapped to my back; that wicked spearhead is jutting out from behind my shoulder like a perched hawk.
I already look like someone you don't want to mess with. As long as I wear a disgruntled expression, people shouldn't jump at the chance of sending trouble our way.
I'm nervous, but I'll get through it. That's the plan. Course I'm still thin, and short compared to everyone else. I'll cross that hurdle when I get there.
I close up the white spyglass, stuffing it back into a specific compartment in the satchel at my side. Melina's light follows me as I retrace my steps, going back to camp.
Kalé's finished packing up; he kicks dirt over the last hot embers left of our fire from the night before.
He eyes me, sleepiness still clinging to the lids.
"Any trouble?"
I shake my head.
"Not from the looks of things."
Kalé nods.
"Best it be that way. Any highwayman knows it's bad luck to get between a Travelling Merchant and his next meal."
We ran out of food midday yesterday, a certain dopey looking horse helped itself to our bread and potatoes the night before. I shoot Kalé's steed an accusing glance; the horse just stares at me.
Melina didn't tell us; she's been relatively silent these last few days. She's definitely mad. That, or she just doesn't have much to say. She talks if I talk first, and she warns us about obstacles or dangers on the trail. But she stays quiet otherwise.
I'm worried.
Melina stands quietly, watching Lance and Kalé Make up more witty banter.
She eyes the horse; it seems that it looks right at her. But it is only eyeing the speck that floats at the same height as Melina's head. She thinks nothing of the animal, it is not part of her concern.
She worries about other things.
Her eyes wander, to the north.
Godrick's castle is no longer visible, all she can see is the expanse of Agheel's lake, at an angle that shows most of the western shore. The dragon is somewhere out there; it could be resting or hunting. Might be close, might be far away on the other side. Does not matter. As long as it is not here, it is not a problem.
The waters of Agheel's lake are deceptively shallow, but the lake is large.
Three days; it has taken them three days to travel around the lake, and they are not yet finished. The journey ahead is still long.
Each second that ticks by; it makes Melina feel anxious. The castle can no longer be seen, but the Erdtree still looms overhead. They are getting farther from their goal.
Another thing; Melina has never come this far south. She knows not where the breaches are down here; she might not be able to protect the one person that matters to her these days if danger should find them.
If danger finds them... if Lance dies…
Melina does not want to think about it.
Here, in unfamiliar land, Melina feels like their lifeline has been cut.
She can heal Lance, though she borrows his FP, or mana, to do so. He can fend for himself, enemies such as wanderers or even a highwayman no longer frighten him.
But Melina cannot completely heal Lance, and there are things far more dangerous than highwaymen in these lands.
She fears that if Lance were to be heavily injured, to the point that he would not survive, that there will not be a breach nearby to heal him. He would die. With it, Melina would perish as well, as an ember does when its flame extinguishes into smoke. It only takes a moment, only one swing of a sword, to snuff Lance's flame.
She is worried. She cannot stop worrying.
Her eyes linger on the Erdtree for a moment longer, even as Lance and Kalé set off, away from this cliff above the lake. She stands there and stares, until she's left Lance's light, and her form can bear it no longer.
…
Should she tell him?
Should he deserve to know?
For a moment, just through a figment of Melina's imagination, she sees the Erdtree beckoning her. Corporeal hands, with only two fingers each, sprouting out from that glowing trunk, as if reaching out to her. She has forgotten many things, the years spent traveling the Erdtree's roots have made her forget much. But she remembers her goal; though the one that has given her the goal has been forgotten.
She must reach the Erdtree, she must get inside. She is ready to risk it all. It pains her to think, but she is ready to sacrifice Lance too. It is beyond him, even beyond her. It is a task that must be fulfilled; the Lands Between depends on it.
She must get into the Erdtree.
Is that not right?
Melina's mind says a name, though she does not remember who it is. It is a name that, like the Erdtree's inner sanctum, is locked away. It is a man's name, though she does not know him. But, long ago, he gave her this task, at a time just before the shattering, before these lands became a warzone. She was burned to death not long after, when unseen hands tried to stop her.
But she will return soon; she will fulfill the task she has been given.
She will make it to the Erdtree.
Those corporeal hands ignite; the two fingers contort and shrivel like dying serpents. The flames grow, and travel to the Erdtree itself. The Erdtree burns, burns down to ash until those hands are no more.
Is that not right? Radagon?
Weekly Power Status
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