Capítulo 23: Gilded Glaive
4 extra chappies in P @treon.
***
Godrick didn't have anyone to compare himself to, but his talent in incantations was startlingly high. With his [Demigod Constitution] and Divine Blood working in tandem, weaving the energies of the Greater Will into murals was nearly instinctual, but Ancient Dragon Lightning was a bit different from the spells he was familiar with.
"Thou shalt never wield Lightning as we do," Lansseax had warned him before her sermon began. He had believed her words, yet even he was taken aback by how swiftly he took to it.
"Gravelstone helps focus lightning, control it" Lansseax spoke, her voice drifting down from where she perched atop the church. Below, Godrick sat cross-legged on the scorched earth, surrounded by a vast circle of charred plants and blackened ground. She watched his attempts with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Since thou dost lack our stone skin and the Gravelstone seal, thou must compensate with pure skill."
The [Greater Blessing of Lansseax] within him helped him generate Ancient Dragon Lightning, but unfortunately, it still used Focus—a lot of it. [Order Meditation] ran at full tilt after every failed attempt, but he was getting better at controlling the uncontrollable.
On his tenth attempt, his Focus branched out, using his Great Rune to channel the Lightning from his Blessing, manifesting as a crackling of red-gold over his palm. This time, he didn't force it, preferring to guide the Lightning into the intricate mural. It crackled indignantly but twisted and weaved into a mural of an Ancient Dragon wielding a spear of Lightning.
It was then that he lost control.
His Focus dropped at a staggering pace, fueling the copious amount of crackling red-gold lightning accumulating on his palm.
"Aha! At last!" Lansseax roared in triumph from her lofty perch. "That was swifter than thy Ancestor! Now, just..."
Her voice trailed off as she felt the sheer power of the lightning in Godrick's palm. It was never that powerful when a human wielded it.
The lightning began to coalesce, forming into a massive, ethereal glaive that shimmered with raw, destructive energy. It buzzed in Godrick's grip, vibrating with a ferocity that threatened to tear him apart. And it did exactly that. The flesh on his palm began to char and burn, with his recent increase in Vigor being the only thing preventing his arm from exploding.
(FP 192/192 -> 0/192)
Black spots lined his vision as the incantation demanded more Focus than he could give. He couldn't stop it, so he swung down the incomplete spell, and everything went red.
[Learned Lansseax's Glaive: Creates a red-lightning glaive and sweeps the area from above.
This attack unleashes trails of lightning. Lansseax was the sister of Fortissax. It is said that she took the form of a human to commune with the knights as a priestess of the ancient dragon cult. Scales with Faith.]
(Mind: 19.2->20)
***
Godrick woke up on his back, staring into two very annoyed golden draconic slits. He was immediately hit with the smell of burnt paper as the air crackled and frizzled with red-gold sparks.
"Didst thou lack the Focus to cast the incantation?!" she jabbed at his armoured chest with a sharp fingernail. "Hast thou never practised incantations in all thy days? Why is thy Focus pool so meagre?"
"It seems like I don't. Not yet," Godrick groaned and sat up to be met by a cataclysmic scene. The scenery he appreciated a few hours ago was marred by something that seemed straight out of an apocalypse.
Cracked, broken, and charred land suffused with enough lightning that red-gold sparks spontaneously formed. Green grass, trees, and rocks had been turned to gas a hundred meters before him.
"Thou couldst have taught me something simpler," he muttered, rising to his feet.
"How was I to know thy Focus pool was so pitiful?" she retorted, folding her arms beneath her chest. "Hast thou never practised increasing thy Focus?"
"Well... not really," Godrick shrugged. The most magic he used was [Golden Vow] and [Order's Blade], which didn't come close to draining his Focus. He preferred hitting things.
"Then thou shouldst," Lansseax sighed, exasperation clear in her voice.
"Well, thou couldst teach me an incantation that requires less Focus," he suggested.
"Nay, I shan't," she replied with a smirk, looking up at him. "I've already taught thee mine strongest move, and thus fulfilled mine end of the bargain."
Godrick stared at her blankly, prompting her to bite her lip.
"Of course... I could teach thee whatever thou desirest..." she purred, drawing closer, her voice dripping with temptation. "Just grant me—"
"No," Godrick interrupted her. There was no Sacred Tear to help him regrow an arm, and there were easier ways to get the Dragon Cult incantations.
"Hmph! Fine," she huffed, disappointment flashing in her eyes before she fixed him with a piercing gaze. "When thou dost manage to slay a Drake, harvest its heart, and journey to the Church of Dragon Communion. But heed my words—do not consume it at once, lest thou succumb to the Hunger."
With that, her form shimmered and twisted, turning into a wall of grey scales. No, that was just her ankle. He looked up and realized that her true form was far more majestic than it appeared before. Godrick was not an easily awed man, but Lansseax managed to ignore that, time and time again.
Her body was massive yet graceful, moving with a fluidity that belied her size. Every motion was deliberate, every step thunderous. Her horns jutted out from her head, long and sharp, like twin spears of grey stone.
The air shimmered with heat around her as her back arched, her colossal wings bursting forth, their span blocking out the dying light of the sun. They were ancient, crackling with red lightning that danced across their surface. Each beat of her wings sent shockwaves through the ground.
"Farewell, Godrick," Lansseax spoke, and the earth trembled. "I shall be waiting."
And with yet another shockwave, she disappeared into the skies.
***
Liurnia was a treasure trove compared to what he experienced in the Altus Plateau. Sure, he had nearly lost his mind to the Frenzied Flame, but his stats had shown a frankly staggering increase. Still, getting a big head was idiotic, for Lansseax was still so far above him that he remained the weak, gaunt man in comparison. The Demigods were even said to possess far greater strength than the Ancient Dragons, and he doubted whether Lansseax was the strongest among her race. All this thought of stronger opponents just made him more excited.
The ever-trusty Elrus took him past the charred grass and the village littered with corpses to his soldier's camp. He was met with an odd scene of Gilika and the Demi-Humans whimpering in the corner, and his soldiers looking up at the sky with pale faces.
"My Lord!" Earnan nearly wept with relief upon seeing Godrick's arrival in the camp. "We heard explosions... and by Marika's grace, an Ancient Dragon flew by!"
"Oh, Lansseax," Godrick nodded, his gaze shifting to the Demi-Humans with a hint of disappointment. "We had a... constructive talk. My Ascension hath alerted the Golden City to mine existence, and we are now branded as traitors to the Erdtree. Once we reach Stormveil, we shall ready ourselves for war."
His soldiers stared at him in both shock and silent determination, but they were slowly becoming desensitized to the exploits of their Lord. Perhaps this was just an average day in the life of a Demigod.
"Come, we have tarried here long enough," Godrick declared, turning on his heel and summoning his steed. "Onward!"
***
Past the Church of Inhibition was a steep drop back to the ancient path from the Great Lift, and there was no clear-cut path from this patch of risen land to Liurnia of the Lakes, but he still knew of a way.
It wasn't direct and must have been the cause of many a player's demise. The dreaded stone platforms which were carved into the sides of cliffs. Torrent always seemed suicidal when scaling them in the game. Thankfully, just like everything in his new reality, they were bigger and more numerous.
Godrick and his forces went east of the Frenzied Village Outskirts and after a gruelling week of travel where he continued his study of the Golden Order spellbook and trained his Mind. It was an odd sight—an armoured giant reading a book while occasionally casting [Heal], which not only relieved his forces' fatigue but also helped him safely drain his Focus.
(Mind: 20->20.8)
But his greatest gain was the Golden Order spell that he had been working on for nearly two months, ever since he had mastered [Order's Blade]. The Fundamental truths of the Order being distilled into equations was a feat by Radagon that he could never get over, but it was those very Fundamental truths that were challenged by the presence of 'Those Who Live In Death.'
And so, [Order Healing] was born.
Godrick locked his arms and wound them akin to a clock, the energies of the Greater Will flowing and ebbing per the equations flitting through his mind. In the next instant, he switched their positions, and a large, complex mural of the Golden Order appeared under his feet, lighting him and a few nearby soldiers with golden light.
(FP 208/208 -> 158/208)
[Learned Order Healing: One of the incantations of the Golden Order fundamentalists.
Used by hunters of Those Who Live in Death. Alleviates Death Blight buildup.]
He let out a breath before looking ahead. To his far right were the platforms that led to the Black Knife Catacombs and eventually to Eastern Liurnia and Stormveil. But in the distance was the Converted Fringe Tower, a worn but robust and pointed Tower, beginning to crumble, signalling the beginning of his journey to Sorcery.
But he also spotted a giant figure at the entrance, dried and armoured, guarding the entrance while gripping a giant greatsword embedded with Carian glintstone.
'Finally, something to fight,' he grinned, a maniacal smile marring his flawless face.
***
[Learned Powerstone Begging (Passive) Level 0: Please good sir, I need the stones to feed me family (I'm single)]
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