The landscape that unfolded before Gawain left him momentarily dazed, much like the first time he had emerged from the Catacombs of Carthus to behold the moonlit spires of Irithyll.
The Erdtree, towering high enough to blot out the sun, occupied half the sky. In the distance, the Divine Towers of the demigods were clearly visible. Theoretically, from this vantage point, one could even see the Flame Peak and the Forge of the Giants, though the path was currently obscured by the massive trunk of the golden tree.
The sight of Stormveil Castle left the deepest impression. Its scale was far grander than anything shown in the game—a true medieval metropolis of staggering proportions. Beneath such a vista, Gawain felt his own strength seem almost insignificant.
The change in scale reminded him of his time in the Profaned Capital. Located beneath the Irithyll Dungeon, that city had been a true capital in reality, not the "Profaned Neighborhood" it appeared to be in the game mechanics.
It made sense. Without a stage of sufficient size, how could it support so many legends and epic tales?
Shaking off the initial shock, Gawain steadied his heart. Those distant places were still too far away for his current self; his priority was to return to the "starting zone," the Weeping Peninsula, to grow his strength.
After consulting with the mercenaries, they all agreed that time was of the essence. Following the main road would require a massive detour, likely passing through the Gatefront Ruins. Given that the rebellion was likely worsening by the hour, the best option was the risky trek across Agheel Lake. Though there was a chance they would run into the dragon, it was a calculated risk to save precious time.
As they finalized their plan, Gawain frowned, feeling as though something was missing. He suddenly realized that the foul-mouthed White Mask Varré was nowhere to be seen. It was a bit of a shame; he had been looking forward to the chance to open a "Blood Bank" account with him.
As one of the legendary recruiters of the Lands Between, Varré's success in undermining his own lord was perhaps rivaled only by Rya of the Volcano Manor. Since he wasn't here now, perhaps they would cross paths later at Liurnia of the Lakes.
At that moment, in a blind spot of Gawain's vision, Varré was hidden in the boughs of a tree, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He had sensed an exceptionally powerful Tarnished emerging from the Stranded Graveyard and had prepared a script to lure him into the Mohgwyn Dynasty.
Usually, a Tarnished of such strength would be accompanied by a Finger Maiden, but Varré hadn't sensed the presence of one. This meant the man was "Maidenless."
Logically, such a person would never refuse the exquisite power of the Lord of Blood. But just as Varré was rubbing his hands together in anticipation of an approach, a group of burly mercenaries had marched out of the graveyard behind the man, scaring the White Mask into immediate concealment.
Varré was a fanatic devotee of the Lord of Blood, but he had a realistic grasp of his own limitations as a "villain." Many members of the Dynasty were, to put it mildly, unhinged. Not everyone could maintain their sanity after accepting the Accursed Blood—the knight at Fort Haight, for instance, had been driven mad by blood-lust and ousted by Kenneth Haight.
Furthermore, many Bloody Fingers were former Tarnished who had betrayed their Maidens. The Roundtable Hold, which represented the guidance of the Two Fingers, loathed them. They were at the very bottom of the social hierarchy, even more despised than regular Tarnished.
Thus, Varré was unwilling to expose himself to such a large group. He didn't want to risk running into some annoying "Bloody Finger Hunter."
Still, he watched the Tarnished in the group—the one with terrible fashion sense but an aura of overwhelming power—with greed in his eyes. If he could recruit such a person to the Mohgwyn Dynasty, Lord Mohg would surely reward him handsomely.
On the opposite side of the spectrum, Melina stood on a high ridge, holding Torrent's reins as she observed Gawain's harmonious interaction with the mercenaries. Just as she had preliminarily decided that he might be a suitable candidate for her "accord," she noticed the scorched, flaming patterns on his clothing.
Her "Frenzied Flame radar" immediately went off. The hand she had been using to gently stroke Torrent suddenly clenched with involuntary force, accidentally yanking out a clump of fur. Torrent let out a disgruntled huff and shook his body in protest.
"Forgive me, it was my fault," she whispered. "But that sensation of fire... could it be the Flame of Frenzy?"
Torrent gave Melina a flat look. She had already inspected the man once from afar while he was unconscious. Aside from the area covered by his loincloth, Melina had scrutinized him from head to toe. She hadn't found any issues then, so why was she suddenly so tense?
Realizing her overreaction, Melina let out a small sigh. She knew she was being sensitive, but she couldn't help it; the Weeping Peninsula did, after all, bear the scars of the Frenzied Flame.
"But if it isn't the Flame of Frenzy... what kind of fire is it?"
Gawain was oblivious to Melina's distant musings. He had already begun the trek with the mercenaries. Though they were taking a shortcut, their pace wasn't fast, as the swampy terrain of Agheel Lake was filled with the "malice" characteristic of a Souls-like world.
The mud beneath his feet reminded him of the Farron Keep swamp. While he wasn't currently rolling through a pool of poison, the muck was still incredibly difficult to navigate.
Along the way, they were frequently harassed by bizarre creatures: dragonflies larger than human heads, blood-sucking leeches that exploded into gore when crushed, and hyper-aggressive rams that charged at anything on sight.
What triggered his PTSD the most, however, were the giant crabs. Back in the Smouldering Lake, he had been swarmed by them while giant ballistae rained guided missiles down on his head. Those were not memories he cared to revisit.
Aside from the wildlife, they saw the "Long-livers"—zombies seeking death—gathered around massive bonfires, trying to attract the attention of Flying Dragon Agheel to grant them a final release.
Galvin navigated the group well away from those desperate Golden Folk. He wanted to live, but looking at those withered husks who could not die even if they wished, he couldn't help but sigh.
"I remember when my brothers and I first started. We were hired by nobles from the Capital to escort them to Limgrave, at the southernmost tip of the Lands Between. They were just looking for a way to find release. It's ironic—the life I find so precious was a curse to them. Some of our employers would go mad every few miles and wander off into the wilderness. By the time we reached Limgrave, our charges were long gone, though fortunately, they had paid the Runes in advance. After that, we took a long-term contract with the Castellan of Morne, escorting supplies back and forth."
Gawain listened intently to Galvin's rambling. He enjoyed learning the stories of these "minor characters." In the world of Dark Souls, sane people were rare and conversations rarer. In the Lands Between, where many normal people still existed, he could use their stories to piece together a complete picture of the world.
Looking at the Long-livers who still retained a shred of sanity despite their death-wish, Gawain pondered the nature of immortality. No matter the world, if it spiraled out of control, it eventually became a cycle of eternal, unreleased suffering.
If he had the time, he wouldn't mind helping these people. He could crush their souls and cast them into his internal Ember. You don't want to live anymore? Fine. Come and be kindling for the fire. I'll take as many as you've got.
Fortunately, they avoided the dragon, sparing them an exhausting battle.
The group traveled by day and rested by night. When food presented itself, they cooperated on a hunt. Gawain, for one, was getting quite sick of crab meat. He lamented that Blackguard Big Boggart was currently in Liurnia; otherwise, he would have dragged the man over to boil some proper crab.
After two days and one night, the silhouette of the Bridge of Sacrifice finally came into view. Despite wading through the lake, the sheer scale of the Lands Between had exceeded his estimates.
Gawain chewed on a piece of crab meat, gazing at the sky. While the stars here didn't flow as perfectly as they did in Liurnia, he could still see bright constellations flickering. To his eyes, these stars seemed fixed, as if pinned in place—likely the result of General Radahn's continued efforts to hold back the stars from Caelid.
Aside from the stars, the most striking features were the two moons visible in the sky. The brighter one was the Full Moon of Queen Rennala; the other, faint and distant, was the Dark Moon represented by a certain four-armed blue doll.
A strange thought crossed Gawain's mind. Back in Anor Londo, he had slain countless Silver Knights to collect enough Proofs of a Concord Kept for Company Captain Yorshka. He was an official member of the Blade of the Darkmoon. This actually aligned quite well with Ranni's "Age of the Stars" and her Dark Moon. The Darkmoon Ring Yorshka had given him still lay in his inventory. He wondered how Ranni would feel if she ever saw that ring. The Moonlight Greatsword he had transposed from the soul of Oceiros via Ludleth would likely pair perfectly with her own Dark Moon Greatsword.
Deep within the Three Sisters, Ranni suddenly felt a cold shiver and woke from her slumber. She hopped down from her chair, which was bolstered by four thick books. Her doll-like body wasn't particularly suited for sudden movement, and she nearly tripped.
She walked slowly to the balcony and gazed at the sky. She could still see the stars locked in place, just like her fate.
Ranni sighed deeply. She was not only frustrated by the lack of progress in her plans but also saddened by the suffering of her brother, Radahn. Blaidd was currently scouring the world for the secret of the Eternal City, Nokron, while also hunting the traitor within their ranks. He was far too busy.
Iji stood guard at the entrance of Caria Manor to deter intruders. The only ones left in the manor were the knights loyal to the Carian Royals and the obviously ambitious Seluvis. If it weren't for Seluvis's undeniable competence, she would have dealt with that unstable element long ago.
How much longer until things change? Ranni stared blankly at the unchanging stars. Suddenly, a strange, unfamiliar star appeared abruptly in the sky. Compared to the others, it was dim—perhaps just another malicious entity from the void. It didn't hold her attention for long.
Ranni silently returned to her seat and lapsed back into stillness.
The next morning, Gawain's group arrived at the outskirts of the Bridge of Sacrifice. The guards on the bridge spotted them from a distance and immediately prepared their defenses. These weren't the "pig-nosed" AI from the game; they were a professional military force guarding a strategic choke point.
Gawain scanned the bridge's defenses. It would be an incredibly difficult position for a swarm of Misbegotten to overrun. Below was a deep, turbulent river. The bridge itself was lined with defensive barricades and several massive ballistae. Lookout soldiers on the upper levels used telescopes to provide early warnings from a great distance.
Galvin pulled a medallion from his armor and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Captain! Don't fire! It's me, Galvin! I'm back with my men after delivering the shipment!"
Upon hearing the familiar voice, the guards lowered their bows and ballistae. Soon, a Godrick Soldier emerged from the ranks, his armor slightly more ornate than the others. His uniform was decorated with several badges that likely served more for decoration than function.
Galvin shook hands warmly with the Captain. The officer was clearly pleased to see him; in times like these, every bit of combat strength was welcome.
"Captain, what's the situation at Castle Morne? We couldn't get much news back in Limgrave."
The Captain's expression darkened. "You know as well as I do. Lord Godrick ordered me to hold this bridge and not leave my post. I don't know the specifics of Morne; communications were cut long ago. All I know is that the Misbegotten across the entire Weeping Peninsula have completely revolted. A few days ago, we had to repel several waves of attacks. It's only just calmed down. Are you planning to break through and support the Castellan? It's too dangerous. You shouldn't take such a risk."
Galvin nodded. This was exactly why he had come. If it weren't for the debt he felt toward Castellan Edgar for his past kindness, he wouldn't have returned. With their skills, they could have easily found work at Stormveil. Even if the place was a mess of severed limbs, as long as it wasn't their limbs being cut, they didn't really care.
He pointed to the stranger blending in with his men.
"Captain, do you see him? He's a Tarnished we met on the road. He can see the guidance of Grace."
The Captain's eyes widened in shock. "You brought a Tarnished like that back? If he were a nobody, fine, but a warrior who can see Grace?"
Galvin grabbed the Captain's hand as it moved toward his weapon, forcing it back down.
"That's exactly why I brought him. We can't count on Lord Godrick's support. Morne can only be saved by us. Or are you going to arrest him for grafting now and just watch the Misbegotten rebellion continue? Let me warn you—this man possesses a very strange power. I can't guarantee that all of us combined could take him down."
The Captain remained silent for a moment before conceding to Galvin's logic. He was frustrated by his orders, and without reinforcements, he could only ensure the rebellion didn't spread further into Limgrave.
"I find it hard to believe our entire garrison couldn't handle one Tarnished, but your logic is sound. Fine. I'll pretend I didn't see him. Go through. Just remember to protect the Castellan and his daughter, Irina."
With the matter settled, Galvin returned to the group.
"Is it handled?" Gawain asked.
"Yes. Thank you for your trust. Actually, I could have brought you in without revealing your identity."
Gawain waved him off. He was done hiding his status; he wanted this exact effect.
"It doesn't matter. Being honest isn't a bad thing. Let's not waste time. Since those Misbegotten are clustered on the other side, it's about time I got serious."
Galvin saw a fierce fire ignite within Gawain's eyes. He had seen it once before at the Stranded Graveyard. Back then, even though Gawain wasn't hostile, it had struck a primal fear into Galvin's soul.
But now, as terrified as he had been then, he felt equally reassured knowing that this man was on his side.
"Right. I'll borrow some horses from the Captain. It'll make the trip faster."
Gawain hadn't expected his first mount in the Lands Between to be a horse from the Kaiden Mercenaries rather than Torrent. But he didn't dwell on it. Getting to Castle Morne was the priority. He hoped he would be in time to save Irina.
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