"Are you sure this is wise?"
Gundrik couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. Malenia, for her part, merely crossed her arms and waited for him to stop. At the gates of Redmane Castle, just near where he had been struck with a beam of fiery madness, Gundrik couldn't help but let the nervousness and fear out with a hearty chuckle.
"Malenia," Gundrik said, wiping his eyes. "Nothing I have ever done has been wise. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But that is the reason I am here; everyone expects someone else to do the wise thing, and here I stand, having become Elden Lord because I refused to do what was wise and simply died when I was run through, decimated, and burnt."
Malenia seemed to stare at Gundrik for a few moments before finally speaking again. "As you say, my lord. Perhaps there is some truth to your words."
The harsh sun of Caelid hung low in the sky, and Gundrik could feel sweat traveling down his brow even as he hefted a large pack across his back. The appearance of Shabriri had rattled him; in the few days since the shambler's appearance, Gundrik could not sleep, and when sleep came it was plagued by nightmares of a burned Erdtree, and the Lands Between swallowed by the selfsame ash that had covered Leyndell. Perhaps it was because of such prophetic visions that he sought a weapon he had sealed away deep below the earth, and a way to empower it.
To that end, he bid Jerren and Nepheli to mobilize their troops and retreat to Stormveil in preparation for what would be the Third Siege of Leyndell. Gundrik didn't know if it would be considered the final battle of the Shattering or not, or if the histories would place that later. It would be the final hurdle before he could truly claim his throne, though. And in the end, perhaps that would be all that mattered.
Of course, even then, he wasn't going to journey alone.
"Thou hast thine orders, dearest Malenia. I trust the Haligtree remaineth intact?" Marika asked.
Malenia nodded. "Rotting though it may be, Elphael remains as it always has been. I should have no trouble convincing its citizens to take up arms once more, for a world free of gods."
"I understand that was Miquella's goal all along," Gundrik mused, rubbing his chin. "Nice to know I fulfilled his last wish, if only partially so far."
"I expect you to change that, before long. Go, then. And be well. It would be a terrible tragedy to have you fall in this quest before you sit upon the throne you have coveted for so long," Malenia said, "I will ensure the army is ready for you, when you return."
Gundrik nodded. "Good. You know where we will meet. Until then."
The parting was only temporary, but Gundrik knew he would miss the company of so many friends and allies. While he was not alone, he had grown used to his small council. In the end, however, he knew he was right, and as he and Marika moved across the bridge towards mainland Caelid, he felt the encroaching loneliness that would soon fall upon him.
The journey towards the underground was not a long one, especially since Gundrik decided to bring out Torrent again. Something had changed about the spirit steed, almost as if it was in response to the changes Gundrik himself had gone through. While before, Torrent had been a hardy, if slightly small, steed. When Gundrik called upon him again, however, Torrent had grown, his horns had curled over like a rams, and his mane had grown longer and more silvery in color. It was still Torrent, just Torrent with a few things changed, and most importantly, big enough to seat two large people upon his back.
Gundrik and Marika made it to their destination in far less time than it would have taken them while walking. Gundrik had half a mind to thank a god for Torrent's change, but he'd essentially just be thanking the person behind him as he rode, and so he kept his mouth shut.
Within a few days, Gundrik and Marika found themselves at the crater a falling star had made. Gundrik remembered the night it had landed; the night of Radahn's death, he saw them all falling to the land, with one in particular cutting a hole through the Mistwood itself. It was a fine night for such a light show, and even as he dismounted and sent Torrent away, he looked into the deep dark of the crater and felt a sense of nostalgia unlike any before.
Back then, he had been so sure of himself, had been certain that the path he was leading was the right one. But in the end, he could not leave the Lands Between alone, abandoning humanity to its own devices. That was what his disagreement with Ranni was, and a part of him would always regret it, and hate the part of him that could not leave everything well alone.
"Art thou sure of this, Lord Gundrik?" Marika asked, standing beside him. She had been quiet throughout most of the journey, unsurprisingly. Considering what they were to do, Gundrik couldn't blame her.
"What's better than fighting fire with fire, Marika?" Gundrik asked, "especially black, god-killing fire?"
"Didst thou forget that I am a god?" Marika said pointedly, crossing her arms across her chest. "It seemeth thou wishest to kill me, is that it?"
"If I wanted to kill you, we wouldn't be here, sharing what we have shared," Gundrik replied, "I know this is stressful for you, but this is personal. This threat, it is… I do not want a chance of it coming back. And if Destined Death, weakened though it may be, can be used to empower this weapon, I will take it. With this final battle, Order will be fully restored to the land."
Marika sighed, running a hand down her face. "Would such words come back to me, in time. I do not relish this task, my lord."
"Nor do I," Gundrik replied, craning his neck forward to see deeper into the pit. The massive boulders that had once floated above its gaping maw had long since fallen, whatever magic keeping them in place apparently fading long ago. "I have not asked you questions about that night, and the search for Destined Death, the Cursemarks, has led to the deaths of a few friends. Rogier and D deserved better."
"Fellow Tarnished, I take it?" Marika asked.
Gundrik nodded, taking a step back. "Yes. One was inflicted with Death and slowly died on the balcony of the Roundtable Hold. The other was assassinated by someone I also considered a friend. It is all ancient history at this point."
"None more ancient than that night," Marika murmured, "And the further we dally here, the more ancient it grows. Let us move forward."
The Eternal City of Nokron had not changed much since Gundrik's last visit. The hole the falling star made into it had, if anything, grown wider with time, perhaps a sign that one day, the damage would spell disaster for what remained of the underground city. As it stood, though, it allowed Gundrik and Marika free passage into the forbidden parts of the city.
The remains of the small white humanoids Gundrik encountered on his first visit still littered the ground, the torches of ghostflame having long been extinguished, and the armaments beginning their gradual rusting away. Gundrik remembered stories of the Fallen Hawk soldiers, but when he fought them he barely believed they had once been tall humans. Of course, back then, he hadn't been much taller compared to them.
It was a testament to Gundrik's alertness that he didn't bang his head on any of the doorways leading further into the city. It would take some time to grow used to his new height. Of course, his new height came with disadvantages, not the least of which was his armor. While his old suit had been steadily growing with him, the same could not be said when he gained over a foot in height thanks to Marika and Radagon. To that end, he did everything he could to find something that fit him before they left Castle Redmane.
That meant he looked a lot like Jerren, except without the flamboyantly colored clothing. The piecemeal armor was not pretty, but it would do the job. Gundrik only wished that it had come with a helmet.
"To what end didst thou hide this weapon?" Marika asked, her voice echoing through the empty halls of Nokron. The building they were in was just before they reached a small plaza, and Gundrik could see more remains of Fallen Hawk soldiers. "Such prized artifacts couldst be used against many, thou knowest. And so, I find myself curious."
Gundrik looked out into the endless night of the underground, eyes narrowing at the false stars that dotted the 'sky'. "For the same reason I stashed away the Golden Order Greatsword you and Radagon use in the walls of Leyndell. There was always a chance that I would fail, and to that end, I ensured that some of the weapons I found would not fall with me. I will admit, this one in particular unnerved me, even without knowing its history."
"Didst thou believe success was impossible?" Marika queried, following Gundrik out into the dim courtyard. "This weapon could have helped thee, such is the strength of Death. Of mine ancient enemy."
"Would you believe me if I said a part of me did not want to succeed?" Gundrik suddenly said, turning to look at her.
A bewildered expression crossed Marika's face as she stepped forward. "Was it not thine goal to restore this land? Dost thou believe another wouldst have done the same?"
Gundrik shrugged. "I went through a lot before I made it to the Erdtree, and much more after I was rejected. Millicent's story was just the last hurdle before I decided toward committing the cardinal sin. Blackflame is nasty, you know; it is like watching someone's soul be ripped out of their body before they fade away into nothingness, unable to reincarnate through the Erdtree. I have knowledge of a few incantations, but I do not like to use them, for the same reason I do not like this weapon we are finding."
"There must be more to it," Marika stated, "I know thee, Gundrik; thou art a determined sort. Surely there is more reason to not use this weapon."
"Maybe because I wanted to test myself?" Gundrik said, his tone phrasing it as a question. "Or maybe it was because I wanted to die? I do not know, and it does not matter now. We are both here, and we will both see this to the end. You are still with me, right? Both of you."
Marika nodded without hesitation. "Of course. I wouldst not abandon thee now, even if what thou just said maketh me question thine mental integrity."
"And you haven't done so before?" Gundrik raised a brow.
"I had thought thee a sharp and determined sort, but I had not thought of thee as suicidal, no," Marika said, crossing her arms. "Was I mistaken?"
"I do not feel a need to end my life any time soon, no, not while I am in a position to change this world for the better, anyway," Gundrik answered. "Besides, all of that is in the past. And I have done too much of that during my life. It is time to look to the future. One without the Frenzied Flame, I hope."
A small smile stretched across Marika's face. "Indeed."
Gundrik had hidden the weapon far past Nokron and into the Ancestral Woods. While such a thing would seem like insanity to anyone else, including Marika who kept staring at him as if to explain why he had done so in such a remote corner of the world, to Gundrik it made complete sense. A Tarnished would eventually rise up and find it, if they were the exploring type, and if not, then no one else could use it. Certainly not the Ancestral Followers, not with the weapon embedded in the corpse of one of their Ancestor Spirits.
Perhaps that was why Marika and Gundrik were able to move through the Ancestral Woods without being sniped by bow-wielding Followers, or why the songs of their women suddenly quieted as they strode past, as if they knew that a god was among them. Their glares and sneers, though vicious, were unable to penetrate Gundrik's armor, or Marika's stone skin.
And when the duo came upon the rotting carcass of a massive elk, they had finally found what they were looking for. Part of it, at least.
It was in the middle of a stone temple, broken and decaying with age, though the Ancestor Followers did not seem to care. Evidence of their reverence to the decaying corpse was laid all around, fetishes dangling from hair-woven strings, symbolizing antlers, with various smaller elk skulls dotting the area. It was a testament to their presence that the Followers completely vacated the area of the being they worshiped to allow Gundrik and Marika to pass.
Fear was a powerful tool, but it was not one Gundrik intended to use often.
Embedded in the skull of the giant elk stood a twisted, silver sword, and even though no hand had clasped its grip, small, barely perceptible black flames went along the twin spiraling edges. When Gundrik had planted the greatsword within the skull of the Ancestor Spirit, it had been almost as tall as him. When he stood in front of it in the present, however, he could tell he would be able to wield it comfortably as a longsword.
Marika said nothing as she stood in front of it, her arms crossed beneath her chest as she scowled down at the weapon.
"'Tis the weapon of the Gloam-Eyed Queen, indeed," she said quietly, placing a hand on Gundrik's shoulder. "Is such a thing truly necessary? Thou hast slain a god, remember. And you have a god on thine side at this very moment. Doth this yellow flame scare thee so?"
"Anything that can reanimate the bodies of fallen friends and use them to goad me into releasing something horrible beneath Leyndell, deserves to be destroyed completely and utterly," Gundrik said, placing a hand on the pommel of the greatsword. "And whoever the poor fool who has accepted their offer, has surrendered themselves to despair, deserves a merciful end."
"And the Cursemark…" Marika turned away for a moment, walking a few steps away before looking back to Gundrik. "Is… is such a thing necessary as well? I do not- I cannot look at him."
"The other half of Destined Death is already released, courtesy of me," Gundrik murmured, "the other half, festering near the Erdtree's roots - if we are lucky, Fia is still alive. And if not, then I only hope she forgives me. The thing that she would call her Lord will never be so, because of me. But her efforts and the sacrifices of many others will not be in vain."
"Then perhaps this is to be my final punishment," Marika said, covering her eyes as she wiped at her forehead. "Nay, 'tis too merciful a punishment for one such as I. It shalt never end."
"We will make it right," Gundrik said, grasping the hilt of the greatsword. "If you are getting cold feet now, might I suggest a pair of shoes?"
Marika scoffed, rolling her eyes as she looked off to the side. "Is now truly the time for jokes, Lord Gundrik?"
Gundrik shrugged. "I thought Radagon would like it. Then again, he's the same."
Marika shook her head, looked up, and thinned her lips before finally turning to Gundrik again. "Fine, then. 'Twas always to happen, whether I wanted it or not. To face what might be my greatest sin. The extermination of the Fire Giants, the wars I have waged across the Lands Between at the behest of the Greater Will, the events that led to the death of Lord Godfrey - none do I regret more than this, Lord Gundrik. I wouldst have thee know of the gravity of this. This shall not be an easy thing."
Gundrik took hold of the handle of the greatsword. "I would not be doing this if it was easy. Power always comes at a price. This one just so happens to be less physical than others."
It took only a moment for Gundrik to wrench the Godslayer's Greatsword from the elk's head, blood splattering across the stone ground once it was finally out. Gundrik held it up to the air, watching as the lights of false stars glittered across the silver surface of the sword. Letting his arm relax, Gundrik turned to Marika.
"Let's go."
Gundrik had only visited the roots of the Erdtree once before, and it had been before he had even challenged Morgott for the final time, at the Elden Throne. Even then, he couldn't forget the gnarled and fungus-laden roots of the Erdtree, a far cry from the golden splendor that shone from above.
The path to the roots, however, was far from intuitive. Traveling through the northern portion of Nokron was far from ideal, and Gundrik was reminded of the Crucible Knights that had patrolled the way, with bits of their armor all that remained of the once proud order of knights. They had been loyal to Lord Godfrey, once, and while he had never been one of them, Gundrik couldn't help but see them as kindred, in a sense.
That didn't matter anymore, though. Most of them were dead, like most things from the old days of the Golden Order.
After a long journey, however, they made it. The gnarled roots of the Erdtree stretched through the domed sky, breaking into the earth. Cloudy water pooled in several areas as they moved into the massive chamber. A light thrumming rang out through the air, making Gundrik's bones quake; it was evident that while the Frenzied Flame may have escaped and taken over Leyndell, it had not damaged the Erdtree.
Not yet, at least.
Marika was completely silent as they moved forward, her expression blank as her footsteps echoed alongside his. Gundrik couldn't find it in him to blame her; they were heading straight toward the monument to her greatest sin. He had avoided bringing it up as much as possible. The scarce few times he had spoken to her of it, she refused to speak too long of it. All he knew was that she had been the ultimate mastermind behind the Shattering, and that Godwyn's 'sacrifice' was her choice. He could not wring much else out of her, and he did not much like the prospect of angering her.
As for Gundrik, he had only been at the roots of the Erdtree once. It had been a surreal experience for him as he wandered about the broken passageways and eerie ruins that dotted the small landscape. He had gone in search of Fia, to finally put the mystery of what happened to the other hallowbrand he granted her to rest. And beyond that, he would rather not think of what transpired. He knew what Godwyn had become, and soon enough, Marika would have an inkling as well.
She needed to see it, Gundrik knew. The fact she showed any sign of remorse for what she assumed needed to be done was a good sign, but it wasn't good enough. It was the final obstacle towards what Gundrik envisioned, and with luck, they would be leaving with Those Who Live in Death finally put to rest, and the last remnants of the Shattering put to rest.
All was silent as they ascended. Gundrik did not bother to summon Torrent; he was in no rush to see Godwyn again. And Marika was practically dragging her feet beside him, even as they moved forward at the same pace. Not even the chittering, giant ants that seemed to swarm the northern portion of the underground made a noise. The remnants of broken gargoyles were laid down upon their path, like a prelude to what Marika would become upon seeing what became of her son.
When they reached the highest vantage point, Gundrik looked out and down toward the ruined city below. He had no idea what it had once been called, or how long it had been since anything besides basilisks or headless ghosts had called it home. All he knew was that its current residents would be the only audience to bear witness to the events about to unfold.
Godwyn's body was hidden behind a thick wall of the Erdtree's roots, but there was a small opening upon a platform beneath them, and Gundrik jumped down, his grip on the Bolt of Gransax never wavering, and the Godslayer's Greatsword upon his back only lightly rustling against his armor. Marika was soon to follow, her deft fall transitioning to dainty and deliberate footsteps.
"Are you ready?" Gundrik asked, stretching his jaw out. It had been some time since he last spoke.
"Wouldst thou ever be prepared to see the remains of a child thou slew?" Marika replied, turning to Gundrik with narrowed golden eyes.
Gundrik shrugged. "I would not know. I have never murdered a child of mine before. I have never even had children of my own. None that I know of, anyway."
"And what am I to make of that?" Marika scoffed, turning away and staring at the wooden roots of the Erdtree. "I was the one who gaveth the order. The Black Knife Assassins slew Godwyn, Ranni destroyed her corporeal flesh, and I shattered the Ring. Thou knowest this, true; and now I stand before the final tombstone of mine sin. Radagon writhes now, thou shouldst know, but not in contempt, but in desperation. He doth not want to see what lieth beyond this root."
Gundrik sighed. "You know, perhaps we do not need to do this."
Marika whipped around. "What?"
Gundrik punched the tip of the Bolt of Gransax into the ground and pulled out the twisted greatsword upon his back, holding it up for Marika to see.
"There is no guarantee that this will work," Gundrik began, turning the blade over and admiring the reflection it caused. "I am not even certain that the hallowbrand or any of the cursemarks lie beyond this root wall. Perhaps this weapon next to me and the one I hold now will be enough. Perhaps your conjured weapons and Radagon's fundamentalism will win the day. But that will simply leave him here, festering beyond this wall. This is our chance, Marika. Your chance."
Marika's eyes slipped downward. "Mine chance for what?"
"Well, to be honest, you have already taken the chance. This is simply the final step," Gundrik admitted, "You and Radagon helped me put Raya Lucaria down. You and Radagon helped Malenia and I expel the Rot from Caelid. And soon, we shall end the Frenzied Flame for good. Now, it is my time to help you. Put Godwyn out of his misery. Let the Shattering end."
"Enough. Thou hast made thine point, Lord Gundrik. Wouldst thou…" Marika held up her hand. "take my hand? For but a moment."
A sharp intake of breath was Gundrik's response before he hooked his greatsword along his back and plucked the Bolt of Gransax out of the ground with one hand, before holding his other hand out, his palm facing upward. A moment later, and the two stood in front of the entrance into what amounted to Godwyn's burial chamber. Gundrik heard Marika take a deep breath before he moved forward alongside her.
What followed was the tensest silence Gundrik had ever felt in all of his years.
It had been some time, but Gundrik would never forget the grotesque abomination that Godwyn had become. In his mind, he couldn't even imagine the golden one he had been before one half of the rune of death was carved into his flesh. His long, flowing blonde hair had become mired in what seemed to be spiky fish fins, although that was hardly the only thing that was wrong; Godwyn had grown, his arms pulled backward as if he was reclining in a giant chair, his face upturned and frozen in an almost farcical expression of surprise, his eyes wide open and covered in a thin film of white. Lastly, his legs had fused together into a fish-like tail, wrapping around beneath his body, with only the gold-lined drapery denoting his status as a demigod. Flies swarmed around his rotting corpse, practically glowing with exuberance.
However, Gundrik could see that besides Godwyn's corpse, much had changed of the area surrounding the first dead demigod.
Several bodies laid upon the ground beside Godwyn, the telltale signs of deathblight all about them. Gundrik saw D's armor, although he knew the hunter had long perished at Roundtable Hold. He saw the hilt of what looked to be a large rapier shoved straight into the chest, and considering the rotund black iron armor on another corpse nearby Gundrik could guess what had happened there. The third corpse, laying against a small rock outcropping, was one he did not recognize. They wore what seemed to be a lightly armored suit of black iron, with the membrane of a dragon draped around their shoulders like a cape. Their face was so rotted, Gundrik couldn't tell if they were a man or a woman.
And, lastly, laid a small body covered in black, silky cloth, laying against Godwyn's body. Fia was dead, and had been for some time.
Overall, though, the biggest change was the massive dragon corpse laid out to the side, with evidence of claw marks and pockmarks gouged into its flesh. Its corpse was covered in thick, black spines, although they had evidently not been the cause of death.
"Is that…" Gundrik began, frowning. "Fortissax? The Ancient Dragon? I never thought that he would…"
Spellbound by the massive dragon corpse, Gundrik momentarily let go of Marika's hand, and knelt before the corpse. It was a good thing he had long since grown used to terrible smells, otherwise he would not have been able to stand near anything within that chamber.
After a moment, though, he returned to his senses to look at Marika, only to see her staring up at her son's body. Gundrik couldn't see her face, but he didn't need to to feel the immense tension in the air.
"And this is what has become of him," Marika said, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is what I did to him. My son- nay, I no longer claim the right to call thee, Godwyn. Thou hast become a parasite upon the Erdtree, and resurrecting Those Who Live in Death. This was never mine intent, but I look upon thee now, and I feel…"
"It was you who orchestrated the Night of Black Knives," Gundrik said, walking up beside her to stand before Godwyn's corpse. "You can be ruthless, but you are not needlessly cruel. Not usually. At least, not to your own children."
"Am I not?" Marika asked, turning to look at Gundrik. Her face was disturbingly void of expression. "Need I remind thee, Lord Gundrik, of the two Omens I birthed? Who I then cast away into the dark below Leyndell? Two golden ones, cast aside and spurned by the Erdtree and by me. Godfrey visited them as often as he couldst, and I… so didst I, but not enough."
"You visited them?" Gundrik asked.
"As… as often as I couldst," Marika repeated, wiping at her eyes before turning her gaze back to Godwyn. "A god under the Greater Will, mine every action was watched and marked, and when I sent Godfrey away, it only became worse. Godwyn - he was as Radagon; a fundamentalist, doggedly loyal to the Greater Will and the Golden Order. Were he to win the ensuing conflict after I shattered the Elden Ring, it would be as it had been before, I couldst not allow that. Though he was mine favorite, the only child of Lord Godfrey and I that I was allowed to have completely, he wouldst bring unparalleled agony upon himself and others, were he to continue as he was."
"And so, Ranni stole the Rune of Death, split it in half, and used it to kill herself and Godwyn," Gundrik said. "She used you just as you used her, is that right?"
Marika nodded. "We didst not trust each other, but plan we did. Were her Age of Stars, as she claimest, to be the next age, I wouldst not object. And so, why didst thou choose this? This Age of Order? Nothing can be got from this useless flesh and stone. Look upon noble Godwyn, and shiver."
"I had a choice," Gundrik stated, grasping the Godslayer's Greatsword from his back. "And I chose this. Ranni wanted to take Order away into the stars, leaving this world to its devices, for better or for worse. I could not stand idly by while the people of this land suffered, though. I refused to. So I rejected her offer, and now here we stand."
"Hadst thou chosen her, I wouldst not have to see this depravity!" Marika suddenly snapped. "I wouldst not… I-"
Before Marika could finish, she clutched her head and screamed as her body split apart. It was not an easy separation compared to what Gundrik had seen previously; her body contorted briefly as one half fell to its knees while another grasped at the Golden Order Greatsword, before separating itself completely. Gundrik was immediately reminded of the Grafted Scion, though not quite as grotesque and large. A moment later, and Radagon and Marika were separated once more. Marika laid on her knees, tears falling from her eyes as Radagon turned around, his greatsword in one hand, and his lips pulled back in a sneer.
"I should have done this long ago," Radagon snarled, raising his greatsword high, only for Gundrik to block it with his own. A metallic 'clang' rang out through the thorny chamber. "Stand back, Gundrik. This woman deserves nothing but death."
"Kill her, and nothing will be gotten but another body," Gundrik shot back. He was in awe that he was able to block Radagon's strike, but shunted the thought away to focus on what was really happening. "No one is killing anybody here. Not again."
"Let him, Gundrik."
Turning his head, Gundrik raised a brow as Marika rose to her feet. She looked to him, then, her lips thin and eyes watery.
"Let him," she repeated. "The weight of this sin shalt never be removed from me. I have done the unthinkable. The unforgivable. I see that now. Perhaps a world with the Greater Will wouldst have been preferable to this. To a world without true order, to a world whose god abandoned it."
"No," Gundrik stated. Radagon relaxed, though he still glared daggers at Marika. "No, you are not dying today."
Marika paused, her eyes widening before she nodded. "Ah, I see, then. Thou art a cruel consort, Lord Gundrik. To curse me with life."
"He is more merciful than I," Radagon grunted. "Godwyn was begotten from my flesh, the flesh we share. He is as much my son as he is yours. If I had known the extent of his corruption beforehand…"
"You would have killed her, and thus yourself," Gundrik said, placing the tip of the Godslayer's Greatsword to the ground. The Bolt of Gransax rattled along his back. "Or maybe you would have split apart like you did just then. But I need you both alive. I cannot do this on my own."
"You have slain a god, and bested me in single combat," Radagon pointed out. "What more would you need?"
Gundrik's shoulders slumped. "Because, to fix the world, more than simple skill with a blade or strong magic is needed. Not everything can be slapped about with a sword and save the day. I need you. Both of you. To make sure this never happens again, to send the Outer Gods packing. Maybe this plan is flawed. Maybe I should have gone with Ranni after all. But I cannot, not anymore, and the path ahead is clear."
Moving forward, Gundrik stood before Fia's corpse, in all of its rotten glory. Something was hiding just beneath the fabric of her dress. Moving his hands forward, it fell between his hands, casting away the fabric. Two halves of the centipede hovered between his hands. When he turned around, Radagon and Marika looked at him, their gazes equally perplexed.
"And besides that, if either of you die," Gundrik continued, his voice quieter than before. "You will not have the chance to right your wrongs. Marika would never be able to end the Shattering, and you, Radagon, would never be able to lay Rennala's mind to rest. This is the way it is going to be now, and I would ask you both to stand with me."
Radagon looked to Marika, who let out a sigh as her hands clenched.
"A greater task master, I have never known," she mumbled. "Fine, then. Perhaps thou art right. Perhaps this is to be my punishment. But I have seen worse. And I shalt put Godwyn to rest, here and now."
"The Golden Order as it once was cannot be restored," Radagon spoke next. "But I have seen your prowess, Gundrik, and I am willing and able to fight for this new Order with all that I am."
Gundrik nodded, a smile behind his helmet as he looked upon the Godslayer's Greatsword. Holding one half of the Rune of Death, Gundrik approached the weapon. Truthfully, he did not know what, if anything, would happen when he introduced the Rune. He didn't even know if anything would change, or if the sword would accept it. Nonetheless, he pressed the Rune against the blade, and as luck would have it, the sword changed. It was almost as if it had been waiting for the Rune as it grew in size, the blade filling out until it was whole.
What sword stood before him was no longer the Godslayer's Greatsword. It had become something different. Its blade no longer became a twin spiral toward the end, instead becoming a full blade, with intricate, almost water-like markings along the side. Its edge had become razor-sharp, and black and red fire shimmered along its length.
"Well," Gundrik said, swallowing the lump in his throat. "That went better than I expected. I am sure Hewg would be proud of it."
"The old Misbegotten was an unparalleled smith," Marika said, "There is a reason as to why I charged him with forging a god-slaying weapon. The Bolt shalt continue to be a weapon of legend, but it is of a legend already told. This weapon is one which has none. It remains to be written."
Gundrik took hold of the grip, and felt the coolness even through his patchwork armor. With one mighty tug, he pulled it out of the ground, the silvery edge almost looking eager to spill blood.
"And now," Gundrik said, turning to Godwyn's corpse. "It's time to put this demigod to rest."
"Gundrik," Marika said, moving forward and placing her hand upon his shoulder. "Wouldst thou… give me the honor, of ending my child's suffering?"
Gundrik looked to Radagon, as if asking permission. After a curt nod, Gundrik sighed and gave Marika the new blade. "Very well."
Marika gratefully took the new sword, holding it aloft as if to admire it, before swinging it once. A gout of blackened-red flame burst from the sword's edge and surged forward, cutting into Godwyn's flesh and sending away the flies that had swarmed around his body. Gundrik was immediately reminded of the Black Blade, and he wished he could have retrieved it before he had been sent away from Farum Azula.
Another swing, and another cut into Godwyn, and steadily the flame grew to encompass most of the dead demigod's mutated body. A crackling noise rang out and echoed in Gundrik's ears as Godwyn's upturned head fell forward as his body was burnt. The last thing he saw upon Godwyn's face were his eyes steadily closing, before finally fading away entirely into dust.
When the fire had faded, nothing remained of Godwyn.
"I am sorry for doubting you," Radagon said. "I should have had faith in you from the beginning. If I had known of this, I would not have barred you from the Erdtree."
Gundrik looked to Radagon before shaking his head.
"In the end, it made me who I am," Gundrik said, "so there's no need to apologize again, Radagon."
"Still, I…" Radagon shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if my thoughts are my own, or if they are hers. My heart still aches and yet, I have done with you what I never thought I would do again. Sometimes I wonder if they are real. If I am real."
Gundrik tilted his head. "Do what? You mean before in the fort-?"
Radagon waved a hand. "Later, Gundrik. Not here. Not now. I have much to say but not in this accursed place."
A moment later, and Marika returned, the new greatsword within her grasp. She handed it over to Gundrik wordlessly, who held it up to the bleak light that leaked into the chamber. Even with Godwyn gone, Gundrik did not know what would become of Those Who Lived in Death. Godwyn's parasitic roots stretched far. But what mattered was that the source was destroyed. Perhaps Godwyn would truly find his rest.
"Let us be away, then," Marika stated, walking past Gundrik and Radagon. "I will not let my city be occupied by the accursed Flame any longer."
Before anyone says something, yes, I know Fortissax was fought basically inside dead Godwyn's head, and that Lionel was implied to have died in Leyndell, but, well, shush.
To be more serious, Lionel being alive isn't that big a stretch, and Fortissax leaving Godwyn's mind also isn't the worst. As for that other person there, well, some secrets are meant to be kept. I will say they're probably not anyone you have heard of.
Anyway, we only have around four Chapters until the end of the fic. I'm looking forward to it!
Thanks to GrandPaladinTyrux for beta-reading!
As the link to our Discord server has been disabled, I'm afraid I got nothing to put here. So, instead I'll just wish you all a good rest of your day!
