At the foot of the Erdtree, one man stood alone.
Ash and fallen leaves adorned the marble ground, a reminder of what the devastating consequences of failure might be, yet the helmeted form paid it no mind.
To dwell upon even the possibility of such a thing would only serve to weaken blows and dull the mind, an ideology that had carried the man through many an encounter.
He knew not the challenge that might await him within those oaken doors, but he could not falter, for the fate of the Lands Between rested now upon his weary shoulders.
In defiance of the gods, in defiance of the greater will, in defiance of the very heavens; the lone warrior stood tall and unwavering, and faced the end of the world with stoic determination.
He placed a gauntleted hand upon golden bark, and a single memory came to him unbidden.
'I know… within my bones… A tarnished cannot become a Lord. Not even you. A man cannot kill a god…'
Within burning breast, the great rune of power pulsed in time with steady heartbeats.
'I am sorry, old friend, but I do what must be done…'
The gate swung open, golden rays of light suffusing his lowly form
'For the sake of the world, I must become the Elden Lord.'
His entrance was heralded by the chorus of trumpets on high.
/
It was over.
A final cry, the haunting sound of an unfathomable being, and at last, the Elden beast lay dead upon crystal waters.
The man heaved a stuttering breath, arms shaking in previous exertion, as he gave one final glance towards his fallen enemy before slowly making his way towards the broken form of Queen Marika.
He reached into the air, then through it, and retrieved from it a rune, glowing and ethereal. He still wasn't too sure how Goldmask had managed to even acquire the thing, for he surely hadn't made it himself, but he was far too deep now to consider going back.
Red eyes stared at its perfect visage, and the man felt his lips curl up into a small smile.
It was the best option he had anyway.
WIth tender hands he picked up the fallen head of Queen Marika, and placed it back on her crumbling body, returning to its rightful place.
Next came the rune, pushed into stone forehead without fanfare. It was accepted easily, entering her corpse as if it was always meant to be there.
He stood back and waited with bated breath.
At first nothing happened, the beginnings of creeping despair tickling the back of his mind, before something cracked.
Tiny fissures, almost like spiderwebs, emanated out from the centre of Markia's body, and from them emerged shimmering dust, dancing to and fro in fey winds.
The sight enraptured the lone warrior, and for the first time in an age, he felt free.
A single tear leaked from his eye, but he could not bring himself to care, so transfixed was he by the visage of beauty before him. Every sense alight with blissful sensation, his body resonating to frequencies beyond mortal understanding, his heart swelling with the pride of kings.
His entire being was bursting with the essence of the world.
'I pray thee, oh sweet Melina, wherever you may now reside, that the light of order shall welcome you into its embrace all the same."
The man staggered backwards, a nebulae of dizzying fractals etching themselves onto his iris.
What was once fractured became whole, and the lands between were once more bathed in rays of gold.
Yet the warrior would be unable to ever witness it.
For through his veins ran the primal energies of the Erdtree, far too potent for any tarnished to bear. It changed him, morphing his body into something else, elevating his being to greater heights. His soul cried out once in jubilant exaltation, before the powers from beyond the fog consumed it utterly and entirely.
Raphael, Herald of the perfect order, left his mortal shell in the lands between.
And ventured somewhere else.
/
The sun sat high upon its throne in the sky, looking down at the land with a watchful gaze. From its lofty vigil extended warm rays of light, waking the world from its peaceful slumber, and bestowing upon it a new day free from the worries that came before.
And within that world, somewhere, somehow, there was a being that the sun had never seen before. Curious, it illuminated the stranger, and found a body collapsed in the middle of a forest.
In the dirt he lay, and in the dirt his senses returned to him.
The scent of dewy grass fresh after rainfall, the feel of the loamy mud under his fingertips, the sweet melody of songbirds, all of it culminating in an effort to rouse the lone warrior from sleep.
Eyes opened, staring up at the sky in dazed confusion.
It looked just as beautiful as it did when he first saw it, before his journey had truly begun, and before Melina had sacrificed herself to…
Something was missing
He blinked, once, before panic set in, mind running through hundreds of questions, thousands of possibilities, although he stopped himself before spiralling too deep.
'Calm down. Think.'
A deep breath, a steady exhale, and an uneasy contentment came once more.
Raphael was loath to get up, the temptation to simply lay upon the ground and sleep away his problems almost preferable to facing reality, but rise he must, to determine at least what had happened to him.
The first and most obvious thing he had noticed was the glaring absence of the Erdtree.
'That is…Concerning.'
An understatement, in every sense of the word, and one made to diminish his own internal panic. If one were to think upon the Lands Between, the first thing to come to mind would always be the Erdtree, the pillar upon which their civilization was borne. A land without the Erdtree… Raphael found it hard to even fathom.
'Could my appointment as Elden Lord have something to do with it?'
He thought it unlikely. The mending rune was supposed to remove the fly in the ointment, to equalise the power between men and the fickle gods, yet if such a thing had come to pass, why was the Erdtree no longer standing? And even if the destruction of the tree was a necessary consequence, it was unfathomable that it could disappear without a trace.
'Or could it be… that I am no longer in the Lands Between?'
It seemed at first ridiculous, for he knew nothing of the world beyond, but the absence of guiding grace had rattled him to the core.
'Wait…'
Gold seeped out from the inside.
'I can still feel it?'
Where before grace had been an outward thing, his guiding light upon the horizon, now… Now it somehow welled from within. Emboldening his spirit, imbuing his core with eldritch knowledge that lay just outside of grasp.
A pattern of lights shone before curious red eyes, before an intense pain stabbed at his brain, halting Raphael's exploration of this newfound feeling.
'What the fuck was that?'
He removed his helmet and pinched the bridge of his nose.
'All of this introspection is getting me nowhere. Perhaps I should try to find some sign of civilization? If nothing else, it would at least provide someone to talk to other than myself.'
And with a small chuckle, he was off.
The man meandered through the wilderness, through the trees and over bubbling brooks, following nothing but base instinct and the barely-decipherable whispers of grace. As he travelled he surveyed his surroundings in turn, and found himself reminded quite eerily of Limgrave, the land of beginnings. In both scenery and atmosphere they had much in common, that he could admit readily and without issue.
However, despite the many similarities between the two, Limgrave and his current location were distinctly different. It was a hard to describe feeling, but this place felt alive in a much more spiritual sense than his homeland. The grass was greener, the trees taller and more healthy, the animals hale and without disease - it was somewhere almost completely untouched by the meddlings of gods and men alike.
A rarity, one that he would hope to preserve.
He continued on his path forward, admiring the wildlife in its entirety, until at last his feet left grass and stepped instead onto a well-worn road.
Raphael's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
'Huh… would you look at that? It seems old Boggart was wrong once again, I am lucky after all!'
He followed this new path with a relaxed pace, although his eyes were narrowed and scanning the treeline. It was something of a small miracle that he had not yet been besieged by feral dogs or half-mad commoners, and the lack of any action was starting to make him restless. Call it what you will, but the Lands Between were never lacking in conflict.
Taking a moment to assess his thoughts, Raphael found that he quite liked the change of pace.
Checking once more before being satisfied of his safety, his hand reached out into the space between spaces, and from it he drew what seemed to be a circular sort of whistle.
He stroked its edges in fond reminiscence, before holding it reverently to his lips.
A piercing sound echoed throughout the forest, and from unnatural mist an equine shape took form, a mighty steed adorned with the horns of a bull.
Infront of the man stood the summoned horse, regarding him with a curious intensity before trotting forwards in his direction.
With a soft neigh the animal leaned in and brushed its head against affectionate hands, slender fingers rubbing at the crown of its head in familiar movements.
"Ah, Torrent! How I've missed you! Truly, we have been apart for far too long!"
Torrent stopped his nuzzling to fix him with a flat gaze.
"Ah, come on you big lug! Show a man some love, eh? We're already lost out here in the middle of fuckin' nowhere, alright, the least you could do is laugh at my shitty jokes."
It seemed some of his inner frustrations were slipping free, although he blamed his crass tongue on Boggart's influence.
'I hope that old bastard is doing better than me.'
A hoofed foot kicked at the ground, blowing a plume of dust in Raphael's face.
"Ah - Fuck, fine! I hear ya, I hear ya, should've known you got no sense of humour, bloody beast."
The last part of that sentence was muttered, although somehow the horse managed to catch it, turning its nose up and snorting imperiously.
Raphael heaved a sigh, although he couldn't stop his features from stretching into a lopsided grin.
In a practised motion, the man hauled himself up onto the horse's back, and with a whistle they were on their way, riding along the path. Raphael was silent for a while, lost in the different atmosphere and his own thoughts, before finally he spoke once more, this time his voice quiet and more subdued.
"What's going on, Torrent? I-I have seen many things, things that to most would seem inconceivable, I'm sure, but the Erdtree… How? How can it be gone?"
Hysteria was once more starting to set in.
"I was inside it, y'know? I entered the tree, battled Radagon and the great beast, and in the end I stood victorious. We won, Torrent, we actually won, and what was our reward?! Either the Erdtree was destroyed without a trace, something I'm finding increasingly unlikely, or…"
Red eyes narrowed in vicious anger, the sting of betrayal like a hot brand of iron pushed into his flesh
"...We're somewhere else entirely."
The horse made a sympathetic sound, as if trying to assure its owner, and Raphael loosed a heavy sigh before slumping in his seat.
"At least I have you, buddy… Those people out there that say dogs are a man's best friend are fuckin' delusional, I'll tell ya. They must've never met a steed as handsome as you!"
The horse chuffed at that, and began to pick up the pace, galloping along the path at speeds inconceivable for a normal mount.
Left again to his own musings, Raphael found his thoughts wandering to the strange feeling of liveliness and strength that pervaded his being ever since he had regained consciousness. It was difficult to put into adequate words, but if he had to describe it, the feeling was as if something deep within him had been altered at a fundamental level, and that now he could experience the world with a clarity that he had been previously lacking.
It was odd, certainly, but it paled in comparison to everything else that had happened.
Raphael took another calming breath, and this time found it much easier to relax himself and push away the growing sense of dread. There was no point worrying about it now, for until he found some fellow tarnished to converse with all he really had were conjectures and baseless theories.
He ran a hand through Torrent's soft mane of hair, and thanked the heavens that he hadn't been stranded here alone and without a companion.
"Out of one adventure and into another, eh? I suppose it's not too bad. What else would we really be doing anyway? Sitting on a throne forever seems bloody dull, if you ask me."
Raphael stared out at the road ahead, at the innumerable futures that might await him, and bore it all with a hopeful smile.
'At least we haven't been ambushed by any giant lobsters yet. This is already shaping up to be a much better time than before.'
/
At the gates of Camelford, a small village hidden at the end of a dense forest, two men stood guard. To many they would seem intimidating, adorned with wrought-iron armour and brandishing spears twice as long as a man was tall, but if you approached closer it would be instantly apparent that these two men were most probably unfit for their jobs.
One was an elder, greying hair poking out from his too-small helmet in a crazed manner, and the other, despite his prodigious height, had the face and bearing of a child. It would probably take only a single bandit to push aside their defence and ransack the town they guarded, a fact the guards seemed to know all too well judging by their panicked expressions.
The clop of hooves grew closer and closer, a death knell upon weary ears. Most within the town hadn't the coin to even purchase a stallion, this the old man knew, and those who did could only afford one of poor breeding, fit only to work the fields.
The local merchant had already come and gone a mere fortnight ago, and he wouldn't be back until the next harvest, so those sounds could only herald the arrival of two things.
He held his spear in a white-knuckled grip.
If it was bandits, then the town was doomed. He would stand his ground and fight, as would many of the residents, but all knew that it would be futile in the end. The best they could hope for in that situation is to evacuate the women and children before they could be harmed, although even that was naught but a fleeting dream.
The other option, and the most likely one judging by the lack of other noises, was a visit from a knight. The old man knew not what such an esteemed figure would be doing at their humble settlement, but it was probably best not to dwell on it. Knights were notorious for wandering the land on strange quests unfathomable to most, and to peasant folk like them, such things were better off not discussed anyways.
Trying to understand nobles and their flowery language was an exercise in futility.
Soon their quarry emerged from the trees, and the old man heaved a sigh of relief, placing a calming hand on the young guard's trembling shoulders. The figure approached at a sedate pace, until the knight and his horse came fully into view, the golden light of the sun shining radiantly upon his visage.
Both guards stared at the stranger with slack-jawed expressions.
"Err… Hello? Nice day we're having, isn't it?"
The men did not respond.
"Ah, well, I assure you that I mean no harm. I am but a simple tarnished, just as you are, in search of… information, I guess you could call it."
The knight looked at them with curious red eyes, and at last the old man broke free from his stupor, coughing in embarrassment. He of course had no idea what a 'tarnished' was supposed to be, but he chalked it up to the usual eccentricities of nobles.
"Of course, sir Knight, what is it you wanted to know?"
"Hmm… Would you have any idea what happened to the Erdtree, by any chance? I have been asleep for the past day or so, you see, so imagine my surprise when I woke up and found that it was missing!"
"Erd…Tree?" The old man's tone was that of pure confusion. "I apologise, milord, but I have never heard of such a thing. Have you, George?"
The boy in men's armour shook his head vigorously.
"I see… that is troubling news. Say, where exactly are we situated right now? I've lost my map during my travels, and have been wandering lost ever since."
The old man nodded in sympathy, before answering.
"We are in Cornwall, milord, just off the southwest coast."
The Knight's face seemed to fall at every word the old man spoke, visage set in a grim frown. He seemed about to turn his horse and leave the village, before stopping mid-action.
"Would you happen to have any available lodgings? I've been on the road for far too long, and find myself in need of a warm bed."
"W-we have an inn, Sir Knight, although I doubt it would be up to your standards. If the lord wills it, of course, we could-"
The man's worried ramblings were cut off by the Knight.
"I'm sure it will do. Good day."
He trotted through the gates without another word.
Both guards watched the man go with baffled expressions, before the boy turned to his senior and spoke.
"Gramps…Did you see that guy's horse? It had horns!"
"Yes George, I did."
"So cool… Do you think he would let me ride it?"
"No George, and if you ask I'll slap you upside the head."
"Aww…"
/
'Marika's fuckin' tits, where are we?'
Raphael was currently feeling slightly pissed off, glaring at the cobbled pavement as if it wronged him somehow.
'I can't believe we've actually been dropped off in another place entirely! I don't know why everyone wanted to be Elden Lord so much, you can only have the title for 30 fuckin' seconds anyway!'
He looked around and spied dozens of the village's citizens; men, women and children, peeking out from behind curtains or gaping at him openly on the streets.
It was starting to get uncomfortable.
'Have they never seen an outsider before? I don't look that strange, do I? That old man at the gate kept calling me "milord" as well, although I cannot fathom why. Do they believe me some sort of noble or king?'
The thought was baffling to Raphael. He knew his armour might seem valuable to these people, but his face and bearing were clearly of common descent, and it wasn't as if they recognised him for his deeds.
With absent mind he stepped off from torrent, patting the steed once more on the head before it disappeared into mist.
The amazed gasps from the peanut gallery went ignored.
The man walked up to what looked like the inn building, pushing open the oaken doors and stepping through. He strode straight up to the bar counter, the matronly woman manning it seeming to turn red at the sight of him, before tossing her a few golden golden runes and demanding a room.
"F-first room on the left, sire, thank you for your p-patronage!"
Making his way up to his lodgings, Raphael swung open the door with a bit more force than necessary and collapsed in a heap on the bed. He felt listless, devoid of any purpose, as his thoughts strayed back to the Lands Between.
In the end he had mended the Elden Ring, this he was completely sure of, so in theory his homeland should at least be safer than it was, although he had no idea what would happen to it now.
Would there be rebellions? Would the world of men overthrow the greater will? What of the scarlet rot? All were questions without any answers, and they would likely stay that way for a long time.
He turned over, staring up at the ceiling, and rubbed at his eyes. In the end, he supposed, none of it really mattered anymore. He had not even the slightest idea on how he would go about returning to the Lands Between, and even if he could, would there even be anything left for him there? The roundtable hold burnt to a crisp. His fellow warriors dead and buried. And his sweet maiden, Melina…
Raphael's heart ached with the pang of loss
He never wanted to be Elden Lord out of any sort of selfish interest or personal prestige, it had always been a simple means to an end, and now that he had accomplished what he had set out to do, going back simply to rule felt hollow and meaningless.
The muscles around his jaw tightened, face set in solemn grimace, before he reeled himself back in. Dwelling upon such things would only bring heartache.
Through his window streamed the reddish light of the noon sun, casting strange silhouettes on the wall behind him. He stared for a second, marvelling at the way something could look so different as a shadow, before an idea came to him.
Maybe he should be looking at this from an alternate angle?
Perhaps this was not punishment, but a reward instead? He was within a new land, that much was true, but that in itself did not have to be negative. It could be seen as a fresh start, a clean slate in which none could judge him for his past deeds. There was no burden upon his shoulders any longer, no meddling gods or jealous men, nothing and no-one that could keep him from his freedom.
Lips curled into a bittersweet smile.
He would never forget his time as a lowly tarnished, for those experiences were what helped mould him into the man he was today, but it seemed that it was now time to move forward into the next chapter of his life. Raphael had no idea what he was going to do next, yet that thought brought a strange happiness instead of the usual sense of dread.
'I guess I will simply go where life takes me.'
An errant hand ran through his hair, and paused almost instantly in its ministrations.
He blinked.
'That feels… a lot less coarse than I remember.'
Taking a lock of hair between fingers, the man brought it in front of his eyes for inspection.
'Wait… What the fuck happened to my hair?!'
Raphael sat up in a hurry, the bed creaking in protest, and turned to a small dressing table whereupon a small mirror laid.
With anxious hands he picked it up, and froze in shock at what he saw.
Golden tresses that hung down to mid-back, piercing crimson eyes, and a face of peerless beauty all adorned in shimmering raiment. The figure in the mirror mimicked his movements and facial expressions, but his form was alien and uncanny.
Raphael had never concerned himself much with his appearance, for the Lands Between cared not for such frivolous things, but he was certain that he never looked like this. His new features were more akin to a demigod than any tarnished he knew of, something which surely had other consequences unseen for now.
He attempted a smile, and even through his unease it radiated a certain power and regal majesty.
At least he knew now what all those villagers were staring at him for.
'I really do look like some bloody noble. Great.'
He stood still for a minute, gathering his thoughts, before heading back out through the inn doors and into the outside world. The man surveyed the land with calculating eyes, and noticed with concern how run-down everything seemed to look. Most of the houses were small and on the verge of collapse, whilst the crop-fields appeared barren and without produce. A few livestock wandered around, glassy eyed and directionless, with gaunt frames that probably contained more bone than flesh.
The people were not much better, sallow of face and seemingly malnourished, although they went to work without complaint, tilling at fields where nothing ever grew.
Raphael thought for a second to simply leave, although it was but a brief flight of fancy.
Boggart always said he had a soft heart.
With a voice he now realised had a slightly musical quality, the lone warrior called out to the villagers.
"Get over here, you sorry lot! We've got plans to discuss!"
AN:
And the result of my Elden Ring addiction has culminated into another story. Unlike my other stories I am not too sure where this is going to go, although I do have a vague outline of possible future events. The gates of Camelot shall soon be witnessed, I assure you.
Well, let me know what you think, and of course I am happy to answer any questions you may have! :)