Nathaniel struggled to maintain his composure. "An accord?" he repeated, trying to regain his focus. "What kind of accord?"
Melina's expression remained stoic, her eyes calm and unblinking. "An accord is an agreement. I perceive thou art in need of assistance. The path thou walkest is fraught with challenges, and thou hast much to gain by accepting mine offer."
She took a step closer. "I can proffer thee guidance and aid in thy journey through these lands. In exchange, I ask only for thy cooperation and willingness."
Nathaniel eyed her warily. "Not to be rude, but why the hell should I trust you? You're a stranger who just came out of nowhere, and you think I'd just help you like that?"
Melina remained unfazed, her gaze steady. "What have I to gain by deception? Thou art maidenless, thou art powerless. Yet, verily, thou art bereft of a maiden. I can fulfill the role of maiden, transforming rune fragments into strength, to aid thee in thy quest for the Elden Ring."
'What was with the way she talked? She sounded like a Shakespeare character,' Nathaniel thought.
"Listen, I can't get used to how you talk. Thou, thee, hast. Man, that shit ain't in my vocabulary."
"Thou art a strange one, Tarnished," Melina said with a deadpan expression.
Her response made him bristle slightly. A bit rude, he thought, but he let it slide. His frustration bubbled over as he demanded to know what a Tarnished was. The term felt like another layer of confusion in an already baffling situation.
"Anyway, what is a Tarnished, and why is everyone calling me that?" Nathaniel asked.
"The Tarnished are individuals who lost the grace of the Erdtree and were consequently banished from the Lands Between by Queen Marika the Eternal."
As Melina explained the history and his supposed role, Nathaniel's mind raced to catch up. Queen Marika? Lands Between? He felt like he was piecing together a puzzle with missing pieces. The whole situation felt surreal, and his desperation to understand only grew.
"Who's Queen Marika?" Nathaniel asked.
"Thou dost not know who Queen Marika is?" Melina's surprise was evident in her voice.
"What am I supposed to know? I just came from Ohio hours ago, and now I'm in a fantasy world. So forgive me for not learning from a history book!" Nathaniel snapped.
"Calm thyself," Melina said, her voice soothing but firm.
Nathaniel took a deep breath. "Yeah, sorry for being a dick. I'm tired, hungry, and frustrated. I don't know anything about this world. I'm from America. Heard of it?"
"I know not of what land thou speakest," Melina replied.
"Of course you don't," Nathaniel muttered, frustration seeping into his tone.
"How am I going to get home? I have a family back in Ohio," he continued.
"Hmm... If thou couldst manage to retrieve the Elden Ring, it may help thee return home," Melina said thoughtfully.
"Seriously, or are you just guessing?" Nathaniel asked.
"I know more than thou dost, Tarnished. I have been in this land for centuries," Melina stated with an air of certainty.
Nathaniel paused, feeling a strange sense of trust in her words. She seemed to hold knowledge far beyond his grasp, and despite his doubts, he found himself willing to listen. Maybe she really could help him.
"Trust me when I say this. The Elden Ring is an omnipotent item. If thou canst manage to retrieve its shards from their bearers, it may be enough to repair it," Melina explained.
"Alright. What do you want me to do?" Nathaniel asked.
"Thou needst only take me with thee to the foot of the Erdtree," Melina said, pointing toward the horizon.
Nathaniel followed her gaze, and his eyes widened in awe. There, bathed in ethereal light, stood a colossal tree. Its golden-hued branches and shimmering leaves seemed to be crafted from spun light, casting an otherworldly glow across the landscape. The sight was breathtaking.
"Whoa. That thing is massive..." Nathaniel breathed, unable to tear his eyes away.
"Fine. I get you to the Erdtree. That's the least I can do," he agreed, feeling a sense of purpose.
"Then it is settled. Summon me by grace to turn runes into strength. Ah, another matter. I bequeath to thee this ring," Melina said, handing him a small, ornate whistle.
"Use it to traverse great distances. It will summon a spectral steed named Torrent."
"So how do I use it?" Nathaniel asked, examining the whistle curiously.
"Simply whistle upon it," Melina instructed.
Nathaniel did as told, and to his astonishment, a majestic, spectral horse materialized before him. "Whoa. This is so freakin' cool," he exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face.
"Freakin'?" Melina inquired, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Nathaniel chuckled. "Oh, 'freakin' is just a way of saying 'really' or 'extremely.' You know, like saying 'I'm so incredibly cool'."
Melina nodded. "Ah, I understand now. The nuances of thy language oft elude me."
Nathaniel nodded and stared at the horse.
"Torrent hath chosen thee. Treat him with respect," Melina advised, her tone earnest.
"The horse?" Nathaniel asked.
"Aye."
"Aye?"
"Yes."
"So, Torrent, looks like you're stuck with me," Nathaniel said, patting the steed affectionately.
The evening air was cool, and the distant sounds of the forest seemed to hum with an almost gentle rhythm. He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the day's tensions ebbing away.
Nathaniel glanced back in the direction Melina had gone, wondering about the weapons she was retrieving. A part of him was curious about her, about what kind of person she was behind that composed exterior. There was something reassuring in her presence, a no-nonsense attitude that, paradoxically, made him feel more at ease than he had in days.
He shook his head lightly, dismissing the thought. For now, he needed to focus on the immediate reality—waiting here with Torrent. The horse shifted slightly, nuzzling his arm, and Nathaniel smiled, patting the animal gently. It was strange how something so simple, like the presence of a quiet steed, could offer such comfort.
Nathaniel sank down onto a nearby rock, staring into the flickering firelight and feeling the tension in his shoulders ease. The night stretched before him, and he let out a contented sigh. There was an unusual peace in this moment of stillness, an invitation to let go of his worries, if only for a while.
"I shall fetch some weapons for thee. Ensure that thou goest not elsewhere," Melina instructed.
He shook his head lightly, dismissing the thought. For now, he needed to focus on the immediate reality—waiting here with Torrent. The horse shifted slightly, nuzzling his arm, and Nathaniel smiled, patting the animal gently. It was strange how something so simple, like the presence of a quiet steed, could offer such comfort.
Nathaniel awoke to the crisp morning air and the soft rustling of leaves around him. As he stretched, his hand brushed against something folded and smooth. He blinked awake, curiosity piqued, and reached for the note lying beside him. Unfolding the parchment, he read Melina's brief but thoughtful message:
"Here is a sword and a pouch of runes for thee to prepare thyself. Kale the merchant doth reside at the Church of Elleh, to the west of this place. Seek him out and procure some gear. — Melina."
A smile crept across Nathaniel's face, spreading warmth through him despite the early hour. Her note was practical, yet there was an underlying kindness in her gesture that he hadn't expected. He ran his fingers over the paper.
Nathaniel glanced around the campsite, noting the faint traces of the fire still smouldering and the faint outlines of the shadows that had draped his night. There was a sense of clarity now, a focus that hadn't been there before. The note, and the promise of a new day's adventure, seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.
He carefully rolled up the note and tucked it away, then turned his attention to the items Melina had left him. His fingers brushed against the cool, reassuring solidity of the sword and the small, heavy bag of runes. The sight of these tools, simple yet powerful, made him feel more prepared for whatever lay ahead.
Nathaniel stood up and stretched, feeling the last remnants of sleep slip away. He looked westward, toward the Church of Elleh, and felt a sense of purpose settle within him. The challenges of the day seemed less daunting now, and he found himself eager to meet Kale the merchant and gather the gear he needed.
"Thanks, Melina," he murmured.
Nathaniel approached the small encampment. The ruins of the ancient building provided an eerie yet oddly comforting backdrop, and the mingling scents of smoke and earth created a homely, if somewhat primal, atmosphere. His gaze settled on the figure by the makeshift stall, a man with grey skin adorned in a striking red cap and tunic.
"Uh, hello. Are you Kale?" Nathaniel asked hesitantly.
The man looked up, his piercing eyes meeting Nathaniel's. He had a rugged appearance, with a well-worn cloak draped over his shoulders.
"Yes, I am." Kale answered.
"Good, because I wanna get some stuff from you."
"Interesting, I didn't expect to hear that from a Tarnished," he observed.
"How did you know I'm a Tarnished?" Nathaniel asked, taken aback by Kale's certainty.
"It's your eye colour. People in these lands have golden-coloured eyes, and those who do not are Tarnished," Kale explained, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined Nathaniel.
"Oh, I see," Nathaniel replied, feeling slightly self-conscious. "Do you have any gear for sale?"
"Yes," Kale nodded. "What are you looking for?"
"I need some armour," Nathaniel said.
Kale gestured to a sturdy set of chain mail hanging from a wooden post. "There is a chain mail. I got it for five hundred runes."
Nathaniel handed over the small pouch. "Sure. Here you go."
"Thank you," Kale said, handing Nathaniel the chain mail. "This should serve you well in battle."
Nathaniel took the armour, feeling the weight and craftsmanship of the metal links. "By the way," Kale continued, "if you see somebody by the name of Blaidd, let me know. He is a wolf-man, tall, has a big sword, and wears a furry cloak."
"A wolf-man? Sounds hard to miss," Nathaniel said with a smirk. "Sure, I'll let you know if I see him."
"Good. Blaidd is a valuable ally, and I'd like to keep track of him," Kale explained. "Good doing business with you."
"Likewise," Nathaniel replied, securing the chain mail and feeling a bit more prepared for the journey ahead.
As he turned to leave, Kale called out, "Be careful out there, Tarnished. The lands between are full of dangers, but with courage and the right gear, you might just survive."
Nathaniel nodded, appreciating the warning. "Thanks, Kale. I'll be careful."
With his new armour and a sense of purpose, Nathaniel set off towards his next destination, feeling a bit more ready to face the challenges that awaited him in this strange and perilous world.
Nathaniel wandered aimlessly, the unfamiliar landscape sprawling out in every direction, a patchwork of ancient ruins and wild terrain. His steps were aimless, his mind occupied by the sense of disorientation that had settled over him since his arrival in this strange world. The comforting presence of a Site of Grace caught his eye, its golden light offering a small sanctuary in the midst of chaos. He sat down beside it, seeking solace and a moment of respite.
Remembering the ring Melina had given him, he whistled softly. Almost instantly, Torrent materialized before him, the spectral steed's presence a welcome sight. "Great Torrent, you're here," Nathaniel said, relief evident in his voice.
Torrent responded with a soft whinny.
"Damn. I wish Melina was here," Nathaniel muttered, his thoughts turning to the enigmatic woman who had helped him thus far. Her instructions echoed in his mind, and he recalled her mention of calling her from the Site of Grace.
Determined, Nathaniel found the nearest Site of Grace and sat down, the golden light wrapping around him in a comforting embrace. "Melina," he called out, his voice tinged with hope and uncertainty.
In a flash of sparkling blue light, Melina appeared before him, her ethereal presence both reassuring and imposing. "Yes, Tarnished?" she responded, her voice calm and measured.
Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably, feeling a bit sheepish. "Uh, this may sound embarrassing, but I don't know how to ride a horse. Can you teach me?"
Melina's expression softened slightly, though her eyes held a hint of incredulity. "Art thou being serious?"
Nathaniel sighed. "Melina, I'm from Earth. America specifically. We don't have magic, glowing trees, or horses we can summon out of thin air. The only thing we have is 'give me your money, or we fuck you up,'" he explained.
"Is thy world bereft of sorcery and incantations?"
"I'm gonna assume 'bereft' means lacking. If so, then yeah." Nathaniel confirmed.
Melina regarded him thoughtfully. "That means my role will be more challenging than I thought. I knew thou wouldst be ignorant, but I did not know thou wouldst be this helpless."
"Hey, I'm right here, you know," Nathaniel said, feeling slightly offended by her blunt assessment.
"Very well. Do not go anywhere until I return," Melina instructed.
"Okay, sure," Nathaniel agreed, watching as she disappeared into the thin air, leaving him alone with Torrent.
He looked at the horse and sighed. "I guess I'll have to figure this out. So, Torrent, how are you?"
The horse made a soft noise, its spectral eyes meeting Nathaniel's with an almost understanding gaze.
"Yeah, me too," Nathaniel said, feeling a strange sense of companionship with the spectral steed.
Nathaniel then sat atop Torrent, his spectral steed, surveying the dark, dense forest. The usual cacophony of nature was absent, replaced by an unsettling silence. The gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze was the only sound breaking the stillness. Nathaniel's senses were on high alert, every muscle in his body tense.
Suddenly, the tranquillity was shattered by the sight of approaching soldiers, their armour glinting menacingly through the trees.
"Is that a citizen over there?" one soldier asked, pointing in Nathaniel's direction with a gauntleted hand.
"Hey, you!" another soldier called out, his voice sharp.
"Shit," Nathaniel muttered under his breath.
"What are you doing here? This place is risky." the soldier continued.
Nathaniel's mind raced. His survival instincts kicked in. "Torrent. Gotta go!" he whispered urgently, giving the steed a firm nudge.
"Do not run away from us!" the soldier shouted, but his command was lost to the wind as Nathaniel urged Torrent into a swift gallop.
Nathaniel's heart pounded in his chest like a war drum as he clung to Torrent's mane. The forest blurred around him.
"Shit!" he gasped as Torrent veered sharply.
"No, Torrent, not through the gate!" Nathaniel shouted, but it was too late. Torrent charged headlong into an enemy stronghold, the wooden gates creaking open ominously. They plunged into a maelstrom of chaos, weaving through a barrage of ballista bolts and spiked barricades. Soldiers pursued them, shouting and brandishing weapons, while an enormous troll, towering at eleven feet tall, roared in the distance, its voice shaking the very ground.
An arrow whizzed through the air with deadly precision, striking Torrent in the flank. The spectral steed faltered, a pained whinny escaping its lips, and Nathaniel was thrown to the ground with bone-jarring force. Pain exploded through his body, but he forced himself to his feet, adrenaline driving him forward. He ran blindly through the chaos, his mind a frantic whirl.
He stumbled upon a sight of grace, a golden light emanating from the ground, casting a serene glow amidst the turmoil. Curiosity and desperation drove him to touch it, and the air around him shimmered with golden hues. He felt a strange warmth wash over him, though he had no idea what it meant.
The soldiers closed in, their faces hard and unforgiving. Their eyes gleamed with intent.
"Back off! Back off, assholes!" Nathaniel shouted, raising his sword in a feeble attempt at defence.
"I warned you!" he yelled, swinging wildly. "Take this!"
One of the soldiers easily dodged his swing, his movements fluid and practiced. He retaliated with a swift strike, the handle of his sword connecting with Nathaniel's side. Nathaniel crumpled to the ground, pain radiating through his body in agonizing waves.
"Look at his eyes. I think he is a Tarnished," one soldier said, peering down at Nathaniel with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
"We're meant to take him down, ain't we?" another soldier asked, his voice tinged with eagerness.
"No. We're supposed to kidnap him and take him to Godrick," the first soldier corrected, a hint of impatience in his tone.
"Oh, right," the second soldier replied.
They descended upon Nathaniel, their fists and boots a flurry of brutality. He tried to fight back, but their blows were relentless. His cries echoed through the night, each one weaker than the last, as they broke his legs, rendering him helpless.
"Not feelin' so tough now, are ye?" one of them sneered, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
Nathaniel's world faded to black as they knocked him unconscious. His last thought was a desperate plea for mercy. They cuffed his hands and threw a net over him, ensuring he wouldn't escape. The soldiers lifted him roughly, carrying him off into the night, their grim faces lit by the flickering torches of the stronghold.
Nathaniel's consciousness flickered in and out, his body wracked with pain from the beating. Through the haze, he sensed a presence approaching.
A shadowy figure moved with swift precision, the hood of her cloak pulled up to conceal her face. It was Melina.
With deadly grace, Melina unsheathed her dagger, a glint of steel flashing in the dim light. In a series of swift, fluid movements, she dispatched the soldiers one by one. Her blade found their vital points with lethal accuracy.
The first soldier's eyes widened in shock as he gasped, "Wha—" before collapsing silently to the ground, a dark stain spreading beneath him.
Another soldier, mid-cry of "Look out!" fell abruptly, his shout cut short as Melina's blade slipped through the gap in his armour. His last breath escaped in a strangled whisper.
The third, struggling to turn towards her, managed a desperate "No, not—" before his voice faltered, and he too sank to the ground, lifeless.
The remaining soldiers barely had time to react before they met the same swift fate, their last words lost in the sudden, deadly flurry of Melina's strikes. Each fall was punctuated by a brief, stunned silence before the next body hit the floor, leaving the scene eerily quiet, save for the faint echoes of their final, unspoken fears.
Melina knelt beside Nathaniel, her expression hidden beneath her hood. She quickly cut the ropes binding him and examined his injuries. But instead of helping him up, she suddenly drove her dagger into his heart.
Nathaniel's world plunged into darkness, a sudden and jarring shift that left him disoriented and gasping for breath. Moments later, the darkness was replaced by a warm, golden light, wrapping around him like a cocoon. The familiar, ethereal hues of the Site of Grace shimmered in front of him, providing an almost comforting glow amidst the chaos.
He lay there, feeling a sharp, intense pain erupt in his chest. "What the fuck, Melina? You killed me!" Nathaniel choked out.
Melina's voice was unemotional. "Thou art immortal."
'Oh right,' Nathaniel thought, his mind buzzed with the revelation, struggling to process the gravity of Melina's words. Immortal? The concept was as exhilarating as it was disorienting. He remembered the sudden, blinding pain, the final moments of his consciousness slipping away, only to awaken with an unsettling sense of déjà vu. The idea that he could die and return, like some sort of grim reset button, was both a comfort and a bewilderment.
"What did I say about not running off?"
Nathaniel struggled to push himself up, frustration mingling with his pain. "What the fuck did you want me to do? There were soldiers, and I don't know how to ride a horse," he snapped, his frustration evident and raw.
"I noticed," Melina replied dryly.
Nathaniel's mind raced as he processed her words. "You said I'm immortal?"
"Aye. Thou hast the grace. When thou diest, thou wilt appear before the sight of grace, which is that small light thou didst touch," Melina explained matter-of-factly.
Touching the grace is like a checkpoint, he thought, the notion beginning to take shape in his mind. The small light he had encountered before—was it truly a beacon of his rebirth? He could hardly fathom the implications. The idea of being able to face danger without the permanent sting of death was tantalizing, yet the sharp sting of his last experience remained fresh in his memory.
"So I can die without consequence. That's fucking amazing. But then again, it's very painful."
"Yea, but thou shouldst keep thy immortality a secret. Who knoweth? Some may possess a counter to it," Melina warned, her eyes narrowing beneath her hood, the seriousness of her tone unmistakable.
Nathaniel nodded, absorbing the weight of her warning. "Okay. Got it," he agreed, his mind racing with the implications of what she had said. The potential dangers of his newfound ability were clear, and he understood the need for discretion.
Melina's voice softened slightly as she reiterated, "Please, keep thy immortality a secret. Such knowledge should be kept from the people, for safety's sake."
"Understood," Nathaniel replied, the gravity of her words sinking in.
He felt a renewed sense of resolve, tempered by the awareness of the potential risks and the responsibility that came with his newfound power. As he steadied himself, he looked up at Melina, ready to face the challenges ahead with a clearer understanding of his place in this strange, magical world.
Melina offered him a hand, and he took it, rising to his feet. As they prepared to leave the site of grace, Nathaniel couldn't help but wonder about the mysteries that lay ahead and the true extent of his immortality.
Nathaniel trudged through the high school halls with a heavy heart. The normally bustling corridors seemed distant and muffled, his steps echoing with a hollow thud against the tile floor. The vibrant chatter and laughter of students felt like a world away, an echo of a life that no longer seemed to belong to him. His father's recent death weighed heavily on him, and he carried the burden like an invisible shroud.
As he rounded the corner, his mind lost in sorrowful contemplation, he collided with a fellow student. The force of the bump jostled him from his thoughts, and he snapped irritably, "Watch it, dick."
Nathaniel barely heard him, his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to muster the energy for further interaction.
Just then, Brian, Nathaniel's Asian-American friend with an easy-going demeanour and a wide grin, came into view.
"Sup, motherfucker!" Brian's voice carried an infectious energy that usually lifted Nathaniel's spirits, but today it felt jarringly out of place. His eyes softened as he registered the sadness in Nathaniel's face. "Oh shit. What happened to you?"
Nathaniel's shoulders slumped even further. "I lost my dad to an illness."
Brian's expression shifted instantly from surprise to deep sympathy. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
"Yeah, man. It's been rough."
Brian placed a reassuring hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "If you need anything, or just want to talk, I'm here, okay?"
Nathaniel managed a small, grateful smile, though the sadness lingered in his eyes. "I appreciate it. I might take you up on that."
As they walked together down the hallway, Brian chatted softly about mundane things, trying to lift Nathaniel's spirits with familiar, comforting banter. For a brief moment, the weight of grief felt a little lighter, if only because he didn't have to bear it alone.
As they walked through the bustling hallways, Brian continued to chat about the latest school gossip and upcoming events, his attempts at light conversation gradually pulling Nathaniel out of his somber mood. Nathaniel listened with half an ear, the familiar rhythm of Brian's voice providing a small measure of comfort.
They reached their usual hangout spot—a small alcove near the lockers where the students often gathered between classes. Brian leaned against the lockers and glanced at Nathaniel with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
"So, how've you been holding up?" Brian asked. "I can't even imagine what you're going through."
Nathaniel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I don't even know. Some days are better than others. It's just... hard to get used to everything being so different."
Brian nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I get that. It's like the world keeps turning, but everything feels off balance."
Nathaniel gave a slight, wry smile. "Exactly. It's like I'm walking through a fog, and everything I do feels meaningless right now."
Brian looked at him intently. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know. And if you need space or just want to hang out and do something that takes your mind off things, I'm here for you."
Nathaniel appreciated the offer more than he could articulate. He'd always known Brian as a reliable friend, but in this moment of vulnerability, Brian's support felt especially comforting. "Thanks, Brian. It means a lot."
Before they could continue the conversation, the school bell rang, signalling the start of the next period. Brian clapped Nathaniel on the back with a reassuring smile. "I've got to run to math. But let's grab lunch later, okay? We can talk more then."
Nathaniel nodded. "Sure. I'll be there."
As Brian walked away, Nathaniel felt a small spark of hope. Even in the midst of his grief, the presence of a friend made the burden seem a little lighter. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself before heading to his next class.
The day dragged on, each period seeming to stretch longer than the last. But the thought of meeting Brian for lunch gave Nathaniel something to look forward to. When the lunch bell finally rang, he made his way to the cafeteria, where Brian was already waiting at their usual table.
Brian greeted him with a bright smile and a tray full of food. "Took you long enough, man! I was about to send out a search party."
Nathaniel chuckled, the sound feeling almost foreign but welcome. "Yeah, sorry. Got caught up in a few things."
They settled into their seats, and as they ate, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—upcoming exams, sports games, and the latest viral videos. Brian's easy humour and genuine interest helped Nathaniel to momentarily forget his grief, and for the first time that day, he felt a sense of normalcy.
Halfway through lunch, Brian leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "So, I've got an idea. What if we do something fun this weekend? Maybe go to that new arcade downtown? I heard it's got some awesome games."
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, considering the suggestion. "That actually sounds like it could be a good distraction. I'm in."
Brian grinned. "Awesome. It'll be good to get out and do something different. Plus, it's been ages since we've done anything just for fun."
As the lunch period ended, Nathaniel felt a bit lighter than he had that morning. He still carried the weight of his loss, but the support of a good friend and the prospect of a weekend outing gave him a glimmer of relief. He knew the road ahead would be tough, but for now, he was grateful for the small moments of connection and the promise of brighter days.
The next day, Nathaniel was leaning against a row of lockers, speaking with Dianne, a student with light blonde hair and blue eyes. She wore short jeans and a light green tank top, her expression one of concern as Nathaniel recounted the recent tragedy of his father's passing.
"Oh god. That is so sad," Dianne said softly, her sympathy evident in her voice. She placed a comforting hand on Nathaniel's arm, offering him a small, reassuring smile.
Before Nathaniel could respond, a harsh voice cut through the noise of the bustling hallway. "Hey, Nathaniel. What do you think you're doing talking to my girl?"
Nathaniel felt a knot form in his stomach as he turned to face Chuck, his tormentor. Chuck, with his imposing stature and the usual entourage of sycophants, advanced with a predatory smirk on his face. The sight of Chuck's entourage, their smirks matching their leader's, was enough to set Nathaniel on edge.
"She wanted help with her homework, man," Nathaniel said.
Dianne stepped in. "Hey, back off, Chuck. Don't you see Nathaniel is going through a hard time?"
Chuck's expression darkened, and he snapped, "Shut up, Dianne."
Chuck's eyes bore into Nathaniel's with unrelenting hostility. "You think you can chat with my girl after she broke up with me?"
Nathaniel's anger flared, overshadowing his fear. "You know, Chuck, go fuck yourself."
Chuck's face reddened with rage, and he took a menacing step back.
"I'm tired of this. You've been bullying me all through high school. When are you gonna grow up and actually act like an adult? I'm sick of your shit! Maybe that's why Dianne broke up with you! You NFL reject!" Nathaniel snapped, his voice shaking with pent-up frustration.
Chuck's eyes narrowed dangerously. "NFL reject!? I'm gonna make you regret those words, you dick-sucking bitch!"
Before Nathaniel could react, Chuck's fist crashed into his face. Pain exploded in Nathaniel's cheek, and he stumbled backward, clutching his face in shock and agony. Chuck, not waiting for Nathaniel to recover, followed up with a brutal punch to his stomach. The force knocked the wind out of Nathaniel, doubling him over as he gasped for breath, his vision going blurry around the edges.
Chuck leaned in, his voice dripping with venom. "People like you, Nathaniel, are weak. You're a pathetic loser who can't do anything right."
Nathaniel felt a surge of anger and shame. Chuck's taunts cut deeper than the physical pain, targeting his vulnerability in a way that made him feel even more isolated. He struggled to fight back the tears, determined not to give Chuck the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
In the midst of the crowd of onlookers, the whispers and murmurs grew louder, a mix of fascination and pity that seemed to press down on Nathaniel like an extra weight.
"Chuck, you asshole!" Dianne yelled.
Dianne's voice broke through the haze of pain and humiliation. "Nathaniel, are you okay?"
Nathaniel looked up, his face flushed and bruised, trying to muster a semblance of composure. He met Dianne's worried gaze and forced a weak nod, though the pain in his face and heart was undeniable. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine," he managed to say, though the words felt hollow.
Why does this life have to be so cruel? The question echoed in his mind, relentless and accusing.
He felt a gnawing sense of injustice. What did I do to deserve this? It seemed like every time he tried to find a moment of solace, life threw another cruel twist his way. He'd just lost his father, and now Chuck's bullying had pushed him to the edge. It felt like there was no respite from the weight of his grief and the harshness of the world around him.
The bitterness of the confrontation with Chuck burned bright in his thoughts. It was always like that—the strong pick on the weak. The injustice of it all was suffocating. Nathaniel's fists clenched at his sides as he remembered the harsh words and painful blows. Fuck Chuck! Fuck everything! The anger surged through him like a wildfire, consuming any semblance of calm or control he had left.
He couldn't shake the feeling that life was a never-ending cycle of cruelty, where the strong exploited the weak, and the world was indifferent to the suffering it caused. Anger, frustration, the cruelty of life... it's all too much. The weight of his father's death compounded his feelings of helplessness and rage.
Nathaniel jolted awake, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he sat up abruptly. His mind raced, the remnants of his rage still simmering beneath the surface. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and started pacing, his fists clenched at his sides.
"Tarnished, come back!"
Nathaniel spun around, his eyes blazing with frustration. "Just leave me alone! I'm going for a walk. I need some fresh air, okay?"
"Thou knowest not what lies beyond," Melina said. "Stop at once!"
Nathaniel's anger flared, but he didn't stop. He continued striding toward the entrance of their temporary refuge, the weight of his grief and frustration driving him forward. "I need to get out of here. I can't just sit around and wallow."
Melina's face softened with concern, but her voice remained steady as she called out after him. "Nathaniel, thou art in no condition to traverse these lands alone. There are perils thou canst not fathom. Please, listen to me."
He didn't turn back, his focus solely on the door ahead. Melina's pleas seemed to fade into the background of his turmoil.
Melina sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as she watched him head out. She shook her head.
Nathaniel trudged through the bridge, his breath visible in the cool, misty air. The sound of rustling leaves and distant bird calls was suddenly pierced by a deep, resonant voice echoing through the trees.
"Foul Tarnished, in search of the Elden Ring. Hmm..." The voice was commanding, imbued with a sense of ancient authority.
Startled, Nathaniel glanced up just as the ground beneath him trembled. From the castle tower above, a massive ogre leaped down with a thunderous crash, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. The creature, standing nearly nine feet tall, was a formidable sight. Horns curved menacingly from his head, and he wielded a wooden staff adorned with ancient carvings. His torn cloak fluttered dramatically as he landed, the sheer force of his descent shaking the earth.
The ogre's voice, though deep and booming, had an oddly refined quality, as though it were spoken by a lord from a bygone era. "Thou hast no flame," he declared.
Nathaniel, heart pounding, drew his sword, his grip tight and sweaty. The ogre, however, was not to be underestimated. With a flick of his staff, he summoned an array of glowing, spectral weapons—golden knives, hammers, and swords that hovered in the air, ready for battle.
The ogre's eyes narrowed. "Thou art but a pale shadow, a flickering ember, unworthy of the glory thou seekest. To possess the Elden Ring is to wield the power of gods, and thou art naught but a mortal, frail and broken."
The clash began with a resounding clash of steel against magic. Nathaniel swung his sword with all his might, but the ogre's summoned weapons were relentless. Each weapon, imbued with a blinding golden light, struck with precision and force. Despite Nathaniel's best efforts, he was overwhelmed. The ogre's attacks were swift and powerful, and soon Nathaniel found himself battered and bruised.
The pain was intense, and Nathaniel stumbled, barely able to stand. He was outmatched. In a moment of stark realization, he remembered his immortality—a peculiar gift or curse that had brought him to this strange land. Yet, in the face of such overwhelming power, even immortality felt like a heavy burden.
Breathing heavily, Nathaniel fell to his knees, his sword slipping from his grasp. "I... I can't win," he gasped, looking up at the towering ogre. "Just kill me and be done with it."
The ogre's expression remained unreadable, though there was a hint of satisfaction in his gaze. "If death is what thou seekest, then I shall provide it."
The ogre raised his staff high, golden light crackling around him as he prepared to deliver the final blow. "Remember, Tarnished, that thy quest is folly. The Elden Ring is beyond thy reach, guarded by forces thou canst not comprehend. "
Nathaniel closed his eyes, bracing for the end. He had faced many dangers in his quest, but this moment was different. It was an acceptance of his fate, a quiet surrender to the forces that ruled this world.
With a swift, decisive movement, the ogre brought down his staff. The air around Nathaniel shimmered with golden light, and he felt an overwhelming wave of warmth before everything went dark.
Nathaniel's vision flickered back to consciousness as he revived near the Site of Grace. The familiar golden light enveloped him, and he groaned, slowly pushing himself up from the ground. His head throbbed, and the pain from the battle with the ogre was still fresh. As he looked around, he saw Melina standing nearby, her face a mask of concern.
"Thou art reckless," Melina said, her voice carrying a note of disappointment. "Thou art quick-tempered and refuse to heed my counsel."
Nathaniel's frustration boiled over. "Can you blame me!? What do you expect me to say!? I'm still grieving after my dad's death! Do you know what it's like to lose a parent, huh? Do you? I don't know what to do with my life. It hurts so damn much thinking about it."
Melina's eyes softened with a touch of empathy. "I... didn't know."
"Of course you don't," Nathaniel snapped. "You don't know anything about me."
"I... was worried about you," Melina said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.
"Yeah, you're only saying that because you need me, just like I need you. It's your duty as a maiden, right? You're not with me because you want to be; you're here because you have to."
Melina took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. "Even so, is this the attitude you want to carry with you if you wish to return home?"
Nathaniel's shoulders slumped, and he looked away, his voice heavy with despair. "What home? What's the point of living anymore? I lost my dad, I'm stuck in a job I hate, and I don't find joy in anything. What's the purpose of life? What's the reason for my existence? A person like me doesn't have a purpose anymore."
"Just like I."
Nathaniel looked at her, confusion and curiosity in his eyes. "What?"
"I, too, am searching for my purpose," Melina said, her tone softer now. "Throughout my existence, I have sought meaning. I may not know the pain of losing a loved parent, but I understand what it feels like to lack a purpose."
Nathaniel's anger, a hot and prickly presence in his chest, began to ebb away as Melina's words sank in. Her tone had softened, and there was a vulnerability in her voice that caught him off guard. 'Does she really understand what emptiness feels like?' he wondered, curiosity mingling with the remnants of his frustration. Her confession stirred something in him, a hesitant connection that bridged the gap between their experiences.
He took a deep breath and said, "Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry for lashing out like that."
"No, it is fine," Melina replied, her voice gentle. "I do not know what it is to grieve, not fully. I have had someone close to me, once. His name was Vyke."
Nathaniel's interest was piqued. "Who's Vyke?"
"I was his maiden long ago," Melina said. "But he is gone now."
"Oh," Nathaniel said softly, his voice subdued. He could feel a sense of loss in her words, a quiet pain that resonated with his own experiences. For the first time, he saw Melina not just as a guide or a protector, but as someone with her own burdens and sorrows.
Melina paused, gathering her thoughts. "Hmm... Allow me to train you," she offered. "Perhaps through this journey, we may both find what we seek."
Nathaniel looked at Melina, her presence now carrying a new sense of depth and understanding. "Okay," he said quietly, "I'll take you up on that."
Melina nodded. "Good. Let us begin anew. Together."