Caelid –Southern Aeonia Swamp Bank – Early Evening

Caelid was an inhospitable region, full of caustic swamps and feral mutated beasts. The cries of pain and suffering echoed throughout the land, where masses of living corpses shambled aimlessly, their flesh consumed by the flesh-eating disease. Pyres of corpses sometimes littered the lands, makeshift burial grounds meant to ward off disease and ruin. Whatever beings retained their capacity for reason were soon to lose it—their endless fighting overshadowed by the cancerous growths that sapped everything of all life. It appeared that a never-ending conflict would persist as long as the Redmane knights could still draw breath, and it was a fight that they were more than happy to continue. This was a fight that they were specifically suited to conduct, and one that they had little choice but to continue.

The Scarlet Valkyrie's arrival spelled certain doom for the land; the skies were eternally marred by the constant battles and endless death it had seen. Indeed, the very soil was stained crimson by the blood of many a warrior, their names long forgotten and their discarded weapons, the only proof of them ever having lived. One nameless warrior took it upon himself to arrange these weapons into effigies, telling the stories of how the Scarlet Valkyrie invaded the land to challenge the Starscourge himself. Each checkpoint meticulously marked by the spoils of hard-won victories against the opposing army. Soon, many others followed the example laid before them. This was done partly to honour the dead, and partly to fabricate some sort of justification for their actions…for all the villages burned…all the people sacrificed…and all the carnage wrought on behalf of the demigods' petty squabbles.

Two factions, their purpose all but lost yet still eternally locked in a hopeless struggle. Legions of Cleanrot Knights, their flesh slowly stripped away by time and disease, still patrolled the swamps where the Scarlet Valkyrie bloomed and forever cursed the land to an eternity of rot. Meanwhile, companies of Redmane soldiers burned away any and all opposition, be it from man or beast. One would rarely find a unit stationed near the epicenter of the Scarlet Bloom, but many could be found trying to contain it in the outskirts. Even in death, these soldiers refused to subject their flesh to the whims of the sealed god of rot, and it became standard practice to burn oneself to cinder if it meant staving off the rot for that much longer…for it was a persistent disease that had no cure. After all, how was one to cure a god's decree?

Another endless night seemed to pass by as another pack of giant dogs was hunted down and summarily executed in brutal fashion. The battle was not without its share of loss, as these raids were seldom unaccompanied by death. Yet to many, to be granted death itself would be more than a mercy. For death no longer existed in the Lands Between by decree of Queen Marika and her Golden Order. Perhaps man was too hasty in longing for eternal life; in ridding the world of true death, mankind was cursed with knowledge best left forbidden. The guidance of grace had long abandoned these lands, and many endured torment for reasons they neither knew nor understood. Only a single purpose remained—kill or be killed. To be killed meant reprieve from the dark until the next sun rose, and one was forced to face this fractured world yet again.

In this land, legends were truth, but truth was fickle and malleable—subject to the wit and whimsy of the storyteller. True entertainment was hard to come by these days, but one that made the rounds amongst the troops of Redmane Castle was the tale of the Tarnished who would become Lord. Some viewed this figure as a saviour, chosen by the Two Fingers to mend the Elden Ring and undo the inescapable cycle of struggle that fractured the Lands Between. Others viewed the figure as merely another puppet on a string, seeking hollow glory in the name of foolish vanity. No matter the view, one thing was certain—the warrior would not succeed. For how could a Tarnished become a Lord? How could a man kill a god? The soldiers would soon understand this night when a survivor would escape a massacre and live to tell the tale. His face was deathly pale, soaked in sweat and the dried blood of his comrades in arms. His frail body shook, terrified that each breath could be his last. Though not a stranger to death, even his own, the survivor was gripped by a once-forgotten feeling—fear. A Redmane Knight approached the stranger and struck him in the face for desertion. The coward would face the consequences, but first, the knight needed to know what happened to his men.

Caelid –Redmane Castle – Late Evening

"Report! What happened to the 17th garrison?"

"W-wiped out…. T-they was all…wiped out. Ss-single warrior…no quarter given…"

"What do you mean? I sent two hundred of our best men to take on the Death Rite Bird prowlin 'round the area. How could one man take on the damned beast and a full company?"

The deserter started mumbling to himself. "White h-hair…white…hair…" The knight slaps him across the face and the deserter momentarily snaps out of his frenetic musings.

"'E-e…was using s-some kind of m-magic, s-sir!"

"A sorcerer? Are you sure it was just the one? Sorcerers travel in groups, and the only group of sorcerers known to us are stationed in Sellia to the north."

"This wasn't no regular s-sorcerer, sir. The way 'e moved…the way 'e fought…it weren't like anything I'd ever seen."

"I have borne witness to the great General Radahn wage war against the very stars. I very much doubt that this warrior could measure up."

"I have me d-doubts, sir. It's likes 'e was t-toying with the bird. 'E was d-dodging the beast's every m-move, mocking it as 'e did. When we first saw the bloody thing, it was actually trying to flee from the w-warrior. We d-didn't realize it at f-first when we tried to surround it, b-but the warrior caught up usin' this spectral h-horse, drew his blade, and sliced off one of its wings with a blue gg-glowing sword."

"A Carian? Here?"

"'E d-didn't look nor sound like no C-Carian I've ever seen, s-sir."

"What happened next?"

"'E leapt off his h-horned steed, who v-vanished into thin air…then ch-challenged the vile m-monster. 'E da-danced aa-around it. Almost s'if 'e could read its m-mind…"

The soldier's hands twitched. His speech started to grow more frantic.

"…w-wasn't just the warrior's skill, s-sir, b-but 'is strength. W-we couldn't even come near ghost flame without it s-singing us and our soiled trousers, but it s-seemed to only mildly irritate 'im…. 'e ff-fought with a pace and….ff-ferocity impossible for a man his size."

"Are you saying this was a demigod?"

"I-I don't know, sir. N-never seen a man try to deflect the bird's s-sword and manage t-to pull it off."

The Redmane Knight raised a curious eyebrow.

"Surely you jest. The only being other than General Radahn cracked enough to try such a stupid move is Malenia the bloody Severed, and unless the barmy lass lopped her head and bits off, she'd never fit the man's description. Nevermind the fact that the rotting bitch vanished off to who knows where."

"C-couldn't see no blade, s-sir…'e was cutting off m-more of the b-bird's limbs 'til it couldn't fight no more. Then 'e g-grabbed its own sword and impaled the beast on it…ghost flame an' all. We actually felt sorry for it, we did. When 'e was done with the poor thing, 'e t-turned 'is sights towards us."

The soldier's voice started shaking to the point of near mumbling.

"'E-e didn't look like 'e was aligned with the scarlet bitch, so we thought that maybe 'e was an ally at first."

The soldier's expression darkened.

"What a g-grave mistake that was. 'E looked at us like we was n-nothing but ants and offed everyone. It didn't matter that we had 'im outnumbered and surrounded. 'E n-never stopped moving. Never stopped ff-fighting. W-we c-couldn't even land a s-single hit on 'im. 'E jumped on our f-faces, swatted our swords away like we was gnats, and mocked us. C-called us weak. Pathetic. Asked something 'bout our motivation….Wh-what's more sir, is that 'e never seemed to tire. Just c-cut through us like we was air. L-like we was some kind 'a chore to set aside."

The soldier clenched his hands tightly.

"I-I s-saw how 'e looked at us…like we was nothing. J-just kept on killing everyone. Sometimes I couldn't even see 'im draw 'is weapon—only the bodies of those 'e cut down. I kept hearing this infernal sound. Clink…clink….clink… and I didn't know what in Godrick's ugly m-mug it was. But every time I heard it, a comrade screamed. Every time I heard it, someone died. Way 'e was slicing 'em up…even the gods themselves couldn't bring 'em back…

The roaring sounds of siege equipment firing caught the Redmane Knight's attention. He turns to one of the marksmen stationed on a nearby watchtower.

"Explain yourself! What is the meaning of this?"

"An intruder is trying to cross the bridge, sir!"

"Fool. No one has ever dared to cross the impassable bridge" A second volley of catapult and ballista shots tore through the air.

"and lived."

Another barrage of shots was fired at the target.

"He's passed the bridge, sir!"

"Preposterous. Let me see." He takes out a spyglass and sees an ashen-haired warrior atop a horned steed, wielding a magic blade that seemed to phase in and out of existence. He hears a scream from the deserter's position.

"I-it's 'im! 'E's here! 'E's here!"

The deserter started mumbling even more frantically.

"p-power…power….give m-me more….power….." The deserter is completely drenched in sweat. The Redmane Knight has no time to waste on the fool and readies his sword in the chance that the invader makes it past the fortifications. He hears a gurgling sound from the deserter's direction. He shakes his head. A coward til the end…

"The guard troll is waiting by the front gate. Each flamethrower is set to deny entry. The gates are shut, and each wall sturdy. This stronghold has never fallen…not even to Malenia's army. What can one man possibly d-" He's cut off as he sees the man nearing him on the castle's rooftops. Pure carnage follows wherever the warrior sets foot, his approach announced by a multitude of screams and the deafening screech of blades clashing and then disappearing into the void.

The knight readies his shield and draws his greatsword…setting it alight with magical flame. The man eyes him with an expression of pure disinterest and twirls a Glintstone scepter with a cracked sphere topping its crown. Projected in its tip was a blue longsword, pulsating with a shape and energy barely contained by the magic of its chosen medium. The man gestures for him to come hither.

"Come on!"

The knight's swings are heavy, displacing the very ground every time the blade almost makes contact. The warrior sidesteps the blade moments before it hits the mark and makes only the slightest movements as if to toy with the furious knight. He tries to bash his shield to knock his foe off balance, but it's no use. He hears a single clink before he realizes that both of his legs are severed.

When did he…?

He crawls towards the warrior.

"What in hell are you?"

He hears his opponent scoff before he swiftly meets his end.

Caelid – Chamber Outside the Plaza – Early Morning

"Conquered another castle, I see." The kindling maiden materializes from the mists, taking in the sights of the wreckage surrounding them. Embedded in the wall to her left was an Abductor Virgin's iron wheel, soaked in the blood of the castle's former inhabitants. She offers her hand to her companion and begins allocating the runes he had gathered thus far.

"This barely even counts as a warmup." The warrior dusts himself, using an enemy's cloak to clean the blood from his cracked weapons.

"Have you found what you were searching for?"

"No, but it should be close." Suddenly a wave of purple magic shoots through the wall and erupts into a geyser of hardened stone. "Stand aside for now. I'll take care of this." The maiden nods and vanishes.

"You've made quite an entrance." He enchants his frayed blade, making it pulse a ghastly blue.

From the rubble, a familiar-looking figure emerges. Towering above the swordsman, the humanoid creature sported a bright red mane with bestial features resembling a lion. A serpentine tail lowly wagged apprehensively as it hoisted what looked to be a large chunk of rubble fashioned into a greatsword. It crackled with purple energy that Vergil was unfamiliar with, but he was quickly able to determine its measure when its wielder unleashed the sword's latent power once again. Smashing it into the ground, a wave of gravitational energy cleaved the earth into walls of stone that erupted in a straight line towards its intended target. The attack instantly shattered the stone arches that paved the way to their arena, trapping the blue devil in the tight confines of the room for the time being. With little room to maneuver, and the attack having a wide range, Vergil needed to get creative. He ran up a wall then jumped to get some leverage over his Misbegotten foe, who responded by making a horizontal sweep of his magical blade. The thunderous wave tore through the building until the roof collapsed on itself and a thick cloud of dust covered the castle courtyard. Unrelenting in its assault, the Misbegotten Warrior spun around, using the blade's absurd weight to amplify its strikes. Vergil managed to deflect it with a magic greatsword stemming from Lusat's staff, which proved to be a suitable vessel for Vergil's infernal energy at the cost of draining him faster. This was a drawback he still needed to adjust to, else he'd surely pass out from overexertion. When the Misbegotten Warrior leaped to do a jumping slash, Vergil dashed towards it and threw a gauntleted fist on its left ribcage, stunning the beast long enough for him to get into position.

"Take this!"

He let loose his frayed blade from its scabbard, unleashing a sharp booming roar that sliced through the beast's hide, only for the blade to get caught partway in its flesh. The beast growled and in that instant, a knight with golden wings charged forth, thrusting its greatsword forward. Vergil ducked and retrieved his blade from his target, now too wounded to continue fighting. Meanwhile, the armoured knight shook the ground with every step it took. Its swings were heavy and purposeful when it wasn't turtling behind its horned shield. While its strength was indeed formidable, its telegraphed strikes were quite predictable.

For I dance,

And drink, and sing,

On one chain of slashes, Vergil knocked the knight off balance by parrying its sword strike with the katana's scabbard, further damaging the wooden sheathe much to his annoyance. He took out some of this frustration by thrusting a magic greatsword, pulsing with infernal energy, into the knight's torso.

Till some blind hand

Shall brush my wing.

With a heavy kick to the chest, Vergil pulled out his ghostly blade, only to be swept in turn by a dragon tail that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The knight spun and regained its balance, unleashing a sphere of golden energy that repelled its foe and sent him hurtling towards a wooden barricade.

If thought is life

And strength and breath,

Before the dust could settle, Vergil pulled out a stake that had embedded itself in his shoulder and readjusted his position, anticipating the knight's next move. The armoured juggernaut pulled its left arm back, ready to thrust its horned shield. In response, Vergil stood still, concentrating on the most opportune moment. The knight took a heavy step and thrust its shield forward, which the blue devil used as a springboard for a mighty leap of his own.

And the want

Of thought is death;

The knight looked in disbelief, for it did not foresee such a maneuver from its enemy. It prepared to strike again with its greatsword, only to have it knocked away by a magic blade fired near its pommel. Clouds of dust gathered where the blade struck the ground, obscuring all vision once more save for a sinister glow that pulsed on and off through it. The blue light vanished for a few seconds before the knight thought to look up. By this point, the blue devil had already jumped mid-air, magic sword drawn and primed to land a helm breaker.

"Blast!"

The knight's armour served it well, for it was able to withstand much of the magic sword's blow, but the same could not be said for its helmet, which now cracked open to reveal a green-slitted eye. The Crucible Knight lunged to where its ally had collapsed and grabbed the greatsword it held. With a charged overhead swing, the Crucible Knight unleashed the sword's enchantment and sent a purple wave of destruction that instantly cleared the dust cloud before the ground erupted and sent forth walls of prickly stone. Curiously the knight could find no trace of the rival swordsman. The knight walked cautiously forward, shield at the ready, listening for any sign of movement. The Crucible Knight heard a light rustling from behind and gripped the stone greatsword, charging it with magic and then swung only to hit nothing but air.

Then am I

A happy fly.

The Crucible Knight's eye shot wide as the blue devil had ducked underneath its swing and unleashed an attack of his own…with the knight's discarded greatsword, no less. The sword thrummed with a vibrating golden aura as the ashen-haired warrior twirled it in a vortex before it was summarily deflected by the armoured warrior's shield. But the warrior hadn't been aiming at the knight and instead redirected the full might of his swing toward the stone greatsword. The clash of magics created an explosion of yellow and purple light that almost overshadowed the sun's own rays as both swords were throttled in opposite directions. Owing to the strength of the blow, the knight's grip yielded while attempting to bash its shield at the swordsman once again, only to meet the same result as before. The blue devil hopped onto the shield, used it as a springboard, and careened through the air, gripping the stone sword while remaining airborne.

If I live,

The warrior activated the sword's enchantment and then hurled it back towards the Crucible Knight. The dust was momentarily dismissed before another cloud took its place a short moment later. Both knight and sword rocketed toward a castle wall, shattering it upon impact and unleashing yet another dust cloud before the last one could fully clear. The knight lay back in the cavity created by its collision, its armour cracked and broken. The ashen-haired warrior slowly walked towards his defeated foe, unsheathed his frayed blade, and pointed it at the knight's throat.

Or if I die.

Caelid – Redmane Castle Plaza – Midday

Before the swordsman could land the final strike, he heard a round of applause from the archway overlooking the plaza. He was greeted by a warrior clad in an eccentric mishmash of colourful stripes and straw gauntlets.

"It's been an age since I've seen a show that good. Truly, if you can fell one of them, you're a champion in my book."

The Crucible Knight fell unconscious and Vergil sheathed his blade, looking fully at the man for the first time since he spoke.

"I am Jerren. Foolish old warrior, and witness." The castellan leaned forward. "Incidentally, do you like a good festival, from time to time?"

The blue swordsman raised a curious eyebrow.

"Well, it's true, this fortress houses only the vanquished. But when the stars align, we celebrate. A war festival honoring the last battle and death of General Radahn, the mightiest demigod of the Shattering, and bearer of a Great Rune."

"You have my interest."

"Well, good. As you should. The festival affords glory to warriors. Then all you need is a little patience. When the stars align, the festival will be declared."

"Where is this General, and when can I face him?"

"Patience, dear champion. This old geezer hasn't any use for you just yet."

"Hrmm. Then you're wasting my time." He flicked his sword from its sheath with his left thumb when he was interrupted by the maiden's voice.

"Might I have a word?"

Vergil withdrew his weapon and turned back, noticing that a site of grace was flickering nearby. He restored it and sat down, summoning the maiden as he did so.

"Forgive me. I've been…testing you. To see whether or not grace truly does guide you. And…whether you are fit to face the challenge that entails."

"Go on…"

"It seems my worries were unfounded. Torrent had your measure from the very start…whereas I merely pretended."

"Get to the point of what you're trying to say."

"There is but one other thing I can do to offer you guidance. I can take you to the Roundtable Hold…gathering place of Tarnished champions, guided by Grace..."

Vergil looked at the wreckage around him and nodded his head. There was nothing left to do in this place at present, and he wanted nothing more than to breathe without the warring vestiges of rot and smoke assailing his lungs.

"Very well. Let my hand rest upon you, for but a moment."

The two then vanished into a blue mist.