(Small AN: I'm crossposting this from AO3, and I'm planning on adding a few chapters here right now and catching up over time. If you want to see all I've written for this story so far, check it out over there.)

Then, in the evening, the Venerable Sāriputta emerged from seclusion. He approached the Venerable Yamaka and exchanged greetings with him, after which he sat down to one side and said to him: "Is it true, friend Yamaka, that such a pernicious view as this has arisen in you: 'As I understand the Dharma taught by the Blessed One, a bhikkhu whose taints are destroyed is annihilated and perishes with the breakup of the body and does not exist after death'?"

"Exactly so, friend."

-Saṃyutta Nikāya 22.85, Yamaka Sutta (Theravāda Canon)

His lord laid unconscious on the bloodied field below, not far from where Isshin had perished. Were he awake, he would likely order, or rather beg, him not to do this. It was not a choice made easily. Though the shinobi called Wolf had forfeited his life to his lord those many years ago and was more than willing to die for him, the boy still direly needed protection. When Ashina fell- and it would fall, for its only alternative was accursed stagnation- Kuro would be forced to flee outside the land, where those who vainly sought to abuse the Dragon's Blood would chase him still. The child had Emma, and he prayed to the Buddha that it would be enough. The shinobi was also not blind to the boy's affection for him- it would likely scar the boy, when he awoke, to see the bleeding body of his shinobi before him. Still, wounds would heal, and he would move on. A selfish part of him desired to see his lord mature and grow, free from the curse of his bloodline- but such a thing was impossible. Either he or his lord would die, and the latter was absolutely unacceptable. With renewed determination, he raised the Mortal Blade to his neck, and, feeling the coldness of a true death, sliced. He had experienced death an unknowable number of times. He had grown accustomed to it, for its finality tended to wane when it was not actually final. Even knowing that there would be no return this time, he accepted the loss of sensation, the gradual diminishing of thought into complete oblivion.

He knew all too well what death felt like. A normal person usually only has one chance to register what dying feels like, and by the time they're finished, they're usually unable to tell anyone about the experience. He had experienced it enough times to catalogue every minute detail of the experience- it had grown into something of a thought exercise, to maintain an awareness of himself even as awareness fled him. Nevertheless, it was this familiarity that allowed him to say with absolute certainty that he was definitely not dead. He shakily opened his eyes, and saw the ceiling of a cave above. Had he reincarnated? Likely not- his phantom pains ached as much as usual, he still had all of his memories, and with the karma he had, he would be lucky to reincarnate into anything better than a demon. He was still alive- which meant his lord's bloodline still remained. Had the purification ritual been sabotaged? Potentially- but making assumptions was useless with the little information available to him.

He gradually rose on unsteady feet, and approached seemingly the only path out. It was a ruin of some kind- resemblant to sketches of western architecture he had seen in the Hirata Estate's library. He arrived at a room with a circular plate in the center- pushing down a weighted plate in a ruin seemed to be a bad idea, but with no way ahead, he gingerly placed his foot upon it, preparing to run. Fortunately, it did not trigger a trap or cause the entire ruin to cave in, but instead activated an elevator that rose from the ground on a pillar. The Sculptor had taught him much about engineering in order to improve and maintain his prosthetic, yet he had absolutely no idea about how such a design was feasible. Still, there was seemingly no option but to place his trust in this strange elevator, so he prayed for safety as it rose. One harrowing ride on a stone elevator later, Wolf arrived at a door- eager to be free from the elevator, he opened it, and swiftly came to the conclusion that he was not in Japan.

Grassy green hills with yellow-leaved trees and jutting stone- its vibrancy was something out of a painting, not to mention the tree that overshadowed the entire land. Yet, in contrast to all the color, there stood a masked man clad in bloodied white. He reminded the shinobi far too much of Doujun, with his stained surgical robes, but he wasn't yet trying to run at the shinobi to kill him, which made him better than most of the people he had encountered recently. If nothing else, he likely knew something of where they currently stood.

The stranger's voice was crooning, almost jovial- "Oh yes… Tarnished, are we? And straight from the Land of Reeds, it seems. N-"

"Where are we?" Emma and Kuro had bemoaned his lack of social decorum many times- but he was a shinobi, not a noble, and what he lacked in charm he could hopefully make up for with intimidation.

He sighed- "Impatient, it seems. Well, eagerness can be a virtue, I suppose, but you would do well not to interrupt me. For I, Varre, am a source of guidance for Tarnished-" The man's voice grew even sweeter, so as to mask any annoyance.

"Tarnished. What is that?" Kuro had compared his conversational abilities with that of a bull in a china shop. He could never help but feel slightly hurt at that comparison, especially since none of his experiences with bulls were particularly pleasant.

"Do let a man finish, would you? A Tarnished, my lambkin, is you- you lack the blessing of Grace. But then again, I wonder if those from the Land of Reeds received such a thing to begin with. Queen Marika is… exacting, with her blessing. Almost to a fault, some would say." At this, the masked man paused, seemingly anticipating a reaction. When none came, he continued.

"I have a… partner, of sorts, from the Land of Reeds. Perhaps I can let him know of you, and he could help you gather your bearings. Because, without offense, you do seem quite lost."

The masked man confused him- he could be an ally or a threat, but he knew too little at the moment to turn away any potential help. "...Thank you."

"Ah, so there are manners in you. At least you're better than he is. Are all people from the Land of Reeds such brutes?" Varre let out a small chuckle as he relaxed his posture.

"...This Land of Reeds. Do you know it by the name Japan?" Varre had seemed confident that he came from this Land of Reeds- if that place is Japan, perhaps he might know how to get home.

"I'm afraid not, lambkin. Of course, I wouldn't know such things- each land has its own tongue and name for itself, and that's not my place of expertise. But worry not- my… partner, he dresses like you, speaks like you, and wields the same blade as you. If you know this land as Japan, chances are he does as well. It's not easy for me to reach him, but in the meantime, search for a man of the name Okina." The man clasped his hands and closed his eyes behind his mask, in what might be interpreted as a friendly gesture.

"I should warn you, though. In the case you encounter him before I do, he might be a tad overeager for a fight, especially when he encounters a warrior from his homeland. I assure you, he doesn't mean much harm. Just don't lose."

"I don't plan to." Wolf narrowed his eyes- the one lead to his home wanted to attack him. He had confidence in his skills- but he knew not if his immortality remained. The fact that he had revived once seemed to suggest so, but he wasn't eager to test it.

"Decisive indeed. I should ask- now that you find yourself here, what do you plan to do? Even for a warrior such as yourself, this land is dangerous- and strength is best found in factions and allies. " The bloodied man's voice was controlled, as if he had repeated these words time after time.

"I would not mind allies, but my allegiance is to my lord."

At this, Varre's voice took on a tinge of disappointment. "Ah, yes. Of course. I respect the importance of such a bond- but know that the Mohgwyn Dynasty is always open to powerful warriors- especially those such as yourself. Those of the Golden Order and Marika's ilk are dogmatic- so entrenched in their ways that they would seek to disparage any order other than their own. You have none of their biases- I ask you keep it that way, and be mindful of what they say."

"...I will take what you say into consideration," was the shinobi's hesitant response.

"That is all I ask. One last thing, lambkin- do you see that golden light over there?" The man gestured to an oddly shaped floating light, with wisps pointing northward.

"Yes, why?"

"Great! This simplifies things- that, my lambkin, is Grace, and you would do well to heed its guidance. Whatever answers you seek, I guarantee Grace will lead you to them. Now, I've coddled you enough, it's best you be off- I am certain we shall meet each other again."

"Very well. Thank you again." The shinobi attempted a stilted bow.

The mask obscured his face, but he could feel that the man was giving him a massive grin. "Why, it's no problem at all, my lambkin."

For being in an entirely unfamiliar land, things were going quite well. The environment was well suited for hit-and run tactics- the many trees gave him many points to grapple from, and there was ample room to hide everywhere he went. Compared to the barren fields of war, he could grow used to these lush, rocky, forests. The soldiers, if they could be called that, were disappointing. He had only encountered their armor, or something resembling it, once in his homeland- and it had given him significant trouble. He thought the soldiers might pose a similar challenge, but their heads were exposed, their armor shoddy, and their tactics nonexistent. The only fully armored soldier he encountered was met with a flame vent from his arm- the armor remained intact, but the man inside did not. As Ashina grew desperate, their soldiers grew more untrained, but these soldiers went beyond untrained- they seemed more undead than man. After picking off a camp of them, he sat by a nearby Grace, waiting to see what direction it would point. He questioned the wisdom of relying on a floating light for directions, but it wasn't as if he had any better ideas.

He was dozing off when a figure materialized before him without warning. A hand jolted to his blade, and he kicked his legs to push himself back- one would think that a blade would prove ineffective against spirits, but he had slain more than enough ghosts to disprove that idea.

The spirit raised her hands in placation, "I mean you no harm, traveler." She paused for a moment for the man to lower his blade. He did not. "I am Melina- I came to offer you an accord- from all those you have slain, you have gathered runes. I can channel them into your strength."

Wolf paused in suspicion. "...How would you do such a thing? And why?"

The woman looked on in consideration, as if figuring out how to best phrase something. "Forgive me for my secrecy, but I have been observing you." The man tensed- this spectre was dangerous, to evade his senses. "I only wished to gather your intentions. From your conversation with that White Mask, I can tell you are unfamiliar with the Elden Ring. Allow me to explain- The Elden Ring is a manifestation of the power within the Lands Between. It rules over all aspects of reality- for when Marika wished for the end of Death, reality obeyed her whims."

The Wolf's gaze hardened- was this ghost suggesting death doesn't exist? Did souls not re-enter the cycle of samsara in this land? "What happened to those soldiers I killed, then? Are their souls these 'runes' that can give me power?" Using souls as power- he was not as well-versed a Buddhist as the Sculptor, but such an act could only lead to karmic debt.

The ghost did genuinely seem distraught at this idea- "No! Such a thing would be terrible! The souls of those you have slain return to the Erdtree, where they are reborn! As I was saying, the Elden Ring was shattered- its power remains in the form of Great Runes- but where the fractures occurred, there were also countless, miniscule pieces that remained. Billions of these exist, if not more, and they are what we call Runes. As souls roam the Lands Between, they accumulate these fragments, and when souls return to the Erdtree, they leave them behind- for you to collect, and I to use."

This land's beliefs were wildly different to those he was used to- and yet he couldn't doubt a word the ghost had said, as the Erdtree (for what other tree could she be talking about?) loomed over them, larger than anything Wolf had ever seen. "If reincarnation is what happens after death was removed… what happened before?"

Melina smiled grimly- "Death of the soul. Oblivion. Nothingness."

"Nothingness? You speak of nirvana like it is a curse." According to the Sculptor's teachings, to exist in Samsara was to be subject to anicca, dukkha, and anatta - to impermanence, suffering, and lack of self. This was the very reason he agreed to sever Kuro's immortality- for even permanence in the form of immortality was anicca - transient, fleeting, nothingness. Only nirvana can be truly unchanging. For all beings to be guaranteed nirvana after one death? Such an idea seemed too good to be true.

Melina glared at him, before softening her gaze. "...Your opinion is your own. Nevertheless, will you take my accord? Those soldiers you fought earlier- you dispatched them well, but you avoided their armor. You needn't do so. With Runes, your sword can increase your strength such that it cuts through them like water."

He didn't trust her- but if true, such strength could be invaluable, especially in as foreign a land as this one. "Would you ask anything in return?"

She slowly nodded. "I ask only that you take me to the foot of the Erdtree. It is a path you should take anyway- Leyndell is the heart of these lands, and it will have answers to any questions you may have."

"Very well. I accept you accord- but know that if you try anything, spirit, I have ways of dealing with you." The shinobi looked at her with the best death glare he could muster- was that sufficiently intimidating?

Melina gave him a small smile, ignoring the threat entirely. "Of course. I have no intentions of anything untoward. Now, give me your hand, for just a moment."

He felt himself imperceptibly change- he felt something in him he had identified as his Runes decrease, while some other aspects of himself seemed to become enhanced. His muscles pumped with vigor and strength- but not by as much as he expected.

"Hm. I had expected more. Did I need more runes?"

Melina looked thoughtfully at him, and then explained "No- you had more than enough, for now. The runes flow into aspects of yourself which you wish to improve, consciously or unconsciously. I figured that would be strength- and it was, to some extent- but most of your runes went into faith."

That was odd- but he guessed it made some sense. He had pursued Buddhism only as a form of escape, for when his phantom pains and his countless deaths wounded and tore at his mind and soul. He had never seen himself as a true Buddhist- he knew he had killed far too many, was far too exposed to the flames of hatred to truly follow the Dharma, at least in this life. The shinobi withdrew his hand from Melina's, nodding at her in thanks. "I must admit, I have struggled in my faith, and this strange land continues to challenge it. Still, is there any practical application in such a thing?"

Melina nodded and grinned, placing a small, ephemeral tree on the ground, giving Wolf a sense of warmth. "Those who are faithful often use incantations- though what form they take depends on what one believes in. Those of your faith, if they fight, what do they typically do?"

Wolf thought back to the many monks he faced in Senpou Temple, and the various skills he took from them- "Punching, mainly."

"Pffft." Did she just laugh at him? "Perhaps you shall be able to conjure glowing fists, then. It would look very… noble."

"Okay, I'm leaving n-."

Still with a grin on her face, she interrupted him- "Hold on- let me leave you with a parting gift." Saying this, she gave him a small gold ring. "It has a hole to blow into. Try it, sometime. Goodbye, traveler."

"Call me Wolf, please."

"Wolf, then." With those last words, Melina slowly vanished.

It was a horse. A horned horse. A ghostly horned horse. That could be summoned and unsummoned at will. He knew many generals who would kill thousands for the chance at such a useful thing- and he would make full use of it. He wasn't the best of horse-riders- he was the one sneaking back and killing people in their sleep, not charging them with a horse in battle. Still, Torrent was gentle enough, and it didn't take him long to grow accustomed to the feeling. He was very grateful for the increased rate of travel, because these Graces seemed to be pointing him every which way- still, Melina encouraged him to follow them, and so he did. At first, he encountered a ruin guarded by a chained ogre with a strange metal gourd on its head- beyond that, a person with a strange rock on their head. Apparently, placing objects on one's head was something of a custom in this culture- he hoped he didn't stick out too much. This strange rock face person claimed to be a teacher of sorceries, demonstrating with a small blue arrow. He asked her if this sorcery was a type of incantation, and was promptly laughed at. She told him she "had nothing for you, but you're welcome to come back if you realize what magic is worth using." He didn't really know how to respond to that, so he didn't, and walked out while definitely not embarrassed.

So far he had approached two strangers, and only one stranger approached him. Such a thing was unbalanced- and the universe had ways of correcting these things. Sure enough, another man in a strange hat called out to him-

"You! Steer clear of the lake nor- Hey, you're a Reedlander, aren't you?"

Perhaps Grace really did lead people to their destinies. "I suppose I am. Who would you be, stranger?"

"Amitabha, friend. Name's Yura. It's rare to see one of my ilk these days… even rarer to see one that isn't out for blood." The man gradually approached Wolf- Yura might have recognized him as someone from Japan, but Wolf couldn't say the same thing around. The hat completely obscured Yura's face, and didn't look like anything he had seen before.

"So you came from Japan?" It was time for Wolf's suspicions to be confirmed or denied.

"...Japan?" Was the Land of Reeds not Japan? "If you mean the Land of Reeds, I've never heard it referred to as such. Then again, the war's split the country into fragments. Wouldn't surprise me if some upstart clans tried to rename the whole damn land."

….Yes, he supposed that could be an explanation. Ashina was one clan of many- perhaps Japan wasn't a universal name for the country.

"How about you, kid? You're here to escape from the war too?" Yura's emotions were inscrutable behind his hat, but he seemed to have taken a familiar tone.

"In a sense. It's been difficult to adjust." Wolf said passively.

"Oh, you can say that again. I'm just glad more people from home haven't heard of the Elden Ring. The war's bloody enough without the power of Runes…" From the little Wolf knew about runes, he agreed wholeheartedly.

"Such a power- to nullify death itself. I've heard nirvana was once instant, before the influence of Marika. Do you believe such a thing?" Wolf stared at the man intensely, hoping for answers.

"No clue, kid. The only people who'd know of life before the Shattering are all too eager to kill the both of us. But- if such a thing as true death did exist, would it truly be nirvana?" Yura had a slightly wistful tone- as if reliving old memories.

"What do you mean?" Wolf asked hastily.

"First, let us sit." At this, Yura walked over to the ruin where he first stood, and set beside a rock, gesturing for Wolf to follow him. Wolf looked around- neither traps nor other people were visible, so it likely wasn't an ambush. He followed the man and set, nodding for Yura to continue. "In the beliefs of this land, a total death is oblivion- such a thing is absolute. To mistake annihilation with nirvana is an evil supposition." Yura let out a sigh- "Can you tell I was once a monk? Those days are long gone, now."

"An evil supposition? But feelings, perception, and consciousness are inconstant, right?" Wolf was confused- had the Sculptor taught him wrong, or had he come to the wrong conclusions from his teachings?

"Yes, I suppose so."

"And with anicca comes dukkha , yes?"

"Suffering is derived from impermanence, yes." Yura seemed to be repeating the words in as still a voice as possible, so as not to break the reverie that surrounded him.

"So, if existence is inconstant suffering, why is non-existence not nirvana?"

"To so easily accept existence as wholly apart from nirvana is to form an attachment to an idea, to come to one conclusion, to split from the middle path of the Dharma. To deny reality and instead welcome oblivion is to accept reality as meaningless. Such a thing may not seem harmful- but taken to its logical conclusion, to accept reality as meaningless means to accept every harmful action taken in reality as meaningless." At this, his head fell. "A close friend of mine, once another monk, fell to this path, and I fear he is too far gone. He has taken to honing his blade against all he meets as a Bloody Finger, hoping that his single-minded focus allows him to reach nirvana. I regret allowing him to fall so far, and it is my job to cut him down."

"So what is nirvana then, if neither existence nor non-existence?"

"If nirvana were so easily envisioned, my friend, I would like to think more of us would have reached it by now." Yura let out a sad chuckle, "Well, that's enough reliving old memories, I think. I've got a dragon to hunt- and since, on closer inspection, you seem a capable warrior- I could certainly use some help."