Bell rode slowly toward the Stormgate, his expression dark with worry as he took in its towering form. Melina had insisted he was ready, that he could handle Stormveil Castle and the horrors that lurked within.

Bell wasn't so sure.

A demigod—an actual demigod—was somewhere in that castle, and he was just supposed to... kill it? Just like that?

He exhaled sharply, gripping Torrent's reins tighter. Doubt clawed at his mind, but Melina's belief in him was unwavering. He couldn't let fear steal his resolve. Not now.

So, with a deep breath, he urged Torrent forward and rode through the Stormgate.

The attack came immediately.

Godrick's men lay in wait, crossbows at the ready. A barrage of bolts rained down, whistling through the air as Bell ducked low, urging Torrent into a desperate , from above a Troll dropped from a high cliff, the ground shaking beneath its weight. Bell's heart lurched. He had avoided trolls so far; fighting something that massive made him uneasy. But there was no turning back.

The only way was forward.

Crossbow bolts sliced the air as he pushed Torrent up the winding path, weaving between enemy fire. The shouts of soldiers faded as he outpaced them, finally cresting a hill where an abandoned shack came into view.

Stormveil's entrance wasn't far now.

He was about to continue when something caught his eye, a bright red hood inside the shack.

Within the shake there was a blond haired girl sitting on the floor looking dejected and lost. She hardly seemed to notice Bell until he stood right in front of her. She looked scared but also accepting?

"Miss, are you ok?" Bell asked worried

She looked like she didn't want to speak but still Bell persisted.

"Miss, please," he pressed gently, kneeling beside her. "You shouldn't be this close to Stormveil. Godrick's men patrol these roads. If they find you…"

" Bell had hoped mentioning Godrick would awaken any emotion in the girl, maybe she didn't know where she was. Maybe she was lost. "Everyone's… been grafted," she whispered. "Everyone who came with me. They crossed the sea for me. They fought for me." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Only to have their arms taken. Their legs taken. Even their heads... taken. Taken and stuck to the spider."

Bell swallowed hard. Bell felt more pity than horror, he didn't want to linger too much on Godrick's actions right now, lest they disperse the confidence he feels right now.

"Miss, I am so sorry for your loss. But you shouldn't be here. Godr- The spider lives pretty close to here" Bell wanted to keep her away from all of this. He didn't want another innocent dying on the side of the road because they were so close to a dangerous situation.

She didn't seem to care about what he said, or just didn't notice it

"You're all on your own, are you? And heading to Stormveil Castle? Enticed by the one in the white mask, I suppose."

Varre? Has he been telling people to head to Godricks? He had told Bell much the same but Bell was doing it mainly for the sake of honouring his promise to Melina. He wasn't too tempted with being whatever the Elden Lord was. But then again it was probably the only prospect he has.

"No," Bell said firmly. "I'm here to fight him."

The girl gave him a sorrowful look. "Oh, you've come to be one with the spider? That makes us two peas in a pod. But… I don't have your courage." Her voice trembled. "It's scary, you know. Having your arms cut off. Or legs. Or your head. I want to be like everyone else, but… I'm just too scared." She exhaled shakily. "I'm nothing but a craven."

"No you're not," Bell rested his hand on her shoulder in a small attempt at comfort. "What's your name?"

The girl considered him for a moment before answering "...Roderika"

Roderika, I'm so sorry for what you went through, for all the men you lost but that is not on you. You're not a craven, you were just trying to survive."

Roderika seemed to slightly have some life return to her, if only a little bit as Bell continued "You're not going to have anything cut off. Everything will stay where it's supposed to because the spider dies today. You won't have to live in fear of him"

Her eyes seemed to light up for the first time and she smiled just a little bit "You're brave," she whispered. "Truly. I wish I could say the same for myself."

"You've made it this far. That takes a good bit of bravery if you ask me. Bell laid a hand on her shoulder "There's no shame in feeling scared. This is a scary situation in a very scary world. Gods above know how I've kept it together this long."

She smiled. That was good, she needs to smile. It is about the only thing that will save anyones soul. Then, as if remembering something, she reached into her satchel and held out a small object. "Oh, I know. Can you take this little one with you?"

She handed him spirit ashes? A Jellyfish by the looks of it. Bell accepted the ashes with Vague confusion. These looked like the same floating Jellyfish he had seen at Castle Mourne. She nodded. "The poor thing deserves someone braver than me. And the spirits… they seem fond of you."

Before he could question her further, she continued. "If you see the little chrysalids in Stormveil Castle… can you tell them something for me?"

Bell nodded.

"Tell them I love them," she said, her voice trembling. "And that, despite my cowardice… I'm sure I'll be joining their club soon. I'm finally getting the hang of this whole 'pain' thing, you know."

Bell felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. She expected to die, gods forbid she may even be hoping for it.

That wouldn't happen. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Bell turned away and activated the nearby Site of Grace, summoning Melina. Blue particles swirled as she appeared, her expression questioning.

"Bell?" she asked. "Why have you called upon me? You are not yet in Stormveil."

He gestured toward the shack. "That girl—Rodrika. She needs protection. She won't leave, and I don't want her to be alone. You're strong. Can you guard her until I'm done?"

Melina studied him. She didn't seem thrilled—Bell was essentially asking her to babysit—but after a moment, she nodded.

Bell exhaled, relieved. He mounted Torrent and was about to ride off when Melina's voice stopped him.

"Oh, and Bell?" She called out " Be prepared for a battle before entering the castle. It seems someone doesn't want anyone reaching Godrick"

Bell considered her words but steeled himself and rode off. There were a few guards protecting a tunnel that led to the castle gates but they were easily dispatched. As Bell approached the massive gates of Stormveil, a deep, thunderous voice rang out.

"Foul Tarnished."

Bell's head snapped upward.

On one of Stormveil's towers, golden light shimmered.

"In search of the Elden Ring."

From the radiance emerged a massive figure—grey-skinned, horned, and draped in tattered rags. A wooden staff rested in his hands, easily twice the size of Bell.

"Emboldened by the flame of ambition."

Then, with terrifying grace, the figure leapt—soaring from the tower and crashing down with a force that shook the earth.

Bell barely had time to react before the figure took a step forward, raising his staff menacingly.

"Someone must extinguish thy flame. Let it be Margit the Fell."

Margit didn't allow Bell a moment to retort. Instead he swung his staff. Bell narrowly dodged it and began to apply a great amount of distance between himself and the horned man so he could evaluate his situation

'He's massive. That staff gives him a reach advantage. And he's stronger than me, no question. I can't let him hit me'

Bell lunged low, keeping his movements sharp as he pulled his sword from its sheath. The weapon glinted in the dim light, its jagged edges ready to carve through flesh.

Margit advanced, his steps slow and deliberate, eyes locked onto Bell like a predator sizing up its prey. Bell noted something—he wasn't using any ranged attacks.

Bell concluded that Margit lacked in mid to long range attacks so Bell tried to keep away from his front and launch a range of bloody slashes with his reduvia daggers towards the fell omens back and sides as he kept moving.

That was his opening.

Bell kept his distance, circling, always moving. He slashed at Margit's flank, aiming for quick, deep cuts rather than an all-out assault. The dagger sang through the air, streaks of crimson following its path. For a short while, it worked. Then Margit spun. Fast.

His tail lashed out, the bony protrusions at its tip catching Bell in the ribs and sending him flying.

Pain exploded through his body as he skidded across the stone. He groaned, forcing himself upright—Margit was still a distance away. He had time to heal.

Bell reached for his flask—

Shink.

A searing pain erupted in his left eye. A dagger made of golden magic was frimley resting in his skull.

Bell barely had time to process it before everything went black.

Bell gasped as he jolted upright at the Site of Grace.

His heart pounded, and his breath came in quick, uneven bursts. His hands trembled as they clutched at his face. His eye. He could still feel the ghost of the pain, the memory of the dagger buried deep in his skull.

He rubbed at the spot where it had struck. His fingers traced over something that shouldn't be there.

A scar.

Bell froze.

That wasn't normal. He'd died before—many times—but his body had always been restored without a mark. The Tree Sentinel, the dragon Agheel—none of them had left a scar. But Margit had. Why?

The thought unsettled him, but there was no time to dwell on it. He forced himself to breathe, leaning back against the cold stone of the ruined wall. 'Calm down. Get it together' he chastised himself

The lingering echoes of death would fade, as they always did. The sting of that final moment would fade. But the scar wouldn't. Bell clenched his fists and pushed himself upright.

Again.

Margit descended from the tower, and before the dust settled, Bell moved.

He unleashed a flurry of slashes, arcs of cursed blood cutting through the air. The Reduvia's power surged, each attack painting Margit's chest in deep, jagged wounds.

Margit barely flinched.

With a single, sweeping motion, he swung his staff in a brutal downward arc. Bell rolled to the right, feeling the shockwave of the impact at his back. He retaliated instantly, lunging forward to aim for Margit's eye but just missed.

Margit twisted, his staff sweeping again,Bell barely dodged in time. He retaliated with two quick slashes, and then—

Boom.

Blood erupted from Margit's chest as the Reduvia's magic fully activated. Bell's heart leapt—this was his chance.

He charged, slashing in rapid succession, before plunging his blade deep into Margit's chest.

The omen growled, leaping back in an attempt to recover.

Not this time.

Bell surged forward—daggers rained from Margit's hand, golden and wicked. Bell twisted, dodging two, the third grazing his cheek. He ignored the sting and kept pushing.

Margit swung—a brutal, sweeping strike.

Bell leapt over it.

Margit spun, his tail whipping around to catch Bell midair—except this time, Bell was ready. He landed on the tail. And jumped again. Straight onto Margit's back. He raised his dagger to drive it into the omen's skull— Margit's hand shot up, catching him mid-strike. Bell barely had time to gasp before Margit hurled him off the cliff.

The wind howled past his ears.

Then—splat!

Bell groaned as he awoke at the Site of Grace once more.

Every part of him ached—phantom pains from the fall still clung to him, a cruel reminder of just how hard he had hit the ground.

He stayed there for a long moment, breathing through it.

Then he had gotten too ahead of himself. Again.

Bell shut his eyes, replaying the battle in his mind. No plan. No discipline. He just acted on impulse. Stupid.

Melina had warned him about this—his reckless habits would get him killed. She wasn't wrong.

He took a slow, steady breath.

Then he got up.

And charged back into the fray.

The next few attempts were not kind to Bell.

Bell's third attempt he got tripped up by Margits tail then got his skull crushed beath Margit's foot

His fourth attempt he received a golden dagger to the stomach before being slammed by Margit's staff.

His fifth attempt saw him forget his surroundings for moment so he was kicked off the cliff

The sixth attempt had two golden dagger's lodged in his chest.

Bell took a deep breath before he ran into the fray again. He awaited Margit to land and as soon as he touched the ground Bell unleashed a flurry of bloody slashes, and moved in. He struck Margit in his right arm before moving out of the way when the omen slammed his staff to the ground cracking the stones. Margit unleashed a flurry of daggers hoping to slow Bell from assaulting his flank but Bell was always just ahead of them.

Bell unleashed another flurry from the Reduvia which caused a great eruption of blood from the fell omen. Bell capitalized by unleashing a series of furious strikes. Margit tried to rise but Bell grabbed the horns on his head just to stab the Reduvia dagger into his left eye. A petty bit of payback.

Margit staggers backwards before letting out a slight growl of frustration. This time instead of a dagger he made a massive hammer made of golden light.

"Well, thou art of passing skill… Warrior blood must truly run in thy veins, Tarnished."

Then he leapt—high into the air.

Bell's heart pounded as Margit brought the hammer down.

Bell dodged.

And as the hammer shattered the ground where he once stood—

Bell struck. Margit recovered quickly, but Bell had done real damage.

The omen's dominant arm trembled, his grip on the staff no longer unbreakable. The once-unshakable titan now bore the weight of his wounds.

Yet he was not done.

Margit flicked his wrist, summoning three golden daggers. They sliced through the air, two found their buried itself in Bell's left shoulder. The other lodged deep into his thigh.

Pain flared, but Bell did not stop. He couldn't. His body screamed at him to retreat, to slow down, to heal—but he refused.

He wanted this to end.

He needed to get through Margit.

He needed to get to Godrick.

The decrepit monster who had taken so many lives. Who had twisted the bodies of the fallen into grotesque mockeries of humanity. Who had stolen limbs, identities, dreams.

For Rodrika. For every soul Godrick had stolen.

Bell pressed forward.

Margit growled and summoned his golden hammer once more, swinging down—but the attack was weaker. Slower. Wounded.

The hammer slammed into Bell, sending him skidding back—but it wasn't enough.

Bell gritted his teeth and lunged.

His blade sliced across Margit's face—just shy of his other eye, but close enough to leave a jagged gash. Bell landed hard, but he rolled, keeping his momentum—and then he struck.

The Reduvia found its home in Margit's chest.

Bell buried it deep.

Then—he twisted.

A burst of cursed blood erupted from the wound, a violent explosion of crimson mist and arcane force.

Margit staggered. His knees buckled, his great frame collapsing beneath him.

He was done.

Bell panted. His entire body screamed, exhaustion creeping into his limbs, his vision hazy from blood loss and adrenaline. But he didn't look away.

Margit's remaining eye locked onto his, filled with something Bell couldn't quite place. Hate? Acknowledgment?

It didn't matter.

Bell gripped his sword tighter—and drove it through the omen's chest.

Margit exhaled sharply, his body trembling as golden light began to overtake him. His form faded into glowing embers, scattering into the wind.

His voice—distant, like a whisper carried by the night—was the last thing that remained.

"I shall remember thee, Tarnished…Smoldering with thy meager flame…Cower in fear. Of the hands of the Fell Omen shall brook thee no quarter."

Then, he was gone.

Bell staggered back, barely catching himself.

The battlefield fell silent.

The only sound was his own ragged breathing, the wind whispering through the ruined walls.

A site of grace formed before Bell. He didn't bother to question why, he was too exhausted.

Bell turned back toward the Site of Grace and limped toward it, his exhaustion catching up to him with every step. His muscles protested, his wounds still fresh, but the golden light of the grace called to him like a beacon.

He placed a weary hand over it, feeling the warmth seep into his body. The wounds dulled. The exhaustion faded. But the scar over his left eye remained.

He rested on his back, just basking in the golden rays of grace as they put him at ease. Familiar blue oarticals appeared.

"Melina? You should be watching Roderika, what are you doing here?" he asked

"Calm yourself Bell. I am just here to make a confession, I will return to her as soon as I have finished here with you" her tone carried almost guilt?

"Forgive me.I've been...testing see whether or not grace truly does guide you. And...whether you are fit to face the challenge that entails. It seems my worries were unfounded. Torrent had your measure from the very start. Whereas I merely pretended." she couldn't meet his eyes and at the moment he was glad that after all their time together she still questioned his readiness.

Did she really not believe in him?

"Bell…I am truly sorry for doubting you. Please understand that the journey to the Erd tree is very important to me and it's very dangerous, only stronger enemies lay on the path ahead. More demigods to fight. I simply wanted to be completely sure that you had what it takes." she sounded more like she was pleading then anything, he made the mistake of looking her in the eyes and saw how sad they seemed "Please forgive me for my deception"

'Damn it' he cursed how weak he felt when he saw those sad eyes, or eye in her hurt to know the one person he actually had with him didn't initially believe in him. But as much as he wanted to be angrier but still he just couldn't stay mad at her because, as much as he hated to admit it, she had a valid concern. Hurtful as it was.

"...fine, but no more lies, understand? Don't hide things from me."

She considered him for a moment before nodding her head and tried to hide her releasing the deep breath she didn't know she was holding. Her face then returned to its typical stoic expression.

"Bell, recently I have come to realise that I am not completely capable of training you properly. At least to the extent you deserve and 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."

She held out her hand "Go there and get a proper understanding of it. Then you can continue venturing through Stormveil. It would do you some good as the roundtable could supply you with proper armour and weapons"

Bell thought on it for a moment, before nodding his head affirmatively.

Melina outreached her hand and rested it upon Bell's own. They faded into particles of blue and gold in a matter of seconds.

Roundtable hold

Bell's eyes opened and no longer was he on the windy bridge to Stormveil but was inside a chamber with a great round table in the centre of it, a massive golden grace rasiating at the centre. a

There were already a few individuels in that room alone. A blond man in simple robes, weaning a blindfold. Another man with wavy black hair wearing ornate silver and red peddled armour. And a strange man leaning on a scepter, his face obscured within his helmet.