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Marika stared at him dumbfounded, utterly speechless as the wild surge of faith magic still radiated through his soul. The force of it was so potent that even Melina felt it, a faint tingle making her draw a sharp breath. She eyed him, puzzled. "Didst thou choose what to pray to already?"
Tarnished fought hard to keep a straight face. He nodded, hiding the bubbling laughter that threatened to burst forth. Inside, he savored the sweet taste of victory, and the fact that his petty vengeance of praying to Marika's, well… Divinity had worked, and spectacularly so.
Marika could only mutter in his mind, "The very fact that such a thing worked, and thou were rewarded for it, makes me question why I became a Goddess at all…"
He snickered silently, while Melina tilted her head, still feeling the aftershocks of his decision. "Whatever it is thou hast chosen, it must be dear to thee. The power within thee is impressive." She gave him a searching look, genuinely curious.
Tarnished couldn't help but giggle aloud. Marika, thoroughly mortified, let out an exasperated groan and facepalmed before her astral form fizzled away in a golden haze, leaving him to deal with Melina's growing suspicion.
Melina eyed him keenly. "Who didst thou choose to pray to?" she asked, genuine curiosity threading her tone.
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh… I chose to pray to Marika."
She blinked in surprise. "Marika? Of all things? Considering thine 'amnesia', what compels thee to place thy faith in her? And how can thy faith be so…overwhelmingly strong?"
Tarnished swallowed, unsure how to answer.
Melina didn't let up, voice lowering as dots kept connecting in her mind. "A lot of things do not add up, Tarnished. How couldst thou know all that thou dost know, while still claiming amnesia? If thy memories had returned, surely thou would have told me, no?"
A cold sweat prickled his forehead. In his mind, he called out desperately. 'Marika, have you finally thought of something to convince her?!'
"Hm.. Yes, I did, actually." Marika replied, relishing his panic. "Go on. Tell her, in full."
Melina stared at him, expectant. He coughed, then sat up a little straighter. "Alright, I'm just going to rip the bandaid off…"
She raised an eyebrow, waiting.
He took a breath. "There is a Goddess living in my head."
Melina's eyes narrowed in confusion. "…Eh?"
He pressed on, keeping his face as straight as he could. "She is your mother, Queen Marika the Eternal."
"Huh?!"
He could hear Marika snickering in his mind, but he pressed forward. "She has chosen me as her champion, and guides me throughout the Lands Between."
Melina looked at him as though he'd sprouted a second head. "…What? How-? I'm sorry?!"
Inside, Marika was practically doubled over with laughter, and he felt his own eye twitch.
Still, he forged on, voice earnest, "I never told you this outright before because I wasn't sure how to do so without sounding completely insane. And while I recognize that I probably still do sound insane, I assure you, I am in my complete right state of mind."
Tarnished sat quietly, letting Melina process the avalanche of truth he'd just unleashed. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. At length, Melina drew in a slow breath and spoke, her voice thoughtful but faintly disbelieving.
"You don't seem the type to lie about this, and I can't see what you'd gain from it… But out of all the menagerie of insanity that has come out of your mouth these past days, this might be the most insane yet."
Tarnished let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "Wouldn't I know it?"
She studied him, searching his eyes for a long moment. "Let's take this one at a time… Why tell me now?"
He shrugged, honestly. "In case it wasn't obvious, I hate lying. Was never any good at it for as long as I can remember. Sooner or later, it would come out anyway. I'd rather you know the truth."
She tilted her head, expression softening. "Tell me truly, dost thou truly not know thy name, or was that but a lie?"
He swallowed, a faint bead of sweat trickling down his temple. "Yeah. I don't know my name. For real."
She nodded slowly, then pressed on, her tone gentler. "Thou claimest Marika to be my mother… Why art thou so certain of this?"
He pointed to Marika, who had appeared, sitting beside them on the bed, her golden hair glowing softly in the dim room. "She said so herself."
Melina frowned, skepticism lingering. "Dost she- Dost thou possess any proof?"
Marika leaned forward, propping her chin in her palm, her eyes full of memory and an old ache. "Back when you were just a child, Melina, I taught you a specific incantation. One only a handful of beings in this world even know exists."
Tarnished relayed the message. Melina furrowed her brow, uncertainty giving way to curiosity. Marika reached out, summoning a faint golden image. It was a miniature spectral Erdtree, radiant and softly shimmering, blooming in her hand.
Tarnished's eyes widened in recognition. 'That's it. The Minor Erdtree incantation, she was the only person I ever saw cast that in the game. You could only find it if you reached the Shaman Village in the Shadow Realm.'
He looked at Melina. "Your mother taught you how to summon a minor Erdtree. It heals anyone in its presence. That's not something you can just pick up anywhere."
Melina stared, her face growing pale as she immediately realised the spell he spoke of, then quietly awestruck. "I… I remember…" She closed her eyes, clutching her hand to her chest. "It stirred something in me. A memory I had long since forgotten."
He softened his voice. "Can you tell me about it?"
She nodded slowly, the scene coming back to her. "I remember sitting in a quiet village. Across from a woman… She was bigger than me, blonde, and there was warmth… but her face is lost in fog. All I remember is her teaching me, her hand guiding mine."
Marika's face softened, her smile tinged with bittersweet nostalgia as she watched her daughter recall the past. "I remember it well. It was one of my happiest moments, a rare day of peace. I am glad it lingers in you, even if only as a shadow."
Tarnished relayed Marika's words, and Melina looked down, summoning a few golden sparks to dance across her palm. "I suppose we don't all choose how our lives go…" She looked up, her smile small but genuine. "Neither do we choose who we end up journeying with."
Tarnished's lips curled into a smile as he gave her a small shrug. "Not for nothing, but I'm glad it was you who offered me that accord."
Her eyes softened, and her smile grew, a subtle warmth in her gaze. "I am glad to have offered it as well."
Melina sat cross-legged on her bed, hands folded in her lap as her brows knitted in thought. She glanced up, golden eyes sharpening. "Thy arrangement with my mother… How didst thou come to it? Wouldst thou share the terms of such an accord?"
Tarnished leaned back against his own bed, arms loosely folded as a half-grin spread across his face. "Ah, well… I bargained with more arrogance than sense, let's say, with a certain bastard who shall remain nameless. Through him, Marika and I were… put into contact."
"She made me her champion. The terms are simple: Only I can hear her. I see her astral form sometimes, but she can't interact with the world otherwise. She guides me, and in return, I'll become strong enough to free her from her binds in the Erdtree and, with luck, become Elden Lord."
"That… is much." Melina's hands stilled, her expression drawn into shock as she processed his words. She shook her head with a soft, disbelieving smile. "I knew there was something special about thee, but to be chosen by Queen Marika herself to be the next Elden Lord… I suppose I chose well when I offered thee my accord, Tarnished."
Tarnished's grin widened as he looked over at her, stretching his arms behind his head. "Heh. Stroke of luck for both of us, I'd say. Fate must have been smiling when our paths crossed."
Melina allowed herself a genuine, quiet laugh, her fingers brushing nervously through her hair as she averted her gaze, warmth lingering in her eyes. "I suppose it was…"
A gentle hush settled between them as Marika, watching from the edge of the room with a small, almost proud smile, faded quietly from sight to leave them to their peace.
Tarnished suddenly clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. "So! About that 'Flame, Grant Me Strength' incantation. Shall we get started?"
Melina shook her head in amused resignation and let a little laugh slip out, shifting her weight as she moved to sit facing him properly on the floor. "Very well. Let us begin, then."
Melina began by handing him a basic two finger seal, then summoning a warm, flickering flame in the palms of her hands, the light casting gentle shadows across her face.
She drew in a steady breath, her gaze focused and calm. "This flame, Tarnished, is not born of the Erdtree or Golden Order, but from the legacy of the fell giants, the exiled enemies of the Erdtree. The Fire Monks serve their memory, channeling their rage and passion into flame."
Tarnished nodded along, eyes intent. He watched as Melina willed the flame from her own palm to drift across the air toward him like a living, golden ember. His heart skipped as he hurriedly reached out and cupped his hands to catch it.
The flame landed in his palms, but instead of igniting, it flickered and sputtered, its light rapidly withering, as if starved of oxygen.
Panic flickered in his eyes, but Melina quickly shuffled closer, her face tinged pink with a blush as she wrapped her slender fingers gently around his larger hands.
"Calm thyself." she said softly, guiding his grip. "The flame's fading is only natural. You are not yet feeding it with thy own faith. Close thine eyes."
He obeyed, shutting out the world. Her hands remained warm atop his, steady and reassuring.
"Now… search within," Melina whispered, voice low and sure. "Feel for the wellspring of faith that lives in thy soul. Reach for it, Tarnished."
Tarnished focused, picturing a golden core pulsing deep within his chest, a spiritual energy he had never touched before. The flame in his hands seemed to flicker in time with his heartbeat as he willed himself to connect with it.
"I feel it…" he murmured, brows furrowed in concentration. "What now?"
Melina's voice was a gentle hush. "Direct that power into thy spell. Offer a prayer, not with words, but with thy will and belief."
Awkwardly, he channeled that inner energy toward the dying flame. The effect was instant—the ember in his palm burst into brilliant life, heat flaring, color blooming anew. He opened his eyes, astonished to see the fire reborn.
Melina gave him a proud, almost shy smile. "Well done. You're nearly there, Tarnished. Now… envision the giants' wrath. The Fire Monks' devotion. Will that power, that rage, to surge within the flame you hold."
He nodded and closed his eyes again, this time picturing towering giants wreathed in fire, their fury made manifest. He focused all that imagined strength and intensity into the flame in his hands.
The little fire changed: its color shifted from a soft orange to a deep, wild crimson, and it roared up like a miniature inferno blazing in his palms, its heat licked his skin but didn't burn him.
Tarnished stared, awestruck, at the spectacle. In that moment, a system prompt flashed before his eyes:
[Congratulations! You have learned the incantation: 'Flame, Grant Me Strength'!]
His grin was so wide it threatened to split his face. Melina giggled, still holding his hands, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Well done, Tarnished. Congratulations on your first faith incantation."
He turned to her, grinning. "Thank you, Melina. Seriously."
She smiled back, demure and pleased. "Think nothing of it. It is… my pleasure."
But Tarnished shook his head, letting the fire gently fizzle out in his hands. Instead, he held onto Melina's hand, using it to pull her suddenly and firmly into a tight hug.
Melina's face turned scarlet as she sputtered in protest. "T-Tarnished? Let me go! Idiot-!"
He only laughed, squeezing her a little tighter. The air left her in a soft, involuntary moan before he finally relented and let her go.
Standing up and stretching, Tarnished gave a satisfied sigh. "We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Let's get some sleep."
Melina remained on the floor, nearly dizzy with embarrassment and confusion, clutching at her sleeve as she watched him turn out the lantern and settle into bed. She exhaled in a huff, cheeks still burning.
"Dumbass…"
…
The Next Morning…
A flash of golden light heralded their arrival at the Cathedral of Dragon Communion, the familiar sanctum of scale and shadow. The ruined stones glimmered faintly in the dawn as Tarnished reappeared, his newly reforged Greatsword propped against his shoulder.
The blade's battered, cracked edge was gone. Master Hewg had worked wonders, reforging it and binding its hilt with sturdy leather straps for a firmer, more reliable grip. The weapon felt heavier in his hands, yet perfectly balanced, ready for whatever awaited.
Beside him, Melina stood quietly, the early light catching in her hair. They took a final look around the silent cathedral, then turned to leave, boots echoing off ancient stone. As they passed the altar, Tarnished reached down and snagged a weathered tome from the floor.
[Picked-Up Item: Ancient Dragon Apostle's Cookbook (3)]
He rubbed his chin, glancing sideways at Melina. "Now that I think about it, the runes I gave you for rations, were they enough?"
She nodded, a small smile on her lips. "They were. I procured enough provisions for the next two weeks, as well as… a few other supplies we may need along the way."
He hummed, satisfied, then summoned Torrent with a sharp whistle. The spectral steed appeared in a burst of mist and golden sparks. Tarnished swung himself up, then reached a hand down to Melina. She took it with her usual grace, mounting behind him and wrapping an arm securely around his waist.
With a gentle nudge, they set off across the open Caelid highway, the sun rising slowly over the blood-red landscape.
As they rode, Tarnished found himself musing aloud. "You know, I've always wondered, if you don't use a Cerulean Tear Flask like I do to restore mana, how do you recover it? Does it just… come back on its own, or what?"
Melina nodded thoughtfully, the wind tugging at her cloak. "A good question. In truth, for those without flasks, the main method of replenishing one's magical reserves is rather mundane. Barring starlight shards, special potions, or arcane rituals, it is meditation."
He raised an eyebrow, shifting his grip on the Greatsword. "Meditation? Seriously?"
She offered a small, knowing smile. "Indeed. Through focused meditation, a practitioner can calm the mind and spirit, allowing one's inner pool of magic to slowly refill. It is slower than drinking a flask, but it is reliable, especially in the absence of alchemical aids."
He hummed, curiosity piqued. "Makes sense. Never really tried it myself, but maybe I should."
They reached a battered waymarker, where Tarnished dismounted briefly to snatch up a dusty, battered map fragment, Caelid's regional chart. He flicked it open, taking in the twisted roads and blighted ruins marked in faded ink.
With a sigh, he opened his status menu, double-checking his stats and taking a look at his spell slots.
[STATS PAGE – Level 34 | Radagon's Soreseal Equipped]
Name: John Elden Ring
Class: Samurai
Race: Progenitor of the Dracúl Aeternum
Talisman: Radagon's Soreseal
Burden: Medium Burden
Spells: Flame, Grant Me Strength
Level: 34
Vigor: 41 (My, my. Look at thee, practically a walking fortress now. What next? Shall I crown thee Lord of Fat Rolls?)
Mind: 25 (Astounding. Thou can finally remember what spell thou meant to cast. Mayhaps I should throw thee a parade.)
Endurance: 40 (Ah, finally. Thou can sprint for longer than five steps without gasping like a drowning carp. Miraculous.)
Strength: 37 (So brutish now. What wilt thou do next, my champion? Punch a dragon into submission? Wait, thou might actually try...)
Dexterity: 40 (Swift, deadly, and yet still might somehow manage to trip over pebbles. Such impressive consistency.)
Intelligence: 9 (…Nope. Still vacant behind the eyes. I've seen goats with more academic promise.)
Faith: 32 (Thy piety is finally on the rise, yet… At what cost?)
Arcane: 22 (Look who's trying to uncover secrets now. Be sure not to explode thyself, curious little beast.)
He blinked in mild surprise, he now had two extra spell slots despite never acquiring a single Memory Stone. Even more curious, his new dragon communion magics didn't need to be equipped at all.
He could feel the latent power thrumming in his veins, ready to be called forth at a moment's notice, he assumed it to be courtesy of that draconic bloodline burning in his chest.
Marika appeared beside him, materializing with her arms folded and her golden hair glinting in the wan morning light. "That is because you have upgraded your mind," she explained, a faint smirk curling her lips.
"With every ten levels you invest, you gain what you call a 'spell slot.' In reality, it is your mind's capacity expanding, able to remember and channel more spells at once. Memory Stones only serve to bypass that limitation, storing spells for you and acting as a conduit."
Tarnished nodded thoughtfully, mulling over her words. "That… Actually makes a lot of sense. So it's about mental discipline, not just picking up rocks."
Melina glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow raised. "Who are you talking to- Oh..."
She caught herself, exhaling in resignation. "Marika again?"
He grinned sheepishly and nodded. "Yeah. Still getting used to having a goddess as a backseat driver, I guess."
She shook her head with a soft laugh. "It will take some time for me to get used to it as well."
He just laughed, nudging Torrent to veer off the road. They came to an exposed root of the Erdtree, pulsing with golden sap. Tarnished hopped down, snagged a shining golden seed from the tangle, then hopped back onto Torrent.
[Picked-Up Item: Golden Seed.]
They pivoted north, and soon found themselves in a small pit, where the crystalline Windy Crystal Tear shimmered at the bottom, guarded by a monstrous, malformed crow.
Without hesitation, Tarnished slid from Torrent's back and scooped up the crystal tear, just as the bird lunged at him with its beak wide.
[Picked-Up Item: Windy Crystal Tear.]
Before it could even reach its prey, a flaming spear whistled through the air from Melina's hand and pierced the monster's eye. The crow let out a ghastly shriek, staggering away, its one good wing flailing as it writhed in pain.
Tarnished barely looked back as he vaulted onto Torrent. They then rode off without a second thought, leaving the beast to its misery as Marika's voice echoed in his mind. "Pitiful, disgusting creature. May the Rot take it."
They pressed north, the swamp's stench thickening in the air. Melina turned to him, curiosity evident in her voice. "Why are we heading towards the Heart of Aeonia? That place is cursed, it is nothing but Rot and death."
He flashed her a sly grin as they neared the Southern Aeonia Swamp Bank, where the sickly red water glimmered beneath the ruined sky. On the edge, Siegmeyer of Catarina stood with his arms crossed, gaze steely as he watched the heart of the infestation.
Tarnished pointed ahead, voice grave but excited. "There's a man in there who holds an artefact that could save the Lands Between from certain doom."
Melina stared at him, clearly taken aback. "What could possibly be that important?"
Marika appeared again, tone sharp and demanding. "Indeed, what could be so vital in a festering pit like this?"
Tarnished's grin widened with anticipation as he dismounted. "What we'll find in there is an artefact left by the Demigod Miquella, the Unalloyed Gold Needle. The only thing in this world capable of sealing away the influence of an Outer God."
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Author's Note:
Very fun things are close, I promise :3
Anyways, stones please!
…
Next Chapter Title: A Battle for Unalloyed Gold.
…
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