The fingers twitched.
Alistair's consciousness began to reassemble, peeling itself out of the dense fog of unconsciousness.
He was... still alive?
Opening his eyes, he found himself lying face-up in a shallow pool, the water cold and still. The darkness of a subterranean cave surrounded him, damp walls slick with moss and silence.
The moment the cliff gave way beneath him, he had been certain it was over. Even at level 802, he wasn't some Endurance-built giant like the legendary Geralt. In Dark Souls, it only took the wrong slope to kill you, no matter how high your stats.
But here he was, whole.
The environment felt deliberate—like those special drop zones found in places like the Ringed City or the Abyss beneath Anor Londo. No matter your fall, if you landed where the designers intended, you survived.
That could only mean one thing.
This was a map transition.
He was no longer on the cliff. This was a new zone.
Rising to his feet, Alistair shook the water from his armor and began to survey the cave.
It was ordinary enough. Damp stone, low ceilings, and in the distance, a faint golden glow. A spectral tree shimmered gently beside a translucent phantom—a tutorial ghost, no doubt.
As he approached, the apparition gestured silently toward a pit and urged him to "descend" to remember what had been forgotten.
A tutorial sequence?
He studied the pit. Not too deep, scattered with glints of player messages—signs of encouragement, warnings, and hints. After a brief moment of thought, Alistair stepped closer.
Even if this were still following game logic, he reasoned, this was real. And that meant if he descended, he could climb back up.
He eased down the edge carefully.
Sure enough, the messages were standard fare.
"Try jumping."
"Hidden path ahead."
"Warrior required ahead."
Then came a faint golden shimmer on the floor ahead. A glowing humanoid form curled around itself, radiating quiet warmth.
"A Blessing," said a soft voice behind him. "Touch it, and if you fall, you'll return here."
Alistair turned slowly to find the blonde girl standing at his side.
"When did you get here?"
She didn't answer. She simply returned to silence, her words spoken only to inform, never to explain.
Alistair didn't press the issue. A long-winded companion would have felt more out of place in a realm like this than a silent observer.
Instead, he sat before the Blessing and reached toward it. A tether formed instantly, like the link between Ashen One and bonfire. Familiar. Comforting.
He exhaled slowly.
The tension of the unknown, the alien weight of this new world, even the strange girl—it all eased under the golden light.
For a while, he had questioned everything. The simulation. The systems. The cliff. Was this even Soulsborne anymore?
But now?
With the cliff trap, the ghost riddles, and the Blessing glowing like a makeshift bonfire, he was certain.
He was back.
All of him.
This was the taste of Dark Souls.
As he pushed forward through the narrow tunnel beyond the Blessing, the familiarity only deepened.
He saw them then. Skinny hollows clad in rags, lurching forward with predictable movements. Alistair's sword trembled slightly in his grip.
"Brother Hollow," he whispered. "You made it here too?"
He dispatched them with practiced ease.
Further along, armored foot soldiers appeared—foreign gear, but familiar tactics.
"Wandering soldiers? I don't remember summoning you. But I love you too."
After clearing the tunnel, a golden fog wall shimmered into view.
"New skin on the old fog gate," he muttered.
He stepped through without hesitation.
Within stood a soldier—same as before, save for the oversized sword now gripped in both hands.
Alistair froze.
This was wrong.
Tutorial bosses were always grotesque. Hulking demons. Golems. Corrupted knights. Never simple soldiers with greatswords.
Unless...
He narrowed his eyes.
There was no way this was straightforward. This was a bait. A transformation. A half-form. Or something deceptively simple.
He summoned his longsword and conjured a black iron shield into his off-hand.
He didn't have to wait long.
As Alistair approached, the soldier's eyes ignited—golden flames burning with chaos and madness. They consumed his form in a breath. The helmet melted, the face burned away. In its place bloomed a sphere like a black sun, hollow at its core, ringed with wild flame.
The creature opened its arms toward Alistair like a welcoming kin.
"Ah, my dear flame-born kin. Though I know not your origin, I welcome you with open arms."
Alistair flinched. His first instinct was to attack.
But memory stayed his hand. He recalled what happened with the girl and held back.
"Who are you?" he asked warily.
"I am what you are. Chaos. Despair. The equal flame in a world torn by order."
The voice was void of expression, yet something in it felt like a smile.
"I don't know you."
"Nor I you. But that is irrelevant."
It dragged its fingers along its sword. Fire erupted along the blade, madness flaring with it.
"The instinct of flame is to devour. And you, my kin, shall be my bridge to a broken world."
It lunged.
Alistair reacted fast, parrying with the black shield. The strike deflected. The enemy staggered.
Alistair drove a dagger into its side.
It paused, looking down at the blade.
"My kin... this cannot harm—"
Click.
The body burst into ash.
It collapsed, stunned.
So was Alistair.
He had expected a long fight. The speech had been so dramatic. But a single repost had ended it?
That couldn't be right.
As the enemy faded, its disembodied head hovered a moment longer, staring at him.
"So... even greater chaos than I thought... I look forward to our next meeting, my kin..."
The last flicker of flame died.
ENEMY FELLED
[Acquired: Remembrance of the Mad Flame Knight]
[Acquired Weapon: Madflame Greatsword]
***
Item: Remembrance of the Mad Flame Knight
Remembrance of the entity known as the Mad Flame Knight, carved by the Erdtree.
Can be used with a Finger Reader to unlock its latent power, or consumed directly for a large quantity of Runes.
Wherever madness-fire stirs, despair follows. But this time, it rose to greet a long-lost kin.
"As he said: the instinct between flames is to devour each other."
...
Item: Madflame Greatsword
Once a mundane blade, now soaked in frenzied fire. Holds power far beyond its humble form.
Inscribed along its edge: "I really look forward to meeting you next time."
Weapon Skill: Frenzied Roar
A desperate cry that boosts attack power but slowly builds Madness.
---
Alistair studied the new items in his inventory, fingers brushing the Madflame Greatsword.
"Madness..."
He tested the skill. A deep roar echoed from his chest, and heat surged through him. Power followed—sharper, heavier strikes.
But the Madness bar crept upward.
He recognized the mechanic instantly. Like Bleed or Frostbite, it filled a meter. And when full, it hit hard—robbing health, draining FP, and locking movement.
Not ideal.
He could tell the former boss likely relied on this to wear down prey. Fast attacks. Madness buildup. A single misstep, and that debuff window would leave anyone vulnerable to a quick execution.
And yet... he had countered too quickly. The enemy had no chance to showcase its true arsenal.
Maybe it hadn't been weak. Maybe it was genuinely dangerous.
Maybe, just maybe, his own stats were too absurd.
He sighed.
"Should've let you get a few hits in, huh?"
Still, the encounter revealed something important.
Upon its death, his Runes had not increased. Instead, his Soul counter from the Dark Soul system had gone up—by five thousand.
That confirmed it.
The systems were separate.
Two laws. Two mechanics.
And whichever governed the kill, claimed the reward.
***
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