Lucian had no suitable way to store the pair of Reduvia daggers. For now, he could only carry them in hand, their constant bleeding more of a curse than a blessing.
'This thing keeps leaking blood… looks more like a sacred tool for making hotpot than a weapon' he thought, his mind suddenly slipping into absurdity. Perhaps it was his brain's way of easing the heaviness left behind by Nerijus's deranged tale.
The truth was, Lucian's heart had sunk when he heard how Nerijus became a Bloody Finger. It wasn't just revulsion—it was precisely because he had truly blended into this world that his disgust for people like that cut so deep.
There were no taverns in the Lands Between where one could drown sorrows in ale, no group chats to vent frustrations to. Here, he could only rely on his own stray thoughts and dark humor to keep the weight from crushing him.
Since the night he began pondering how to change the fate of the Lands Between, the pressure had only grown heavier. After all, he was nothing more than a shut-in in his former life. Changing the world had never been his destiny—it had never even been a possibility.
But now, there was no longer any thought of running. He would shoulder the burden. He would become Elden Lord. Even if the road stretched endless before him, he was willing to walk it.
Riding the lift down into Castle Morne, Lucian stopped short at the sight before him.
In the wide courtyard, more than a dozen Tarnished—outfits all different—had been tied up neatly in a row, watched by two or three soldiers.
What in the…? Castle Morne is arresting Tarnished now?
He froze, unable to make sense of the scene.
One of the guards spotted him and came running at once—it was Julius, the young soldier who had become something of a fan of his.
The bound Tarnished saw Lucian as well. Their eyes widened as they realized he was one of them.
When Julius rushed toward him, they panicked, shouting at the top of their lungs:
"Run! Run before they catch you!"
"Don't let them catch you!"
But Lucian did not move, simply standing there, calm as ever. The prisoners wilted in disappointment.
"He's frozen in fear…"
"…Another one about to be caught. At least he won't die alone."
Yet instead of seizing Lucian, Julius dropped to one knee before him in a reverent salute.
The bound Tarnished stared, dumbfounded.
Huh?
They were still trying to process the scene. Why does he get bowed to while we get tied up like cattle?
(Of course, Lucian himself was thinking the exact same thing, albeit with more sarcasm.)
Julius rose and said respectfully, "Lord Lucian, Lord Edgar asks how you wish these Tarnished to be dealt with."
Lucian's brows furrowed. "Rather than how to deal with them, I'd like to know what happened. I've only been gone half a day, haven't I?"
Julius explained.
"After you left, Lady Elyssa wished to take a walk beyond the walls. Lord Edgar ordered me to accompany her and patrol the area."
"At the shoreline, we spotted a battered wooden vessel, nearly falling apart. Lady Elyssa froze the entire sea around it so the Tarnished aboard could safely disembark."
"But they thought she was attacking and rushed at her instead. Naturally, they were all frozen in place immediately."
The frost-red swelling on their faces backed up the story.
"And the ship must've been quite large to carry this many…"
"Ah—actually only five or six were aboard," Julius admitted awkwardly. "The other ten or so weren't with them."
Lucian blinked. There's more? Whose men are they?
"They were a group already on the Weeping Peninsula. They saw Lady Elyssa attacking and rushed out from a cave to help—then got frozen too."
The Tarnished bowed their heads. They'd turned help into a blunder and dragged the rescuers into it.
Lucian's eyes widened. So it's not just mistaken hostility, but also would-be heroes blundering in?
Lucian rubbed his temple. "What a mess…" He remembered a saying from his past life: 'At times like this, just smile.'
And so, he smiled—awkwardly, but politely.
"And what does Edgar say to all this?"
"I say nothing," Edgar's voice answered, as he emerged from the hall. He approached Lucian directly.
"These Tarnished were taken by Lady Elyssa's hand, not by Castle Morne. Since they did our keep no harm. Do with them as you please."
Lucian nodded. "Then release them. It was all a misunderstanding."
The bound Tarnished erupted in relief, thanking him profusely.
"Not so fast," Lucian added, raising a hand. "I do have some questions first."
Later, resting on his bed, Lucian recalled what he had learned.
The seafaring Tarnished belonged to a small family—not remotely on the level of the House Hoslow's. Sending those few across the sea was their last hope. The boat was so shabby it nearly fell apart en route; running into Elyssa had been blind luck.
The others, who emerged from the caves, had long since been stranded on the Weeping Peninsula. Unable to cross the Bridge of Sacrifice, they had taken to banding together, sheltering in caves, slowly gathering a community of ten or more through mutual aid. Their intervention had simply been… misfortune.
Edgar had granted them all a meal before releasing them. Some chose to remain in Castle Morne, where food and shelter were guaranteed. Others, still hungry for adventure, accepted Lucian's recommendation and received passage through the Bridge of Sacrifice—braving Limgrave and its dangers ahead.
But the ones who stayed had given Lucian an idea.
If the Roundtable Hold could harbor Tarnished, then so could he. Those left outside its halls were many—yet they were not weak, not useless. They could be gathered. They could be forged into strength.
He mulled over the thought, not noticing the terracotta jar by his side.
Within it, the Reduvia daggers lay soaking in pooled blood.
The blood quivered, rippling with unnatural life. Slowly, an eye surfaced from the crimson.
It turned, and fixed itself upon Lucian.
He had been found—by the Lord of Blood.