Redd folded his molten wings and landed upon a tower's crest, his gaze surveying the battlefield below. The war had fractured into three fronts.
At the rearmost line, Elyssa clashed with the new wave of enemies. Now, with space to fight alone, she no longer needed to restrain the storm of frost at her command. Before, in crowded skirmishes, she had tempered her strength for fear of harming other Tarnished.
But now, unbound, her icy tempest roared to life. The front ranks of Godrick's soldiers froze into brittle statues of frost. A Grafted Scion raised his massive shield, forcing his way forward against the blizzard's bite. A grotesque Omen spawn, its flesh thick and bloated with fat, ignored the cold entirely and charged headlong.
They reached Elyssa in mere breaths. But she was no fragile mage — she was a warrior whose blade bloomed upon the edge of death.
At first clash, the Grafted Scion lost his sword arm and several stray limbs. Frost seeped into his body, crystalizing his fluids into jagged shards, tearing him apart from within. This was no ordinary strike. It was a technique she had devised after Lucian's advice, an imitation of Mohg's bloodflame — but wrought from ice.
The Omen spawn's colossal blade fell toward her skull, yet Elyssa slipped aside with graceful lightness, carving a deep wound across its body in return.
Redd turned his eyes away. There was no need to watch further. The difference in power was absolute. The Scion and the Omen spawn would soon fall.
He could already guess the woman's identity. She must be the Lost Hero of the Zamor tribe — Elyssa — once renowned, then vanished without trace. No other Zamor could have wandered into Limgrave with such strength.
Shifting his gaze, Redd watched the center. Nepheli Loux and Hakkan guarded a small band of young Tarnished. Nepheli cut down most of Godrick's soldiers with brutal efficiency, and the few who slipped past her were finished by Hakkan. With weapons taken from the fallen, the young Tarnished joined the fray. They were no helpless weaklings — simply unarmed before.
Redd shook his head. Their struggle was no more than chickens pecking at each other.
His gaze finally rested on Lucian. The Tarnished now fought one of Redd's own brethren — a Crucible Knight. Lucian's strength pressed the knight hard, but the Crucible's defense was legendary. His greatshield held fast. Every time Lucian sought to break through, the knight barred the way, delaying his pursuit of Godrick.
Watching his comrade, Redd's heart stirred with memories of glory long past.
When their liege, Hoarah Loux, had been exiled, most Crucible Knights chose to remain loyal to the Golden Lineage, serving as its shields. Even though the Erdtree deemed the Crucible a mark of taint, none dared scorn the knights, for their deeds were mighty and their victories countless.
So long as the Crucible Knights stood, the radiance of the Golden House did not fade — even when Hoarah Loux was cast aside, even when Radagon rose as consort-king.
But decline seemed destined. On the Night of the Black Knives, Prince Godwyn the Golden perished. Queen Marika shattered the Elden Ring. Then came the Shattering War.
Godrick, inept in command, saw Leyndell fall back step by step. Until at last, the so-called "Grace Given Lord" emerged victorious in the First Defense of Leyndell.
It was then the Crucible Knights beheld him: Morgott, son of Hoarah Loux and Marika, the Omen King. His royal blood, his unmatched might, his triumphs — all undeniable. And to the Crucible Knights, his omen's form was no disgrace, but the very blessing of the Crucible.
Thus, they pledged themselves to him, guarding Leyndell under his reign. For their loyalty was to the Golden Lineage, not to Godrick the Grafted.
Redd and another knight had meant to follow Morgott as well. Yet when they saw Godrick's pitiful, withered form, they could not abandon him. They stayed at his side.
A choice they came to regret, as Godrick soon surrendered to the madness of grafting in Stormveil Castle.
"If only you had not sought the grafts…" Redd whispered. "Are you even Godrick still?"
From afar, he saw Godrick's twisted bulk flap its dragon wings clumsily, lurching into the air. A sigh escaped Redd's chest.
This was his first time beholding Godrick since leaving his prison. The child of the Golden Lineage had become an abomination. Hoarah Loux, my king… your descendant has replaced every part of his flesh.
Redd drew his flaming blade, his shield scraping sparks. He could no longer bear the sight. With a mighty beat of his molten wings, he leapt down into the battlefield.
Lucian, in the meantime, had forced back the Crucible Knight and now turned his eyes upward. Godrick descended in his new form, body warped beyond nature: A dragon's head grafted to his left arm. Dragon's wings thrusting from his back. His legs replaced by the beast's talons.
He was no longer a man who wore the dragon, but a dragon wearing the man. Every limb Lucian had severed was now replaced with new arms clutching yet more weapons.
With frantic effort, the dragon wings beat against the air, just barely keeping his bloated form aloft. From the dragon's head, fire spewed down in a torrent upon Lucian.
"Hahahaha! Now, Tarnished — what can you do against me?" Godrick's laughter was wild as flames engulfed his foe.
He felt power like never before. Two Sacred Seals and a staff in his many hands hurled spells and incantations in turn, his demigod's vast well of magic fueling the storm.
Though clumsy with the new limbs, it was enough. The Tarnished below had little in the way of ranged attacks — save for those pitiful Storm Blades.
And indeed, Lucian's options at a distance were scarce. He conjured storms to shield himself, scattering fire and sorceries alike. The Crucible Knight pulled back, unwilling to be caught in Godrick's wild flames.
Drinking deeply of both Crimson and Cerulean Flasks, Lucian searched for a way to strike back. The dragon wings granted Godrick command of the skies — not much in raw strength, but enough to make him vexing prey.
"Godrick! How long will you remain blind to your folly?" Redd's voice thundered across the field. "This foul carcass — what of the honor of the Golden Lineage you profane?"
He streaked through the air like a comet, greatsword blazing. With a single strike, he severed the dragon's wings, sending Godrick's bulk plummeting earthward.
As he fell, Redd's tail unfurled in the Crucible's blessing, whipping around with bone-shattering force. It struck Godrick like a hammer, slamming him into the land below.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
[T/N: Greetings, everyone. I was wondering when you think is the best time to jump into the Elden Ring DLC? Should I finish the main game first, or is there a good point to start it—like maybe before facing Radagon? Would love to hear your thoughts!]