After departing from the Roundtable Hold, the Tarnished returned to the Church of Elleh. The moment he appeared, Boc the seamster rushed forward, his eyes bright with tears of joy. He congratulated the Tarnished on felling the Demigod with an intensity that surpassed even the warrior's own feelings on the matter.
"Alright, alright, calm down," the Tarnished said, raising a hand.
"F-Forgive me, Savior! But a feat of god-slaying... it is truly majestic! I always knew you would become Lord!" To see his benefactor take such a giant leap toward his goal made Boc genuinely happy.
"I have been waiting for you. To celebrate your victory, I have prepared this!" Boc picked up a carefully wrapped bundle from a stone bench. The Tarnished took it and unfurled the contents: a long, flowing cloak of brilliant crimson. It lacked gaudy decorations, but the stitching was impeccable and the fabric felt as tough as leather.
"Oh..." The Tarnished fastened the cloak to his shoulders. The deep red fabric billowed in the wind, accentuating the lethal aura he carried. As he wore it, he realized its true function: Dread. The pure, blood-red hue spoke of the wearer's martial history more loudly than any words could.
"I didn't misjudge you, Boc. This is far better than the faded rag I had on my old armor."
"I am honored you like it, Master!" Boc beamed, rubbing his small hands together in excitement.
"See, Melina? It suits me perfectly," the Tarnished said, swirling the cloak in front of her.
"Erm..." Melina took a half-step back. The combination of the "Amé" nickname and the Tarnished's sudden childish fashion show was enough to rattle even her stoic composure.
"Clearly, you lack an eye for fashion. No matter, others will appreciate the majesty! Hahaha!" The Tarnished laughed heartily. He was a notorious lover of cloaks—his original set from the days of the Long March had featured a massive one. Boc had hit the bullseye.
In the midst of this scene—Boc's excitement, the Tarnished's laughter, and Melina's silence—a familiar figure rode into the church on a donkey. It was the merchant Kalé, dressed in his own signature red.
"Kalé?"
"Oh...? Ah, it's you, Tarnished. You seem to be doing well." Kalé's voice sounded strange. His wide-brimmed hat was pulled lower than usual, almost completely veiling his eyes in shadow.
The moment Melina saw Kalé, she instinctively retreated several steps. This wasn't the awkwardness she felt with the Tarnished; this was a sharp, instinctual wariness.
(Wait, what's wrong with her?) The Tarnished noticed the shift immediately and stepped sideways, silently positioning himself between Melina and the merchant.
"Tarnished..." Melina whispered, her expression tight.
"Do you need to buy something? I have... new stock," Kalé said. He didn't seem to notice the tension, nor did Boc, who was still admiring his own handiwork.
"It's been a while, Kalé. I thought you might have moved on from this old church," the Tarnished said, keeping his tone casual. He felt it too—an underlying current in Kalé's aura that hadn't been there when they first met.
"Hehehe... a nomadic merchant has no fixed home," Kalé replied, slowly setting out his wares.
"Tarnished..." Melina tugged at the edge of his sleeve.
"What is it?" he asked softly. Melina's eyes were filled with a complex, fearful emotion. She looked at Kalé, then at the ground.
"No... it is nothing. Do not mind me," she shook her head, though her hand remained tense.
"Hehehehe, your little friend seems quite shy," Kalé sat cross-legged, staring down at the grass with a hollow gaze. "But being with a chatterbox like you, I'm sure she'll come around."
"Show me what you've got," the Tarnished said, still standing as a shield for Melina. Kalé's voice was carrying a slight, rhythmic tremor—a vibration that didn't sound like cold or fear. It sounded like... hunger.
(This feeling... is it like that presence in the Weeping Peninsula?)
"Ah... I have everything. News, gear, arrows..."
"Give me the news first. Anything about Liurnia. We're heading there next."
Kalé pushed several envelopes across the rug. "I heard you killed a Demigod... impressive. Very impressive."
"He was weak."
"Heh, the old fool got what was coming to him. Buy what you need now, Tarnished... the next time you look for me, I may be gone. And I might not return."
The Tarnished stocked up on arrows and fire pots. After a brief, somewhat strained conversation, he led Melina and Boc away from the church.
Once they were a safe distance away, Kalé, still sitting alone in the ruins, let out a low, croaking laugh. The grass beneath his gaze suddenly flickered with a flame that was golden, yet tinged with a sickly, chaotic red.
At the Agheel Lake North Site of Grace, Melina remained silent as they set up camp.
"What did you feel from him?" the Tarnished finally asked.
"Fire... a very mad, frantic fire," Melina whispered. "If a conflict had started there, that flame would have reduced everything in the vicinity to ash."
"You seem to know that flame."
"Perhaps... just... stay away from it," she said, her voice trembling slightly. It seemed her lost memories left her only with the instinctual terror of that particular fire.
"Fine. Kalé doesn't seem to want a fight yet. Maybe we'll find out what happened to him later." The Tarnished decided to drop it. Kalé was the first person he'd talked to in this new age; he hoped they wouldn't end up as enemies.
He relocated Boc to a safer spot near the Stranded Graveyard—Boc couldn't enter the Hold as he wasn't a Tarnished—and then paid a visit to Sellen.
The sound of the heavy stone door opening interrupted the Sorceress's reading. "My, my... my apprentice has grown quite powerful in just a few days. It seems you've had a breakthrough elsewhere."
"I just killed a Demigod."
"Hmph... as expected of my student. Though you haven't cast a single spell yet, I have faith. So, why are you here?"
"I'm heading to Liurnia next. I want to find a catalyst and see the situation there. Since you're from the Academy, what should I look out for?"
"Stay away from those old, conservative fossils," Sellen said immediately, her disdain for the Academy leadership evident. "The Academy and the Carian Royals are likely still at each other's throats. You'll be an outsider—a Tarnished—so expect hostility from both sides."
"I can handle hostility. I heard there's a Glintstone Dragon there."
"Smarag? Hehe... he's more vicious than I am. His origin might surprise you. He was once a sorcerer who loved 'consuming' other sorcerers to absorb their magic. Eventually, he sought the power of Communion and, corrupted by glintstone, became a dragon that can breathe sorcery."
"Lovely. A wizard-eating dragon."
"Actually," Sellen tapped her chin. "He might be your best bet for a catalyst. If you can take the massive glintstone energy within him and use it to 'temper' a weapon, you could create a hybrid catalyst of immense power."
"That's a bold idea. I like it."
"Apprentice," Sellen smiled. "When you find a catalyst you like, I expect a demonstration. Don't disappoint me."
"I won't. Anything else?"
"Before I was exiled, a strange catacomb appeared in Liurnia. It was built in secret. I don't know much about it, but I suspect someone important—or something dangerous—is hidden there. It might be worth a look."
Sellen took a piece of parchment and, relying on her faded memories, sketched a rough map for him. "My memory of the terrain is a bit blurred, but this should get you close to the entrance."
"That's more than enough. Thanks, Master."
"Go then, apprentice. May the stars guide your path."