The Academy of Raya Lucaria was eerily quiet. Aside from the automated Marionette Soldiers and a few lingering apprentices, the halls felt hollow. The Tarnished's primary goal was the Great Rune and a second Glintstone Key—the one he'd promised to Thops.
He held little hope of finding clues about Sellen here. In a massive, institutional power like the Academy, those branded as "stains" were scrubbed away. Their records were burned, and their names were struck from history. These dogmatic sorcerers wouldn't leave a trail.
However, observing the apprentices, he realized they were mostly drones—slaves to their textbooks and conservative dogmas. They weren't the type to harbor deep secrets; they were the type to ignore them. As for Sellen... given her spectral projections, her true body was likely either imprisoned in a basement or hidden in some forgotten corner of the Lands Between.
In this era of the Shattering, no one was truly innocent. From the Golden Order to the Academy, every faction had blood on its hands. It was a world of survival. But the Tarnished drew the line at Godrick's kind of madness—the slaughter of the innocent for a twisted sense of superiority.
Was Sellen that kind of monster? He couldn't say. But as her student, he'd find out the truth eventually.
"Radical reformers versus the stagnant conservatives... a classic tale. Though I suspect both sides are rotten," he mused. The Academy had a long history of "unethical" research: artificial life, biological weapons, and the horrific Graven-Masses. If they were currently absent, they were likely off fighting the Carian Royals.
The ornate armor he'd found earlier belonged to a Carian Knight. It told a grim story: the Queen's loyalists had likely died trying to storm the Academy to free their imprisoned sovereign, Rennala.
The Tarnished wandered the Academy grounds. Sorcerers scuttled away at his approach; the news of the "Godrick-Slayer" entering their halls had spread like a chill. But while the humans feared him, other things did not.
The lower levels of the Academy were a vast graveyard. In these open burial grounds, swarms of Those Who Live in Death—shambling, undying ghouls—roamed free. Apparently, the sorcerers hadn't mastered the holy arts needed to keep their dead down, or perhaps they simply didn't care.
In a rare moment of charity, the Tarnished didn't hold back. He unleashed the Golden Grace stored within his Newel Moon, sending the ghouls back to the earth.
"I'll clear the path for Thops. I'd hate for the poor guy to get bitten the moment he finally gets back to school."
Suddenly, a thunderous mechanical roar echoed from the distance. He followed the sound to the Academy's massive crystalline quarry. The noise came from a unique elevator—a giant, water-wheel-like contraption with rotating platforms that carried people between the heights and the depths.
In the shadows of a stone monument nearby, he spotted a tall, pale figure. It was gaunt, shirtless, and wore only a loincloth, clutching a massive stone blade.
"An Alabaster Lord," the Tarnished whispered. "Looks like I'm not the only one dressed for a brawl."
These beings had fallen from the stars alongside the meteors that struck the Nox long ago. They were masters of a magic distinct from the Academy's glintstone: Gravity Magic.
The Alabaster Lord turned, his pupilless white eyes locking onto the Tarnished. He was a hollowed-out version of his former self, his chest rotting, but his movements were still fluid and ethereal. He swung his greatsword with the weight of a mountain, pulling the very air toward him.
The fight was short. Though the Lord's gravity magic was a sight to behold—yanking stones and debris into a swirling vortex—he was no match for a warrior who had stood before the First Elden Lord. The Tarnished cleaved him through the waist.
As the Lord died, his stored gravity power detonated, pulling nearby rubble and a few unfortunate mining nobles into a crushing singularity before dissipating.
"Gravity... now that's a power worth having." He picked up the Alabaster Lord's Greatsword. "I'll hold onto this."
Descending the wheel-lift, he entered the deep pits where "Noble" slaves mined for glintstone. They were mindless husks now, guarded by erratic Marionette Soldiers. These four-armed wooden dolls were far more aggressive than the ones above. They fired arrows and swung straight-swords in a frenzied, mechanical blur until they "overheated" and stood still.
The Tarnished ignored the fodder and looked into the deepest pit. There, a horrifying machine patrolled the dark. It was a Virgin Abductor—a towering iron maiden on wheels with a woman's face carved into the metal. Huge, blood-stained saws spun on its sides, and its "stomach" could fly open to reveal snaking, metallic tentacles.
"What a nightmare. Who designed that? A battlefield corpse-collector?" He decided not to jump down. There was no need to fight a trash compactor today.
He circled back into the interior of the Academy—the classrooms. Mountains of books were piled at the entrances.
"You'd think scholars would be more organized," he grunted, pushing past a heap of scrolls. On a central desk, he found a unique logbook. It wasn't about glintstone theory; it was the Nomadic Warrior's Cookbook [17]. It contained instructions for crafting Rancor Pots.
These pots were designed to mimic the ancient power of Death—the spirits trapped in the "Ghostflame" used by Deathbirds in the era before the Erdtree.
"Ghostflame... spirits... interesting." To make them, he needed Grave Violets and Human Bone Shards. He already had the bones from the graveyard; he just needed the violets and some Cracked Pots.
He rested at the nearby Site of Grace, "The Schoolhouse Classroom." Melina appeared as usual, followed by the jellyfish Aurelia.
"What did you put into the Grace?" Melina asked curiously.
"A notebook. I found a way to use the power of the dead. It's related to the Deathbirds and their Ghostflame."
"Ghostflame..." Melina looked thoughtful. "Tarnished, what do you think of death in this land?"
"I think letting people die normally is probably for the best. This 'eternal life' the Erdtree offers just leads to things like Godwyn—rotting forever, neither alive nor dead. It's a mess."
"The Golden Order removed Death to achieve perfection," Melina said softly. "But in doing so, it took away the natural cycle. Before the Erdtree, death was handled differently."
"I remember," the Tarnished said. "The Deathbirds, the Ghostflame... and the Destined Death of the Gloam-Eyed Queen."
Melina looked at him, her expression unreadable. "There was also... the Sun."
"The Sun?" The Tarnished blinked. In the current age, the Erdtree was the only light that mattered. The sun was a distant, fading memory.
•
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