The atmosphere shifted violently as D—now seemingly inhabited by the personality of his younger brother, Devin—exploded in a rage. Rogier, despite years of friendship, looked visibly shaken.
"D... no, you're... Devin!?" Rogier stammered.
"Rogier, you fool! Still coddling those half-dead abominations? They belong to the flames of the Erdtree!" Devin roared, struggling against the Tarnished's grip. "Release me, Tarnished! You dare insult the Golden Order!?"
The Tarnished didn't flinch. He pinned Devin's arm with a single hand and looked at Rogier. "What's the deal here?"
Rogier leaned in, whispering the truth: "Darian and Devin are two bodies, one soul. They never appear together and never speak, yet they share a consciousness. But Devin... he is far more extreme. His faith is a blinding fanatacism. When Darian's resolve wavers, Devin surges to the surface like a fever."
"So, he's a religious zealot with a split-body disorder," the Tarnished summarized.
"Fix the Ring! Heavy is the sin of the doubter!" Devin screamed from the dirt.
"I do what I want," the Tarnished replied coolly. Before Devin could launch another insult, the Tarnished executed a swift overshoulder throw, knocking the wind—and the consciousness—out of the man.
"He needed a nap," the Tarnished remarked, sitting down to wait for the brother to swap back.
The Crack in the Armor
When D (Darian) finally regained consciousness, he was groggy and clutching his head. "What... happened?"
"You were possessed. I performed a 'Limgrave Exorcism,'" the Tarnished lied smoothly while Rogier gave a strained smile.
As they spoke, a cluster of spectral Wraiths—the same kind that had terrorized Diallos—materialized in the nearby woods. Darian instinctively reached for his blade.
"Try a healing incantation on them," the Tarnished suggested. "Holy light is a poison to those who cannot truly die."
Darian lunged forward, his Golden Greatsword glowing. He slammed a golden sigil into the earth. The wraiths shrieked as the healing energy tore through their ephemeral forms, turning them to ash.
Seeing the power of his own faith destroy the "unnatural," Darian looked at his hands. "If the Erdtree is failing... why does its light still burn so bright?"
"Because it's a dying star, Darian," the Tarnished said. "The brightest flare happens just before the dark. If you want to see the root of the problem, meet me at the Third Church of Marika later. I'll introduce you to someone who eats Death for breakfast."
Darian went silent. His faith was a cracked vessel. "Fine... but do not speak to Devin at night. Even I cannot control him when he takes the reins."
The Village of Frenzy
The trio bypassed the Academy, taking the broken bridge to the northern cliffs of Liurnia. As they trekked east toward the ruins marked on Sellen's map, the sky began to change. The pale blue of the Liurnia night was replaced by a sickly, pulsating orange.
"Get down!" The Tarnished suddenly shoved Rogier and Darian into the tall grass.
"What is—"
"Quiet. Look."
In the distance, nestled near a Minor Erdtree, lay a village consumed by madness. A massive, sun-like orb of Frenzy hung in the air, its yellow-orange light warping the very space around it.
A red phantom materialized in the center of the village. His armor was covered in deep, scorched fingerprints, as if a giant hand had tried to crush the metal. He clutched his head, his eyes burning with a chaotic, unholy fire.
"Lan... sse...!! GOLDEN...!!" The man, Vyke, let out a harrowing scream.
The Minor Erdtree nearby was actually beginning to smolder under the heat of the Frenzied Sun. A group of forest-dwelling nomads knelt in terror, attempting to worship the tree, but as they stepped closer, they were instantly incinerated into ash by the ambient heat.
The Erdtree Avatar—the guardian of the tree—rose in fury. It raised its golden staff to strike the madman.
"AARRGH!!" Vyke caught the Avatar's heavy golden hammer with his bare hand. The heat radiating from his palm was so intense that the gold of the weapon began to melt into a glowing liquid.
The wooden body of the Avatar caught fire. Vyke drove his spear through the guardian's chest, channeling the Frenzied Flame until the Avatar was nothing but cinders.
Vyke stood amidst the ashes, his head lolling. He turned toward a nearby church, kneeling in the dirt as yellow flames dripped from his visor like tears.
"Lansseax... Vyke..." he moaned.
Then, his head snapped toward the tall grass. He had seen the Tarnished.