Countless battle scars were etched into the thick, heavy armor. Time had scoured the metal, and a tattered red banner was wound around a long halberd, yet the old man remained standing tall, showing no sign of the frailty one would expect from his years.
He was a warrior without a master, serving a lord whose trail had long since vanished. That tattered red banner likely bore the crest of his former sovereign. Now, the old man stood here in isolation, the only one among the rot-infested ruins capable of maintaining his sanity.
"Who... goes there!" The old man, a veteran of countless battlefields, shot a sharp, piercing gaze toward the intruder. Though aged, his eyes still held the domineering aura of a storm capable of sweeping away clouds.
"It seems you lot found a new master after all this time," the Tarnished remarked as he stepped onto the ground. Searing flames erupted from his feet, causing the thickest pools of rot nearby to hiss and boil away.
"Who are you?" The veteran leveled his halberd directly at the Tarnished.
"You and that legless fellow, Niall, are both respectable warriors. But it seems age has made you muddled if you've... forgotten me?" The Tarnished abruptly raised his right hand, summoning a sudden gale that sent the Scarlet Rot swirling into the sky.
"What?! You are..." The old man's eyes widened. This man was certainly not one of his old subordinates, nor was he of the Storm Lord's lineage. Only one man possessed such mastery over the storm and knew of Niall.
"You are the War Wolf of that era... Why have you come here?"
Back then, this man had fought alongside Godfrey at Stormveil. Alone, he had held back Oleg and Engvall—the two "Wings of the Storm King"—and literally swallowed the storm's feathers. Afterward, he had fought O'Neil and Niall simultaneously, single-handedly buying Godfrey the time needed for a one-on-one duel with the Storm Lord.
He was a man of truly terrifying legend.
"I've come seeking a single object. A needle... have you heard of it?"
"What...?" Despite his inner confusion as to why this man wanted such a thing, the veteran O'Neil kept his composure.
"To suppress the Scarlet Rot, that's all," the Tarnished said, seeing no reason to hide his intent.
"The Scarlet Rot? For whom? You look healthy enough to me." O'Neil studied the Tarnished closely. His breath was steady; though he was not at his former peak, he was still a formidable powerhouse and showed no signs of infection.
"There is a girl in a ruined chapel on the hill over there, suffering from the rot. I heard there was a needle here that could suppress it and wanted to find it for her." The Tarnished was blunt. He didn't fear O'Neil; after all, if he could beat him once, he could do it again.
"A girl suffering from the rot...? Tell me, does she have red hair?" O'Neil's expression shifted instantly.
"It's red. Not long, though—shoulder-length."
"Could it be...?" A flicker of hope appeared in the old general's eyes. "Such a coincidence... is it truly her? Or perhaps someone related to her?" O'Neil muttered under his breath, prompting the Tarnished to interject.
"What are you mumbling about? And who are you serving now? Looking at that banner, the color is red... Radahn?"
"No. General Radahn is a respectable man, but my master is not him. It is Malenia, the Blade of Miquella..." O'Neil stood his banner upright with reverence. Though it was tattered beyond recognition, one could still see traces of red silk and golden patterns.
"Eh? How did you end up with them?" the Tarnished asked curiously.
"Hmph. After we were defeated by you lot, we were wanderers without a home. It was Lord Miquella who took us in, including Niall. Since then, we have served under the Haligtree. As for why I am here... Lord Miquella assigned me to the Valkyrie to assist her in the Shattering. You've seen those mindless wretches outside, haven't you? Those are Lady Malenia's subordinates—the invincible Cleanrot Knights."
"I am her subordinate as well, though more of a rearguard."
"Rearguard? Where's the rest of you? Just you alone?"
"Hardly." The veteran waved his tattered banner, and numerous spectral soldiers in red capes materialized. "The warriors dwelling within this banner are with me always."
"Right... enough talk. Do you know where the needle is or not? It's urgent." The Tarnished interrupted, refocusing the conversation.
"You're the one who changed the subject! Sigh... fine. I don't know who told you, but there is indeed a needle capable of suppressing the rot. I have it here, but...!" O'Neil's tone turned somber. "The needle is broken. It lost its function long ago."
"Broken? How?"
"Lady Malenia was born with the rot and suffered from it her whole life... to the point where her very limbs were consumed. The compassionate Lord Miquella could not bear his sister's pain and spent his days researching a cure. His conclusion was this needle. And it worked; it successfully suppressed her rot."
"Until the day of the great battle with General Radahn. For reasons unknown, the Lady broke the needle within her, and the beautiful yet deadly flower of death bloomed... Since then, the broken needle was lost, and Lady Malenia disappeared along with it."
"I eventually found it here in this swamp. I suspect the shockwave of her blooming blew it here." The old general didn't know where Malenia had gone; her trail was cold. When he had reached the site of the battle between the Valkyrie and the Starscourge, he found only piles of corpses and a maddened Radahn.
"The needle is broken... can I see it?"
"Sigh... very well. Since you want it, I shall give it to you." Even though the Tarnished was the reason they were displaced, the old general knew that in the Lands Between, strength was absolute. Losing to him was simply a matter of insufficient skill. Moreover, this man was someone he respected; everyone who fought him at Stormveil had been humbled by his martial prowess.
They had been defeated fairly.
"Though it is shattered, it remains a treasure of Lord Miquella. I do not know who this red-haired girl you speak of is... but hair color in the Lands Between is never an accident. Lady Malenia also possesses vibrant red hair." O'Neil produced the needle—a beautifully crafted piece of art with exquisite workmanship.
"If you're so curious, why don't you just come with me and see?"
"Heh... if only I could. Unfortunately... I have stayed here too long. While the rot has not broken my spirit, it has wrought irreversible changes upon my body." O'Neil removed his gauntlet, revealing a hand that was nearly bare bone.
"How ironic that I now rely on the Scarlet Rot to sustain my life... my body can no longer survive without the filth of this place. I truly am a freak." At the moment of contact with the rot, O'Neil had nearly been consumed, but his unyielding will and unfinished mission kept him standing.
On the surface, he looked fine, but beneath the armor, he was surely a horror. His iron will repelled the rot's influence on his mind, but the rot was alive.
The old general heard it—an ethereal voice, like a god... or perhaps his own? The voice said:
You cannot leave this place. The moment you step away shall be the moment of your death. Stay here for eternity...
"The Scarlet Rot is too persistent. Even if you resist its mental erosion, you cannot stop it from remolding your body. My survival is inextricably tied to it now," O'Neil said with a bitter smile.
"You actually managed to hold it back?" The Tarnished admired the spirit of the two old generals, but even he hadn't expected the man to resist the rot alone for so long.
"Hmph, it is no great feat. I have no lingering attachments. A man without attachments has an indestructible heart; thus, the rot cannot shake my will. I was born for battle, and so long as there is a fight, I will not fall. But Lady Malenia is different... she has her faith, her family, and things she treasures. Because of that, her will is even more magnificent... but it is also why she eventually chose to bloom." O'Neil's expression turned lonely.
"War Wolf... no, I suppose I should call you Tarnished now? I beg of you, find Lady Malenia. She must not be allowed to fall further. Her will must not be twisted by anyone."
"That loathsome Scarlet Rot targets the heart's weaknesses to dismantle one's resolve. Especially in Lady Malenia's case... hers is no ordinary rot. Within her dwells the soul of the Goddess of Rot who was sealed away in the past. If she blooms three times, that Goddess will use the Lady's body to return to the Lands Between. When that happens, the 'Valkyrie' will be no more." O'Neil pleaded.
"Three times...?"
"The Lady was always resisting her destiny. If not for the Shattering, if not for so many factors converging... she would have kept fighting. But reality is cruel. Her pillar of support broke, and the rot found its opening. That was the first time. There are two left. Tarnished, can I entrust this to you? Find Lady Malenia, and stop her from blooming again..." O'Neil's eyes were filled with a mixture of supplication, respect for his Lady, and profound regret.
"You don't need to ask. Another god running around isn't good for me either." The Tarnished examined the needle.
(As I thought... it has the same golden aura as Trina... this isn't the gold of the Erdtree...)
"I am grateful you accept..." O'Neil let out a breath of relief.
"Are you about to die right now?" the Tarnished asked, seeing the look of burden lifted from O'Neil.
"I'm not dead yet! I just can't move around freely! Now go, attend to your business!" O'Neil barked.
"Fine, fine... the needle is broken, though. I'll have to find a way to fix it."
Leaving the swamp, the Tarnished returned to Gowry's shack and handed over the broken needle. Upon seeing it, Gowry marveled at its craftsmanship, praising how it contained the mysteries of life—inclusive yet sharp.
Then, with a hint of regret, he noted that a broken treasure is useless. He asked the Tarnished to wait a moment. Using a strange sorcery, he joined the two broken pieces of the needle using a tiny, brilliant red gemstone.
"Ah... and so it is finished. You need only deliver this to her to suppress her Scarlet Rot. Then, that child may finally embark on her own journey." Gowry smiled benevolently. The Tarnished looked at him with a trace of suspicion.
The needle was incredibly precise, not something easily repaired by common hands—especially since it involved Miquella's unique techniques. Even if Gowry were a Sage, it shouldn't have been this easy. However, the Tarnished hid his doubts well and asked a different question.
"I'm curious why you're so invested in this girl."
"Heh, it is only natural you would wonder. That child is one of the daughters I found and raised from a young age. I found her at the center of the swamp, wrapped tightly in a cradle made of flowers when she was but an infant."
"However..." Gowry sighed. "The rot destroys the memory. I fear she has long since forgotten me. But that is for the best. An old man should not weigh down a child's heart... it is better for her journey and her growth."
"..." The Tarnished looked at the gold needle in his hand, silent.
"Fine. I'll take it from here. I'm going to find her now."
"Ah... Millicent is in your hands, brave Tarnished..."
After the Tarnished left, Gowry's expression shifted into something complex. "She is the most beautiful bud I have ever seen... Millicent... my child... bloom into the most magnificent flower of all."
In a place Gowry didn't notice, a wisp of flame from the Tarnished's hand had flowed into the needle he had just "repaired."