With the livestream already running, he led Roderika into the courtyard of the throne.
Everything around them was painfully familiar.
Gravestones lined both sides of the path—countless markers for people whose names no one remembered anymore. Pale yellow wildflowers and weeds had grown around the mounds, and broken weapons lay scattered like discarded bones. A massive dragon corpse slumped beside the road, silent and heavy as a monument.
What was different this time was the snow.
Thin patches of white still clung to the stone, as if the breath had spared this place. And the dragon corpse… it was bleeding. A dark, sticky river stained the ground red, and its head was gone.
He did not need to think twice.
Godrick had already grafted it onto himself.
And Godrick was not here, either.
That did not matter.
Today, even if Godrick somehow grafted Placidusax and Godfrey onto his body, he was still going to die.
Even if Marika descended in person and dragged him into the Erdtree itself, it would not save him.
He said so.
"Roderika, stay here. Don't move."
"Yes, Tarnished."
Roderika agreed without hesitation.
He had already brought her this far. She was grateful beyond words, and this condition was nothing. More importantly, she knew that if she followed any farther, she would become a burden.
"Hm."
He answered with a small hum, then took out the bell and gave it a gentle shake.
Clink—
White mist unfurled in the air. The Finger Maiden spirit, Sororina, appeared again and offered him a slight bow. Alongside her floated Kurara—soft, light, and glowing with a gentle warmth, bobbing in the air like a dancer, each little hop as graceful as a ballet step.
"Kurara, Sororina—please."
"Mm."
"I-I'll do my best, Master!"
He froze.
Then he snapped his head around, staring at Sororina as if he had just been struck.
Wait—she could talk?!
From the first time he met her at Redmane Castle until now, this was the first time he had ever heard her speak.
And her voice was… gentle.
Just like her.
The thought dragged another memory up from deep inside him—of the Finger Maiden who should have been his, still lying in the Chapel of Anticipation.
"Wait a little longer," he murmured under his breath. "Once I kill this bastard, I'll bury you properly…"
He turned back toward the sealed doors. Beneath his helm, his crimson gaze sharpened with hatred.
As if sensing his presence, the heavy doors began to open—slowly, grudgingly—until the throne room revealed itself.
Godrick lay slumped against his throne.
His pale hair hung like dead straw, thin and lifeless, spilling over his shoulders. Behind him, countless limbs had been bolted into place—arms, hands, even legs, as if the man had been stitched together by a mad butcher.
He looked like something dragged straight out of a forbidden nightmare, the kind of sight that could shred sanity with a single glance.
A massive dragon head had been grafted onto his left arm. It rested on the ground like a grotesque pet, and as the Tarnished approached, its eye rolled—alive—tracking him.
On the other side, a golden greataxe gleamed coldly.
A weapon that had once belonged to Godfrey—the first Elden Lord—and one of the many treasures Godrick had fled with when he crawled out of Leyndell.
Broken swords and spears lay nearby as well, so battered and warped they looked like scavenged trash.
As the doorway opened wider, light spilled onto Godrick's face.
He raised his eyes—and his pupils contracted violently the moment he saw the figure standing in his courtyard.
A gilded winged helm that glittered beneath the Erdtree's glow.
Long crimson hair that drifted like a curse.
And that armor—armor he would never forget for as long as he lived.
"Malenia…? Impossible!"
For one breath, his mind went blank with shock.
Then he realized.
This was not Malenia.
He could not feel that familiar presence—no Scarlet Rot, no pressure that crushed the air itself.
This was a Tarnished.
A Tarnished who belonged to Malenia's side.
"Hmph! Even if it were Malenia, so what?" Godrick snarled, his arrogance swelling back into place. "I have claimed the power of a dragon! I am invincible!"
Among all the demigods, if one had truly drowned in power until he forgot reality itself, it was Godrick.
He had forgotten how Malenia had stepped on him like filth.
How he had knelt and begged.
How he had fled Leyndell disguised in shame.
If there were a prize for the most humiliating demigod, he would take it without contest.
And then his gaze sharpened with greed.
From this Tarnished's equipment, it was obvious—this one was close to Malenia. Otherwise, why wear her armor?
If he grafted this Tarnished's limbs onto himself…
Then taking Leyndell and returning "home" would be only a matter of time.
He began to imagine the triumph already.
He did not realize he was the prey.
Meanwhile, the members watching through the chat group fell into a heavy silence.
Fujiwara Chika: "Um… so this is the 'golden lord' Godrick the Golden that Tarnished is going to defeat? (calm face)"
Fujiwara Chika: "How do I put this… yeah… not great. (calm face)"
She gave up thinking entirely.
NorthNorthNorth: "Little thing looks pretty unique.jpg"
Forever Seventeen: "..."
Otto Apocalypse: "..."
Aizen: "..."
The Oldest King: "..."
No one knew what to say.
Except Fujiwara Chika, who had already shut her brain down, Otto and Aizen simply smiled faintly.
A creature this inelegant—calling itself a king?
In the tower of his own world, however, Gilgamesh was furious.
Crack. Crack—
The stone tablet in his hand fractured under his grip. Veins bulged across his forehead like writhing worms, and his scarlet eyes burned.
A wretch like this.
A piece of trash like this.
Something not even worthy of being called a clown—
Daring to call itself "golden."
The last time he had felt rage this pure… he could not even remember.
Perhaps it had been the day Enkidu died.
And then, in the midst of that rage, he suddenly threw back his head and laughed.
The Oldest King: "Hahahahahaha! Tarnished, you've truly found an entertaining mongrel for me. This trash has succeeded in angering me!"
Forever Seventeen: "Oh my, Lord Goldie is angry. Is it because that thing dares to wear the name of gold? (smirk)"
The Oldest King: "Shut up, Yukari Yakumo! I'm furious!"
Director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor: "Eh? What's wrong with everyone? Why is Uncle Gil suddenly so angry?"
Fujiwara Chika: "Hu Tao! Are you finally done with work?"
Director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor: "Yeah, business has been busy lately, so I haven't had time to chat. Ehehe."
Director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor: "But why is Uncle Gil so angry?"
Fujiwara Chika: "Hu Tao, just watch the stream. You'll understand."
Director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor: "Oh."
Sitting in her chair and sipping tea while relaxing, Hu Tao followed Fujiwara Chika's instructions and opened the livestream.
"Eh? It's Tarnished streaming?"
"But… what is that thing across from him? That's so weird… is it even human?"
She had seen countless strange spirits before, but something like this was a first.
Meanwhile, the chat scrolling wildly did not catch the Tarnished's attention.
He walked forward, step by step, into the throne room.
He had only one goal—
Kill this worthless demigod, and avenge his Finger Maiden.
Godrick stared down at him with the same swollen arrogance, and his aged, rasping voice boomed from the throne like it came from a sacred tower itself.
"Tarnished… who comes to audience… I am Godrick the Golden. If you would behold me—then why do you not kneel?"
As if to emphasize his "majesty," he slammed his right hand into the armrest.
The dull impact echoed through the dead silence of the hall.