Church of Pilgrimage.
"…Tarnished. This place holds a spoken decree—words left behind by Queen Marika, who vanished long ago."
"…If you wish to hear it, I can repeat it for you."
"I do."
Sitting by the Site of Grace, he nodded lightly.
"…Understood. I will recite Marika's words exactly."
Inside the ruined chapel, Melina set Tiamat aside, then knelt before the towering statue of Marika. Hands clasped, she looked like a worshipper at prayer—devout, solemn, unwavering.
It was one of the reasons he suspected Melina's connection to Queen Marika ran deep.
He'd asked Ranni about these decrees before.
Ranni had known nothing—aside from that single line about the demigods becoming sacrifices.
But Melina could recite all of them.
Even those meant to be hidden.
Just like this—
"After you have met death, what was taken from you will be returned—"
"Return to the Lands Between. Wage war, and brandish the Elden Ring."
"Grow strong in the face of death—
Warriors of my lord. Lord Godfrey."
That decree wasn't difficult to understand.
It was Marika's message to Godfrey—and to all Tarnished.
And within it lay a truth: Marika hadn't exiled Godfrey for some petty reason.
She had done it as a contingency.
A final card.
Perhaps the most important one.
Maybe from that moment onward, Marika had already begun laying the path that led to today.
Still, one detail bothered him.
Why did Marika's statue in this church have that crosshatched lattice pattern behind it?
It wasn't the first time he'd seen that design—far from it.
It appeared in the thorns of rejection.
On the Elden Ring itself.
In statues around Leyndell.
Even in the strikes of Marika's hammer.
By his guess, that mark had something to do with Radagon—maybe it was Radagon's sigil.
Yet he had never seen that mark in Marika's dedicated churches.
Which suggested something else.
Perhaps these churches weren't truly "hers"—not anymore.
Perhaps any church carrying that mark was built after Radagon became Elden Lord.
Or perhaps it was the visible imprint of the Golden Order itself.
"…How was it?" Melina asked softly. "I hope it can serve, even a little, in place of a Finger Maiden's guidance…"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "It was perfect."
Then, without hesitation, he added, "I already told you—Melina. You're my Finger Maiden now."
It was a little unfair to the Finger Maiden whose body still lay cold in the Chapel of Anticipation…
But the truth was simple.
His feelings for that unknown maiden had never run as deep as what he felt for Melina.
Even so, he was grateful.
Even in death, she had still left him a decree.
"…I understand." Melina lowered her head, gazing at the Grace like a campfire, as if lost in thought.
After a short rest—once Torrent had eaten his fill—he swung back into the saddle and held out a hand.
"Come on."
"…Thank you."
This time, Melina didn't hesitate the way she had at the start. No shy pauses. No careful distance.
She took his hand, and with a small pull, she vaulted neatly into his arms.
Just like the hug before.
Melina had already begun to accept closeness with calm ease.
The change was so gradual that even she hadn't noticed it.
—GONG!
—GONG!
—GONG!
A vast, solemn bell rolled across the plains.
In the distance, a walking mausoleum—like a colossal stone turtle—wandered through the field.
Hundreds of Mausoleum Knights surrounded it, scattered across the grasslands.
All of them headless.
All of them wielding long spears steeped in death, slaughtering anything that approached.
Lhutel had once been one of them—more than that, a figure like a commander among their ranks.
Their purpose was simple: to guard what slept inside the mausoleum.
A thing abandoned by Marika.
An "unattractive" existence—an allegedly soulless demigod.
In his estimation, that soulless demigod was likely Godwyn, not fully dead.
And these headless knights… had probably been Godwyn's followers in life.
After his death, they had cut off their own heads, cast away their flesh, and waited for his return—hoping to go back with him, back to the Erdtree.
Godwyn's name truly reached every corner of the Lands Between.
Even in death, people still followed.
It was… almost enviable.
And yet the joke was cruel—
Some mausoleums protected nothing at all.
Just an empty coffin.
"Hah… I'll send you on your way. Go rest."
As Mausoleum Knights converged and charged, the corner of his mouth lifted into a nasty, satisfied curve.
He drew Lusat's Glintstone Staff and flicked it.
Then he gifted the entire field a Founding Rain of Stars.
A starry cloud of sorcery covered the Mausoleum Compound—and even the Minor Erdtree above—before meteors fell like a storm.
Every hostile lifeform in the field was struck cleanly and precisely.
Even creatures near the Evergaol didn't escape.
In the end, only the walking mausoleum remained, lumbering along as if nothing had happened.
They were dead already.
Dead things should stay where the dead belong.
Not wander among the living.
Where their souls went after being erased… he had no idea.
As for the Minor Erdtree Avatar?
Sorry.
That was just him harvesting a moving pile of runes on the side.
After collecting the runes along the way, he left Melina and the small creature at the Fourth Church of Marika, then went alone to Witchbane Ruins.
The moment he entered the ruins, the familiar giant head-sphere appeared near the entrance to the underground seal—as if summoned.
Its surface was packed with countless faces, as though stitched together from glintstone crowns.
Its fate looked identical to Teacher Sellen's eventual end.
If it could speak, he might've mistaken it for her.
"…Forget it. For Teacher Sellen's sake, I'll let you live."
While the head-sphere rolled toward him, he darted around it—however that thing even had a "back"—and plunged into the dark stone passage.
Inside the corridor, the air carried a sound—painful sobbing and low, strained moans.
The deeper he went, the clearer it became.
"…Ah… ngh… h—ah…"
Someone beyond the iron gate was suffering badly.
There was no need to guess whose voice it was.
Sellen's true body was imprisoned here, bound by a seal.
He couldn't understand why the Academy treated her like this.
Studying primeval sorcery was a crime, sure—but did it deserve this?
Was it worse than burning the Erdtree?
Worse than releasing Destined Death?
He scoffed inwardly, then heaved the iron gate up with raw force.
The moment he saw Sellen—hands pinned to the wall by crystalline stone, kneeling on the floor—cursing filled the room.
"…It's all pointless…"
"…Never-ending! You sick freaks—Aaaah!"
Hearing those words only made him more curious about what they'd done to her.
This wasn't simple imprisonment.
Not even close.
But he'd never asked.
Some memories weren't worth dragging back into a teacher's mind.
"…You sick freaks… do your worst…"
"…Teacher. It's me."
"…Ah… it's you, my apprentice…"
Sellen lifted her head with immense effort. The moment she saw him, her voice eased—as if just his presence dulled the pain.
"…I'm sorry. You had to see me like this…"
To be seen by her student in this state was humiliating beyond measure.
And yet his arrival in this narrow, hidden place also brought her comfort.
Because it meant she could finally entrust herself to someone.
"I don't know why you came here… but it's fortunate."
"There is something I want you to keep for me…"
"Take my primal glintstone."
"…."
He'd heard those words hundreds of times.
And every time, his chest tightened with the same kind of aching respect.
She didn't question how he found her.
She didn't demand proof.
She simply handed over her core—her life—to a student she hadn't even known for very long.
"…Before long, the stars will unbind the seal. The stars will fall once more, and my fate will begin to turn."
"When that happens… I may be killed."
"So before it begins… take my primal glintstone—"
As she spoke, it was as if she released her own inner restraint. A pale, misty light rose from her chest.
"That… is me…"
At this point, what was there left to say?
He said nothing.
Familiar as breathing, he reached into her chest.
"Ah—!!"
A wretched scream echoed through the underground chamber.
Slowly, he drew out a stone that glittered with faint white starlight.
Sellen's life.
Her primal glintstone.
As it left her, her head drooped and her breathing weakened.
"…Heh… heh… Apprentice… thank you…"
Her voice was full of relief and strange peace. She even joked as she looked at the stone.
"Apprentice… that is me."
"Now that you see it… do you find it frightening?"
She wasn't naive.
She had considered the possibility that her student might betray her.
That he might take the stone and do her harm.
If it happened, she had already accepted it.
Perhaps dying by the hand of a student—by the hand of a confidant—would be its own kind of release.
But his answer caught her off guard.
"No, Teacher Sellen."
"No matter what form you take in this world, you will always be my teacher."
"That will never change."
"…Is that so…"
A faint smile tugged at Sellen's lips.
Even if it was a lie… she chose to believe it.
"…Thank you…"
"I'm truly glad I took you as my apprentice."
"To have you… as a confidant… truly…"
"…Thank you…"
Her voice faded into nothing.
And then she was still.
He stared at the strange stone in his hand—now dim, no longer shining—and fell into thought.
Maybe this was what the Academy wanted from her all along.
To strip it away.
To erase her completely.
As farewell, he looked one last time at the body that had once been Sellen.
He had considered taking her with him.
But the Academy's seal anchored her here. Even Sellen herself couldn't escape.
And he—someone who treated sorcery like a weapon—certainly couldn't do better.
So there was only one path.
Take the primal glintstone and leave.
At least now… he had room to maneuver.
He could eliminate Lusat and Azur whenever needed—to extend Sellen's time.
He emerged from the ruins and returned to the Fourth Church.
And there—
Melina's words hit him like a thunderbolt.
"…I'm sorry, Tarnished. I may not be able to accompany you on your journey from here on."
"W-What?! Why?!"
He snapped, grabbing her arms through her cloak.
That faint smile on her face—
It dragged countless cycles into his mind.
Every time Melina left, it was that same expression.
Countless self-immolations.
Countless smiles.
Every time she smiled like that, it meant farewell forever.
Why?
Why was it always like this?
"Those who walk alongside flame… will one day meet Destined Death…"
The words rose from the depths of him like a curse, like a nightmare.
They echoed again and again until something inside him cracked, and madness flooded in.
"If you want me to become Elden Lord—then I swear I will!"
"If you want the Lands Between to have order in life and death—I'll do it!"
"If you want me to kill the demigods—I'll kill them! Every last one!"
"If you don't believe me, I'll go do it right now!"
"No matter what mess it is—no matter whether I have to go to the heavens or crawl into the earth—I'll handle it!"
"But please…"
"Please don't leave me again…"
On the surface he looked normal.
But inside, he was already hollowed out—shattered, patched together, and broken again.
Other things might not reach that sealed-away insanity.
But when it was about Melina—
The madness refused to stay locked down.
"…No, Tarnished. Please—listen to me…"
His reaction startled her. Her delicate face held true shock.
Even her closed left eye trembled slightly.
She couldn't understand it.
Not at all.
And then that familiar-yet-foreign discomfort surged again—stronger this time, almost painful.
"Aaaa…"
At some point, Tiamat had climbed onto his shoulder.
With tiny hands, she patted his cheek and wiped away the tears slipping down his face, as if soothing him.
Son, don't cry. You still have Mom.
"…."
Realizing how badly his emotions had slipped, he released Melina.
After a long silence, he finally rasped, "…Sorry. I… lost it."
"…No." Melina lowered her gaze. "I didn't explain properly."
"This time, I'm not leaving you."
"It's… for personal reasons."
"When you call for me, I will still appear."
For some reason, she wouldn't meet his eyes—like a child who knew she'd done something wrong.
"…Alright. Go, then." He wiped his face and forced himself back into that usual, shameless tone.
"As long as you aren't abandoning me… it's fine."
Then he paused.
"But before you go…"
"Can I have a goodbye hug?"
"…If that is what you desire."
Still refusing to look directly at him, Melina opened her arms.
He stepped into her embrace.
The familiar warmth. The familiar scent.
The storm in his chest finally began to quiet.
He buried his face deep into that softness like a starving man clinging to life.
"Melina… I've already found a way to save you."
"So… please…"
"Please don't leave me again…"
"..."
She didn't understand what he meant.
But something delicate rippled through her heart anyway.
Slowly, she freed one hand and began to stroke his hair—gentle, steady.
"…Rest assured."
"I won't leave."
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