Chapter Text

Art By TatiAndArt1

PROLOGUE

CLANG!

An object crashes upon another within the darkness, creating a golden light. Light, Particles, and crystals of the gold spur from the impact.

The Elden Ring begins to fracture.

CLANG!

An object crashes upon another again, and the light from it becomes brighter. Its luminance reveals a man in front of a stone anvil with a line of golden light on its surface. He held a hammer in his right hand that emitted golden dust on its tip.

The man stood hunched and breathed loudly from his previous action, his left hand placed upon the anvil for support. His hair was colored red like flames and braided due to its length, his skin pale as clay, his body sculpted to perfection with all his layers of muscle on display, his lower bottom covered with a black skirt with lines of gold trends.

The Elden Ring reforms and starts to mend itself.

His golden-colored eyes fall upon the anvil again with a hint of panic on his face. He stood tall and raised the hammer once more.

CLANG!

The hammer clashes on the anvil again, landing the golden line. The impact emits a flash of light once more. The light becomes brighter again and stays constant. Its luminance lit up the area, revealing a stone platform with golden leaves on its grounds and the anvil in the middle.

A woman stands in front of the anvil with the hammer in her left hand. Her hair was pale gold and braided, her skin was pale as clay, and her upper body was exposed to reveal her feminine features to be perfect, firm, and toned in their naked form. She wore a black skirt with lines of gold trends that were used as part of a dress that covered her upper body.

The Elden Ring begins to fracture once more, now more damaged than before.

Cracks appear on the back of the woman. She groans in pain and kneels in front of the anvil. Using the hammer to push herself up, she stood up in hesitation and raised the hammer.

CLANG!

The hammer crashes on the anvil again, creating another flash of light. The red-haired man appears again in front of the anvil kneeling with labored breathing. He looks to the hammer in his left hand and switches it to his right. Cracks too appear on his back, causing him pain and discomfort. He stands up with the support of the anvil. Looking down at the golden line on the anvil, he prepares to raise the hammer again.

The Elden Ring mends again. But its damages remain.

Radagon. Stop it.

He hears a voice of a woman speaking to him within his mind. He frowns in frustration and pain as more cracks appear on his pale skin back to make it resemble a clay statue that is breaking. He breaths harder as he struggles to grip the hammer, his left-hand twitches as if he is not in control.

Radagon puts the hammer down on the surface of the platform and grips his left hand to control its movements. He regained himself by clenching his left hand into a fist. He tests his fingers to ensure that control is now his.

He looks up with his eyes closed. "Stop what, Marika? This act of blasphemy and madness? One you plotted for years? Eons? Since the beginning?". He answers to the space around him.

This is my will. The final act of my life. One that was a blessing soon turned into a curse. I never intended for this age to last. Not after what it cost me and what it tried to do.

"Never intended? So it was all lies? The words of the greater will you tell our people?!" Radagon shouts out upwards, causing the area to echo his words. "You would throw a few thousand years of progress for a personal grudge that was eons ago!?"

The time of that matters not, my husband. I cannot forgive the greater will for the decision that cost me everything. You, of all people, should understand this, considering your existence.

Radagon shouts in pain as he fights off a presence that attempts to possess his mind. He grabs his head with both hands as the presence takes his body from his control. It failed, however, as Radagon, in a desperate state, slams his forehead against the anvil to ward off the presence. The action caused a bruise and blood from a wound. It healed instantly with no scarring due to his divine blood.

"Marika... Please. This is not our right to do. Think of our children... The price they will pay when the greater will decides to enact its retribution." he pleaded to the voice.

Your children, my children, and our children's fate were sealed from the start. They will attempt to claim the mantle of godhood, for the new age come. They will rise, fight, and die should they fail to live up to their measure, for that is the price one must pay to be eternal...

For how is a God to be born without great struggle?

They have chosen their paths radagon. And like Godwyn, we cannot help them. As my as I want to.

Radagon remains kneeling from the pain in his struggle to keep his body as his own. He knows he is losing badly. This was never a fair fight for him anyway.

He had a purpose and role to play for the golden order to ensure that the current age remains the dominant power of the known world. And he played it faultlessly without question or hesitation even as it caused him grief, hurt, and regret.

He thought of the cause of his actions to the family he had left to fulfill his duty to his religion.

His sons, both going on their own ways far from his teachings and guidance. One of them even denouncing the Golden order itself, much to Radagon's dismay.

His daughter takes after her mother despite her flaming red hair like his. Who grew up to become her own woman, looks to him with nothing but contempt and hatred for the abandonment she experienced when he left at the age of seven. He still remembers her teary eyes and violent sobs as she begged him to stay when he chose to sneak away from them in the middle of the night rather than announce his departure.

And his former wife... The one that he regrets causing hurt the most. How a queen of the moon and stars who stood against him on the battlefield was reduced to a heartbroken woman that knows nothing but the pain caused by a choice, his beliefs over his family.

But it is too late for any regrets, not when the world is on the brink of chaos. Caused by the decision of the greater will's chosen God, With him as its last defender.

Marika. This woman was queen and god he calls his second wife. It's a wonder how they managed to have twins in a marriage arranged out of necessity by decree of the greater will.

Enough.

Marika's voice echoes in his head as radagon begins to lose himself. He struggles in the mental fight for his soul, no matter how artificial that may be. But all of that was for naught.

"Marika! Don't! I implore you we can find another way! No one has to pay for our sins!" He pleaded in a final attempt to change her mind.

No, radagon. There is no other way. My mind is made. It has been since his death an age ago. Everything I do in defiance of the greater will is for him. I have waited a long time for this moment.

Radagon screams in agonizing pain as the presence in his mind starts to take over. He lost this battle as this body was never his in the first place. Radagon had tried reason, and it was fruitless, so he would use violence instead.

The area goes silent for a few moments before a woman rises to her feet. It was marika with her golden hair that once again appeared. With renewed strength, she picks up the hammer again and prepares to carry out her task at the anvil.

"Greater will... May you never use anyone again the same way you used us." She vowed before the anvil.

CLANG!

Markira slams the hammer upon the anvil again, hitting the golden line on its surface.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The Elden Ring fractures once again. Its perfect lines begin to come undone.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

She continues to slam the hammer upon the anvil multiple times. Each time the hammer lands, the cracks upon her back grow larger and more numerous, even extending towards her front torso. The pain was unbearable like her body was being ripped apart from the inside and outside. It provided her with the resolve to continue on this foolish path, for pain was a reminder of the hurt she too has suffered within her heart.

This resentment, doubt, and wavering faith had been building up for some time within her mind. All of it had now sprew over to create the moment that is happening now, where a god would finally rebel against her higher powers.

Do you intend to continue this path? Despite all, I have said!?

Marika paused her actions upon hearing Radagon's voice in her mind. "Yes, Radagon. I intend to continue. And nothing will stop this. Not the stars nor the fates."

Then you leave me no choice, woman...

Her right hand suddenly grabs the hammer held on her left and tosses it away from her grip. Marika's right starts raising up of its own will. She grips it with her left in an attempt to bring it down. "What are you?! Stop you fool!"

If death is the only solution to your madness. Then I shall deliver it. TO BOTH OF US!

Marika's right hand begins to emit red lighting. It crystalizes to become a red crystal spear. She starts struggling with her other hand to hold it off as it begins to drive the spear downward towards her abdomen.

In a surprise to her, the hand throws itself back to lose her left hand's grip on it. With one swift motion, it drives the spear straight through her lower torso, impaling her to half its length.

Marika screams in pain, and Radagon's voice cries in unison with hers within her mind. She attempts to remove it but was hindered as her right hand maintains its grip on the spear and begins twisting in all directions to cause her more pain.

"ARGH! AAAARRRRGGGGH!! RADAGON, YOU FUCKING LAPDOG! STOP! STOP!" She continues her attempt to remove the spear lodged in her abdomen to no avail as she still has no control over the hand that kept it in place. Blood spills from the wound as no amount of instant healing can recover from a consistent injury.

Marika falls to her knees in her continued struggle. She grew weaker from the pain caused by the spear and the cracks on her back. This struggle continues until she falls to the ground on her side, her stray hand maintaining its grip on the spear to keep her subdued.

"No... No... Not like this. Not after all... I have given... For this....."

It did not... have to be this way... You... forced me...

Marika soon begins to lose consciousness due to the blood loss from her abdomen. Her right hand finally loses its grip on the spear as her body begins to lose its strength. She felt cold and knew that death might claim her despite her immortal status. All her efforts will be wasted and she will die a failure, with not a single move made against the greater will.

The Elden Ring is fractured to a worsened state. It will shatter should one more strike find its mark.

Marika tried all means to muster one last effort to crawl to the discarded hammer but could not feel her legs and arms. She instead starts reciting to ease herself for the end.

"Radegan... Rags... Please... Help..me."

Her vision was dark, and she felt cold throughout her entire body. She could not feel the ground beneath her, and she did not feel like she was floating, as the alabasters do with their gravity magic.

So this is how my death is to be? Marika wondered to herself whether this was how she would spend the eternal afterlife. An infinite amount of time floating in the darkness with only her thoughts and voice as company. Fitting torture for the woman who defied an outer god. She thought bitterly.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt her surroundings changing. The wind was blowing past her sides, and warmth was returning to her body.

Marika opened her eyes to find herself standing at the foot of a small hill with a path leading upwards. She looked up to see a thousand stars and the moon lighting the night sky, giving light to the lands beneath its blue midnight hue.

What? Where am I now? She could not think of an answer as she started moving forward to scale the hill by traveling the path upwards.

While walking, she looks down at her body to see that she is fully dressed in her old traveling attire made of white and gold. She was wearing a light cotton shirt, tan leather pants, and mid-cut boots. Made at her request for the use of better movement and comfort as compared to her usual dresses.

She suddenly remembered that this was an attire she wore an age ago when she was still a mere Numen, traveled far from her homeland. One of the few chosen of a new age to ascend to godhood under the guidance of the finger. To take the place of all her previous

Marika continued to walk upwards and reached the top of the hill. Due to their distance from her, she heard hundreds of men speaking in hushed voices. As she walked the cliff face, she started to see bits of orange hues in the distance that interrupted the night's cool tone.

Wait. I recognize this place. This was the encampment the night before a battle against the dragon order's army. That means...

She walks slightly faster as she remembers the significance of this place at this time on this very night. Her suspicions were confirmed as she reached the cliff face to see a single tree near the cliff's edge. A single tent was set up nearby with a small bonfire in front of it. The ridge provided a view of an army encampment that seemed to stretch endless with orange lights caused by touches and campfires, no doubt made by the army's many members.

The sound of metal sliding against another catches her attention. She turns toward the source and what she sees causes her to hold her breath.

She sees him.

A man was sitting down on a rock with a great sword in hand, its length extending above his sitting height. His back was turned against her as he focused on sharpening the sword with a welding stone, carefully sliding it on the blade's edges.

He was taller than the average man and was built with a fighter's body due to his lifetime of battles since childhood. His hair was black and slightly longer than usual. This caused him to tie a small ponytail on his head. He was dressed down from his standard lightweight armor, all the metal and leather parts removed to leave only his inner black shirt and rugged leather pants.

Marika did not know long as she stared at him from afar. She was still overwhelmed with thoughts and emotions.

How long has it been since I last saw you? Even in dreams and hallucinations, I could never clearly see you. Have I forgotten our time spent and how you look?

She considered the words she would say as tears started welling up in her eyes, overwhelmed by her feelings of grief and sorrow. Part of her knows that this moment might be the last time she sees him. For fate was never kind to him, even in his final moments, he suffered greatly.

"Good evening, Ser Radegan."

She hears herself say without her control the exact words she spoke to him that night. So this is just a memory, Marika wonders to herself, slightly disappointed that she would not be able to say the words that she left unspoken.

Radegan stops his actions and turns towards her. She lets out a breath as she finally sees him clearly, after a lifetime of waiting.

His facial features were rough and masculine, with not a hint of softness. Small scars were on his nose, mouth, and cheeks. His eyes were dull brown, gloomy, and dark. He had a slight hint of Reedlander features with slightly tanned skin. Perhaps he is an indirect descendant of the Eastern people.

Radegan nods in acknowledgment and turns back to continue his sword sharpening.

"Hmmm... I hate that name."

Radegan often shows his disapproval of the current name many call him by. It was a necessary change that the nobility under marika's service had 'recommended' to her after her decision to announce him as a knight in her direct service. Despite the many protests she heard from them, she was firm in her decision. It was a move that may have cost her as some lords in her service.

It was not a change he embraced willingly nor overnight. He was often uneasy with the status granted to him due to the attention others began to show him.

Many soldiers, sellswords, and warriors around reacted positively to his new title. They had seen firsthand his actions on the battlefield and listened to the story of his journey to escort Marika safely to the sacred Lands. But to the nobility, he is nothing more than another lowborn that got lucky, not worth their time or respect.

"I understand that, Ser Radegan, this change and what it brings. Perhaps I had been too hasty in my decision to announce so soon." Marika heard herself speak again. It was clear that she had no control over what she said and do within this memory, as she was simply a spectator in her point of view.

How cruel. To only see what was already passed, she thought to herself as she continued to observe her past in her own eyes.

"Not your fault. Still, maybe give me a heads up next time?"

"Of course." her past self answered quickly. In truth, she was surprised at how quickly he forgave her for this incident. She did not even remember offering an apology for it.

"Shouldn't you be asleep, maiden? We are going to march by full force tomorrow when the sun shows its head." He asked with a hint of concern in his voice. His eyes looked at her while sharpening his blade.

Marika waves her hand to brush off the concern. "I am of Numen blood, Radegan. Sleep is not a requirement for our people." She answered. "And what of you, Radegan? Should you not sleep?".

Radegan stops his actions and looks toward the encampment with a frown. He considers Marika's words for a moment. "I... can't sleep. I got over a thousand men to lead to their deaths tomorrow. If we are lucky, we will come back with a least half left? Give or take really." He comes up with a number right off his head.

Marika moves to the right of where he is seated. Radegan notices this and proceeds to move slightly to the left of the stone he is sitting on, offering her a seat beside him. She accepts and takes a seat on his right.

"And what would be the outcome if we are unlucky?" Marika inquires about the result that Radegan has in his mind. Although he does not show it often, Radegan has a good sense of battle tactics from his several tours of battle during his time as a lone mercenary.

"We get overwhelmed by them and die horrible, painful deaths. And the lesser houses get their arses in gear to win the battle in your name." He says bluntly. "That is if they don't shit themselves after learning that the vanguard was completely defeated, and they have to fight for real alongside their armies." He adds knowing that marika's nobles were not seasoned fighters and relied solely on their armies to back their claims.

Marika had remembered this fact long ago. The lords and nobles who followed her only did soon out of disdain for the dragon order. They hoped that she would lead them to a new, better age under the greater will, with them at her side of the course.

"Though that seems petty unlikely...." Radegan muttered under his breath.

"Why not?" She had asked curiously.

He places his greatsword and welding stone down to the side to face her fully.

"The dragon order has at least five thousand men in their vanguard force to meet us at the field this time. But to get that number means they will need to compromise the efficiency of their men." He explains.

"You mean to say that our forces may have the advantage despite being outnumbered?" Marika inquired about her assumption.

She sees a slight smirk forming on his mouth. He nods in agreement with her statement. "Yeah, all the manpower in the world doesn't mean much if your army's fighting skills ain't worth cock."

Radegan pauses for a moment after finishing his statement as he realizes the word he said in front of her. He sighs for committing the same mistake he usually makes.

"Sorry. I shouldn't be talking like that with you, considering you are going to be queen and-"

"It's fine, Ser Radegan. I'm used to it, considering that we had conversions more vulgar than this current one." She points out to him to make him remember their previous talks during their travels to the capital.

"Still, the future queen of the... Lands between? Shouldn't learn to swear." He answers with a shrug.

"A bit too late for that good ser. I have learned new words since our last game." She eyes him with a smirk to issue her challenge.

He looks at her with a frown. "Oh, Really? You want to go there? You are so eager to be beaten? Again?"

"Not this time, ser. I came prepared." She turns to face him fully for their game.

Radegan twists his neck to both sides, creating cracking sounds, and sits up straighter while facing her. He mocks a battle stance as they start their dance of words.

"Shit." Radegan starts.

"Fuck." Marika replies

"Balls."

"Cunt."

"Bitch."

"Cock."

"Bastard."

"Whore."

"Dick."

"Arse."

"Bollocks."

"Cum."

"Shi- dick... Damn it. I'm out." Radegan loses the game as he repeats a word. The result causes Marika to break into laughter. Radegan soon joins her with a hearty laugh of his own.

After their humourous conversion, she composes and looks at him, his face lit by the moonlight. She remembers this moment as the first time she had seen a different side to his usual cold and closed-off behavior. He only truly lets his walls down in these moments of levity around her.

I enjoy seeing you smile. She thought to herself, as smiling was something Radegan rarely did.

"Well, you got me. That was impressive, I didn't think you would remember our game." He says bluntly while reaching out to his sword on the stone's side.

"I could never forget you... I meant our game! It is an... Entertaining concept." Marika corrects herself hastily. A slight blush creeps up her face as she turns around to hide her face.

Radegan looks at her with a perplexed look on his face. He does not pursue the meaning of her words and simply uses the tip of his sword to push himself off the stone to get on his feet. He offers a hand to Marika to help her stand.

"Good to know. But it is getting too late for talks. Come on, I will take you back to your tent." He waits for her hand while resting his greatsword's blade on his shoulder.

Marika takes his hand and gets on his feet. She felt it being rougher and more callous than before. Probably from his training sessions with the recruits. Before they started moving, Marika makes a request.

"Radegan... Wait. Let's stay here awhile. To observe the encampment." She says while looking toward the orange lights

Radegan looks at her, confused. "Why?" He asks bluntly.

"I... I think the view is rather interesting. I would like to think on it for a while." In truth, she was buying some more time to spend with him as her duties required her to be away from him.

She hears him sigh, no doubt a little annoyed.

"Ok." He replies as he moves to stand beside her.

She looks out to the vast camp before them, observing the many men and women going about their activities from a distance.

Some were trying to catch sleep in their bedrolls and tents. Some sit around bonfires, making conversation and enjoying supper made from their food ratios. Some pray in silence with their books and talismans with symbols related to the greater will. Some were still working, refining their weapons, and discussing the coming battle.

All of them are here for the same purpose. To win the war that will usher in the new age after the dragons. One with her as their guide.

All of this was for her.

"These men and women. They all chose to risk their lives to resist the dragons and their order. To hope that perhaps they will be able to live better lives under another God that is more benevolent than the dragon's god." Marika explains loudly, mentioning the dragon order's equivalent to greater will.

"They truly believe that whatever comes next can and will be better. Where they will be able to follow a destiny that does not lead to ruin." She continued, both her hands clasping each other.

"It is certain, then, that destiny can drive one to do greater things. Even with impossible odds. The need to follow a dream often distorts one's fears and doubts." She also looks to her side to see Radegan looking to the horizon of the encampment.

"What about you, Ser Radegan? Do you believe in destiny?" She inquires, curious about his thoughts on such a concept.

Radegan looked toward her with a concentrated face as he thought of a response to the question. He ponders a bit longer while turning up to look at the night sky. He turns to her with a reply.

"I... Don't. Destiny is a thing that was never really kind to me. And in all honesty, most of my feats and achievements were just me... Winging it." He answers honestly which was a surprising response Marika rarely gets. Most answers she hears from others tend to be attempts at impressing her or not offending her.

But not with Radegan, though. He was consistently honest with her, even with harsh truths that she refused to accept in her days before. It was one of his aspects that made her feel endeared with him.

"But still.." He continued from his previous words. "If I'm going to have a destiny. I should be able to pick. Right? Regardless of what some universal law or god I never met says." He answers her question.

Marika was once again surprised by him. She never thought that he would give this response due to his no-nonsense mindset. He never believed in the gods or their laws and only trusted what he could see and hear in front of him.

That was the best thing about you. Marika thought to herself as Radegan looked back at the view before them.

"It is a nice view... That's why I camped here. It's also petty breezy. Good night for a nap." Radegan mentions casually to resume their sightseeing. Marika looks to him instead. She looked down at his free hand, and a stray thought came to her mind.

Please let me be able to feel this... Marika thought to herself as her past self reached out to his hand. She grabs it gently, hoping for a response. She feels its warmth and roughness.

Radegan looks down at her hand, grabbing it lightly. He pauses for a moment to consider his next action.

Marika waits anxiously to see his response. Part of her fears a negative outcome, and she fears he will start avoiding her to ensure this doesn't happen again. Instead, she feels his hand start closing on hers. Holding her hand gently, Radegan looks at her with a neutral expression.

They looked into the eyes of each other, both thinking about the significance of their current action. Marika had a small simmer of hope that Radegan would be making the first move, for she was afraid of taking the first step due to her fears of pushing him further away.

So instead, they remain holding hands. Marika soon speaks to break the tension.

"I am... Glad you are here... Rags." She speaks his real name. The name was given to him by his adopted mother, as he told her before. "I was... Afraid we never... See the other again." She mentions after having remembered his last departure.

Radegan nods and smiles at her. It was the brightest one she had seen from him so far. She smiles back at him, regaining a feeling of happiness she once had before the day she was announced as one of the greater Will's chosen ones.

Reality soon catches up to her as her vision blurs and darkness spreads around her sight. The memory is ending, and she will fade to nothingness, with Radegan as her final companion in the fondest memory she has.

No. No. No. Please don't leave me alone...

She begins screaming to him for acknowledgment, but no voice comes out of her mouth. She attempts to move her arms to signal him for an acknowledgment, but her past self remains to hold Radegan's hand. She remains to look through the eyes of her younger self within this fading memory.

The darkness begins to take her vision. No doubt, death will follow. She could not even cry at this moment. Marika soon hears his last words within this memory.

"I would never leave you..." Radegan fades from view completely. She loses him again, for the third time.

Marika breathed out for air with her eyes open. She looks around to see herself back on the platform where she had collapsed from the wound on her abdomen.

She looks down to see it still intact. Her wound closed around the spear in her body's attempt to heal the damage.

Looking forward from her current lying position, she sees the hammer she had been using previously and begins to crawl toward it despite the pain from the spear.

What? How?

She heard Radagon's voice in her mind but did not care to respond as she continued to crawl towards the hammer, intending to finish her task.

Marika finally reaches the hammer. She grabs its handle with her left hand and pushes herself up with the support of the hammer's head. She adjusted the foreign object stuck in her abdomen before walking toward the anvil.

Marika! Stop!

She continues towards the anvil without heeding Radagon's voice.

Please do not do this!

She gets closer despite the spear causing her pain. The wound had reopened due to her movements.

MARIKA! LISTEN TO ME!

She reaches the anvil, placing her right hand on its surface. She looks down upon it.

The Elden Ring will break today. She will ensure it.

Marika raises the hammer above her head and prepares to enact her cardinal sin, for her revenge.

"If I'm going to have a destiny. I should be able to pick. Right?"

A single tear rushes down her cheek from Radegan's words, even in death he had saved her again. She starts reciting a vow in his honor.

"Upon my name... As Marika... The Eternal"

NO! STOP!

"I solemnly swear...."

PLEASE DON'T!

"As long as... I have breath in my body...."

MARIKA! LISTEN TO ME!

"I will... Chose... My... Own..."

DO NOT!

"...Fate."

She brings the hammer down with great force, slamming it directly upon the golden line. One last time.

An explosion occurs on the anvil. Its blast breaks apart Marika's hand and engulfs her in a flash of light that fills the whole space.

The Elden Ring was broken.

And the world will soon follow.

Radegan.... My love...

It was known as The Shattering.

A shockwave engulfs the lands between, emitted by a giant tree in the middle of a golden city.

Its power sweeps through every corner of the land. Winds howl without restraint. Seas beckon waves that reach for the sky. The earth shakes as melted rock bleeds through a volcano.

It was a signal to all who lived in the region that the end had occurred and that chaos would follow.

The demigods, children of Godfrey, Marika, and Radagon, hear it. Each of them prepares their legions and begins making their moves to claim their birthright.

A war of reckoning follows between six armies. One dedicated to each demigod.

One is born of an Omen to die within the depths of his mother's capital. Outcasted by the greater will, But rose to become its the greatest defender.

One is also of an Omen birth and chooses to follow the teachings of the formless mother to achieve a fantasy of his own dynasty. Guided by a unknown force.

One is born as a non-believer, who preferred his gods of knowledge and logic over the teachings of his father's religion. Who vowed to consume the gods with the blessing of a great serpent.

One is born as a dreamer who looked to the feats of the first Elden lord as inspiration to become the strongest of them all. Commanding a thousand stars as his greatest show of strength.

One is born under the glooming light of two moons to a lunar queen and red king. Her fate is written within the movement of the stars, destined to bring forth a new age under the infinite wisdom of the cosmos.

One was born with eternal childhood, With a twin that was cursed to rot from the inside. Who vows to cure her afflictions even if it goes against the golden order. His twin, therefore, became his blade, unmatched and unrivaled in all the lands.

All of them marched to the capital to claim their birthright. Each takes a piece of the Elden Ring for themselves in the midst of battle.

Soon, another legion of warriors would show themselves to challenge the gods and bandish the Elden Ring.

The Tarnished, warriors of old and forsaken resurrected by the gift of grace from the greater will. They came from all corners of the world even from outside the lands between. To struggle and fight for the great runes.

To stand before the Elden Ring and become Elden Lord.

So they struggled, fighting the demigods and soon each other. Living with immortality between life and death from the blessing of grace, the Tarnished died and resurrected by the thousands, soon the hundred thousand, and soon the millions. An endless cycle of death and rebirth within their own timeline.

But none succeeded. Even the closest tarnished warrior to claim the mantle fell victim to madness.

Eventually, some lose sight of grace. Without its guidance, the Tarnished begin to fall, their deaths final.

The struggle for the Elden Ring would last for centuries with no clear victor in sight.

The Outer Gods, Demigods, and Tarnished would all fail in their ambitions. All of them were never meant to win.

All of them were but slaves to causality's grand design.

Until now.

THE VALLEY OF THE FADED

The Chapel of Anticipation was an old structure that welcomed many tarnished into the lands between. Many would embark on their first steps from this building into the lands with a message from a dead maiden, facing their first challenge in the form of a living abomination made from the bodies of men, women, and children.

But that was a long time ago, the chapel has since lost its use. As no new tarnished warrior would appear for the longest period of time. The building would soon lose its form to the elements and the maiden body within it was nothing more than bones at this point.

Beneath the isle that hosts the chapel was a vast red valley with streams of water. Its grounds were dull reddish from dried blood spilled over centuries of conflict that took place within it. The streams were polluted beyond repair, completely red-coloured from blood.

Hundreds of Piles of bodies lay within the valley, Some stacking as high as a small hill. They attract flies, crows, and pests that feast on freshly dead corpses, likely thrown down from above the mountains.

These bodies comprised tarnished warriors, sellswords, mages, bandits, soldiers of a demigod's kingdom, and anyone else unfortunate enough to die a final death in the lands between innocent or not. They were all abandoned here to rot together, for there were no priests and undertakers left to give these dead proper burials.

ARTS BY Kraujas

Among the piles of corpses lay the body of a man chad in medium light armor with a tattered blood-stained grey cape, wearing a closed face helmet with a white wolf pelt on its back. He was a mercenary from outside the lands between that had met with a terrible fate.

He was around the bodies of other warriors that had been part of the band of sellswords hired by an unknown party for a job in Leydell, the region of the capital. That hardly mattered, however, as they were now part of this valley's collection of the dead. To be forgotten and forsaken by all loved ones and friends, left to rot.

Movement came from the man's fingers, indicating a small sign of life for him. The movements were slow and weak as that of a dying man.

Boy, get up.

A small voice echoed in his mind. His movement started getting more lively, like a man waking from slumber.

Get up, boy. No slacking today.

The voice echoes again. He starts moving more. Like a body trying to get up from restraints while tied to the ground.

"Argh... Hmmm... Ah..." He mutters with his eyes closed. Still weak from whatever event got him here.

Boy... This is the last time I will say this!

He starts tossing and turning from his lying position, like a man having a nightmare with no end. His hand clenched and his teeth grinning with great effort. The pain was returning to his body when he woke.

LORDAN! GET THE FUCK UP!

The voice screams in his head. His eyes opened instantly, and he began violently coughing as air returned to his lungs.

Lordan had just returned from death, defying his intended Death.

Reborn Amidst Mud and Blood.

"What... What?! What the fuck?!" He cursed while looking around at his surroundings from his lying position. Lordan's body ached and pained as he began trying to get up. He grunts as he pushes off a body that was pinning his legs.

Master Vagram? He thinks about the voice that resembles the voice of his teacher. The man who taught him the ways of swordcraft and combat. Lordan was always grateful for his teachings before his master left on a quest of great importance. The armor he was currently wearing was a reproduction of Vagram's, and with some modifications, Lordan made himself holster more weapons and be lighter.

He finally stands on his feet, clutching his shoulder while hunched due to a sharp pain. Using his right hand to investigate his back, he felt an arrow tip that was protruding from it.

With one motion, Lordan pulls the arrowhead out from his shoulder. He softly growls in pain from the removal. Looking at the arrow, he sees it as half of the original. Its shaft was most likely broken in his last attempt to remove it.

"Damn... Hope it doesn't fester." He examines the wound from his front and determines that the arrow had caused a severe injury because it did not travel all the way through. The wound would need to be treated soon, or his left arm might become infected and require amputation. He tears off the cape he was wearing to make a makeshift bandage to cover the wound, ignoring its dirty, blood-soaked state.

Lordan moves his left arm around to test its current usability. The pain from each movement is great, and it will not be efficient in combat. He bites through the pain and ignores it for now. He must first find a way out from these hills of corpses.

He starts walking through a cleared path in front of him, careful not to step on bodies in the blood-wet ground beneath him as a form of respect for the dead. While walking, his eyes scan for weapons that he can salvage as Lordan suspects the chances of meeting an enemy among the bodies are high.

Lordan starts picking up anything resembling a weapon from the ground with no luck. He only finds sword hilts without blades, spears without tips, axes without a sharp edge, and half-broken shields. He eventually settles for a half-broken longsword and a blood-caked, rusted parrying shield.

"Beggars can't be choosers, but did you really have to be so fucking meagre about the weapons around here." He says to the sky as if talking to the gods directly. He could use some divine help right now, despite not believing in any of them.

Lordan continues to travel through the corpses, stopping every once in a while to loot bodies for supplies, but he has no luck, as they have been picked clean. Soon, he reaches a gorge with swallow waters that only reach up to his knees. The waters are bloody and filled with floating bodies and parts of bodies. A few piles of dead soon block his path, and he decides to climb them to reach the other side of the gorge.

He makes steady progress with careful movements so as not to slip. While climbing, he starts hearing a noise on the other side that sounds unnatural and monstrous.

Is that chewing? Lordan assesses the sound to be like a person chewing ravenously on meat and bones, but at a more disturbing level due to its unnatural volume. He reaches the top of the corpse hill to see the source. The sight of it makes him sick to the stomach.

It was a creature the size of a giant bear with many heads and arms attached to its mutated body. The arms were human arms, but the heads seemed to be made out of wolves, goats, a bear, and a giant raven head that seemed to be its main one. The creature became more unsightly as Lordan noticed human faces on the surface of it. A few even resembled children. The faces were even moving and moaning, much to Lordan's horror.

The creature was eating a few corpses in front of it, with the raven head, guts, and bits of human organs spilling from the mouth of the raven head as it chewed. The smaller arms were picking up the pieces dropped and feeding it to the human faces, they chew on the meat in agony as if they were forced to eat by the creature's body. It was standing on 4 legs made out of a collection of human arms, all twisted and merged into a bigger limb used as a leg.

Lordan remained on the hill and crouched down to avoid being seen. He looks over the creature to see an opening that it was currently in the way of. The hill of bodies he was currently on formed a round shape that stretches to the other side. He would need to travel along this stretch to reach the other side and drop down quietly without being seen.

Difficult but doable, Vagram's words echo in his mind as he begins moving to the side of the hill. The path was more challenging than he had thought, as bodies do not make for proper flooring.

He continues at the best speed he can move on the hill while keeping the creature in view. It had moved on to a different spot to feed, making it more difficult for Lordan to avoid its sight as it was in the direction towards him.

Lordan continues to make progress with the creature in view. However, this would be a mistake as he steps on a loose piece of a broken that was on the verge of sliding down to the ditch where the creature resides.

"Shit!" He tries to balance himself the best he can but steps on another loose item that cause him to fall forward, sliding down to the hill of corpses and falling into the ditch. His impact causes a loud splash that attracts the creature.

It stops chewing on its meal and turns towards its back, where Lordan landed, a half-eaten body still in its mouth. It growls loudly as it finds a new meal that is more fresh and more appealing.

"Holy Fuck..." Lordan muttered and draws the weapons he had looted earlier to prepare for a fight he may not win. The creature roars, emitting an inhuman scream that is a mix of animals and humans shrieking together.

Grafted Corpse Eater

The Eater charges toward Lordan with its 4 limbs with the raven, bear, and wolf heads in the front while bearing its teeth. Its mouth opens in an attempt to bite him, so he rolls to the side of it, slashing it while coming out of its roll.

Lordan begins to circle around the Eater while slashing, slabbing, and bashing it with any openings he sees. It was difficult to actually land hits as its body on all sides were covered in limbs that block its body, Lordan's broken sword and its length didn't help as well.

He begins severing any limbs that he could reach on the Eater with his broken sword while blocking the grab from the hands with his shield. All while avoiding the view of its main heads by rolling or dodging away every time it turned towards him and attempted a bite with any head that was closer to reaching him.

The Eater and its heads shriek as the constant damage to its grafted hands causes it to bleed excessively. It begins to move its four bigger limbs in a frenzy. One of the limbs hits Lordan, but the impact is softened by the small shield he is blocking with.

Lordan was getting tired from the constant rolls and dodges. The wound on his left shoulder did not help, as it was bleeding again due to his constant movements. He fights through the pain and fatigue and charges the creature in its frenzied state, intending to stab the eyes of the raven head, which grants it sight.

In a surprise, the Eater grabs Lordan with one of its bigger limbs while he is charging and slams him to the ground. It then proceeded to toss him to the side, sending him through a small pile of bodies that were half-eaten and stacked.

Lordan was faced down after landing from the throw. He quickly gets to his feet and sees the Eater jumping at least a few feet above him. He rolled backward but was knocked over again by the impact of the Eater's landing. It then moves towards him by stepping sideways to face him with the side of its body that grafted 5 wolf heads.

The heads of the wolves reach Lordan and begin attacking him. Their jaws bite his hands, legs, and any part that was in reach. He cries in pain as the jaws are biting into his damaged armor, piercing his flesh. He stabs furiously at each of the wolves' heads around their necks and jaws to deter them, but they continue their assault, intending to tear Lordan apart.

He soon gets the better of the heads by bashing each of their jaws with the top of his shield, dislocating each one of its jaws to stop the biting. The Eater backs off from the damage to its heads as he runs to the other side of the Eater.

The Eater moves its raven head in one shift motion to intercept Lordan. It hits him down with the side of its head to knock him back to the ground on his back. The Eater looms over him and grabs Lordan by his arms and legs with its many grafted human limbs while he struggles to escape.

The raven head bites Lordan from his waist while the bear head bites him on his right arm. He screams in agony as he feels his torso and right arm being crushed by the biting force of the heads. His pain was further increased as the bear head manages to break his right forearm from the biting, causing more screams to leave his mouth and his hand to drop the broken sword.

"GAHHH! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!? BOTH ARMS!?" He shouts in frustration and bashes the eater's raven head in the eye with his shield in his left hand.

The attack causes the Eater pain and it lets Lordan go. He runs away from the Eater to get his bearings back from the attack while it tosses and turns from the damage to its eye.

Lordan begins to experience his head spinning as the pain from his new wounds was overwhelming his body. He drops on a single knee and coughs out blood, Likely from the biting to his torso from the raven's head. He tries all means to return to standing by could not move from his kneeling position.

"Shit... I'm gonna d-die..." he whispers quietly.

Boy. I forbid you to die.

Another one of Vagram's words echoes in Lordan's mind. He shouts with a mix of frustration and pain in his voice and punches his shoulder wound with his broken hand to cause more pain. The adrenaline allows him to get up and charge the Eater, picking up a broken spear that was stabbed to the ground along the way.

Pain was a tool the berserkers of the Northmen used to increase their strength in their final moments to ensure their enemies followed them to death. He learned that through personal training when Vagram took him on his first job when he was just fourteen years of age in the Northern part of the known world, far from the lands between.

With the momentum of running, he charges the spear straight through the opened mouth of the Eater's raven head, sending the sharp wooden end through the Eater's body. It shrieks from the damage with its other head, its limbs trying to reach to grab the spear lounged in the raven's mouth.

It's not enough! Lordan thinks and moves towards the mouth of the raven's head with great speed. He reaches inside of its opened mouth and grabs something he can only assume is its tongue.

He pulls hard with his left arm, a single leg pushing against the raven head beak as leverage. He feels it coming undone but not fast enough, so he reaches out with his broken hand as well ignoring the pain while using it.

He arches back with both hands, grabbing the tongue to use his body weight for more strength. The Eater tried to grab Lordan but failed to reach him as its limbs and heads were confused between removing the spear and removing Lordan.

The tongue comes loose with one hard tug. Lordan rips the Eater's tongue out and falls back from the motion. Blood spills uncontrollably from the raven's mouth, and the Eater and its many heads shriek in great pain.

Its movements become erratic and start to slow due to the never-ending blood spilling from its raven mouth. It falls over to the wet ground and starts crawling towards Lordan to kill him in its dying rage.

"You first... Ugly fuck..." Lordan spits and remarks while tossing the tongue aside to watch the Eater crawl towards him. It never reached him as the last of its blood was choked out from the mouth of the raven's head.

The Eater dies from losing all its stolen blood, denied its final meal.

ENEMY FELLED

White particles spew out from the Eater's body and move toward Lordan. They seem to go towards him and disappear upon impact. He felt a strange sense of power he could not describe like the hidden potential that belonged to the Eater was now his.

The particles fade out completely and leave Lordan alone in front of the eater's body. He looks to the right to see the opening to the other side of the gouge. He was now free to go, having survived the encounter.

Reality had different plans, however, as the pain from his wounds started to cripple him from moving. In his lying spot, he attempts to get up slowly but tumbles from the effort, the pain too great to handle.

Great... Guess it's my turn, huh? He thought to himself as he attempted to stand again. He succeeds by using the last bit of adrenaline left from the fighting.

Lordan moves past the Eater's body towards the opening of the gouge. Along the way, Lordan delivers kicks to the Eater's body as a final insult despite his injured state. He picks up the broken sword he dropped earlier near the opening's entrance and begins to leave the hills of corpses.

He continues moving while suffering blood loss from his wounds inflicted by the Eater, each step more agonizing than the last. He uses the gouge's walls to support himself and keeps moving forward.

He reaches the end of the gouge, where the entrance of a great cave is. In front of the cave, there is a large shallow pool of crystal clear water, much to Lordan's disbelief, as if it was never polluted by the Valley's rivers of blood.

Lordan kneels in front of the pool and removes his helmet to see his reflection. He washes with the pool water to clear his face from the sweat and blood earlier so that he could see clearly.

His facial features were slightly rough and masculine, with a hint of softness. Small scars were on his nose, mouth, and cheeks. His eyes were a dull golden brown, gloomy and dark but with a small gold shine to them. He had a small hint of a Feminine look. Most girls he met used to call him 'Pretty' despite time making his face rough and hardened.

He was a bit taller than the average man and was built with a soldier's body due to training with Vagram since childhood. His hair was dark bronde with a ponytail on the back of his head. He had a small beard growing that hints at his age of twenty and five years old.

Lordan soon scooped up water from the pool to drink. The taste was refreshing and cool, much needed after the fight.

He begins to feel tired and dizzy as he realizes that he has lost too much blood from his new wounds. He soon realized that he was not going to make it, despite all the efforts to push on and survive.

He started losing consciousness and fell into the pool, which was deep enough for him to float on its surface. He helplessly allowed the pool's miniature current to push him into the cave.

...I had a good run, I guess.

Lordan thinks to himself as he accepts the incoming death that awaits. He reaches the edge and was pushed off slowly. He feels himself float in the air, drops of water on his face. He faints completely before reaching the bottom of the cave's pool.

Lordan washed up on a shoreline within the cave. He was slipping in and out of consciousness in an area with a stairway and a golden tree in front of him, a man-made part of the cave.

He was still alive but barely. His wounds were still untreated, and he could not awake from his injured state. He will still not survive in this current state.

A horse's hoof made a small impact on the shoreline near his hand. The horse bents down to stiff him, revealing itself to have horns and ears that belong to a goat.

On the back of the gorse, a woman dressed in traveling attire sits sideways. She strokes the gorse's mane with affection.

"Don't worry, Torrent. Fortune is on his side."

A female voice speaks loud enough for Lordan to hear in his sad state. He attempts to look up but fails.

"We found him here, after all. Just as intended."

She continues, stepping off the gorse to the shallow water near Lordan's shore. He looks up again to see the woman with her hood on, covering her full face but not her eyes.

Gold and Blue... He thought to himself about the eyes of the woman before him. He loses consciousness and is out cold from exhaustion.

The woman kneels down to him and flips him over to lie on his back. She lifted up his head and placed it against her knees. She takes a red potion from a bag on her side and feeds him the liquid within it.

Lordan's wounds begin to heal completely without scarring. The process wakes him up again to see her looking down at him fully, her face in full view.

An angel? He thinks about the face of the woman staring down at him.

"He is sure to seek the Elden Ring, as his kind did."

"He will succeed where they failed."

He begins fainting again, the pain from his wounds subsided, but his fatigue levels catch him. He will need to rest for the long journey of struggle that lies ahead.

"Even if it does violate the golden order..."

THE GODLESS AGE

ARC I

A WOLF FROM MUD AND BLOOD

2000 YEARS BEFORE THE SHATTERING

"Allow me to turn your runes into strength."

A blonde woman says while offering her hand to a man dressed in Medium armor opposite her. Both of them are sitting in front of a small simmer of light known as a site of grace. It is within a clearing of a forest during the night sky. The moon light the surroundings with a blue and cool hue.

"Fine. But make it quick," he replies dismissively, as if not keen on the idea. He reaches out to her and places his hand beneath hers. She gently takes hold of it and begins the process.

"O, Worthy struggler. Share with me your thoughts. Your hopes and dreams. The ideals that drive you to continue the path of enlightenment through great struggle..." She recites her vows with her eyes closed while a golden light emits from their hands, which are currently held together.

He doesn't understand the words or their significance. He closes his eyes to think of the aspects of himself he wants to improve. He wishes to be stronger, faster, quicker, and more resilient.

Once he chooses his aspects to improve, a small flash of light emits from their hands. He feels the power of his runes flowing within him and its effects, permanently enforcing his willpower and strength.

They let go of each other and settled back to their spots. He stood, took the claymore that was placed on his side, and moved a safe distance away from the woman near the site.

She observes from a safe distance as he goes into a battle stance to perform several wild strikes and stabs with the claymore around the clearing, his movements were more concentrated and powerful than last.

He is already strong enough. Why does he still focus on raw strength? She wonders to herself about his choice of aspects to improve, once again choosing to improve several aspects that aided him in close combat.

Perhaps I should introduce him to incantations? There are several spells that could benefit him in battle. She thought of two incantations that could aid him in fights but disregarded them immediately when she remembered that he was lacking in the faith to perform such spells.

He performs a final strike upwards to the air with a technique that was meant to hurt giants. "Not bad, Maiden. The sword feels lighter now." He remarks as he stops practicing with the claymore. A single drop of sweat flows down from his head before he wipes it off with his hand.

"How does the power of runes benefit you so far? Does it help in our journey?" The maiden enquires as he slowly walks back close to her with his claymore resting on his shoulder. He takes a sit in the same spot he had previously occupied.

"It's fine, I guess... Usually, I train myself to gain strength. This just speeds up the process, considering that I only need to kill things to gain runes." He explained while putting the claymore into the ground by stabbing it against the dirt.

"Then you believe it? The power of the greater will and what it bestows on its followers?" She asks curiously to know if the recent events have changed his perspective.

"No."

She receives the same answer from him as she did for the whole duration of their journey together thus far. It annoyed her greatly that she depended on a heretic to complete her trip to the golden capital between the lands. His lack of faith in any gods or higher powers seems to go against all of the teachings she learned during her younger years in her homeland of Numen.

"Then why do you continue to escort me? you could have le-"

"Because they paid me in advance to finish this job. We all were paid first before the attack." He mentions the attack that took place about a week ago that resulted in the deaths of all members of the caravan hired to bring her safely to the capital.

The caravan was arranged by the Golden Order's churches to transport her in secret. It was disgusted as a supply transport with a hundred men dressed as mercenaries and merchants. Some actual swordsmen were hired to keep up the ruse and bolster the caravan's numbers. The man with her now was among those hired for this trip.

It didn't work, though. They were attacked by a faction of soldiers loyal to another religion that stands against the greater will. The attack wiped out the force and sellswords that escorted her, leaving only him as the sole survivor.

He single-handedly fought off the remaining hundred men's strong enemy force to defend her, but not a single one of their attackers survived that day when they engaged him. Most of them were cut down and slain by his claymore despite outnumbering him 100 to 1.

The fight left him injured beyond the requirements of normal healing and on the verge of death as he laid down on the trunk of a tree. It was then that she decided to grant him the gift of grace. It healed him back to his original health and prevented death from claiming him, allowing him a chance to relive again.

"This is the last fucking time I take an 'easy job,' damn priest." He muttered under his breath after the maiden recounted the incident in her mind. Part of her feels guilty for putting him into the situation in the first place.

"I'm sorry. I'm being a nuisance, aren't I?"

"It's not your fault," he replies, sighing as he tries to calm himself. There was no point in blaming her for his troubles; he took the gold after all despite the red flags that he knew from the start.

An awkward silence lasted between them before the maiden asked a question. "Then why did you stay, if I may inquire?" She was curious about why he truly stayed around to protect her even when the danger following her was great. She could defend herself easily with incantations, and her rapier and dagger were blessed with holy enhancement despite her weak appearance as a 17-year-old young adult woman who caught most of her opponents off guard.

"We... no, you are being followed constantly by whatever forces the enemy can muster. At first, it was easy with only one group, but now, is it? We got like six groups of people trying to kill us?" He shrugged as they were attacked by multiple smaller groups of enemies within the last few days. Each group belonged to another religion or cult that was in direct conflict with the golden order.

"And the worse part is they all now think I'm involved. So, I might as well finish the job and make sure you aren't dead along the way." He finishes his sentence.

"Some of them are trying to capture me alive. What happens when they succeed?"

He paused a reply to her question to consider giving a hard truth or a comfortable lie, he settles for the latter.

"They will hurt you real bad. That is if they don't rape you or sell you first." He answers without a hint of emotion in those words as he knows fully well what evil men do to women and children as spoils of war.

The answer causes the maiden to display a hint of dismay on her face. The idea of each scenario plays out in her mind, creating fear within her. She promises herself that such outcomes will never be, for she would rather be dead than suffer those fates.

"Don't worry, we are safe for now... get some sleep." He stands up from his position with the claymore again. "I'm taking the night watch."

"Again? but you haven't slept for the past four days." The maiden says, worrying about his health. Grace would keep him alive from death, but it would not make him invincible.

"I'm not sleeping until we get to a town, castle, city, village, or someplace with people that aren't trying to kill us every second. Besides, the red juice is keeping me awake." He takes a red flask in hand to gesture it as his source of awakeness. Even if it was not the intended purpose.

"But I can keep watch as well. As Numen, I don't need sleep. I can take over for ton-"

"Then rest. Pray, eat, read, fondle, or something. Just relax until morning. We still have months of walking to do with enemies among us." He walks in front of her, his height towering over her.

She looked up at his face and saw gloom and dark eyes staring down at her. He placed a hand on her shoulder to ease her worries. "If anything happens or if you see anyone, shout out loud, okay?"

He walks away from her with his back turned away. "Or maybe throw a lighting spear in their face, might make them shit themselves. Killed by a maiden." he remakes, knowingly that she was actually quite deathly with the use of incantations.

He moves away from her as she looks on. A thought comes to her mind to try and get him to open up to her more. They had not introduced themselves yet yet and did not know each other's names. She decides to take the first step.

"Wait."

Her call causes him to stop and look back at her with a neutral expression.

"Marika. My name is Marika."

He does not respond for a few seconds as his face softens his usual hard expression.

"I'm Rags."

Rags replied and walked away from the site of grace. He settled for a spot within her view and sat down, leaning his sword against a rock while looking out in the distance.

Marika looks at him a few moments before returning to the grace before her. She decides to follow Rags's advice to relax. She takes out a small prayer book and recites its lines.

She says a small prayer for her and her people's safety. She also includes Rags in her prayer, grateful for his protection and kindness despite his rough exterior.

She thinks of his dark and gloomy brown eyes within her prayer, sensing pain and hurt behind them.

"Oh, Greater Will, provide this man salvation and protection from all his challenges. May he be given a place by your side and mine, for that is what he deserves in this cruel and beautiful world."

FIN