After a thorough discussion with Otto, the two of them reached a mutually beneficial strategic partnership—he would handle Otto's obstacles, and Otto would help him research the Lands Between.
With that settled, he resumed his advance toward the throne room where Godrick waited.
But he did not head straight for the small chamber by the lift.
Instead, he took a slight detour.
Pah.
Pah.
From a side room along another route leading to the throne, faint popping sounds drifted out—like fat dripping into flame. A wavering firelight leaked through the doorway, flickering bright and dim in uneven pulses.
"Oh, there you are. There you are."
As expected, she was still here.
He guided Torrent toward the glow, and the moment he crossed the threshold, a voice reached him—low, steady, heavy with something that sounded like praise and confession at once.
"Be proud of yourself. You were a fine warrior… you simply chose the wrong master."
"T-Tarnished…"
At the sound, Roderika clenched his sleeve and pressed closer behind him.
Even though Godrick's men had been swallowed by the blizzard outside, stepping deeper into the castle—hearing words like that—still made her tremble.
He felt the fear in her grip and soothed her quietly.
"Relax. We're fine. I'm just here to see an old acquaintance."
Then he entered the dim little room.
Whether the wind couldn't reach this place, or the fire had kept it at bay, there was very little snow inside—only a few scattered patches, thin and lonely.
By the flames sat a warrior woman with dark skin and clothing that left far too much bare for this weather. She seemed to be offering a farewell to the armored knight sprawled beside her.
"…Drift away on the wind. Wander onward, to a distant peak."
Judging by the dried, dark-red blood, the knight had been dead for quite some time. Most likely, the woman had run into one of Godrick's men while infiltrating the castle and ended him.
"Tarnished?"
After finishing her send-off, she raised her head and looked at him and Roderika with open curiosity.
The storm had devoured Godrick's forces, and yet a Tarnished still managed to reach this place after the snowfall eased—no wonder she was surprised.
Even so, she remained polite and introduced herself with a warrior's straightforwardness.
"Hello. My name is Nepheli Lou. I'm Tarnished as well—also a warrior. I came here under my foster father's orders, to defeat Godrick. Are you here to challenge him too?"
"Yes."
He nodded, then gave the timid Roderika—clinging beside him like a frightened little rodent—a gentle nudge forward.
"This is Roderika. And I'm a warrior too—same as you."
"H-Hello…"
Roderika was clearly terrified, but she still managed a greeting.
"Hello."
Nepheli gave a small nod. "If you're Tarnished, then sit. Warm yourself."
She invited them to the fire as casually as if she owned the room.
They gathered around the flames, and as he studied her face—sharp and resolute in the firelight—memories surfaced.
Among all the Tarnished he had met, Nepheli Lou ranked highly in raw ability… though, if he was being conservative, she was still outside the top ten.
And her surname had always nagged at him. He had once suspected a connection to Hoarah Loux—the first Elden Lord, the chieftain of the badlands.
When he finally met Hoarah Loux, he had asked during their battle.
Hoarah Loux never answered.
He only tried to kill him, driven by the single-minded desire to reclaim the title of Elden Lord.
Nepheli was also, in her own way, a pitiable figure.
She was the adopted daughter of Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing—yet to him, she had never been more than a convenient tool.
When she realized she had been abandoned, it broke something inside her. She would curl up in a corner of the Roundtable Hold, faith collapsed, quietly weeping, unreachable no matter who tried to speak to her.
Then one day she simply vanished.
No one knew where she went.
He had tried to find her.
He never did.
Maybe she had slipped into some forgotten corner and ended her own life.
He had always thought Nepheli had potential—too honest, too straightforward, and that simplicity could get her killed… but potential nonetheless.
In every cycle, she spoke to him like this—openly, without a shred of suspicion—despite the fact that Tarnished had to be wary of everything.
Which was why, in this cycle, saving Nepheli Lou had been added to his to-do list.
Still…
With it snowing like this outside, did she seriously not feel cold wearing so little?
"…This place is obscene."
Nepheli turned her gaze toward the endless white beyond the doorway, as though she could see through it—see Godrick himself, swollen with grafted limbs.
"That wretch. Godrick. To commit the sin of grafting… that is not the act of a lord. Even the wind has been defiled."
Her tone remained even, but the anger underneath it was unmistakable.
Perhaps it was the blood of Hoarah Loux in her veins—perhaps it was simply a warrior's disgust—but she looked genuinely sickened by Godrick's crimes.
And when she learned the limbs Godrick used were taken from Tarnished, her fury sharpened into something close to hatred.
Godrick's existence itself insulted the very idea of kingship.
On that, he agreed.
He had seen many kings, many demigods, even those who stood on the edge of becoming something like a king.
And aside from Godfrey—none of them were like Godrick.
Becoming stronger by any means was one thing, but Godrick was also… profoundly stupid.
What did grafting Tarnished arms even accomplish?
Just because Tarnished were warriors?
If he had grafted a few lizard heads instead, he might not have been so weak.
"What an idiot…"
"Yes," Nepheli said at once, like she'd found a kindred spirit. "Exactly. You're right. Godrick is an idiot."
A faint smile touched her lips, then her expression tightened again, turning serious.
"But even so—his strength can't be dismissed. If you intend to challenge him… I can help."
"…"
He was about to nod and accept when he suddenly felt something brush his shoulder.
A touch.
Light, certain.
He turned—
No one was there.
Understanding came instantly.
He glanced at the fire, then tossed out an excuse as naturally as breathing.
"The fire's dying. I'll go find some kindling."
With that, he rose and stepped out of the room.
He left behind two women—Roderika and Nepheli—both watching him with confusion.
The fire was burning just fine.
So why did he say it was dying?
And who was the woman that had appeared behind the Tarnished for the briefest instant… before vanishing like a secret?
Roderika's small eyes filled with very large questions.