"The way they look at us is becoming... unsettling."
Devonia stood atop the high ramparts, watching the citizens passing below. She spoke without turning to Ordovis, who stood beside her.
Though many still looked upon them with reverence and respect, a flicker of fear and revulsion had begun to manifest in the eyes of some—mostly among the common folk.
"This is the inevitable result of the growing rejection of the Crucible's aspects," Ordovis replied. His voice was unnervingly calm, as if he had long since reconciled with this reality. "The hatred the people harbor for the Omen and the Misbegotten will, sooner or later, shift toward us as well."
"Do you have no desire to act?" Devonia glanced at Ordovis, her words weighted with hidden meaning.
"I fight for the King. Nothing more."
"And after the fighting is done?"
"...Perhaps I will petition to guard a Hero's Grave. When the time comes, let that be the place where my bones are laid to rest."
Devonia couldn't help but shake her head. "I only hope the Eldest Prince ascends the throne soon. His Order... it has room for everyone."
"That is wishful thinking. You know as well as I do that the King is in his prime. Besides, it is far too early for such talk. The Lands Between still need us." Ordovis clasped his hands behind his back. "Come. Let's head back and rest. We have training tomorrow."
"...Mhm."
Devonia offered a short response and looked up at the massive Erdtree standing at the heart of the Royal Capital. Ordovis didn't say anything more; he gave her a final look and departed.
Once he was gone, Devonia slowly removed her helm, revealing a weathered, stoic face. She had short golden hair and piercing golden eyes, with a light stubble on her chin—the very image of a hardened warrior.
As the most senior of the Crucible Knights, she had followed Godfrey since the very beginning. But unlike the others, her loyalty wasn't tied solely to a single person; it was tied to her bloodline. She wished to follow the footsteps of the Crucible, to find its source, to draw near it, and eventually, to return to it.
Perhaps once she finished helping Godfrey conquer the Lands Between, she would embark on her own pilgrimage—unless, along the way, she encountered a King who could truly capture her heart again.
"Oho! So this is the power of the Aspects of the Crucible!"
Mohg looked with delight at his hand. A small, sturdy horn was slowly protruding from a miniature, ancient Erdtree sigil floating above his palm. He couldn't resist reaching out to touch it.
It was remarkably hard. However, the horn soon flickered and vanished; the energy Mohg had channeled wasn't enough to sustain it for long.
"Hmm... Aspects of the Crucible: Horns. The most efficient point of release is the shoulder..."
Mohg nodded and continued reading Devonia's notes. They contained insights into various Crucible incantations: Horns, Tail, Breath, and even the Bloom.
These incantations weren't necessarily "hard" to learn in the traditional sense, but the barrier to entry was steep. First, the practitioner had to harbor no rejection toward the Crucible; in fact, faith and even a level of worship were required. Second, one needed the blood of the Crucible within them—and the higher the concentration, the better.
Furthermore, as one became more proficient with these incantations, the percentage of Crucible traits within the user's body would gradually increase.
This was the primary reason most members of the Golden Order refused to learn them. In their eyes, such traits were "inauspicious." Consequently, almost no one outside the Crucible Knights used such powers.
This was likely why Devonia hadn't hesitated when Godwyn asked for her notes and training methods. She didn't know what the Eldest Prince planned to do with them, but she was more than happy to see someone embrace the power of the Crucible.
"You've already learned how to use the Aspects?" Morgott asked, looking at Mohg with surprise.
"Mhm, more or less..." Mohg nodded. He also noticed a faint golden glow emanating from Morgott's hands.
It had to be said that Morgott possessed a terrifying talent for Golden Order incantations. Part of it was likely Marika's bloodline, and the other part was his own unwavering, almost fanatical piety. Mohg figured that if he tried to learn Golden Order incantations, it would be a total disaster.
"Want to take a look?" Mohg offered the notes to Morgott.
Morgott hesitated for a moment. "Give them to me after you're finished studying."
He decided to accept them. In a way, these were still a branch of the broader Golden incantation system. Before his Omen traits became too undeniable, he could use these as a hidden trump card in future battles.
As for the physical traits... Morgott's tailbone was already showing signs of change. It was only a matter of time before he grew a tail. Mohg was the same, but instead of a tail, he was developing signs of wings.
Compared to Morgott's tail, wings were much more convenient—he could tuck them away, and as long as he didn't channel power into them, they remained quite small.
Mohg nodded and went back to his research, trying to reconcile the Aspects of the Crucible with the primordial power already in his body. His main goal was to see if he could master the powers of Cursed Blood and Cursed Wraiths.
Both were inherent to the Omen-born. While any Omen could technically master them, the potency seemed to depend heavily on the purity of their bloodline.
This thought reminded Mohg of the Fell Twins he encountered on the way to the Divine Tower in the game. He wondered what their status was right now and where they were located. Those two were trusted enough to guard the bridge to a Divine Tower, which meant they were a special case. Most other Omens were relegated to guarding catacombs, living out their lives in eternal darkness.
"Father."
"Mhm. You went to see your brothers, I assume?" Godfrey answered without turning around.
"Yes, Father. I believe we should give them more of our attention..."
"I know what you're going to say. I am not like your mother. I do not care about their appearance or what they 'represent.' They possess great strength; they are undeniably my children, heirs to my warrior blood. I acknowledge their identity. However..."
Godfrey slowly turned around. Beside him, Serosh lazily opened an eyelid.
"The Golden Dynasty requires stability right now. We must ensure the upcoming campaigns go off without a hitch. For the time being, those two will have to endure. I will find a time to visit them personally."
"I understand."
Godwyn bowed his head slightly. Knowing his father's stance brought a sense of relief to his heart.
As for his mother... to be honest, there were times when Godwyn couldn't tell if the woman he looked at was his mother, Marika—or simply the cold, distant Eternal Queen.
────────────────────────────────────────
My : https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (ุ 63 Chapters – Ongoing)
────────────────────────────────────────