"Can you speak?"
Mohg reached out and patted the side of the Great Jar's massive frame.
"...This is the first time I've encountered someone in the sewers who actively sought me out for a conversation."
As a deep, resonant voice echoed from within the vessel, Mohg's expression shifted to one of genuine surprise. It seemed even he hadn't fully expected the jar to respond.
"In a way, this is also the first time I've met a jar that could talk," Mohg replied with a smile, quickly regaining his composure. "Why are you staying down here?"
"Hmm... I was brought here to protect this area from intruders."
"Well, you didn't exactly make a move when we came down," Mohg remarked, leaning casually against the Great Jar.
"No, you two are different. I can sense the power within you. It... feels remarkably similar to the power I once sensed within Lady Marika."
"Is that so? Your intuition is certainly something else..."
Mohg paused, impressed. If this Great Jar had a status screen, its "Discovery" and "Arcane" stats would surely be maxed out. "Tell me, do you have a home? Where are you from?"
"Home? Hmm... I had almost forgotten, until you mentioned it..."
At the mention of home, the Great Jar tilted back slightly, as if drifting into a deep, ancient memory.
"My home is Jarburg, in Liurnia. Though, I suspect I shall never have the chance to see it again... If it were possible, I would truly love to see it one last time."
"There will be a chance. I'll come back to chat with you again, but for now, I need to head down, Great Jar."
"I have a name. It is Alu."
"A fine name. I'll remember it. My name is Mohg. Until next time, Alu."
"Mm. Until next time, Mohg."
With a final wave, Mohg leaped into the elevator shaft, unfurling his wings mid-air to glide through the darkness.
Thump!
He landed gracefully beside Morgott. "What's the situation? Why are you just standing out here instead of going in?"
"Something is... very wrong inside. The closer I get, the more unsettled I feel."
Only then did Mohg notice that Morgott was drenched in a cold sweat. Mohg narrowed his eyes and placed a steadying hand on his brother's shoulder. Feeling the contact, Morgott's tension eased slightly, and he patted Mohg's hand in return.
"Let's go in. Standing out here won't give us any answers."
"Right."
Mohg didn't feel the presence of the Three Fingers as intensely as Morgott did. Perhaps Morgott's reaction was so visceral because the influence of the Erdtree within him was much stronger; the Golden Grace was screaming a warning, demanding its host destroy the looming threat.
However, since Morgott lacked the strength to do so, his internal power had pivoted to a different instinct: flight.
As for Mohg, his internal powers were a chaotic blend, dominated by the primordial energy of the Crucible. To his surprise, the Crucible seemed almost indifferent to the presence of the Three Fingers.
Crossing the threshold, the two entered an area structured like a massive tomb. They scanned the shadows warily, but finding no immediate threats, they continued forward.
Soon, they reached a grand entrance. Beyond lay a hall resembling a cathedral, with a central altar and rows of stone benches, as if prepared for a congregation that would never come.
At the center of the altar, an object shimmered with a faint, golden light.
Mohg surveyed the room. He could see the roots of the Erdtree bursting through the stone walls, and several tables scattered about. It was clear this place wasn't meant to be a mere tomb; it had only been built to resemble one.
Morgott approached the altar and picked up the talisman resting upon it, examining it closely.
"It contains a powerful Golden Blessing... Whoever wears this will receive its boon. It... bolsters one's physical constitution. It is a formidable treasure. And I can sense Mother's aura lingering upon it..."
"The source of that other presence is even deeper," Mohg noted.
"Yes, I feel it too. It's right behind this altar."
Morgott nodded. He reached out and pressed a specific stone block at the base of the altar.
K-clunk—Rumble!
Amidst rising clouds of dust, the altar slowly sank into the floor, revealing a hidden tunnel stretching into the earth.
Simultaneously, a wave of pure despair wafted up from the depths, accompanied by a thick, cloying stench of rot—the smell of corpses left to molder for ages beyond counting.
"Are we going in?" Mohg asked, his eyes narrowing. He knew exactly what lay beneath, but Morgott was still in the dark.
"We've come this far. There's no turning back now."
Morgott stepped forward into the tunnel. But the moment he descended the first flight of stairs, he froze.
There, huddled in a corner, was a desiccated corpse. Its hands were clamped tightly over its eyes, its body curled into a ball of agony. Beside it lay a shattered musical instrument.
Frowning, Morgott knelt by the body. After a brief examination, he reached a grim conclusion: the person had starved to death.
The skin was a dark, reddish-brown, stretched thin over bone. The clothes were rags. Scattered around the body were fragments of human bone, many bearing distinct teeth marks.
"Another prisoner who survived on cannibalism... only to die of hunger once there was nothing left to eat? Is this more dregs?"
As Morgott muttered his theory, Mohg placed a hand on his shoulder and gestured toward the space ahead.
"What is it?" Morgott asked. He turned to look where Mohg was pointing, and his entire body went rigid.
Beyond the first landing lay a sea of mummies, all frozen in the same agonizing posture. The hollow faces of the dead told a story of absolute, final despair.
Morgott walked slowly to the edge of the drop-off and peered down.
The abyss stretched down into the dark, and every level was the same—a vertical graveyard of the hopeless. The sheer scale of the massacre made his skin crawl.
"What in the world is this...?"
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (185 Chapters – Ongoing)
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