It was impossible to say how much time had passed before Gawain jolted awake from a nightmare, finding himself in an unfamiliar room. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a full set of Banished Knight armor and a massive portrait of Godfrey. He was likely resting in the Castellan's private quarters.
His old armor had been removed, and his wounds had received basic emergency treatment. Given the lack of Sacred Flasks or advanced healing, the treatment was surprisingly competent.
One certainly couldn't expect a Banished Knight like Edgar to know much about medicine. As for the castle's actual doctors and clerics? They had likely been hacked to pieces by the Misbegotten long ago.
Just as he moved to prop himself up and get out of bed, he noticed Melina sitting quietly in a nearby chair. Her expression was a complex mixture of hesitation and worry.
"How long was I out?"
"About half a day."
Gawain nodded. It seemed the Fire Storm had been effective; it had likely wiped out the majority of the Misbegotten in the courtyard. The remnants would be easy enough for the Castellan and the mercenaries to handle.
"What's the situation outside?"
"Significantly better than before," Melina explained. "The Castellan and the mercenaries eliminated the remaining stragglers and reclaimed the center of the castle. Only the lower levels remain contested; it seems the strongest Leonine Misbegotten is hiding down there. Castellan Edgar left the castle a short while ago—presumably to bring his daughter back."
After explaining what she had seen, Melina hesitated for a moment before finally speaking.
"That ring that appeared on your chest before you collapsed... what was it? And that black, liquid substance... I sensed a profound darkness within it, yet it felt as though something even more complex was hidden inside."
Seeing Gawain's eyes turn somber and his lack of an immediate answer, she sighed and added, "It is no matter. If you are unwilling to tell me, I will not press you. What you have done thus far is enough for me to trust your character."
Gawain looked down at his chest, where the Darksign was still clearly visible. It seemed that, while unconscious, he had instinctively used the power of fire to mend the breach.
However, without a Fire Keeper, the repair was flawed. Black fluid still seeped from the edges, and tiny traces of the curse had begun to appear on his body—fine, black veins spreading like the first signs of Hollowing.
"There's no use hiding it. You're my Maiden; my secrets won't stay secret from you for long. Though, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure how to explain this thing to you."
Gawain organized his thoughts. Explaining the Undead curse to someone from the Lands Between was a tall order; the concepts just didn't translate easily.
"See that black ring on my chest? It's called a Darksign. In the world I came from, humans would manifest these during certain eras. Through the Darksign, a person's 'humanity' would constantly leak away. The body would be eroded by the curse until, one day, the person became a mindless Hollow—an empty husk that attacks anything with a soul."
Melina looked stunned. She could imagine the devastation such a plague would cause; if it spread on a large scale, the blow to civilization would be no less catastrophic than the shattering of the Elden Ring.
She looked at him with genuine concern. "You mean... your own humanity is leaking through that gap? That you will one day become a walking corpse?"
Gawain shook his head. Theoretically, his soul wasn't a product of the First Flame, so "humanity loss" shouldn't even apply to him. He still didn't understand why this was happening now that he was in the Lands Between.
"No, I won't end up like that. For one, as you can see, the Darksign is already weaker. The power of fire can seal it, and there are other ways to restore humanity. Unless it's an era where the fire is nearly extinguished, the Darksign rarely turns someone into a Hollow immediately.
Besides, my soul is different from the others of my world. Even if the seal breaks, humanity doesn't actually leak out of me. That's why I find this so strange. I've seen Darksigns break before, but it never looked like this."
Gawain had heard from Anri of Astora how humanity loss accelerated after death. He didn't feel that sense of "hollowness" or a fragment of his soul missing. He felt the same as always. He suspected that whatever was leaking out of him... wasn't actually his own humanity.
Seeing that he was just as confused as she was, Melina didn't press the issue further.
"As long as you are not in immediate danger. Do you wish for me to turn your Runes into strength? Your harvest today was... substantial."
Reminded of the battle, Gawain realized he had killed at least a hundred Misbegotten. The Runes he had absorbed totaled over 300,000.
The sheer amount left him dazed. God, I've hit the jackpot. This was faster than the "Dragonbarrow farming route" from the game's early-game meta. This was life-changing wealth.
While 300,000 Runes would be pocket change in the late game—barely enough for a single level—in the early game, it allowed for massive growth. It meant he could finally use the skills that had been locked behind stat requirements.
"Yes, please. Let me think about how to distribute them."
"Then, as before, take my hand."
Gawain reached out with his right hand, while his left took several long swigs from the Sacred Flask. Yep, confirmed. It tastes like iced black tea. The refreshment helped mend his wounds and allowed him to think clearly.
His current pool of Runes could bring him up to Level 56—a total of 50 points to distribute.
In game terms, Level 56 was mid-Liurnia territory. He could technically one-shot Godrick or Margit at this point. But reality wouldn't be so simple.
His experience in Dark Souls had taught him that "Lord" level enemies always had hidden tricks; they were fundamentally different from ordinary mobs. He couldn't assume the world was divided into neat, level-scaled zones. If it were, Radahn would have flattened Malenia like Godrick, rather than the stalemate that actually occurred.
Even if Godrick was the weakest Shardbearer, he still had a fortress full of guards. Even the Bridge of Sacrifice was well-defended. To take an actual city like Stormveil, Gawain needed more than just raw power; he needed versatility.
After a few minutes of calculation, he made his decision.
"Put 13 into Vigor, 5 into Intelligence, 16 into Faith, and 4 into Dexterity. Split the remaining 12 between Endurance and Strength."
Melina nodded, drawing the massive swirl of Runes from his body and reincorporating them as raw potential.
Gawain felt a profound transformation. While he still wasn't back to his peak Ashen One status, the persistent feeling of frailty finally began to lift.
He checked his current stats (excluding ring bonuses):
Vigor: 30
Mind: 10
Endurance: 17
Strength: 20
Dexterity: 17
Intelligence: 18
Faith: 25
Arcane: 7
He had long since abandoned the idea of a "9-INT warrior" run. In the late game, he would need to be a "Quality" jack-of-all-trades. But for now, with points being tight, he prioritized survival and utility. This spread allowed him to use most of his basic skills in their normal state.
Most pyromancies had low requirements, so his real choice was between Sorcery and Incantations. Since legendary spells usually required 40+ stats, he had to pick a direction. He chose Faith.
The reasoning was simple: he had the power of the Embers for burst damage. What he needed was utility—specifically, the miracle Tears of Denial. Anyone who had used that time-defying, death-cheating spell knew it was essential.
Beyond that, he was worried about the "Face of the Prince of Death" in Stormveil's depths—a threat that could instant-kill even someone like Rogier. Faith would also be vital in places like Summonwater Village where Those Who Live in Death roamed.
As the transformation ended, Melina released his hand, which was slightly damp with sweat. Gawain's "high-heat" constitution made his body temperature higher than average, and the strain of channeling such a massive amount of Runes at once had left even Melina fatigued.
"I can sense Torrent approaching," she said. "The Castellan must be returning with Irina. Since you are well, I shall not linger. If you have need of me, call my name at a Site of Grace."
Gawain watched her vanish. That girl... every meeting is so professional. Like a business transaction.
He climbed out of bed and walked over to a mirror, peeling back the bandages on his torso. The outline of the Darksign was clear. Humanity seeped out intermittently, and the black veins of the curse pulsed along his blood vessels. Aside from being unsightly, there were no other symptoms.
He sighed and focused more Ember energy into the broken seal. Even if he couldn't fix it, he had to plug the leak. He couldn't afford to be that reckless again; he didn't know what would happen if the seal failed completely.
He manifested a Purging Stone. Upon using it, the black veins of the curse receded significantly. He never thought he'd see the day he'd actually need one of those.
Changing into the clean clothes left in the room, he pushed open the door. In the courtyard below, groups of surviving residents were busy clearing away the wreckage.
The Fire Storm had incinerated the Misbegotten and the desecrated corpses alike. Only ash and the lingering scent of char remained.
With the "Upper City" cleared, the remaining Misbegotten had fled to the prison-cliffs at the back of the castle. Without the Leonine Misbegotten to lead them, they lacked the courage for a counter-offensive. The area that was once their prison had become their final stronghold.
Gawain walked through the plaza. The residents watched him with awe and reverence, instinctively parting to let him pass before returning to their work.
The immediate threat was gone, but the grief remained. This was the reality of the Lands Between. Even an overlooked border fortress like Morne could not escape tragedy, let alone the lands at the center of the conflict.
Gawain leaned against the rampart near the gate, watching the residents work by torchlight as he waited for Edgar. He was lost in thought.
He couldn't remember the last time he had seen a sight like this—so many "normal" people coming together to rebuild a home. In the dying world of Dark Souls, such a thing was a dream.
Even Lothric, the convergence of all lands, was a ruin of civil war, filled with mindless Hollows and crumbling walls.
This, he realized, is why I wanted to help. The "Age of Fire" in its prime existed only in his imagination. But the people of the Lands Between were real, and they were right in front of him.
Even though Castle Morne had suffered a bloody rebellion and many had died, hundreds of survivors had been saved by Edgar's defense.
And Gawain had arrived just before the final collapse. He had saved the survivors. In this reality, Edgar wasn't a lone madman surrounded by the hanging corpses of his subjects. Morne was still a "living" city. It would take time, but it could recover. For Gawain, that was enough.
A sound snapped him back to the present. The lift at the gate was moving. Edgar was returning with his daughter. Gawain turned and walked toward the lift.
After all, Torrent was still with Irina.
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