"Here we go, Ancient King. Can you still maintain your storm?"
"I can hold it, but I am far from my prime. I doubt I can stop him on my own—this time, it all rests on you."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the monstrosity that was once Godrick, now one of Those Who Live in Death, let out an inhuman wail. A blast of golden breath, tainted by black pustules, tore through the swirling fire. It was unmistakably the power of the grafted Ulcerated Tree Spirit.
The creature's other arm, resembling a withered branch, reached out from the inferno, gripping a nearby building to pull itself free.
"Has it shrunk?"
"So it seems. Keep up the pressure. I believe we can erase this monster once and for all."
Gawain knew that trickery would be useless against such a thing. When the monster had crawled out earlier, it had grown larger by absorbing its own soldiers; now, he had to meet it head-on and burn it to ash.
Using a Twisted Wall of Light to deflect the Deathblight-laden breath, he unleashed another Fire Storm. This time, the flames didn't stay stationary; they clung to the creature, following its every move.
The stalemate was agonizing for both sides. On one end, the monster's flesh was being incinerated, its mass steadily shrinking. On the other, the curse was beginning to seep out from Gawain's Darksign.
"Watch out! Something is coming from below!"
The Ancient King whipped up a gust of wind, lifting Gawain off the ground just as a cluster of black death-thorns pierced the earth where he had stood. Gawain avoided the strike, but the diversion weakened the storm suppressing the beast. Godrick began to force his way through the flames, inching closer.
"This isn't working. The winds I control can't stop his advance. You must realize it yourself—master the storm!"
"I've only been practicing these skills for a few days! Isn't it a bit much to ask for an epiphany now? Forget it... cough... let me just keep using the Pyromancy Flame."
"But... can you really keep this up?"
There was a hint of doubt in the Ancient King's voice. After all, Gawain looked anything but normal.
Gawain looked down at his arm. At some point, his skin had become dry and wrinkled, resembling old bark. He knew this was the precursor to hollowing. In the world of Dark Souls, a Hollow eventually regressed into a tree-like state. It seemed that even if his soul remained intact, the Dark Soul was still eroding his physical form in a different way.
Elsa, riding atop Agheel, was now far from the center of the battlefield. As she coordinated the evacuation, she felt a sudden chill and looked back.
"Is there... a thunderstorm coming?"
The clouds over Stormveil had turned into a leaden, oppressive mass, with bolts of lightning flickering within the gloom.
From the bridge leading to the Divine Tower, Edgar noticed the anomaly. He looked at the golems he had seized control of and gave a command: "Fire at the city center. There is only one target."
Gawain felt his body rapidly succumbing to the hollowing process. He could barely maintain the Twisted Wall of Light to parry the monster's breath. Fortunately, a massive arrow from a golem's Greatbow streaked in from outside the castle, its impact staggering the beast and halting its advance.
But even the golems couldn't stop it for long. After a brief stumble, the creature continued its crawl toward him.
Gawain fell to his knees, coughing up a pool of black blood. His body began to swell unnaturally, his armor groaning and snapping under the pressure. Only then did he see what was writhing beneath his skin—it was the Dark Soul itself, surging within his blood.
His mind flashed back to his final battle with Gael. The Slave Knight had looked just like this. The Dark Soul resided in the blood of the Slave Knights, and it was no different for any other vessel of the Dark Soul.
"Gael... was this what you felt?"
He could no longer hear the Ancient King's frantic urging. The monster was inches away. Fine then, he thought. There's no point in holding it back anymore.
As he consciously relaxed the seal on the Darksign, a massive surge of dark, clumped soul dregs erupted from his body, colliding violently with the Death-born Godrick.
"You want to erode souls? Then try eroding this!"
An infinite torrent of the Dark Soul exploded outward. Its concentration was so high that it acted as a lightning rod, drawing the bolts down from the storm above. This was not something that could be "assimilated" by a Great Rune's grafting ability.
Just as Gawain was about to lose his mind to the backlash of the Dark Soul's eruption, a gentle voice echoed directly into his consciousness from within the Darksign.
"Ashen One... can you still hear my voice?"
Instantly, the curse spreading through his blood was reined in, and the erupting Dark Soul stabilized. After learning the stories of the defiled souls of the past, the Fire Keeper had gained the ability to soothe even the power of the Abyss.
"Please, wait just a moment. He is here to help you."
A mote of soul-light floated out, and the surrounding winds coalesced into a familiar silhouette. On the figure's shoulder rested a weapon known as the Storm Ruler. Gawain knew that weapon well—he had a second one just like it in his own pack.
"Siegward? I thought you had already..."
"You've certainly picked a fight with something troublesome. We can talk once the battle is over. First, let us deal with this beast. Come, Ashen One! Just as before, only a storm can fell a greatwood!"
Gawain had a thousand questions, but he buried them for now.
"Is this your friend's soul? Just what else is residing in the depths of your spirit?" the Ancient King asked in amazement, unable to comprehend why a stranger's soul would emerge from that black ring.
"I don't know everything yet. But watch closely—I think I finally understand what a true storm is."
Gawain locked eyes with the Onion Knight. He drew his own long-unused Storm Ruler. Before, he hadn't understood how to wield the true power of the wind, but now, as if their hearts were one, Siegward's techniques and insights flooded into his mind.
The monster, battered by the earlier Dark Soul explosion, hauled itself up again. The erosion of the Dark Soul was far more potent than the state of Those Who Live in Death, and it had inflicted irreversible damage on the creature's twisted soul.
Gawain gripped the Storm Ruler and began to charge. The winds of the entire city seemed to answer his call, forming a colossal attack that reached toward the heavens. The scale was so vast that it could be seen from the Liurnia Lake and even the wilds of Caelid.
Once the charge was complete, he and Siegward struck simultaneously. They unleashed the most powerful storm art ever witnessed. Godrick, the buildings behind him, and everything in their path were utterly annihilated.
The Ancient King watched in stunned silence. Even in the prime of the Storm Lord, he had never seen a technique this devastating. Looking at the man before him, he acknowledged Gawain's right to be King with all his heart.
Setting his weapon down, Gawain looked at the illusory Onion Knight. He reached out to touch him, but his hand passed through the wind.
"Haha! It looks like the Fire Keeper is calling me back. If you have questions, ask them now while there's still a little time."
A wave of warmth washed over Gawain, and he nearly teared up, but he held it back. He didn't want the Fire Keeper to see him looking so pathetic.
"How did you all follow me here? I thought that after the First Flame faded..."
Siegward wasn't entirely sure himself. He had lost consciousness after fulfilling his duty, only to wake up in that dark space. He had heard some theories from the Fire Keeper, all relating to the Ashen One's unique nature.
"Ashen One, you must realize that you are special. The Fire Keeper told me your soul is different from ours. It was not born of the First Flame, so it was not extinguished when the flame died. The same applies to the souls linked to you, and the Darksign itself."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you forgotten how you lost most of your power when you arrived here? During your hunt for the Lords of Cinder, you harvested countless nameless souls. You turned those souls into your own strength—a power where Flame and Dark coexist. When you left our world, that soul-power coalesced. Within the Darksign, where light and dark dwell together, it carved out a final sanctuary for us."
Gawain processed the words and finally understood. No wonder his immense soul-power had vanished; it had never truly left him. It had simply transformed into a realm within the Darksign to house the souls he carried.
This explained why he couldn't find the souls in his inventory before. They were sealed within the Darksign. Under normal circumstances, they couldn't leave, but because Gawain had opened the seal himself, Siegward was able to step out and assist.
"Is everyone doing alright in there?"
"Fear not, they are well. After the flame died, your Darksign became the only place where our souls could endure. The embers still burn within you. Though it is a small world, it is a sane one. We need not fear losing our humanity or becoming mindless hollows."
Gawain breathed a sigh of relief. For him, that was enough.
"Then wait a bit longer. I'll find a way to let you all be reborn in this world."
Siegward shook his head, looking around at this beautiful, alien land.
"This is not our world, and there is no need for us to be reborn. Whether Lord of Cinder or Undead, to be free of the shackles of duty and find a place of rest is enough. Perhaps the Fire Keeper wishes to be by your side, but as the one most deeply linked to you, she is currently maintaining the stability of our sanctuary and cannot leave. But fret not—if a battle ever becomes more than you can handle, we will be there. Do not forget... to us, you, who inherited the embers of the Lords, are the Last Lord of Cinder."
Seeing that his time was up, Siegward's form began to fade. He reflexively reached into his pockets for a drink, only to find he had nothing on him. With a chuckle, he used the wind to fashion a spectral tankard.
"One last toast before I go! To the Great Lord of Cinder who sustains the world! May your courage and duty be with the Sun! Hahahaha!"
As the Onion Knight dissolved back into a mote of light and returned to the Darksign, Gawain raised a hand with a smile.
"Yeah. May it be with the Sun."
As the words fell, the Fire Keeper's voice returned to his ear.
"Ashen One, I shall repair the breach in the Darksign. I will need your cooperation, just as before."
"Understood. Just as before."
He channeled the power of the flame to cover the Darksign, working in tandem with her to mend the rift.
"Have you found a harbor of peace here?" she asked softly.
"I think so. At the very least, I've found people and things I want to protect. That's enough for me. What about you? Are you doing okay in there?"
"Wherever you are, for me, is the place where my soul finds rest."
With the final gap sealed, her voice faded. Gawain looked up blankly at the sky. The blazing sphere of light above seemed brighter than ever before.
"So... you really were with me all along."
Once the battle ended, a wave of agonizing pain surged through him. His body, ravaged by the Dark Soul and the hollowing process, screamed in protest. Even though the curse had been suppressed, the physical wounds were very real.
He drank his last few drops of the Flask of Crimson Tears to steady himself. As he tried to stand and regroup with his companions, his legs gave out. Just as he was about to hit the ground, a pair of hands caught him. A Minor Erdtree incantation manifested nearby, slowly mending his injuries.
"You did well. Don't push yourself anymore. Rest."
"Yeah... I'll just sleep for a bit."
Inside the Darksign, the Fire Keeper clutched the Eyes in her hands. When she had repaired the seal, she had left a small opening for herself, allowing her to observe the outside world through the Eyes whenever she wished.
Now, she projected the scene above so those nearby could see. The projection showed a one-eyed girl with chestnut hair, cradling the unconscious Ashen One and gently laying him on the ground. Her hands, glowing with golden light, cupped his face as she healed him.
Siegward watched the scene with great interest and let out a boisterous laugh.
"The Ashen One always did have a way with people! I gathered some information about this place from his soul just now. She must be his Finger Maiden—her role seems quite similar to yours, Fire Keeper."
Nearby, Yorshka listened to the voices and looked puzzled, but her attention soon drifted. "Didn't he use the power of the Darkmoon Blade earlier? Who exactly was he using it for back then?"
The Fire Keeper said nothing. She silently closed the projection and turned back to the stone steps where she usually sat.
Yorshka looked toward her, her tail drooping slightly in disappointment. She whispered to the knight standing beside her with an estoc.
"Sirris, I bet she's just going to watch him in secret, isn't she?"
"I cannot be certain," Sirris replied softly, "but I suspect you are right."
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (85 chapter - Ongoing)
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