Gawain gripped the horns on Mohg's head and slowly dragged the body toward the temple at the highest point of the Blood Dynasty. After exchanging a look with Melina, he positioned himself protectively in front of her as they stepped into the sanctuary.
The subterranean temple was filled with the ruins of an ancient civilization. The carvings on the stone tablets were similar to those found in the Uhl Palace Ruins; before Mohg had occupied it, this place belonged to a glorious, vanished culture.
The ancient temple now felt as if it were on the verge of collapse. The structure was scarred by the corrosive effects of Accursed Blood, and many of its supports had been shattered by Gawain's opening Sunlight Spear. Only the small section Mohg had prioritized for protection remained intact. Now that the Lord of Blood was dead, the defenses he had placed around the cocoon had vanished.
Gawain stopped at the base of the stairs leading to the back of the temple. He stared at the arm protruding from the cracked cocoon, observing it with narrow eyes.
The exposed hand wore a golden ring. It appeared withered and skeletal, stained with filth and dried blood.
Gawain frowned. To be honest, even back when he was just playing the game, he'd had his doubts. This parched, oversized arm was a far cry from the image of Miquella he had in his mind.
The owner of this arm had a physical scale that completely contradicted the legends. Miquella was said to be cursed with eternal childhood, never to grow large. Whether it was the promotional images of the Land of Shadow he'd seen before crossing over, or the intelligence he'd gathered in the Lands Between, Miquella was always described as a delicate, slender youth.
Even if a demigod's proportions were larger than a human's, this was absurd. This arm, if stood upright, would be taller than Gawain himself. Even if Mohg had pumped him full of excessive Accursed Blood, such a physical expansion seemed impossible.
"Excuse me, but... does the arm cause you confusion?"
Leda had finally caught up, hurrying through the ruins. She had been terrified that Gawain, in his fury, would have ground Mohg's body into dust. Seeing the corpse intact outside, she let out a long breath of relief. Now, she had to focus on convincing him to cooperate.
"You're here, Leda," Gawain said without turning. "So, can you tell me where Miquella is? His true body isn't here, is it?"
He reached out, feeling the subtle warping of space within the temple. Looking at the slightly stunned Leda, he continued, "Don't be so surprised. I've had experience entering unique dimensions before. This temple gives off a similar vibe. And besides, didn't you say yourself that Miquella saved Freyja in Caelid while the war was still raging?"
Leda realized that there was no point in hiding the truth any longer. She nodded solemnly, coming clean.
"Indeed, nothing escapes your eyes. I shall tell you the true sequence of events. During the Shattering, while the main force of the Haligtree army was away, Mohg launched a sneak attack. He abducted my Lord Miquella from his slumber. Later, Lord Miquella used a stratagem to escape his clutches. Mohg never realized the truth; he believed this husk remained Lord Miquella's body."
"A 'stratagem' to escape, huh?" Gawain muttered noncommittally. He turned to face her. "So, if Miquella escaped long ago, why are you all so desperate to eliminate Mohg? I suspect it's for a reason far more significant than simple revenge."
"The designs of Lord Miquella are not for us followers to know," Leda replied.
She was telling the truth. Even as his most trusted knight, she could not fully grasp the Empyrean's thoughts. She simply followed the guidance he provided to plan her actions. For her and the other followers, the coming journey was less of a tactical mission and more of a pilgrimage into the unknown.
"However," Leda added, "Lord Miquella does wish to make a trade with you."
"A trade? I think it would be better if he came to make the offer himself. It would show more sincerity, don't you think?"
"My apologies, but that is likely impossible. My Lord is no longer within the Lands Between. If you surrender Mohg's body to me, the gates to the Land of Shadow shall be opened for you."
"The Land of Shadow! As I thought..."
Gawain's eyes sharpened. Even before his transmigration, people had speculated that this was the entrance to the new frontier. It seemed he had just saved himself a lot of trouble.
Behind him, Melina's eyes filled with a complex emotion. The image of a certain melancholy figure flashed through her mind. Can I truly see my brother again? she wondered. And that long-lost home that exists only in my memories...
"Is this Miquella's command? What does he want with Mohg's body?"
Ever since Gawain learned that Miquella was active during the war in Caelid, he had wondered why Malenia had ever marched south to fight Radahn in the first place—even going so far as to let the Aeonian flower bloom. That kind of catastrophe wasn't something one triggered lightly.
However, he didn't ask Leda about such sensitive topics. Even if she knew the inner workings of the plan, she wouldn't tell him everything. It was better to investigate it himself.
"Mohg possesses a unique constitution," Leda explained. "Unlike in the Lands Between, his horns are considered sacred among the Hornsent of the Land of Shadow. This will aid Lord Miquella in his designs there."
Standard circular rhetoric, Gawain thought. She said a lot without saying anything at all. Still, the fact that Omen horns were considered "sacred" in the Land of Shadow was interesting. Did it have to do with that "Divine Invocation" ritual? After the Formless Mother's descent, Mohg's horns had certainly undergone a marked transformation.
"Miquella's designs, eh? Everything I know about that Empyrean comes from hearsay. As his follower, can you tell me what he truly wants to achieve?"
Leda paused to gather her thoughts. She looked at the withered arm protruding from the cocoon and spoke softly.
"Please, believe me. Everything my Lord does is to create a better Lands Between. He seeks to create a world where all creatures can coexist in peace—a world filled with love and compassion."
Gawain felt a pang of sentiment at the declaration. His initial impression of Miquella had been exactly that. Whether it was planting the Haligtree or his idealized philosophy of "abundant" inclusion, or even the St. Trina's lilies scattered across the land—these were all traces of a soul seeking its own path.
However, the idea of "coexisting" with the Scarlet Rot was a bit abstract. Based on the history of the ancient rot wars, that "coexistence" usually ended with everyone becoming a Kindred of Rot.
But regardless of whether it was feasible, the man had a vision and the agency to act on it. That alone set him above most of the other demigods. A plan is only as good as its execution.
Yet, the few clues Gawain had found lately had deepened his suspicion of Miquella. His involvement in the Night of the Black Knives, his presence at the Battle of Aeonia, and his apparent indifference while his sister and Radahn tore each other apart... these actions painted a personality very different from the "gentle soul" he had imagined.
It made him question Miquella's ultimate goal. Was he truly as kind as he appeared? Or perhaps he truly believed in his goals, but the methods he used to achieve them were... questionable.
Gawain looked at the massive body lying outside. The form, restored by the Formless Mother's final strength, was pristine, save for some tattered clothing. After exchanging a look with Melina, he made his decision.
"Fine. I accept your terms. Mohg's body is yours to do with as you wish. In exchange, Miquella will open the path to the Land of Shadow for me."
Hearing those words, a massive weight was lifted from Leda's heart. Her body trembled slightly. Alongside her disbelief and joy, a sliver of doubt remained. Was it really this easy to obtain the most critical part of the plan? The stakes were too high; she had to confirm.
"Are there truly no other conditions?"
"Mmm. Let me think. If you insist, there is one more."
She exhaled, her expression returning to its usual stoicism. That's more like it, she thought. Free lunches don't exist in the Lands Between.
"This matter is significant," Gawain said. "I need to head back and inform my companions. Can you wait here for a few days?"
"Is... is that all?" Leda's lip twitched. She had been bracing herself for an outrageous demand, ready to concede almost anything. And this was it?
"That's all."
"I can grant that condition," Leda replied. "I arrived in a hurry; aside from Freyja, several other companions are on their way. I intended to wait here for them regardless."
"Good. Then I'll leave the two of you to it. Wait for my return."
As she saw the two of them genuinely preparing to leave, Leda felt a strange, unfamiliar spark in her heart. It was the rare sensation of being trusted. After a moment's hesitation, she spoke up.
"Are you not afraid that I might take Mohg's body and enter the Land of Shadow ahead of you, vanishing entirely? I am a Tarnished like yourself; I could follow you back to Stormveil and leave my companions to handle things here."
"There's no need for that, Leda," Gawain said. "In my eyes, you are a friend I can trust. There's no need for such suspicion between friends."
"Friends... that is a word I have not heard in a very long time."
Leda recalled her time with the Needle Knights. Back then, she had a group of people she could call friends. But then, things had happened—bitter betrayals and fratricide that had left deep scars.
Since then, she had believed that only those under the influence of Lord Miquella's enchantment could truly be called "comrades." She hadn't expected anyone in the current Lands Between to look at her as a friend, let alone offer such trust.
Leda finally removed her helm, offering a shallow bow in the custom of the Needle Knights. When she looked up, she saw Gawain staring at her with a very strange expression.
"You look so much like... no, it's uncanny."
Gawain stared at her face—a face that triggered an intense sense of déjà vu—and muttered to himself. No wonder he'd felt a sense of familiarity when he first met her in Caelid. Even through the armor, there had been a recognizable "flavor."
Though she lacked the iconic "ahoge" hair strand, from a certain perspective, this only made things more exciting.
"What did you say?" Leda asked.
Gawain snapped out of his daze and suppressed a grin to avoid looking too weird. "My apologies. You look remarkably like an old acquaintance from my memory. I almost mistook you for her."
"An old acquaintance? I am sorry, but I am not the person you remember."
"I know. However... Leda, would you have any interest in switching to a set of black and red armor? Believe me, it would suit you perfectly. I can have the blacksmiths in my castle forge a set for you, free of charge."
"Black and red armor?" Leda looked down at her current Oathseeker Knight set, designed by Miquella himself. She smiled and shook her head. "As a knight, I have duties I must defend with my life. This armor serves as a constant reminder of my vow. Perhaps, once I have fulfilled my oath and witnessed the gentle world Lord Miquella envisions, I might consider it. Until then, I shall treasure your offer. Consider it my vow to a friend."
"Mmm. I look forward to that day."
Gawain and Melina left the temple of the Blood Dynasty. Once they were a sufficient distance away to avoid detection, a portal opened beside him. A Silver Tear slithered out, awaiting its orders.
"Asimi. For the next few days, monitor Leda's every move. Report any anomalies to me immediately."
He paused, then added, "In terms of teleportation technology, no one in the Lands Between knows more than you, who inherited the knowledge of Nokstella. If possible, I want you to study that withered arm. I want the passage to the Land of Shadow under our control as much as possible. Understood?"
With its instructions received, the Silver Tear vanished. Under Asimi's control, the false stars of the subterranean sky seemed to undergo a subtle, magical shift. Gawain looked back at the temple with a complex gaze.
"Leda... if possible, I truly hope we never have to be enemies."
Beside him, Melina gently patted his shoulder. "Do not blame yourself. For the sake of the Lands Between, this level of caution is necessary."
"I know. Let's head back. Before we enter the Land of Shadow, we need to make full preparations."
"Mmm. I believe I need time to prepare as well," Melina said softly. "After this... there are things I need to confess to you."
"Things related to the Land of Shadow?"
"Yes."
Gawain looked at Melina. He had never seen her eyes filled with such complex emotions. It seemed that whatever she had to tell him, she truly needed time to build up her courage.
Inside the temple of the Blood Dynasty, Leda stood before the withered arm, staring into space for a long time. Finally, she donned her helm again and spoke to Freyja, who was starting to look bored.
"I can feel Dane and the others of the Dryleaf sect approaching. Freyja, go and meet them. Enter the Land of Shadow ahead of me. Lord Miquella's crosses will guide your way."
"Dane's coming? Fine. I wonder if that guy's martial arts have improved at all."
Freyja cracked her knuckles and shouldered her greatsword. As she turned to leave, she grinned.
"Are you sure you won't consider that black and red armor the Storm King suggested? For some reason, I think it might actually suit you."
Met with Leda's "death stare," Freyja laughed to ease the awkwardness and hurried toward the exit.
"Fine, fine! If you don't want to change, don't change. You look fine as you are."
Once she was alone, Leda gripped her sword and stared at the withered arm again, her mind drifting. She whispered under her breath:
"Lord Miquella... I hope the path ahead is smooth for you."
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (347 chapter - Ongoing)
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