Gawain watched the White Spirit with a touch of curiosity. Most of the spirits he had encountered previously would only repeat words from their past lives in a loop, never responding to the outside world.
This was the first soul to proactively address them. Although its speech remained hollow and mechanical, it was highly unusual. Perhaps the lingering obsession of this individual was so specific that it allowed for a degree of external communication.
After a moment's thought, Gawain decided to see if he could extract some intelligence. He spoke to the spirit.
"Your master, Midra—is he the lord of this manse? And what does he have to do with the Frenzied Flame spreading through the Abyssal Woods?"
At the mention of the "Frenzied Flame," the already melancholy face of the Hornsent spirit twisted into an expression of pure agony.
"The Frenzied Flame... it is the source of the madness! Everyone has gone mad! Do not approach those Fingers!"
As he spoke, the spirit clutched his head, scratching at it painfully as if trapped in a living memory. A faint yellow light began to shimmer in his eyes. Without a doubt, this was a symptom of infection by the flame.
Gawain frowned. The Frenzied Flame could nest in the eyes of the desperate and eventually melt the soul. Clearly, this Hornsent had been in contact with the flame before he died.
Yet, through some means, he had suppressed it. Was it a specific Hornsent technique? To forcibly preserve a soul in such a shattered state just to leave a warning for outsiders?
Gawain stepped forward and absorbed the encroaching flame from the spirit's pupils. This allowed the spirit to regain a shred of lucidity. Seizing the opportunity, Gawain asked again:
"Tell me, who is Midra?"
Hearing the outsider ask about his master, the spirit's focus shifted. After standing dazed for a moment, he spoke haltingly.
"My master, Midra... he is a scholar of ruins, a noble sage. In this valley, we lived far from conflict. The master focused on his research, but the seeds of the flame were quietly sprouting. After that tragedy occurred, the master's research spiraled completely out of control."
As if a specific memory had been triggered, the spirit began to mechanically narrate the origin of the flame in the Abyssal Woods.
"In the distant past, my master and his wife, Nanaya, lived here together. Back then, the valley was filled with blooming flowers—a beautiful, peaceful paradise. But as research materials from the ruins were brought in, everything changed. Through his studies, my master learned of the Frenzied Flame's existence and began to research it."
As the memory of the flame returned, the spirit's phantom began to burn once more, more fiercely than before. Although his exterior looked relatively normal, his soul had long since been irredeemably polluted by the flame.
Amidst the agony of the burning, the spirit looked at the group and pleaded with a tearful voice.
"After that accident, everyone in this manse was infected with the flame without even knowing it! Even as the power of the flame spread relentlessly, we recognized nothing. Something was hiding in the shadows, quietly altering our perception. It wasn't until the Inquisitors burst in that I realized I had become something inhuman... that I had fallen into madness."
"Quickly, please turn back! While there is still time. Do not touch the madness... do not let Master Midra's endurance go to waste."
Before he could finish, the soul was completely melted by the flame, vanishing into the air. The three of them stood in silence as the butler's soul returned to primordial chaos.
In the Lands Between, souls were meant to be eternal. Even in death, they would find their way to their designated destination. However, the current state of the world was a mess. With the Golden Order shattered, the cycle of life and death had become disordered—especially in the Land of Shadow, where death converged.
Order could be restored by repairing the Elden Ring, but the Frenzied Flame was different. It melted the soul entirely. It was the equivalent of flipping the table on existence. This power acted like a beacon from the "other side," full of temptation, leading souls toward total annihilation.
Just as the spirit had lamented, most of the infected drifted toward destruction unconsciously. Even the few who realized what was happening could only watch in despair as they strayed further and further from salvation.
For this reason, all living beings with souls feared the Frenzied Flame. Every dynasty regarded it as a taboo. Even the Hornsent, who worshipped Divine Beasts and dreamed of eternal souls, loathed the flame because it could erase the very essence of a spirit.
Gawain shook his head. Clearly, a tragedy of "playing with fire" had played out in Midra's Manse. For some reason, Midra had touched the flame—likely tied to his status as a scholar.
Could the 'ruins' the spirit mentioned be the source of it all? Recalling the ruins Ranni was interested in, it was likely connected to the Fingers. Perhaps one of those ruins belonged to the Three Fingers.
From the butler's words, it was clear that Midra knew the danger and horror of the flame. He seemed to be actively enduring its torment even now. No wonder the Inquisitors had been able to seal him so easily; he was likely cooperating with the seal to protect the world.
He even had enough sanity left to warn others to stay away. Yet, in the past, knowing it was a taboo, he had continued his research until he became the Lord of Frenzied Flame. For whose sake did he do it?
Just then, Ashmi, who had been observing the surroundings, pointed toward a specific spot in the hall.
"That painting seems odd. It looks like the Hornsent tried to hide something behind it. There might be a space back there."
Gawain looked up at a massive painting occupying almost an entire wall. It depicted a beautiful manse surrounded by flowers, brimming with life. This was likely the valley before the outbreak. Now, it was a source of madness. The contrast was poignant.
He stepped forward and reached out. As his fingertips touched the canvas, the painting turned ethereal, revealing a passage behind it.
"Hmph. As expected, the Inquisitors are still inside. I'll clear them out first."
Stepping into the hidden passage, Gawain saw several Inquisitors ready for battle, blocking the way. These Inquisitors seemed to be like the ones he met near the tomb—they still possessed their sanity and hadn't been corrupted by the flame.
As they spotted the intruder, they raised their candlesticks and fired golden arcs. Gawain sighed. Sane or mad, these Hornsent all act the same—attack on sight.
He didn't expect to get any information out of them. He used a Twisted Wall of Light to deflect the barrage, then unleashed several waves of Farron Flashsword to blanket the passage.
These Inquisitors were no match for the Elder Inquisitor he had killed earlier. In the cramped environment, they had nowhere to dodge and were cut down instantly. One particularly large "Big Brother" took the brunt of it and went down hard.
Dusting off his hands, Gawain moved deeper into the manse. He was surprised to find books everywhere. Booksheets lined the corridors, and every room they passed was filled with them. This wasn't a library; it looked like the manse simply didn't have enough room, so books were stacked wherever there was space. The true archives were likely further in.
He wondered what was recorded in these texts—perhaps unique Hornsent techniques or even forbidden knowledge regarding godhood. Unfortunately, the Inquisitors had no concept of preservation. Or perhaps the contents were considered so blasphemous that they were deliberately trashed. Books had been torn from shelves and trampled into ruins; there was almost nothing left worth salvaging.
As Gawain lamented the loss of knowledge, two familiar figures appeared at a doorway. This was a decent squad—they even had a Hornsent Warrior, a true elite.
Unlike the previous Inquisitors, these two were spirits. Whether they were spirits to avoid the madness of the flame or for some other reason was unclear.
Without needing a prompt, Ashmi acted even before Gawain. The mimic drew a weapon in the shape of the Blade of Calling. The blade pierced the enemy with elegant precision, igniting in a burst of Black Flame. The spirit dissolved instantly, unable to react.
The other Hornsent Warrior ignored his fallen comrade and lunged straight for Gawain.
Gawain glanced at Melina, who had buffed Ashmi with the black flame, and decided he couldn't be outperformed. He charged the remaining warrior. As the Hornsent swung his great curved sword, Gawain caught the creature's arm in a vice grip. Before it could react, he landed a punch imbued with a storm.
This lower-tier warrior didn't have the blessing of a Divine Beast. It was sent flying into a wall before being cleaved in two by a Soul Greatsword.
Continuing his exploration, Gawain finally reached the true library. Massive bookshelves several meters high lined the room, with so many books that they formed hills on the floor. Most here seemed intact. He wondered if he should have someone haul all of this away.
While he wouldn't study these ancient texts himself, their value was undeniable. Professional tasks should be left to professionals—Master Sellen would be fascinated by this data. Whatever she discovered, she could simply report the results to him.
After this, there were few enemies left. The Inquisitor squads were being wiped out. Only a few frenzied rats and shadowy figures remained. Suddenly, Gawain heard a shout of fury and resentment from the second floor.
"...Stop! I've had enough! Are we not of the same kin? Why do you deal such a cruel hand? What did Master Midra do wrong?"
He looked up to see a weeping White Spirit, trapped in the agony of its past. Another soul defending its master. From these Hornsent, one could clearly hear their genuine respect for Midra. If it wasn't sincere, they wouldn't defend him like this after being subjected to horrific torture. The row of corpses outside likely shared the same sentiment as this spirit.
Simultaneously, a roar of pure agony echoed from nearby. it sounded like an old man, yet it carried the vibe of a trapped, dying beast.
"That voice...?"
"There's no doubt," Melina said. "It is Midra, the lord of this manse. Just as the spirit said, he is still enduring the erosion of the flame, voluntarily sealed within."
Gawain listened to the roar, feeling a shred of respect for this Hornsent named Midra. To endure the agony of the flame for so long through sheer force of will after being tortured... what kind of obsession was driving him?
After exploring the library, Gawain found another illusory wall. He didn't rush to touch it.
The painting here depicted the Lord and Lady of the manse. The old man sat in a chair, his brow furrowed in a quiet sorrow. Beside him, a young woman rested her hand on her slightly bulging stomach, a gentle smile on her lips. Her eyes, not fully hidden by her headdress, were filled with happiness.
"I assume she is Nanaya, the mistress the spirit mentioned. Is she... pregnant?" Melina asked, her voice uncertain as she lacked knowledge in such matters. However, she could see the disparity in their emotions.
"I recall that for the Hornsent, childbirth carries immense risk for the mother because of the horns," Gawain noted. "Perhaps Midra was worried about his wife's future, which explains his sorrow. It seems the bond between them was very deep. Could this be related to how he eventually became the Lord of Frenzied Flame?"
Gawain recalled how much of a burden the birth of an Omen child was for a mother. Perhaps Midra was researching his finds from the ruins to find a way to help her, only to understand the nature of the flame in the process. Then, something went wrong with Nanaya... was that the root of the collapse?
He suddenly thought of something and clenched his fists. If this is what I think it is, it's remarkably similar to Irina's story.
In the ruins of the Weeping Peninsula, there is a shield called the Shield of the Guilty. It soothes the soul and increases focus; its lore mentions the legend of a maiden being born again.
It seemed similar events had happened in the Lands Between long ago. What if the mistress, Nanaya, was someone with the aptitude of a Maiden?
Irina—the girl with the potential of a Frenzied Flame Maiden—was just like that. Because of the flame, she was reborn in a blasphemous way after death. She appeared sane and capable of conversation, but her body had long been occupied by something inhuman, intended to lead those around her toward the "distant light."
The Frenzied Flame represented pure despair, which paradoxically made people calm in the end. Pain and frenzy were emotions felt by those who still held hope for life; at the depth of despair, there is only numbness.
Perhaps that was how the flame spread unnoticed, infecting the entire manse until the Inquisitors arrived and realized it was too late.
"As I thought... love is the most twisted curse in this world. it makes it impossible to make a rational choice."
Hearing his sudden philosophical lament, Melina looked thoughtful but ultimately couldn't grasp the meaning.
Gawain looked at the "wooden block" beside him, who was looking at him with confusion. He now understood why Shabriri tried to use a Maiden to convince the Tarnished to accept the flame. Even if he didn't have the power to ignite the Erdtree himself, he would never stand by and watch her turn into kindling.
The last time he faced a choice like that, he preferred to extinguish the First Flame itself, allowing himself and the Fire Keeper to be released from the curse.
Though he had a "justified" reason back then, was there really a difference between him ending the Age of Fire and the Frenzied Flame ending the world?
Perhaps the only difference was that in Dark Souls, the end of the Fire was inevitable, and he merely accelerated the process when the cycle could no longer continue. But in the Lands Between, there was still a choice. It wasn't hopeless yet.
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash
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