"Oh, right—there is another way to expedite your acquisition of a sword-catalyst," Rogier said, clapping his hands as if he'd just remembered a vital secret. The Tarnished looked at him, puzzled.
"In the center of Liurnia of the Lakes, there is a Glintstone Dragon. It has lived alongside the crystals for so long, consuming them as its primary food source, that it has become a living reservoir of magic. Because its very essence has merged with the glintstone, it can cast devastating sorceries directly, without the need for a staff or catalyst."
"Is that so?" The Tarnished was genuinely surprised.
"Dragons were the overlords of the ancient world for a reason," Rogier said with a note of reverence. "Even a wyvern is not to be trifled with. No mere human could achieve such a feat of natural synchronization."
Wait... a dragon? The Tarnished's mind raced. I have the Dragon Communion within me. If a dragon can assimilate glintstone to cast magic bare-handed, could I do the same? If I can fuse my blood with the crystals, I won't need a catalyst at all.
"What—what's wrong?" Rogier jumped back as the Tarnished suddenly stood up with a fierce intensity in his eyes.
"I have a lead. You've been a massive help, Rogier!" The Tarnished grabbed the sorcerer's shoulders, his excitement palpable.
"Ah... glad I could help." Rogier was bewildered, but seeing the Tarnished happy made him smile as well.
The two talked for a while longer, though Rogier remained tight-lipped about the specific "thing" he was searching for in the castle, clearly not wanting to burden the Tarnished with his own troubles. They made a pact to meet again at the Roundtable Hold before going their separate ways.
Relying on his deep knowledge of Stormveil's layout and his own agility, the Tarnished traversed the rooftops, bypassing patrols and striking from the shadows. After an untold number of skirmishes, he finally descended into the massive central courtyard behind the main gate.
"Damn it! Stop that Tarnished! Don't let him slip away!" an Exile officer barked at a mob of Godrick's footmen. "He's a strong one! Offer his limbs to Lord Godrick and your reward will be legendary!"
"You think this rabble can take me?" The Tarnished leaped into the air, swinging his curved blade in a wide arc. Shards of frost condensed in the air, propelled by the golden resonance of the blade. The ice needles moved like living things, seeking out the gaps in the soldiers' armor.
"What is this magic?! AAAAGH!" The courtyard echoed with the screams of men being shredded by frozen glass.
Just as the last footman fell, three Banished Knights leaped from a high platform, their heavy armor clanking as they landed. They let out a unified roar. "That's far enough! You are a warrior, but you are outnumbered!"
The three knights charged simultaneously. Three separate tempests collided in the center of the courtyard, tearing apart the wooden barricades and heavy ballistae as if they were made of parchment.
The Tarnished held his blade horizontally across his chest. His throat began to swell, glowing with a dull, primordial heat.
"Watch out! Get back!" A knight carrying a shield sensed the danger and slammed his shield into the ground, using a gust of wind to propel himself backward. A split second later, the Tarnished unleashed a torrent of Aspect of the Crucible: Breath, incinerating the space where the knight had stood.
"He can breathe fire too?!" the knight cursed. Before he could re-engage, a massive, scaly tail—the Aspect of the Crucible: Tail—whipped through the smoke. The knight didn't have time to dodge; the blow sent him hurtling across the courtyard, slamming into the heavy iron gate with a bone-shattering THUD.
"Damn it... he's a monster," the shield-knight wheezed, clutching his cracked ribs. The third knight looked ready to flee. "This isn't worth the pay. Godrick doesn't give us enough runes to die for this!"
"Agreed. Godrick's reckoning is here; there's no reason to die with him. Grab our brother and let's go!" The lead knight swung his sword, creating a screen of sand and wind to obscure the Tarnished's vision while they attempted to retreat.
But as they stepped back, a voice that made their spines tingle sounded directly behind them. "You've got a good sense of loyalty to your own. But you hit me first... and now you want to leave? Who said you could go?"
The Tarnished appeared behind the shield-knight, delivering a knee strike that broke the sound barrier.
"Curse you!" The knight barely raised his shield, but the sheer force of the impact shattered both the heavy metal and the knight's left arm.
"We were just following a contract!" the knight screamed. "We no longer wish to fight you! Is that not enough for a 'hero' like you?"
"That's a funny way of putting it," the Tarnished said, his voice devoid of mercy. "I went out of my way to avoid you lot, and you came hunting me. You don't get to call for a truce just because you're losing."
"Bastard! You lowly Tarnished... fine! We may die, but we won't go quietly!" The knight swung his remaining arm, and his companion joined him in a final, desperate storm. The winds surrounded the Tarnished like a meat grinder, slicing into his new armor.
"Good. You finally found the grit of the old Storm Knights." The Tarnished sheathed his blade. His hands began to glow with a terrifying, crimson draconic light.
"How—?!"
Two massive Dragon Claws manifested from the ether, clamping down on the knights from both sides. With a single, brutal crush, the Banished Knights were flattened into heaps of mangled steel.
"Modern Banished Knights... nothing but high-end mercenaries," the Tarnished muttered, shaking out his wrists. He looked at the heavy, locked gates and found the nearby guardhouse. He knew the mechanism was inside.
Inside the guardhouse, he found the massive wheel-crank and a Site of Grace.
"So this is the gatehouse..." Melina appeared, looking out at the long road ahead. "Everything comes back to this path."
"Straight down this road is the heart of the castle. Godrick is waiting there," the Tarnished said, wiping the blood from his blade.
"We are close..."
"By the way, why are you still wearing that hood?" the Tarnished asked. Melina was dressed exactly as she had been when they first met, the deep hood obscuring most of her delicate features.
Melina didn't answer. She simply reached up and pulled the hood even lower.
"Huh?" The Tarnished followed her gaze and realized that the noise of the battle had drawn a crowd of curious onlookers and survivors in the distance. Is she shy? No, that doesn't feel right.
"Whatever makes you happy." He didn't push it, instead pulling out his Flask of Crimson Tears and taking a long, restorative drink.
"I can feel the runes you've gathered..." Melina said, her voice returning to its usual calm. "Shall I assist you?"
"Right, I almost forgot. Please."
As Melina performed the rite, the mountain of runes he'd harvested during his trek through the castle fused into his being. His strength and speed hit a new peak. He felt as though he could now stand toe-to-toe with a Crucible Knight in a contest of raw power.
Melina stared at him, her expression unreadable.
"What is it? You've got that look again."
"Can you not feel it?" she whispered. "There is something inside you... like a vortex."
"A vortex?"
"I don't know what it is. But every time I guide the runes into you, I feel a terrifying suction... as if the runes are being pulled toward a singular point, desperate to become one again."
"To become one? That's... strange." Was it a remnant of his old life, when he could absorb runes without a maiden? Or had his rebirth in the fog changed his fundamental nature? He couldn't find an answer.
Even Melina seemed unsettled, yet she added, "I don't think it is a bad thing. I feel no malice from it... only a strange, ancient warmth. Like a memory."
As they rested, a commotion broke out at the far end of the courtyard.
"Enemy of Godrick! Face me!" a woman's voice bellowed. A surge of wind, infused with crackling golden lightning, tore through the remaining guards.
"Another Tarnished?! Kill her! Kill them both!"
The woman was a whirlwind of fury. She wielded two axes, her dark skin glistening as she carved through the soldiers with thunderous strikes.
"Aha! Vile wretches! You defile the very wind of this castle! Fall!"
A massive Omen Troll guarding the inner passage let out a deafening roar, preparing a sonic shockwave that would have hit the woman squarely in her unprotected back.
"Oho, we can't have that." Before the sound could hit, the Tarnished appeared behind the warrior. He threw a punch that didn't just meet the troll's roar—it surpassed it. The resulting shockwave sent the troll staggering back, its brain rattled.
(When did he get behind me...? Such power...) The warrior woman was stunned, but she didn't stop. She finished her combo, burying her axes in the last of the guards.
"Monsters... all of you! Lord Godrick will... gack!" The last soldier was silenced by a bolt of lightning.
"I will personally execute the one who has tainted this wind," the woman said, huffing. "You lot can wait for him in the grave."
"A pure storm," the Tarnished observed. "Not often you see lightning paired with the wind like that. And that outfit..."
The woman gasped for air, sweat dripping from her shoulders. She turned around to face the man who had protected her back.
"Thank you for the assistance... great warrior. You are a Tarnished as well, I presume?" She wiped her brow. "I am Nepheli Loux. A warrior, and a Tarnished... I come to Stormveil at the behest of my foster father."
Nepheli... Loux? The Tarnished's eyes widened slightly. The old barbarian King's name was Loux... could she be of his bloodline? Now things are getting interesting.