"I never would have guessed... that the tyrant Godrick, who plagued all of Limgrave, would die so easily." Nepheli Loux glanced at Godrick's shriveled, emaciated remains. It felt surreal. The monster that had loomed over the land was, in the end, just a pathetic old man.
"He was too weak," the Tarnished remarked, sheathing his weapon and standing over the corpse.
"His features... they did bear a slight resemblance to Godfrey and Godwyn," he whispered to himself. Nepheli didn't catch the words, but she saw him perform a brief, silent gesture over the body—a flash of a golden crest that she couldn't quite identify from her angle.
(This man is truly something else...) Nepheli thought.
"By the way," the Tarnished said, looking around. "They say every Demigod holds a Great Rune. I don't see one on him." He had expected the Rune to manifest physically, like the smaller runes he harvested from fallen foes, but the air remained still.
"The Great Runes," Nepheli explained, "are not mere baubles. According to my foster father, their true power must be awakened. The physical essence is often tied to the Divine Towers that loom over the horizon."
"Always making things complicated," the Tarnished grumbled. "It's as if the world wants the Demigods to hoard them and slaughter each other."
"Look," Nepheli pointed. "There is still a lingering glow within him."
Indeed, a faint, rhythmic pulse of light flickered within Godrick's chest. The Tarnished recognized the pattern immediately—it was the central anchor of the Elden Ring. "He held the very center of the Ring... what an irony." For such a prestigious fragment to belong to a coward who hid behind grafted limbs and stolen strength was a cosmic joke.
Had Godwyn lived, this Rune would surely have been his.
The light within the corpse pulsed one final time before transforming into a thin, golden streak that shot across the sky. It flew straight and true, as if toward a pre-destined beacon.
"Go," Nepheli said with a supportive smile. "That Great Rune is yours by right of conquest. There are many Demigods left, and many Runes to claim. I believe our paths will cross again at the foot of the Elden Throne."
"Right. If you ever need me, call." The Tarnished left a trail of his golden summon sign for her, a promise of aid should she ever find herself in over her head.
Following the golden trail, the Tarnished arrived at a massive bridge spanning the eastern cliffs of Stormveil. The walkway was lined with statues of Banished Knights, their halberds lowered in eternal reverence. At the end of the long bridge sat a structure that defied the laws of architecture—a tower that seemed to pierce the very heavens.
This place was different from his memories. In the age of the Storm King, this had been a sacred site for the locals to offer prayers to the gale. Now, it had been repurposed into a fortress of the Golden Lineage: the Divine Tower of Limgrave.
"Quite a spectacle. The Golden Order certainly loves their oversized monuments. Pure vanity," the Tarnished muttered as he ascended the grand staircase. He noted the rows of "Saints" carved into the stone, their frozen eyes watching his every move.
"Big towers usually have big problems guarding them. Let's see... ah, there we go."
Ahead, several massive Golem guardians lay slumped on the bridge. As the Tarnished stepped into range, the air hummed with tension. One Golem, clutching a bow the size of a ballista, creaked to life. It notched a Greatarrow, the sound of the string drawing back like a ship's hull groaning under pressure.
Two more Golems began to stir, their stone joints grinding.
"Three of you? That's almost a fair fight. Certainly more of a challenge than Godrick," the Tarnished smirked.
An arrow infused with spiraling air pressure screeched toward him, detonating against the stone and leaving a massive crater. The Tarnished didn't flinch. He dashed forward, closing the gap with predatory speed.
"Let's see if the bridge holds!"
He manifested the Aspect of the Crucible: Tail, sweeping it in a massive arc across the Golems' ankles. Back in Morne, he had struggled with these giants, but now, his strength was on a different level. The heavy stone legs buckled, and the three Golems crashed to their knees simultaneously.
"Honestly, Godrick could probably take you lot. You've given him something he can actually beat. Good for him."
Within moments, he had shattered their glowing cores. Crossing the debris, he stood before the massive doors of the Divine Tower. They were taller than a Troll, reinforced with gold and ancient stone. He didn't look for a handle; he simply kicked them open.
The interior was a dizzying vertical shaft. A massive lift occupied the center, surrounded by an open-air design that looked down into a bottomless abyss.
"Typical. Spend all that gold on a tower and then skimp on the safety railings," he shook his head as the lift began its long, humming ascent.
When the lift reached the top, the air grew thin and cold. A Site of Grace shimmered at the center of a circular roof, offering a breathtaking view of the entire Limgrave region and the shimmering Erdtree in the distance.
"You made it," Melina appeared as he touched the Grace. She walked to the edge, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "This is... a Divine Tower."
"You show up every time I find one of these, don't you? It's becoming a habit," the Tarnished teased. Melina merely tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she took in the view.
"The world... is beautiful," she whispered.
"I agree. It's easy to forget that when you're knee-deep in rot and limbs." He sat down beside her, letting the wind whip through his hair. "I'm no saint. I've killed as many people as Godrick in my time, but I know the difference between a battlefield and a slaughterhouse. I've seen hell, which is why I can recognize heaven when I see it."
He looked at his right hand, a shadow of a memory passing through his eyes. "Conflict will never end. But even in the worst ages, there are flickers of humanity—light that exists in the soul of every living thing. I won't let the Greater Will or the Golden Order stifle that spark."
"Melina... what do you think a King is?"
"A King...?" She looked at him, curious. "I do not know."
"Some say it's power. Some say it's being a heartless judge. I think they're wrong," the Tarnished said with a complex smile. "A King is someone who breaks the cages holding his people back. A King must have a heart, because he carries the weight of a thousand lives on his back."
"I wasn't ready to be a King once. I was young, arrogant, and I chased the 'wind of freedom,' leaving the throne to Godfrey. But in the end, I realized that freedom alone wasn't the goal. I was looking for something else."
"When I died in the fog-lands, I finally understood. I want to be a King—but not the kind the Elden Ring wants. I want to be the King who shatters the absolute divinity of the Greater Will."
Melina's eyes widened. "You mean to..."
"There are no gods on my path. Only a King who knows suffering and mercy. Mankind doesn't need a silent, uncaring god; they need the freedom to be their own masters."
He stood up, drawing his blade and pointing it toward the sky. "The time for liberation is here."
As if in response to his heresy, the Divine Tower trembled. The very air seemed to thicken with the divine wrath of the Greater Will.
"Greater Will! Do you want to see who breaks first?" the Tarnished roared, unafraid. "You hide behind your fingers and your Tree, but I am coming for the heart of it all!"
Melina watched him, stunned. For a moment, she didn't see a lowly Tarnished. She saw a figure that stood as an equal to the cosmic powers above—a confrontation that felt fated and inevitable.
(Why does it feel like this...? As if he truly could stand against the stars?) she wondered. Deep down, a part of her wondered if she, too, had grown tired of the silence of the gods.