After the minor commotion during the day, Gawain finally settled his people within Castle Ensis.
As batches of high-purity Glintstones, shimmering with a soft blue light, were moved into the Crusade's encampment, the seals on the carriages were opened. The blue radiance immediately illuminated the dark and damp surroundings.
Under the leadership of Moongrum and Muliitier, the Carian sorcerers responsible for managing the castle's defenses began using these precious stones to reinforce the increasingly porous fortifications.
Once the core Glintstones at key nodes were replaced, blue patterns of light spread along the walls. The defensive seals, which had been dormant for ages, finally hummed back to life under the nourishment of the Glintstones. The magical fluctuations floating in the air made the sentries grip their weapons tighter, a long-lost sense of security flickering in their eyes.
Of course, the barrier of Castle Ensis could not compare to the shield once personally erected by the Full Moon Queen; it was more like a "good enough" shield, capable of repelling conventional siege methods.
But the Crusade did not need to expend too much energy on defense; their goal had always been to take the initiative. Consequently, more Glintstones were sent to the smithy. Blacksmiths, who like Iji had hailed from the Carian Royal Family, brandished their hammers to begin repairing damaged Glintstone staves and weapons.
The rhythmic clanging and the sounds of heavy breathing within the workshop wove together into an overture of preparation for war. At this stage, everyone understood that the stalemate would not last much longer.
What brought Rellana the most relief was the fact that her own worn and aging armor could finally be repaired. This silver armor had accompanied her through half a lifetime of conquest. It was a masterpiece commissioned by the Full Moon Queen herself. Much like the Sword of Night and Flame, it was embedded with various Glintstones that served purposes ranging from enhancing magic to increasing defense.
In the long years of battle, though its surface merely appeared faded and dull, it had in truth become little more than an empty shell. Now, at last, it could undergo a proper restoration.
As for the Perfumers, they were getting along quite well with the veteran field doctors of the Crusade. This was likely because Philia's proactive style had long since influenced her subordinates.
Having spent years as a traveling perfumer who dared to tread every inch of the rot-ravaged Caelid, Philia possessed a fearless, wild streak. Most of the perfumers she had selected for this journey were also travelers with diverse backgrounds. This breadth of experience allowed them to integrate seamlessly into the battlefield medical efforts.
After all, the vast majority of these perfumers had accompanied Philia to the battlefields of Caelid. No one looked at them as mere "healers." When the battle reached its peak, what they pulled from the pouches at their waists might not be holy water, but rather cluster-perfume bottles stuffed to the brim and shimmering with various dangerous hues.
Upon arriving in the city, Philia didn't rush into her work. Instead, she first struck up a friendship with the veteran Leyndell perfumers in the city. These senior practitioners held many orthodox and rare perfuming techniques. Philia seized every opportunity to chat with them, asking everything from spice extraction tips to tool-making. These were the gaps in her knowledge as a "rogue" perfumer who had been displaced by war and relied mostly on experience and intuition.
As the conversation grew heated, she even began inquiring about the manufacturing process for the unique, oversized "Greatjars" found in the Land of Shadow. The impact of such a jar was far greater than the small amount contained in a bottle. While such lethal doses weren't suitable for saving lives, it was a different story for the enemy.
Anyone who knew her slightly would see the brightening gleam in her eyes and know that the girl was surely plotting some new concoction. It was as if her years of scarcity and saving materials during her travels were being unleashed now that she was wealthy; her current philosophy was "quantity over quality."
The "Spark Aromatic" she had prepared for the Kindred of Rot in Caelid was the best proof; those who were burned by it had nothing but "praise." Now that she had encountered Greatjars capable of holding even more materials, she couldn't contain herself. It wouldn't be long before the Hornsent in Belurat, who loved playing at ambushes, would get a taste of her "Greatjar" masterpiece.
Technically, those things were Hornsent technology, but who cared? As long as they were useful, it was fine. Even if Marika's kin had been turned into jars, hadn't she tolerated the existence of Warrior Jars in the Lands Between?
In short, the injection of this fresh blood gave the deathly still city a trace of vitality.
Finally, as night fell and all preparations were complete, the primary objective began.
Gawain and Aldia walked side-by-side down a narrow corridor, led by Rellana.
Truthfully, Rellana didn't quite trust this strange tree-man. Consequently, she had brought in some captured Hornsent for verification. After witnessing Aldia use his mysterious flame to manipulate the Hornsent's soul—repairing it and then annihilating it at will—she felt her long-held worldview being challenged.
What finally shattered her world-view was when Aldia used the spent soul to forge a decent-quality weapon, which he then casually handed to a nearby Crusader. After that, even if she had lingering doubts, she no longer questioned his supreme mastery over the soul.
Following behind them were Melina and Ranni. The matter of the Shamans was not yet meant for public knowledge, so only a few trusted perfumers and Black Knights stood guard.
As they reached the door of the secret chamber, the air was filled with a thick scent of medicinal aromatics, ranging from sleep-inducing to spirit-calming. The golden spectral Erdtree that Melina had been maintaining with her own power stood in the center, radiating a peaceful light.
Seeing the massive, strange figure at the door, the personnel responsible for caring for the Shamans quickly put down their work and left the room, leaving a relatively large and quiet space.
Gawain stepped in first, scanning the Shamans who were either sleeping or staring blankly. Under careful care, their condition had stabilized; at the very least, they were no longer in the state of total ulceration they had been in when he first rescued them.
"I'll leave the rest to you. At the very least, clean the impurities from their souls. Everything else will be much easier after that."
The harsh sound of wood scraping against the floor echoed through the chamber as Aldia's body squirmed elegantly into the room.
He stopped before a bed, his rigid, human-like facial features turning as he scanned the unconscious Shamans with unreadable eyes. He let out a clear snort of contempt.
Stretching out a branch to check the forehead of one Shaman, Aldia's consciousness—like a fine spiderweb—quietly probed deep into her soul.
After a moment, he withdrew his hand. His actual contact had revealed much. The constitution of these Shamans was indeed interesting. No wonder they could give birth to a so-called deity and become vessels for that miraculous Ring.
Thinking of the Hornsent's previous actions, a chill entered his gaze. Those fellows had used such crude and inefficient methods to treat the Shamans. Even from a purely academic perspective, it was a supreme waste of "research material." Being evil was one thing, but being evil and stupid was truly beyond salvation.
Aldia's towering form stood straight as he slowly squirmed toward the center. When he stood in the middle of the room, the spectral Erdtree hovering there suddenly trembled and then vanished as if swallowed by a tide, leaving only Aldia standing there.
The next second, the floor beneath him cracked in fine lines. Countless charred, ember-flecked branches erupted from his base. With a gentle yet irresistible force, they lightly coiled around the wrists, ankles, and necks of every Shaman—the parts that still looked somewhat human.
"What exactly is he doing...?"
Rellana, witnessing this scene that radiated a strange sense of holiness despite its bizarre appearance, could only suppress her growing unease.
"It is merely the dissolution and restoration of the soul," Gawain explained. "After using external force to excise those small areas of polluted desecration, he uses the power of the Life-King Soul within him to perform a rapid restoration. This is a troublesome but necessary task. Aside from him, I suspect even if I were to do it myself, I would cause too much collateral damage. The mental state of those Shamans likely couldn't handle it."
"The power of the Life-King Soul...?"
Rellana stared at the scene, her mind full of confusion. She couldn't imagine what kind of soul could be called a "Life-King Soul," but the results were undeniable.
The filthy pollutants that had been entwined with the Shamans' souls like rot-vines seemed to melt away under the scorching heat of an invisible flame. Even more astonishing was that the gaps left behind by the vanishing filth were healing at a visible rate.
Aldia focused entirely on fine-tuning every detail. The power of the Embers wrapped around each Shaman's soul like a web, slowly erasing the stubborn pollution. His control was precise to the extreme; every thread of magic touched the roots of the filth perfectly, neither harming the fragile soul itself nor failing to strip away the corruption.
The process was slow, yet as gentle as spring rain on a field, protecting the Shamans' fragile mental defenses to the maximum extent.
Beyond this, Aldia also employed suitable sorceries—insignificant portions of his vast knowledge—to wrap the agitated souls in a protective layer. This ensured that even as their souls were being "dismantled and reconstructed," the Shamans remained quietly on the stone platforms, their breathing steady and without a hint of painful struggle.
After some time, the charred branches coiled around the Shamans with milder cases began to withdraw one by one. The treatment was very successful, allowing him to focus more on the remaining individuals and accelerating the pace.
On the surface, the Shamans still appeared pale and unchanged.
However, after careful observation, Rellana could clearly perceive the dramatic change at the soul level. The souls that were once as turbid as a swamp were now clear and bright, just like any normal person's.
This better-than-expected result sent a shock through her heart. This state of soul was already comparable to the Shamans whom Messmer had settled in the depths of the Shadow Keep—those who still possessed a degree of self-awareness and independence.
Those souls that had been on the verge of collapse had been reborn under Aldia's hands.
Ranni leaned quietly against the cold stone wall, her large snow-witch hat obscuring the complex emotions in her eyes. She watched the reborn souls of the Shamans and Aldia's branches stretching throughout the room, remaining silent throughout. For a moment, she thought back to the end of that Festival of Combat.
Ranni couldn't help but wonder: if this bizarre Sage had been present then, with his ability to reshape souls, he could have forcibly stripped Miquella's mark from her brother's soul and soothed his madness.
If that had been the case, perhaps her brother would not have lost control, let alone been drawn by that mysterious power and fallen into the Land of Shadow. She still didn't know his current situation, but nothing good could come of being entangled with Miquella, who possessed an innate ability to charm.
At this thought, a very soft sigh escaped Ranni's throat. Her breath hit the cool air and vanished instantly. The regret in her eyes was gradually replaced by a trace of coldness. What had happened had happened; her brother's trail remained unknown.
But she would remember this debt. When she eventually met Miquella, that Empyrean, she would ensure he paid the price for his past actions.
Melina stood at the entrance of the secret chamber. Watching the final trace of filth coiled around the Shamans vanish like blue smoke, the heart she had held in suspense for days finally settled.
She instinctively pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat stabilize. Her fingertips, which had been clenched tightly, were white, and she had unconsciously slowed her breathing, fearing any noise would disturb the fragile yet miraculous treatment.
Only after confirming that every Shaman's soul radiated a clear light, free of any trace of evil, did she slowly exhale. Her tense shoulders relaxed along with her breath.
These past few days, she had poured nearly all her energy into this, fearing any mistake. The massive spectral Erdtree in the center had never vanished. Seeing the Shamans' steady breathing and relaxed brows now, Melina felt that the days of fatigue were nothing. This careful care had not been in vain.
She looked at the still-sleeping Shamans, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. As long as she could use the gentlest, slowest methods to help them rebuild their vitality afterward, she no longer needed to worry about time being tight.
Thinking of this, she suddenly recalled her brother far away in the Shadow Keep. If he knew of the situation here, he would surely be relieved. Perhaps... it was time for her to go home and visit him.
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash
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