Flames erupted.
At Lloyd's command, the dragon that had devoured the Abyss reared back its massive head. Spreading its wings wide, it unleashed a roar so powerful that even souls quaked in terror.
Then, with a single violent leap, the dragon soared into the air before plunging down like a meteor. It was the first to break into the very heart of the darkness, its descent shattering the void in a storm of black fire.
Upon its back stood Lloyd—staff in one hand, the White Dragon Sword in the other.
The staff swept forward, releasing a torrent of soul energy that consumed everything ahead. The White Dragon Sword slashed downward, summoning a crystalline storm that tore through the corrupted abyss.
In the blink of an eye, the dense, suffocating veil of darkness—an ocean of despair and hatred so overwhelming it could crush the will to live—was ripped open by brute force, leaving behind a gaping fissure in its midst.
Corpses littered the battlefield.
And before the darkness could recover, more figures surged forth through the rift Lloyd had created.
The white-robed sorcerer of Oolacile swung her enchanted weapon—an axe-shaped staff nearly larger than herself—mowing down the corrupted creatures like grass.
Elsewhere, a knight in silver-blue armor moved with practiced precision, shield in one hand and sword in the other, cutting down enemies with steady, methodical strikes. Beside him, a massive wolf darted through the battlefield, occasionally hurling itself into enemy ranks to unleash a devastating whirlwind of slashes.
Meanwhile, the Four Kings of New Londo charged without pause. Three of them fought in close quarters at the vanguard, while the Left Bow King hung back, loosing deadly projectiles from afar. Around them, ghostly soul-sucking soldiers surged forward in unison.
On another front, the Farron Undead Legion advanced. They weren't the strongest individually, nor were their battles loud or flashy, but as veteran Abyss-slayers, their efficiency was unmatched. Each movement was sharp, fluid, and deadly—their combat was practically a dance of death.
And as for Wolnir...
He remained in place, his skeletal soldiers locked in combat with the Abyssal creatures.
Though titled "High Lord," and once a conqueror who had led armies to crush nations—reducing the crowns of kings until only his own remained—his power and arrogance had once seemed absolute.
At least, that's what he believed.
Then...
Well, there was no "then."
Not long after his so-called "glorious conquest," the Farron Undead Legion arrived at his gates. And they didn't stop with him—they annihilated his entire kingdom.
It wasn't because of a personal vendetta. True, Wolnir was a tyrant. He found amusement in forcing his own soldiers to fight to the death and torturing prisoners beneath spiked wheels for sport.
But in the world of Dark Souls, such "hobbies" barely registered as extreme—some villages had far worse pastimes.
The real reason the Undead Legion came for him was far simpler: Wolnir had touched what should never be touched—the power of the Abyss.
Formed in reverence to the legendary "Abysswalker," the Legion's entire purpose was to suppress and destroy the Abyss. They might have ignored other sins, but the Abyss? That, they would never forgive.
And their fears proved justified.
Once he dabbled in the power of the Abyss, Wolnir lost himself completely. His mind shattered, dragging his nation into darkness with him. Only by stealing a sacred relic from the clergy did he barely escape total consumption by the Abyss.
Wolnir was no weakling, true—but powerful?
Well, let's just say... look no further than Farron Keep.
Even so, Wolnir didn't idle. Though his creations lacked quality, he continued summoning waves of skeleton soldiers from behind.
At first, their presence barely mattered. But over time, through sheer persistence and their uncanny ability to revive, their numbers began to overwhelm the enemy. Eventually, through a relentless tide of bone and blade, they began to turn the tide—snowballing into a crushing advance.
Seeing Lloyd's forces steadily pushing forward, the Abyssal Incarnation finally grew desperate.
It lashed out, spreading its corruption further, empowering the tainted monsters and spawning several Abyssal generals to lead the charge.
But...
Crunch—
Midir stomped one flat.
Boom—
The Fist Emperor shattered another with a single blow.
Slash—
The Wolf Knight and his companion struck together, their blades crossing in a perfect X, cleaving a beast clean into four parts.
As for the enhanced foot soldiers? They were helpless before the Undead Legion, collapsing like brittle twigs. The only troops holding their ground—the skeletal soldiers—had already multiplied several times over, outnumbering the Abyss's forces by a wide margin.
Yet the real threat of the Abyss wasn't its strength.
Its true terror lay in its corruption—its ability to taint anything it touched, and its cursed immortality that made true eradication nearly impossible.
Even if its creatures were slain, the Abyss could resurrect them endlessly, or worse—infect the strongest among the living and turn them against their own.
But...
"Why are you staring at me? Keep strengthening your troops—I'm still counting on you to drop some materials."
So spoke the one now corrupting the Abyss.
Because of his existence, the Abyss's two greatest strengths had become utterly useless.
Its power to corrode could no longer infect, and its undead resilience was being devoured outright. Coupled with the unstoppable advance of the opposing side, at this rate, it wouldn't be long before every Abyssal creature here was hunted down and consumed.
And after that—it would be next.
Even so, the Abyssal Incarnation refused to give up hope.
Its defeat on this battlefield was already certain; only time stood in the way.
But elsewhere, the previous battles had torn open countless cracks across the realm. Through its manipulation, these fissures had begun linking the dungeon to reality itself.
The rifts were narrow, and escaping through them would severely damage it—but if it could reach that place, there was still a chance...
CRASH!
A massive greatsword, infused with Gravity Sorcery, came cleaving down, smashing a dark creature into pulp. Wrapping the remains in a field of gravitational magic, the sword's wielder hurled them straight back into the fissure. Nearby, Redmane Sorcerers emerged, casting sealing spells over the crack.
That was the rift in Caelid.
On another front, after the Full Moon Queen sealed her rift with effortless precision, she turned to her mages and warned them in a solemn voice—no one was to study the phenomenon. Not yet.
That was the rift of Liurnia of the Lakes.
Elsewhere, the volcanic fissure was sealed by Rykard himself. The Royal Capital's was closed by Godwyn, aided by Fortissax. The rifts within the Dynasty of Blood and Haligtree were also successively sealed...
When all was done, only a single rift remained across the entire Lands Between—
On the plains of Limgrave.
It stood unguarded, watched only by a lone golden-haired girl, standing silently before it, deep in thought.
And so, with its resistance shattered and its form fading, the Abyssal Incarnation made one final desperate gamble. It gritted its teeth, burning away nearly all that remained of itself, projecting its last fragment of will toward freedom.
Emerging from the Dungeon, its essence now on the verge of collapse, it urgently sought a vessel—a body strong enough to contain it. Without hesitation, it lunged toward the golden-haired girl, enveloping her completely.
Then...
Nothing happened.
Before she even moved, countless golden threads appeared, piercing through every particle of the black mist with perfect precision. After a brief struggle, the darkness condensed into a sphere of swirling gold and black.
Moments later, after a slow process of purification, the sphere unraveled into a spiraling, black sigil.
[Abyssal Law]
When the refinement was complete, Alice examined the sigil carefully. Once she confirmed it posed no threat, she tossed it back through the fissure.
On the other side, Lloyd caught it.
"Appreciate it."
He placed the Law into the cluster of Great Runes in his hand.
A faint black flame flickered to life—weak at first, then blazing brighter until, in the blink of an eye, it engulfed the entire world.
The final Abyssal creature fell.
Those who had fought beside Lloyd gathered around him once more. After exchanging brief glances, they all reached forward, touching the flame together.
The fire roared to life.
Black Abyssal Flame, orange First Flame, and faint traces of gray fire of unknown origin burned together in the dark void, spreading outward.
From flesh to soul.
From matter to spirit.
Then to time—and space.
The earth trembled. The world began to crumble. The black veil, like a cloth set ablaze, burned itself and everything within to ash.
Then...
From that ash, the world slowly began to be reborn.
"The First Flame does not symbolize destruction," came a voice beside him. "On the contrary, it is precisely because of the First Flame's existence that all things were born into the world…"
Seath stood beside Lloyd, her gaze fixed on the reborn world rising from the ashes—her tone carrying a quiet note of awe.
"Creation has always been the domain of fire—and now, that power has finally returned to your hands. But..."
"Something's still missing."
As Seath spoke, a pale mist began to rise around her body.
When the mist dispersed, a brilliant white Ancient Dragon appeared in the shattered world of darkness—majestic, flawless, almost divine. Her iridescent wings spread wide like a dream, and with her head raised, she let out a thunderous roar that shook the void.
Time itself began to accelerate.
What would have taken countless ages—nearly an eternity—to forge was completed within minutes under the white dragon's power.
The laws of time settled into place.
The world of darkness reemerged, yet this time, though it remained dim and suffused with Abyssal power, that power was no longer chaotic. It flowed in order—obedient, restrained. Its nature had not changed, but now it existed entirely under Lloyd's control. Without his will, it would not stir.
When the work was done, the white dragon reverted to her human form. Her expression was calm but faintly tired.
"If there's nothing else, I'll be going to rest."
Lloyd didn't respond right away. After a moment's thought, he walked over and pulled her into an embrace, replenishing the energy she had spent before finally letting go.
Throughout the exchange, Seath didn't resist. Too exhausted to move, she didn't bother to cooperate either—just let him do as he wished.
When the magic infusion ended, she glanced at the small bite marks she'd left on his face and gave a satisfied nod.
"After you're done with the spacetime dungeon, come to my room."
Leaving those words behind, Seath departed.
...
Lloyd turned back toward the newborn world and raised his hand.
Countless black fragments scattered outward. Within the rising flames, human shapes began to take form—Manus, Artorias, Sif, the Four Kings of New Londo, the Farron Undead Legion, Wolnir, and countless others: the once-Abyss-tainted citizens of Oolacile and the warriors of Carthus alike.
Granted new life, they looked around in dazed confusion before turning their eyes toward Lloyd.
Then he spoke.
"This isn't our old world. And it's not complete yet."
"I could send you out there, but you still carry the Abyss's taint—and I need people to help me finish this place."
"We can't return to that world anymore… though I doubt any of you would want to."
"For now, this will be our new home. As for the details, and what's happening beyond this world, I'll have someone explain everything to you."
And who better for the job?
Someone who had lived through Dark Souls, knew Lloyd well, and understood the Lands Between.
"Old man, time to earn your keep."
Kicking open Gael's door, Lloyd dragged the retired slave knight back into service.
With Old Man Gael handling affairs in the Lands Between, Lloyd could finally set aside those concerns for now.
After chatting with the others for a while—helping Gael explain the situation and catching up briefly with his old allies—Lloyd prepared to leave. They all needed time to adjust, to process their rebirth, and he, too, had earned some rest.
But before he left...
"What, you want to come with me?"
In the dim alleyway, the small, breathless dragon girl rested in Lloyd's arms and gave a soft nod.
"Mhm… I don't really like it here."
The little dragon was Midir.
Unlike the others—Manus, Artorias, the Farron Undead Legion, and Wolnir—who all shared deep connections and had grown familiar with one another thanks to Lloyd's interference, Midir stood apart. Though she too once bore the duty of confronting the Abyss, she was never part of their unit. The time-warped isolation of the Ringed City had cut her off from the rest of the world. Even after Lloyd's meddling, she hadn't interacted much with the others.
And beyond that—whether by nature or as a result of devouring the Abyss—Midir was shy, withdrawn, and uneasy around strangers. Aside from a handful of close companions, she rarely spoke to anyone. Most of the time, she preferred to curl up alone in some quiet, shadowed cavern.
Worse still, the painful memory of failing to consume the Abyss and being devoured by it instead left a lingering fear within her. Though known as the "Abyss-Devouring Dragon," she despised the Abyss more than anyone. Even now—though its power had been subdued under Lloyd's command—merely being near it made her uneasy.
After hearing her request, Lloyd thought for a moment, then said,
"How about this place?"
He gestured toward the dungeon beneath his castle.
After several renovations, the castle had expanded considerably, and so had the underground cells. In theory, the dungeon was meant to imprison certain beings—but since Lloyd had little interest in such things, it had remained largely unused. Aside from the occasional visit with Nepheli, he almost never set foot there.
As for Elizabeth… well, if she behaved herself, he might consider bringing her someday. But for now—no chance.
Strange as it sounded, the place actually suited Midir perfectly.
And Lloyd wasn't wrong.
Though called a dungeon, it had never held a single prisoner. Nothing sinister had ever happened there, and the maids even cleaned it regularly. The result was an immaculately tidy, well-maintained environment. Each cell came with its own survival amenities—and, oddly enough, a few questionably designed "toys."
Most importantly, it was completely quiet. No one ever came down here, and even if they did, closing the cell door and activating the soundproof barrier would render the space utterly isolated from the outside world.
After a brief inspection, Midir chose a cell she liked and calmly locked herself inside.
"I'll stay here. Call me if you need me, Master."
The small black dragon girl lay down and soon drifted off to sleep.
Once she was asleep, Lloyd quietly left the room, closed the door, and headed to the chapel—ready to conduct a round of "prayers" with the Black Knife maids.
But this time, something felt… off.
"What… is this?"
Lloyd froze as he looked at the maids standing before him—each dressed in entirely new outfits.
Lace trim, torn armor, decorative stickers… black stockings, white stockings, even striped ones…
Coupled with the gleaming "headlights" and dangerously curving silhouettes, for a moment Lloyd honestly thought he'd stumbled onto the wrong set.
Wasn't this Azur Lane?
No—it wasn't.
After the maids explained that they had exchanged the outfits at a costume shop, Lloyd nodded slightly… before realizing something didn't add up.
"Wait, Roderika and Nepheli's clothes looked normal before…"
Just as he muttered that, Roderika and Nepheli happened to walk by.
And then Lloyd saw it.
Roderika—wearing little more than a cloak, like a buffet laid bare for the Big Bad Wolf himself.
Beside her walked Nepheli, dressed like some flustered, black-and-white-spotted milkmaid who clearly had no idea what was happening.
After a long pause, Lloyd turned toward Friede—the only one who appeared properly dressed.
At least, that's what he thought—until he looked closer.
"...Friede. Did you forget to put something on?"
"No."
The nun beside him spoke calmly, barefoot on the cold floor. As she straightened up, the missing detail became all too obvious.
"I just thought that compared to something revealing, this kind of outfit might interest you more."
She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but teasing.
"So... would you like to try it?"