Lloyd got to work as well.
As for what exactly he did? Naturally, it was what any proper trainer ought to do.
Of course, even after confirming that he could fulfill a trainer's duties in certain ways, cultivation and training were ultimately long-term endeavors. So, while his efforts did yield some improvement, it wasn't the kind of breakthrough that could be called a meteoric rise.
Still, it wasn't a problem that couldn't be solved.
The horse girls were ready, the methods were in place—all that was left was time.
But that was a matter for later.
For now, because preparations at Stormveil still required time, Lloyd remained in Caelid for quite a while. His bonds with the horse girls under his command grew deeper with each passing day.
Time flowed on.
After countless training sessions and bond events with his horse girls—each one strengthening their abilities—and after pushing through much of Caelid's dungeon progress bit by bit...
The construction work at Stormveil was finally complete.
Even while busy with the horse girl trials in Caelid, Lloyd would occasionally use the Site of Grace to teleport back during breaks to check on the progress. He also took those chances to learn more about the art of Grafting.
Then...
"Come to think of it, there's something I've been wondering for a long time."
Recalling the many Grafted creatures he had encountered, Lloyd tilted his head slightly.
"When you perform grafting, why do you attach so many random limbs? From what I've seen in combat, the only ones that really serve any function are the arms on either side. The rest just flail around—and sometimes they even get in the way."
"Is that for convenience in daily life? Or is there some kind of technical reason behind it?"
"It's a technical reason," Godefroy admitted openly.
"Grafting is a newly developed technique, born from the foundation of the Golden Blessing not too long ago. It's still far from perfect in many areas."
"My own grafting was done under those circumstances. I won't hide it—back then, I wasn't all that different from Godrick. I carried the Golden Lineage but lacked the ability to live up to it. Desperate to prove myself, I tried the technique."
"The result, as you can see, was this. The grafting gave me strength, yes, but with how undeveloped the process was, that strength came out chaotic—and hideous."
"In truth, as a member of the Golden Lineage, even without strength, I could have lived comfortably in the Royal Capital."
"But after grafting… forget others—I couldn't even stand to look at myself. So I eventually requested reassignment from the Goddess, and that's how I ended up here."
As Godefroy spoke of his past, his tone carried a mix of melancholy and resignation.
He had a complicated relationship with grafting—both love and hate intertwined. He loved it because, through grafting, he had indeed gained strength. It might not compare to a true Demigod's power, but for him, it was a massive step forward—a way to break free from the limits of mortality.
But what he hated… was everything else about it.
Yes, the Golden Order was tolerant, filled with all manner of strange and grotesque forms, but even among the bizarre, grafted beings stood out as uniquely revolting.
And for someone like Godefroy—who still carried the blood of the Golden Lineage—living on in such a state was, in some ways, more shameful than being powerless.
"So later on… did anyone manage to solve these issues?"
"No."
Leaning on his cane, Godefroy sighed heavily.
"And not only have they gone unsolved—the problems have only multiplied."
Though the grafted looked strong, capable of crushing soldiers and elite foes alike, the truth was far less glorious.
"They're extremely costly. Even a single Grafted Noble consumes countless limbs. And that's without mentioning the low success rate during the procedure. Maintenance afterward is another nightmare."
"And despite the high cost, the performance isn't worth it."
"Forget the Academy's mass-produced magical constructs—even Rykard's Iron Maidens surpass grafted bodies in efficiency. They're cheaper, can be mass-produced, don't consume lives, and their appearance can even be customized…"
Godefroy's voice grew increasingly weary as he spoke.
"It's not like I haven't tried to fix or improve these flaws. I've poured in money, pulled every connection I could, invited sages from the Royal Capital, even hired sorcerers from the Academy—but none of them could help."
Not because they lacked ability—but because it simply wasn't their field of expertise.
After all, the sages dealt in Incantations, while the sorcerers devoted themselves to Glintstone. Both were intelligent and fully worthy of the title "master" within their respective fields—yet neither had ever seriously studied biological modification. It was only natural that they couldn't make sense of it.
The problem, however, was that while sages and sorcerers were unfamiliar with such matters, there were those who specialized in them.
The Dynasty of Blood.
"It's not a major issue."
After a period of consultation and examination, Varré removed his blood-stained gloves and turned toward the dejected Godefroy.
"The chaos you're experiencing has nothing to do with the incantations or the rituals themselves."
"Quite the opposite. It's because the Golden Prayers' regenerative properties are too powerful. If wounds or graft sites aren't properly treated, the healing process can easily lead to excessive—or even harmful—growths."
"As for a solution, it can be divided into three stages: pre-operative planning, operational procedure, and post-operative review."
"To be specific: examine both parties before grafting and draft a detailed design plan; during the procedure, follow strict operational standards to minimize unnecessary tissue; afterward, take the prescribed medicines and perform regular follow-up checks."
"This way, the chances of deformity drop drastically—and even if something goes wrong, it can be detected and corrected early."
Indeed, as had been mentioned many times before, the medical problem in the Lands Between had never been a lack of treatment methods.
The real issue was that the healing power of Golden Incantations was too overwhelming. Even someone on the brink of death could be brought fully back to life with a single prayer. As a result, everyone obsessed over how to pray, while no one bothered to study conventional medicine.
Thus, in the Lands Between, diseases that would be terminal in a technological world could be cured instantly through Incantation—yet trivial ailments often became unsolvable problems.
In truth, had Lloyd not discovered the medical potential of the Dynasty of Blood—and, after restructuring their methods, achieved tangible results—even they would have been powerless to resolve the grafting issue.
After all, the Dynasty of Blood understood human anatomy deeply, but their old habits leaned more toward amputation than reconstruction.
Now, although Godefroy didn't fully understand Varré's explanation, just watching the man's confident, practiced demeanor was enough to make him realize—this time, the problem that had tormented him for years might actually have a cure.
And it wasn't only the Dynasty of Blood that contributed.
As Lloyd observed the grafted beings' life structure, he noticed something strangely familiar about it.
Not the creatures themselves, but their form—it reminded him of someone he knew.
"This looks… a lot like the Aspects of the Crucible."
That was it—the source of the familiarity.
While the grafting process hadn't actually invoked the Crucible's power—since the Crucible, as a remnant of the previous age, remained a sensitive topic within the Golden Order—the concept behind it was nearly identical.
Fusing disparate elements into a single whole—this was, in essence, a symbolic "return to the Crucible."
Realizing this, Lloyd summoned the Crucible Incarnation itself to offer her insight and guidance.
...
In the end, through the combined efforts of all involved, and after a long period of research and refinement, a completely new grafting technique was born—one Lloyd would name Grafted 2.0.
In simple terms, it was a fantasy-grade cybernetic system.
Thanks to the innovations in design, new Grafted subjects no longer needed to resemble those nobles or Godrick—covered in random limbs and grotesque parts that barely enhanced their power. Instead, they could now retain a largely human appearance, selectively augmenting themselves based on individual needs.
Arms, legs, tails, horns—or any other specialized appendages—could now be crafted, customized, and integrated with precision.
Furthermore, with the Dynasty of Blood's expertise in biomechanics, the modifications were no longer skin-deep. Even flesh and internal organs could be replaced or refined. If not for the current limits of research, even the nervous system and brain structure could have been engineered.
And beyond the clear aesthetic improvement, removing those cumbersome limbs brought major benefits: better mobility, smoother operation, and enhanced concealment thanks to a more compact form—all seeing massive improvement.
In short, this new grafting system offered not only superior strength and beauty but also efficiency. With no wasted materials and improved surgical methods, production costs plummeted.
For equivalent combat power, the materials required for a new-generation grafted body amounted to only a tenth of the original—and, unlike before, the components could now be sustainably reused.
Of course, while the new Grafted far outperformed its predecessors in nearly every respect—it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say, "our advanced Grafted 2.0 has completely surpassed the obsolete Grafted Nobles"—it wasn't without its limitations.
For one, since it was a hybrid technology, the new Grafted could no longer be done by oneself. It required a trained Grafted surgeon to carry out the procedure.
Additionally, though the new grafts consumed far fewer materials, that efficiency came at a cost—achieving good results now required much higher-quality components. Gone were the days of patching together random limbs and hoping for the best.
Even so, the new Grafted was leagues ahead of the old. When it was first completed, Godefroy was so moved he nearly wept.
Incidentally, a certain long-humbled Godrick also played an important role in its development.
But not in the way one might think.
It wasn't that he contributed any technical expertise. Even after inheriting Godefroy's knowledge base, his understanding of grafting was mediocre at best—still worse than Godefroy's own.
His contribution came in another form entirely.
As experimental material.
Despite his weakness in both strength and spirit, Godrick was still a Demigod with the Golden Lineage flowing through his veins. His durability was far beyond ordinary mortals.
And since he was already accustomed to grafting, his pain tolerance and resistance to bodily rejection were significantly higher than most—making him the perfect test subject.
Most importantly, he volunteered. Willingly.
"No, I don't worship the Formless Mother, and I'm not into anything like that…"
"I know I have no real talent. Even if I'm rebuilt, I probably won't be able to beat my own knights, let alone any other demigods…"
Sitting in his chair, the slug that was once Godrick lifted his head. A faint spark ignited in his dull eyes.
"But I refuse to live like this forever."
This time, he was completely sincere.
He might have been pitiful, even laughable, but without that stubborn desire—'Ancestors, bear witness to me'—he would never have survived grafting in the first place, nor held Stormveil's title for as long as he did.
Call him weak, and he'd admit it.
But ask if he'd accepted that weakness? Never.
He had no delusions of defying fate or becoming the Elden Lord. He knew his limits.
But at the very least, he didn't want to shame his bloodline. He didn't want to live his entire life as a useless failure. Even if it cost him dearly, even if it meant enduring unbearable pain, he would do it.
All he wanted was to one day hear, "You have not disgraced the Golden Lineage."
When such a prime test subject offered himself, Lloyd naturally didn't refuse.
And given Godrick's past actions, letting him experience the pain he'd once inflicted on others could even be seen as… atonement.
So Lloyd accepted.
...
From that day on, throughout the halls of Stormveil—and even across the distant fields of Limgrave—people occasionally heard the blood-curdling screams of something being tortured alive, shrill and wretched like a pig being slaughtered.
And at last, amidst Godrick's howls, Grafted 2.0 was born.
After a period of preparation, the new Grafted Legion was finally complete.
Not only were they equipped with the updated prosthetic systems, but they also wielded anti-magic armaments forged under the guidance of Thops and his sorcerer corps. Before their deployment, Varré—seeking to promote the innovation—personally supplied each soldier with several vials of the Dynasty of Blood's special elixir.
In every respect, the legion was at its peak.
However, one final detail remained before they could depart.
"A proper legion needs a proper name."
Godefroy glanced toward Lloyd.
"Though you intend to place them under my command, it was still your leadership that brought this force to life. So I would ask you, my lord, to bestow upon them a name."
It was a reasonable request, and Lloyd didn't refuse.
After a few moments of thought, he looked over the assembled Grafted soldiers and nodded.
"Then… call them the Ember Legion—'Ember,' as in 'from my broken body, I become the blazing flame.'"