Ranni was not the first to hear the news.
With the storm rising once more, Lucian's name spread swiftly across the Lands Between. From that day on, every power in the realm turned its eyes toward him—and toward Stormveil.
Factions stirred, both openly and in secret. Morgott's Night's Cavalry scattered, hunting Tarnished across the regions to halt their gathering. The Academy of Raya Lucaria stationed observers to watch Stormveil, their balloons drifting above the lake, bearing Marionette Soldiers.
At Volcano Manor, remnants dispatched more recruiters, hoping to enlist Tarnished and spark a resurgence. The Mohgwyn Dynasty's assassins armed themselves, ready to gnaw away at Lucian's fledgling dominion.
Only in Caelid did one old warrior, clad in strange armor, break into booming laughter upon hearing the tidings.
"Good! Good! A mighty warrior indeed."
"Godrick the 'Grafted' should have been slain long ago. His existence was an insult to the demigods themselves."
"To see one so strong—what glory! If he comes to the Festival, perhaps General Radahn may at last meet an honorable end."
—
From the Roundtable Hold, Lucian set out at once for the Divine Tower. He could no longer wait. He was too curious to uncover the secrets hidden in a Great Rune—and to see the truth of Rune Arcs.
At Stormveil's outer keep, under the escort of Crucible Knights, Lucian strode toward the path leading to the Tower.
The Lion Guardian lay resting, giving only a wide yawn at their approach. Lucian stepped forward, laying a hand on the beast's broken horn. It was indeed one of the hardened symbols of the Crucible's many aspects.
They entered the hall connecting castle and tower. There, several suits of Storm Knight armor knelt in rows, halberds tilted in welcome. Like those Lucian had found in Castle Morne, these were the remnants left behind when their lineage perished. Only four sets were enshrined here; the rest lay in the armory.
Beyond stretched a grand stairway and an arch vast as triumph, carved with withered golden boughs and sages cloaked in moss. Towering bastions flanked either side, flames burning bright upon their crowns.
Past the arch, three great golems lay silent upon the bridge, long deactivated. Their purpose had not only been to guard the Divine Tower, but to stand ready for war. Once loosed, their might was overwhelming—yet their bulk made them ruinous within castle walls. So they had slept through Stormveil's fall, spared by Lucian's swiftness.
As they walked, Andre—the Crucible Knight who had once accompanied Redd—reported the castle's state.
"Storm Knights still number thirty-two. Storm Soldiers, four to five hundred. Most… have lost their wits."
"As for Godrick's men, but four knights remain, and fewer than a hundred soldiers."
Lucian frowned. So few. Even keeping order within the walls was barely possible, let alone welcoming the Tarnished who would surely come in droves. Thousands might seek refuge here. Disorder was inevitable unless they had numbers—and strength.
"What of training new troops?" Andre shook his head. "Not promising. Many residents are hollowed. Those sound of mind are few. Counting the outlying lands, perhaps five hundred soldiers could be raised. But with only brief training… I doubt their mettle."
"Lancelot seeks pupils to form a cadre of sorcerers. Yet that will take longer still."
Lucian rubbed his chin. "Then let them train slowly. Better strength than speed. I want soldiers who can stand with me on the battlefield—not merely guards behind walls."
"As for governing the city… In the beginning, we need little manpower. Mark out a district for trial. If more come, we will recruit from the Tarnished themselves. Offer them sorcery and martial arts as reward. Many will come—warriors' blood runs in them still."
Their talk carried them to the bridge's end. The span was broken, sheer air between them and the Tower.
"This bridge fell long before Godrick came to Limgrave," said Redd. "So we placed a waygate to cross. I was the one who marked it first."
Before them shimmered a stone arch, etched with magic light. Lucian felt a spark of wonder—his first true teleporter since arriving in this world.
"How does it work?"
"Touch it, and feed it with power."
He did so, and light swallowed him whole. An instant later, he stood across the gap. Behind, Redd and Andre simply unfurled their wings and flew. Lucian could not help but envy them. Wings were not only convenient—they were magnificent. But without the Crucible's blessing, he could never wield those incantations.
He turned instead to the great doors of the Divine Tower. Hewn from seamless stone, adorned with intricate carvings, the tower was so flawless it seemed not built by men at all, but bestowed by the gods.
Inside, light from narrow windows mingled with orange braziers, while the walls themselves glimmered faintly. Lucian stepped onto the central disk. The platform rose, lifted not by mechanism nor magic he knew, but by a force utterly foreign. His brow furrowed—such unknown power was never good news. Could it be the Greater Will still lingered here?
The platform carried him aloft to the tower's summit. He stepped out into open air. At the center lay a corpse of Two Fingers, lifeless and stiff. Between its digits floated the phantom of Godrick's Great Rune.
Lucian reached out. The phantom shattered, sinking into him, merging with the Great Rune already within his mind. His eyes widened as understanding struck.
The Rune did not merely grant strength of flesh. It bore another gift—an ability to wield power without rejection. With it, he could call upon forces otherwise barred by blood or body. Where others needed dragon grafts or parasitic organs to use their incantations, he could channel them through the Rune itself.
This was the truth of Godrick's grafted might. His Great Rune had been the true vessel; the limbs were only crude imitation.
Lucian's thoughts sharpened as he tested the Rune Arc's purpose. He crushed one. At once, a sliver of arc lit beneath the Great Rune in his mind, amplifying its gift. One by one, he shattered them all—thirteen in total—until the arc beneath the Rune glowed near complete. His strength swelled with each piece, attributes rising ever higher.
The Great Rune, he realized, was no static blessing. It could grow, restored piece by piece by the broken Arcs of the Elden Ring itself. And when the arc was whole… it would awaken something greater still.