[T/N: Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas. Thank you for being here and for reading along! May the season bring you comfort, joy, and a little well-earned peace. ]
⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆*
·꙳⋆𖢔𖠰𖢔·꙳⋆·꙳⋆𖢔𖠰𖢔·꙳⋆·꙳⋆𖢔𖠰𖢔·꙳⋆·꙳⋆𖢔𖠰𖢔·꙳⋆·꙳⋆𖢔𖠰𖢔·꙳⋆
—
Lucian held the wolf egg he had picked up, sitting atop Selinsax's back as they soared through the dim skies above the Eternal City.
Though they had signed the contract, there hadn't been any particular development between them yet. After all, everything had happened far too quickly.
Truthfully, Lucian didn't quite understand why Selinsax seemed so forward.
But as for Selinsax herself, she had her own thoughts. Forming a pact with Lucian wasn't some act of blind devotion or pure-hearted gratitude.
Of course, she was indeed thankful—Lucian had saved her from eternal imprisonment, and that was no small kindness. Had he not freed her, she would have remained encased in ice, her thoughts gradually eroded by the flow of time until her very existence faded away. That was a fate more terrifying than death itself.
Yet, gratitude alone wasn't why she had agreed to the bond. Or rather, it wasn't only that reason.
The Lands Between were not a place where one could act purely on emotion. This was a cruel and pragmatic world, something Selinsax understood deeply.
As an Ancient Dragon who had lived through countless ages, she had seen and experienced enough to understand the importance of choosing wisely whom to stand beside.
And it was precisely this long history that made her recognize Lucian's worth.
She had once witnessed the glorious Era of the Sun—a kingdom that worshipped the radiant sun, whose influence had spread across the Lands Between. They had prayed with fervent devotion, using incantations born from sunlight itself—incantations of immense power.
But as time went on, that faith faded. The sun drifted further away from the Lands Between in both body and spirit. Kingdoms rose and fell, wars were waged, and the once-mighty nation became a distant memory.
Yet that radiant civilization had left an everlasting impression upon her.
And now, the light Lucian had unleashed in that underground chamber shone even brighter—more terrifying, more pure than any faith-born miracle.
There was no doubt about it. The power he wielded was that of the sun itself—true, unfiltered, divine radiance. Unlike the incantations drawn from belief, this was the sun's own power, raw and absolute.
And then there was the storm—the winds and thunder. Those forces were deeply intertwined with the ancient dragons themselves, so naturally, she felt drawn to him.
Moreover, she could sense within Lucian the presence of two Great Runes.
The Great Runes—fragments of the original Elden Ring itself, embodiments of the world's laws. Anyone seeking to become Elden Lord, ruler of the Lands Between, must forge their own order through the power of these runes.
To possess two Great Runes at once—no matter the age, was proof of someone destined for the throne.
In simple terms, Selinsax had no sinister motive. She was simply looking to cling to someone powerful—a figure worth following.
The saying "Ancient dragons are the iron bastions of kings" wasn't mere flattery.
And she? She was just an ordinary ancient dragon. Of course, in the Lands Between, even an "ordinary" ancient dragon was a terrifying force, but she knew her limits. She knew what true strength looked like.
Many times, she had seen those who reached for power beyond their grasp fall to ruin. So this time, she chose differently.
After all, not everyone could "cling to a thigh"—and fewer still could hold onto one like his.
As for returning to mingle with her own kind… To be honest, there was little point. Ancient dragons were proud and solitary by nature.
It would be better to find a quiet place to dwell, continuing her role as a spreader of dragon faith—basking in the reverence of mortals, enjoying food, wine, and peace. That was far preferable to struggling once more through this strange, changed world.
Her only regret was meeting Lucian too late. If she had met him earlier—before his rise, before his legend began, she might have fought at his side, shared his journey, and grown close in battle and trial alike.
Helping someone before their glory was always far more valuable than after. Still, she was content. At the very least, she had secured her place at his side.
Behind them, Melina stood quietly, her expression calm but thoughtful.
In her heart, she had long accepted that Lucian was extraordinary—brilliant in strength, will, and soul. And with greatness came followers. It was only natural that more and more would be drawn to him, and that admiration would sometimes grow into affection.
She had prepared herself for that. In the Lands Between, polygamy was hardly unusual. She didn't need to have Lucian all to herself—though, if given the choice, she would prefer it.
Still, when it actually happened—when she heard him say those words to another, it had caught her off guard.
Especially since… he had never said such words to her.
So yes, she'd been upset. She couldn't help it.
But now that the misunderstanding had been cleared, and Lucian had even gained the allegiance of a mighty ancient dragon, she couldn't stay angry for long.
...Though she didn't yet know that, soon, another woman—a Witch—would appear and become her greatest rival.
Meanwhile, far away in the Ancestral Woods, Blaidd paced restlessly along the cliff's edge. He moved back and forth, his boots grinding into the stone as he waited for Lucian's return.
Below, a pack of wolves raced through the fields, howling and playing beneath the silvered light, their cries echoing in the still air. Their wild joy only made Blaidd's heart heavier.
He couldn't stop thinking about what might be happening in the Night's Sacred Ground.
"I wonder how Lord Lucian fares… Did he succeed in retrieving the Fingerslayer Blade?"
"Or could even he have run into trouble in there…?"
But then he shook his head.
"No. That's impossible. Lord Lucian is too strong."
Yet… a worrying thought crossed his mind.
"Wait… What if there are many of those Mimic Tear creatures inside the Night's Sacred Ground?"
If Lucian faced multiple Mimic Tears—each capable of perfectly copying his body and powers—then he would, in essence, be fighting several of himself at once.And in such a battle, who could possibly survive?
But there was nothing Blaidd could do from here. He couldn't fly. All he could do was wait.
After a long silence, he sighed and shifted his thoughts elsewhere.
Once Ranni had the Fingerslayer Blade, his duty as her shadow would finally end. He would no longer be bound—he would serve her as a free, independent being.
Yet that freedom came with unease.
Though he had sworn eternal loyalty, a faint dread stirred in his heart. The Two Fingers had created the shadow beasts like him.
Could he truly be sure they had no control left over him?
As Ranni's sworn knight and the enemy of the Fingers, Blaidd couldn't afford to ignore that possibility. Even if the danger lay within himself.
"No matter what… I will never betray Lady Ranni."
"Never. Ever."
Then, suddenly—
A powerful rush of air tore through the silence. From the depths below the cliff, a deafening roar rose, shaking the night.
Blaidd looked down just in time to see a colossal shape soaring up from the darkness, scattering the purple mists that cloaked the Night's Scared Ground.
A massive creature, its wings gleaming like carved stone, ascended with overwhelming force. The wind from its ascent slammed into Blaidd a heartbeat later, nearly knocking him back.
He instinctively reached for his greatsword, his heart thundering.
"A… an Ancient Dragon?!"
The creature's golden eyes locked onto him from above, exuding a suffocating pressure. Even without moving, it felt like standing beneath the weight of a mountain.
Every grown ancient dragon was a calamity incarnate—its stone scales harder than any metal, its lightning divine. Even the mightiest heroes could barely stand against one.
And then—
"Blaidd! I've returned."
That voice—
He blinked, stunned, and saw Lucian wave to him from atop the dragon's back.
Lucian leapt lightly down, landing before him, while the great dragon folded its wings and shimmered. Moments later, where the beast had stood, a tall, beautiful woman appeared in its place—Selinsax in human form.
Blaidd exhaled in disbelief, lowering his sword.
Seeing Lucian holding a large azure egg in his arms only deepened his astonishment.
"Lord Lucian," he said, "how did it go?"
Lucian smiled. "Quite smoothly. I've successfully obtained the Fingerslayer Blade."
"And aside from that," he added, glancing at the egg in his arms and then at Selinsax, "I came across a few… unexpected rewards."
He raised the egg in one hand and presented the slender blade with the other. Blaidd's eyes, however, stayed fixed on the weapon.
"The Fingerslayer Blade… you truly found it. Thank the stars."
He let out a sigh of relief. "Then, Lord Lucian, what will you do next?"
Lucian thought for a moment.
Now that he could fly with Selinsax, he wanted to take a brief detour—to the Mohgwyn Dynasty, perhaps. There were things there that demanded his attention.
But Selinsax would never allow anyone else to ride her back, which meant Blaidd couldn't come along.
So, for now, it would be best to let Blaidd return to Ranni. Lucian could always teleport back afterward—it wasn't an issue.
"I have a few places I need to explore," he said, his eyes glinting faintly beneath the starlight. "After that, I'll return to Ranni and report."
"Blaidd, you should head back first," Lucian said calmly, his tone firm yet composed. "I'll hold onto the Fingerslayer Blade for now. After some time has passed, I'll deliver it to Ranni myself. I can use Sites of Grace to teleport—it'll be much faster than your return on foot, and safer if I keep it."
Blaidd nodded in understanding.
Lord Lucian had already sworn his oath beneath the moonlight with Lady Ranni. There was no doubt in his loyalty; such things needed no further proof.
After offering a brief bow, Blaidd took his leave, disappearing into the mists of the Ancestral Woods.
Lucian then turned toward the massive broken bridge that stretched over the abyss.
At its edge knelt a pale phantom, facing the distant direction of the Mohgwyn Dynasty.
Its lips moved ceaselessly, repeating the same words it had spoken in life:
"O… great Lord of Blood…"
"Have mercy upon me… let me take my place at the foot of your eternal throne."
"May the Mohgwyn Dynasty endure forever."
"May the Mohgwyn Dynasty… endure forever!"
Lucian did not respond to the phantom's pitiful murmurs. Instead, he gestured toward the far horizon, to where the blood-red palace of the dynasty loomed faintly through the fog.
"Selinsax," he said, "can you fly close to that place without alerting the creatures there? There's something about that architecture that interests me."
Selinsax covered her mouth with a soft, amused laugh.
"Master, you underestimate us ancient dragons far too much. Of course, that's no problem at all."
Yet before taking to the skies again, she tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her golden eyes.
"Master, this thing beside us… what is it, exactly?"
Lucian glanced toward the kneeling phantom and replied simply, "That is a soul. The spirit of one who, after death, could not return to the Erdtree—either due to some unknown interference or an unyielding obsession. They linger here in the Lands Between, losing their will and fading away slowly. Eventually, they'll vanish entirely."
He paused, then added an explanation she would not have known.
"The process of returning to the Erdtree—what we call the Return, is something that only began after the Erdtree became the law of the world. You wouldn't have heard of it before."
Selinsax blinked. "Return…? What do you mean by that?"
Lucian nodded. "The Golden Order is a law stripped of Destined Death. Since its creation, all beings, upon death, have had their souls and bodies drawn back to the Erdtree, awaiting rebirth. But… something happened later."
He fell silent for a moment, trying to condense the ancient tragedy into words.
"One cold night, in the Royal Capital of Leyndell, the Golden Lineages's prince was assassinated—Godwyn the Golden. The killers used black knives imbued with the power of Destined Death. His soul was utterly slain… but his flesh survived."
Selinsax's brows furrowed in disbelief. "His… soul died, but not his body?"
"Indeed," Lucian said. "Perhaps the Erdtree thought he could still be saved. His body was healed… twisted into something monstrous, a soulless husk. The Erdtree never stopped trying to restore him, and in doing so, it consumed all the flow of Return. Because of that, every other soul in the Lands Between could no longer pass through the Erdtree's cycle."
He looked back toward the phantom still kneeling in endless prayer.
"The souls that can't Return are trapped here. Some are fortunate enough to find vessels—transforming into spirit ashes or ghostly flowers like Grave Gloveworts. The rest simply linger… until they fade away."
Selinsax studied the flickering spirit for a long moment, then murmured,
"I see… though I still don't quite understand this Return of yours, it feels… unnatural. The time between my era and yours truly is far too long."
Lucian raised a brow. "So, in your age, souls didn't linger like this?"
She shook her head. "In the age when the Lands Between were ours, few other creatures even existed. The ancient dragons were nearly eternal. Death… was not something we understood."
Her gaze grew distant, remembering a world long gone.
"Later, when other forms of life appeared, they brought death with them. Back then, there was no Erdtree, no law to guide the souls. Death had its own messengers."
"Messengers?" Lucian echoed.
"Yes,"Selinsax said softly. "In those days, the Deathbirds carried away the souls and bones of the dead. Death's priests accompanied them—blessing each soul's passing and praying for its rebirth. The bodies were cast into spirit-fires to be burned, freeing the souls to reach what we called the Spirit World. That realm was where souls truly belonged after death."
"Spirit World…" Lucian repeated under his breath.
The term sparked something in his memory.
He recalled a blade from the old texts—the Helphen's Steeple, a greatsword said to be modeled after the black steeple of Helphen. Its description spoke of 'the lampwood which guides the dead of the spirit world. The lamplight is similar to grace in appearance, only it is said that it can only be seen by those who met their death in battle.'.
So the Spirit World truly had existed once.
Perhaps the Deathbirds and the god behind Death's return had come back from there.
Lucian looked at Selinsax with quiet fascination.
Though frozen in ice for millennia and disconnected from the current age, she was a living archive of the ancient world. Through her, he could glimpse truths buried beneath ages of war and rot.
It made him realize—he ought to visit the Ancient King as well.
The King lived in a slightly later era than Selinsax; between the two, he might piece together the true history of the Lands Between.
"Selinsax," he asked, "do you remember anything else about this Spirit World?"
She rested her chin in her hand, thinking for a moment, then shook her head.
"Forgive me, Master. I only know that it existed. What it truly looked like… even I cannot recall."
Lucian nodded thoughtfully. "That's fine. Perhaps I can find more clues elsewhere. For now, let's move on—toward that building."
Selinsax smiled faintly and inclined her head. "As you command, my Master."
Her form shimmered, and in a surge of golden light, she transformed once more into her colossal dragon body.
Lucian climbed onto her back.
"Let's see what secrets the Mohgwyn Dynasty hides", he murmured with a grin.
"Let's go!"
Selinsax's wings spread wide, and with a thunderous gust, she leapt into the air.
Even such a vast distance was nothing for an ancient dragon of her power.
Soon, the crimson spires of the Mohgwyn Dynasty began to take shape in the haze ahead.
But just as they neared the mountains at its border, Lucian suddenly raised his hand.
"Stop!"
Selinsax immediately obeyed, halting midair with a powerful beat of her wings that sent the air rippling. She turned her golden eyes toward him.
"What's wrong, Master?"
Lucian frowned, eyes narrowing at the empty space ahead.
"There's something there… can't you see it?"
She followed his gaze—but saw only barren stone and the dark outline of the dynasty's temple.
"No… I see nothing at all."
Lucian's frown deepened. Before them shimmered a faint wall—an enormous barrier formed from translucent, writhing tendrils of flesh and blood, almost invisible to the eye. He could only barely perceive it.
Of course. This was the work of the Formless Mother.
It seemed that only those with extremely high sensitivity to the unseen could perceive such divine constructs.
"It's nothing," he said at last. "Just… stop here."
Selinsax nodded quietly.
In despair and agony, the Formless Mother answers the prayers of her followers.
Only then does she take shape in their eyes—a crimson star of blood and madness.
But Lucian had never known despair. His life was filled with light and purpose.
To him, the Formless Mother remained unseen—only faint traces of her presence, her barrier of flesh barely visible through his heightened perception.
He examined the wall carefully. There were no gaps or weaknesses; its surface pulsed faintly like living tissue. Whatever its purpose, touching it would surely draw attention.
No doubt, this was the Formless Mother's protection—an unseen fortress shielding Mohg's realm from above. Thoughtful of her, in her own grotesque way.
Lucian let out a soft sigh. "Seems we won't be getting close today."
He patted Selinsax's scaled neck. "Let's return for now."
"Yes, Master," she answered, spreading her wings once more.
The great dragon turned, cutting through the night sky. The crimson palace shrank behind them until it vanished into the mist once more.
Thus ended Lucian's first reconnaissance of the Mohgwyn Dynasty—
unsuccessful in entry, yet not without gain.
For even in failure, he had seen what lay unseen.