52. Melina and the Uninvited Guests in the Royal Capital
The night was as dark as ink. The bonfire crackled before the Tarnished, licking the dry wood, casting flickering light on his expressionless face. He let out a long, helpless sigh of white air, which condensed into a thin mist in the cold air.
"I really want to go straight back to the Lenydell Royal Capital..." he muttered softly, his eyes glancing at the group of Raya Lucaria magicians gathered not far away, and he sighed even more deeply.
Leaving this whole group of people in this desolate wilderness? Theoretically, no one seemed to be able to stop him.
But...something just felt odd.
"Forget it," the Tarnished resignedly gripped the warm wooden staff. "It's only a day or two's journey..."
Just as he was idly fiddling with the bonfire, trying to get the flames burning brighter, the arguing of the apprentices not far away suddenly rose in volume, like a flock of startled sparrows. The Tarnished listened attentively for a few moments, then immediately turned back with a lack of interest.
It was just a few young apprentices arguing over the technique of casting a basic pyroxene spell—how to form it faster? How to make it more powerful? They tossed around the same old, textbook-based arguments.
The academy lecturers, however, all had furrowed brows, staring at the dancing flames or gazing up at the dim starry sky, their expressions solemn, their thoughts unfathomable. The surrounding clamor was like background noise to them.
The apprentices' argument intensified, the cacophony grating on the Tarnished's nerves like sandpaper. He stared at a single spark crackling in the campfire, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.
"Forget it, I'll just treat it just like I'm teaching Xiling."
Unexpectedly, even to the brooding lecturers, the Tarnished silently stood up. He clutched his ordinary-looking, even slightly worn, wooden staff and walked a few steps to the group of apprentices arguing fiercely.
The arguing abruptly ceased. The apprentices stared in astonishment at the Tarnished, who had been silent and even seemed somewhat out of place.
Even the gazes of several pensive lecturers were drawn in.
There was no lengthy explanation, no pretense of sophistication. Under everyone's gaze, the Tarnished waved his wand with a casual, almost perfunctory gesture.
The movement was so subtle, it seemed like brushing dust off a sleeve.
And yet!
The moment the tip of the wand sliced through the air—hum! A brilliant, condensed stream of pyroxene magic grit instantly took shape!
The entire process was swift!
"Uh..." The nearest apprentice subconsciously uttered a meaningless syllable, his eyes widening. The instructors watching the Tarnished froze!
Fast! Too fast! It defied all common sense about pyroxene magic!
It was indeed just a basic, common pyroxene magic grit, capable of being cast by any qualified apprentice.
But the key wasn't the magic's level, but the method and speed of its execution!
It was as if... he had just skipped all established "processes," using his will and some incomprehensible thing to understand to instantly anchor the "result" itself! It was as natural as breathing, as easy as taking a step!
Looking at the students before him, their mouths open and their eyes glazed over as if petrified, the Tarnished angrily tapped the ground with his worn wooden staff. Two muffled "thumps" echoed through the still night.
"Did you see that clearly?" the Tarnished's voice tinged with impatience.
"Huh?!" Several students exclaimed, as if waking from a dream, staring at each other, their faces filled with bewilderment and immense confusion. What did they see clearly? They only saw the broken wooden staff waved with a casual gesture, the magical fluctuations so weak they were almost nonexistent, and then… that solid pyroxene magic gravel appeared to float there in thin air!
A braver student rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, his voice as tinny as a mosquito's: "Sorry… I'm sorry, sir… I didn't see it…"
"Tsk…" The Tarnished couldn't help but utter a sound of disdain, rolling his eyes inwardly. A sudden thought occurred to him: "All of a sudden, I think Xiling… isn't that stupid after all?"
When he had taught Xiling, who knew almost nothing about magic, he had used much the same blunt, "wave your hand and tell you the result" approach.
Though Xiling was also bewildered at the time, at least he had managed to stumble his way through a few tricks.
But what about these people before him? They were students at the Academy of Raya Lucaria! "Professionals" immersed in magical theory, history, and practice all day long!
Couldn't even understand the "secrets" behind his deliberately slow, unpretentious opening moves?
The Tarnished suddenly felt a profound, almost literal, doubt about the quality of instruction at this renowned magical sanctuary in the Lands Between—what kind of idiots were being churned out at the Academy of Raya Lucaria?
The Tarnished took a breath.
"Then watch it carefully, don't blink!"
Several students immediately stared intently at the Tarnished. Not only them, but the rest of the magic academy members also stared intently, fearing they would miss a single moment.
"Magic is the energy source."
"Action is the guidance."
"Thought is the structure."
"Structure" is the foundation, the framework within which magic is defined.
Once a spell is determined, its fundamental structure becomes nearly fixed—any alteration without authorization renders it no longer the original spell. The only adjustments a spellcaster can make are to the efficiency of the guidance and the intensity and precision of the magic infusion.
The Tarnished raised his staff again. This time, his movements were deliberately fragmented and slowed down, like a slow-motion video.
He channeled his magical power—a clear, flowing, pale blue light slowly spread upward along the veins of the staff. Its brightness was low, yet its stability was startling.
At the same time, his wrist, at an extremely simple, even "crude" angle, traced a clear trajectory with the staff—not a complex rune-drawing, more like pointing to a precise target point.
However, the "slow-motion replay" the Tarnished displayed at this moment sent a violent tremor through the souls of all the magicians present—especially the experienced instructors!
The visible flow of magical power, the precise, impeccable guiding movements… the two combined to form a terrifyingly efficient resonance! It was like the most sophisticated machine, completing the most complex task with the simplest path.
No magical power was wasted on unnecessary paths, no movements were redundant; everything led precisely to the "result" already fixed in his mind. It was this ultimate "purity," stripped of all frills and excess, that had produced the astonishing, near-instantaneous spellcasting!
"This...this is impossible..." a young lecturer muttered unconsciously, his pupils shrinking in shock. "Discarding all 'rituals'...reaching directly to the essence..."
Several of the most prestigious academy lecturers could no longer contain the surging emotions within them. They abruptly rose from their campfires and surrounded the Tarnished, unconcerned about whether he was a friend or subordinate of the king, peppering him with questions about magic.
Thus, a discussion on magic began in the wilderness at night.
It lasted several hours, yet the magicians were still eager to discuss the mysteries of magic with the Tarnished. However, the Tarnished said there was plenty of time, not just now. Perhaps out of respect for the Tarnished's magical prowess, or perhaps because he was a member of the Silver King's staff, the Mage Academy members didn't say much when he declined, simply handing him a few magic scrolls.
This made someone's eyes light up, and then a few more scrolls were thrust upon him.
Beside the campfire, the Tarnished counted his gains for the day.
"Magic weapons"
"Magic shields"
"Pyroxene comets"
The one that pleased the Tarnished most was a magic book titled "The Realm of Magic."
Just as the Tarnished was thinking about handing over the magic sword and magic shield to Xiling, the air seemed to freeze for a moment, and the flames seemed to slow down a beat. A slender female figure, shrouded in a dark, hooded robe, emerged from the flickering shadows of the campfire, appearing without warning in the open space beside him. There was no sound of footsteps, no fluctuation of magic, as if she was always meant to be there.
The Tarnished glanced at her and nodded gently as a form of greeting. Then, he lowered his head and continued to caress the scroll "The Realm of Magic," as if the presence beside him wasn't a mysterious figure but an insignificant decoration.
Silence, like an icy tide, instantly flooded the small space. The sudden stillness blocked out the sound of the wilderness wind and the faint snoring in the distance. Only the occasional crackle of the remaining charcoal in the campfire echoed monotonously between the two of them.
The silence lasted for several heartbeats until it was finally broken by the sudden appearance of a female figure. Her voice was cold and calm, devoid of any emotion:
"Let's make a deal."
"What deal?" The Tarnished looked at her.
"No matter how special you are, you are still tarnished."
"So?" The Tarnished tilted his head.
The woman slowly turned her head, the shadow of her hood obscuring most of her face, leaving only a glimpse of her graceful jawline. Her voice remained steady, "As long as you're a Tarnished, you can transform runes into your power, and I..." She paused, as if emphasizing her next words, "Coincidentally, I can do just that—so, would you like to make a deal?"
The Tarnished looked at the woman. "What deal do you want, Melina?"
The Tarnished had known the woman for a long time. Shortly after he arrived at the Lands Between, she had been like an elusive ghost, constantly hovering around him, observing him as if to ascertain something. At the time, the Tarnished didn't ignore her, as Xiling had suggested, but instead approached her and spoke directly.
However, that encounter didn't yield much information. She merely told the Tarnished her name, "Melina," and some general information about the Lands Between's landscape, like a guidebook. After that, Xiling arrived in this world and began his journey to conquer the Lands Between. She hadn't appeared since. Now, when she reappeared, she only spoke of a deal, leaving the Tarnished somewhat bewildered.
Melina fell silent briefly in response to the Tarnished's question. Her gaze seemed to penetrate the flickering embers of the campfire and the boundless darkness, locking onto the distant horizon—there, a massive silver tree emanated a gentle yet majestic glow of order.
"...I want to ask you," Melina finally said, her voice softer than the night wind, yet clear enough for the Tarnished to hear. "Take me to the royal capital, where the silver tree lies."
"What are you going there for?"
Melina didn't answer immediately. Her fingers unconsciously brushed against each other as she dropped her hands to her sides.
"I want to confirm..."
Melina paused, as if weighing her words, before finally speaking with a hint of heaviness, "Should I still persevere in my mission?"
"Your... mission? What is it?"
Melina shook her head.
"I... don't know."
The changes in the Lands Between were unforeseen, but everything was changing for the better.
The sudden appearance of the Silver King completely upended this land, long shattered and madly ruled by the Golden Rule.
Chaos gave way to order, despair to hope. The once fragmented kings bowed, twisted creations were purified, and suffering creatures saw the light of day.
The radiance of the Silver Rule, like the gentlest rain and the most steadfast foundation, was spreading and taking root across this scarred land.
The world was transforming at an unprecedented pace, towards a better future. This should have been a scene worthy of celebration for all. However, this sweeping, rule-shaping upheaval has plunged Melina into an unprecedented predicament.
She was like a traveler traversing the long darkness, relying on the faint light of a candle to piece a path forward. Now, the rising sun suddenly rises, its brilliant light illuminating a clear path—but the map she painstakingly assembled, guiding her, suddenly becomes pale, blurry, and even meaningless in the sunlight.
What is her mission? Where should she go? What is the meaning of her existence? A heavy, empty feeling of "lost purpose" enveloped her.
Perhaps, only by reaching the source of all this, standing beneath the silver tree symbolizing the new order, basking in its pure radiance, and feeling its majestic presence, will the answers become clear, like stars after the mist has cleared. Glancing at the somewhat dazed and bewildered Melina, the Tarnished set his sights on the fire.
"Alright, let's do this. I'll take you to the Silver Erdtree in the Royal Capital as a token of my gratitude for the intelligence you provided."
"...Thank you," Melina's voice was low, a mixture of emotions.
"No need to thank me. It's just a matter of convenience for me," the Tarnished warned her. "Don't cause any trouble there. If you want to cause trouble, wait until I'm gone."
Hearing the Tarnished's words, Melina paused. "...Thanks for the reminder."
Then she extended her hand to the Tarnished.
"Give me your hand. I will transform the runes into your power."
The Tarnished shifted slightly, moving closer to Melina, then extended his hand and touched hers.
The moment they touched, the Tarnished felt a certain power slowly merging into his body, but without the ability to accurately direct it, it simply floated quietly. As if untutored, the Tarnished used his own consciousness to tell these energies:
Add some intelligence!
...
Even at night, the royal city still resounded with the sound of people, seemingly endlessly discussing topics. Some were praising, others were looking forward to tomorrow.
In the palace, soldiers patrolled diligently. In one room, Goldmask's pen waved constantly. Inside, Corhyn had long since fallen asleep on the floor.
On the Elden Throne, Lemuen sat in the wheelchair Xiling had sent her. After so many years sitting in it, she had become accustomed to it.
As the vessel of the Elden Ring, Lemuen could not leave this world, or else it would cause serious problems.
Lemuen gently felt the evening breeze. As a deity, she didn't need to sleep, and that was no problem. Luo Tianyi and Houraiji Kyuushou had already returned to their own worlds. Now, she was the only member of the chat group in the royal capital. As Lemuen sipped her coffee and gazed at the night sky, she seemed to sense something. She put her coffee down, pushed her wheelchair, and turned to look behind her.
"Since you're all here, why don't you come out for a moment?"
As Lemuen finished speaking, four figures emerged from thin air:
Red-haired, fully formed Radagon.
The Queen of the Full Moon, wielding a staff.
A doll-like girl.
And a werewolf, wielding a greatsword.
Facing the four figures, Lemuen offered a gentle smile. But within Lemuen's shadow, something enormous seemed to be constantly moving.
——
——
A/N [Author Note]:
Finally, the two heroines of the Elden Ring have appeared. Our Tarnished is also about to level up!
Also! Rounding up, I'm also a daily 10,000-word cake enthusiast!
So, for all my hard work, please give me some credit!!!
Please!!!